Christopher's POV
I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The sky blazed with streaks of orange and pink, nature's own light show.
"Damn," I muttered, glancing at my Rolex. 6:10 PM already.
I turned back to my walk-in closet. There are rows of tailored suits, shelves of Italian leather shoes, and enough designer watches to open my boutique. The perks of being a billionaire.
As I buttoned up my crisp white shirt, my mind wandered to Olivia. That girl was becoming a distraction, and I wasn't sure if I liked it. My fingers hovered over my phone, itching to invite her to New York.
"Come on, Christopher," I chided myself. "You're not some lovesick teenager."
Still, I found myself typing out a message:
"Darling, change
