The Billionaire's Challenge Read Online Free PDF Page B

walls were paintings of abstract art, the kind I was used to
seeing at my doctor's office. It had always amazed me how people
could paint blotchy squares on canvas and actually make money from
it. Most of the paintings looked like the work of five-year olds.
While I appreciated art in general, abstract definitely wasn't one of
my favorite types.
    As
I heard footsteps draw near, I realized that there was more than one
pair. I turned to see a professional looking woman walking with
Garret. She was tall and slender with a red pencil skirt and white
blouse. His mother, perhaps. Instantly, I stood for introductions.
    “ Mia,
this is Mrs. Iserman. She's my psychologist,” he said.
    A
shrink?! My face immediately reddened with anger. Did he really think
I was that fucked up?
    “ What
a surprise,” I said, extending my hand politely to Mrs.
Iserman, though I wasn't able to hide the dryness from my tone. “I
appreciate the gesture, but this isn't necessary.”
    “ This
isn't for you. It's for me,” Garret replied matter of
factually.
    His
response shocked me, and I felt embarrassed for thinking he had
called her over just for me.
    “ I
thought you might be interested in sitting in on a session. I'm not
perfect either, you know.” Garret gestured for me to take a
seat.
    What
a strange guy. There had to be some catch to this. It couldn't
possibly just be an exaggerated gesture to show me his flaws. Then
again, I had never really thought that he had any.
    “ What
would you like to discuss today?” Mrs. Iserman asked, taking a
seat in the arm chair across from us.
    “ Well,
we've discussed my relationship issues in the past,” he began.
“And I think that I finally found someone I would be interested
in being in a relationship with, so I thought now would be a good
time to bring them up again.”
    My
heart froze. Could he really be talking about me? If this was some
ploy to get in my pants, it was the best devised one I had ever seen.
    “ And
this is the young woman whom you're interested in a relationships
with?” Mrs. Iserman asked.
    “ Yes,
which is why I thought it was important for her to be here.”
Garret turned to me. “If you're not interested in me, please
let me know now. I know you've been reluctant to trust me, but I
thought that might be because you have baggage of your own. If you're
interested in me, I'm willing to help you with your problems if you
can bear with me through mine.”
    It
sounded almost like a marriage proposal. My mind was swimming with
disbelief and apprehension. Did I want him? Yes. But what woman
didn't? And how could he possibly know he wanted to be with me? We
had only gone out twice before. It wasn't enough time to make such a
decision.
    “ I
am interested in you,” I replied slowly, trying to keep the
butterflies from fluttering out of my stomach.
    “ Good.”
An ear to ear grin spread across Garret's face, and he turned back to
the psychologist with new-found resolve.
    “ How
did the two of you meet?” she asked curiously.
    “ At
a charity function,” he replied, and then they went back and
forth over the details.
    Garret
talked about deep seeded trust issues he had in regard to women lying
to him. He said he didn't think he would have to worry about that
with me, and that he could tell I genuinely appreciated all the
things he did for me—things most other women seemed to expect
of him. The truth was that I was still lost in the midst of what was
going on, confused and refusing to believe what was actually
happening. Landing a guy like this was a one in a million
opportunity, and the longer I sat there listening to him raining
praises on me, the more I thought it was a dream that I would soon
wake from, alone in my empty apartment. But then he began talking
about how I shied away from his touch . . . and how I had called
myself fat, and I realized that the session wasn't just about him.
    “ It
sounds like you have some self-esteem issues, Miss Harrison,”
Mrs. Iserman