“I’m sorry.”
The billionaire smiled.
“She’s direct.”
“She inherited that from her mother.”
Something in his voice changed.
The billionaire noticed.
“Your wife?”
He pulled tools from the box.
“She died.”
The smile disappeared from her face.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“How long ago?”
He paused.
“Four years.”
The billionaire glanced toward the girl inside the truck.
“She was five?”
“Yes.”
The father picked up the toolbox.
“She remembers enough to miss her.”
That sentence stayed between them.
He returned to the Rolls-Royce.
For the next twenty-five minutes, the billionaire held lights, passed tools, and did exactly what the single father told her.
He removed a damaged section of the coolant coupling.
Installed a high-temperature silicone repair sleeve.
Secured it with clamps.
Refilled the system.
Checked for leaks.
Ran the engine briefly.
Stopped.
Checked again.
The billionaire watched his hands.
Competent hands were attractive in a way wealth could not manufacture.
Not because they were masculine.
Because they were certain without showing off.
He did not perform expertise.
He simply had it.
“Start it.”
he said.
She climbed behind the wheel.
The engine turned.
Smooth.
He stood near the open hood.
“Heat on.”
She adjusted climate control.
“Temperature gauge?”
“Normal.”
“Let it idle.”
Five minutes.
No warning.
The single father closed the hood.
She stepped out.
“That’s it?”
“That’s enough to get you uphill if the repair holds.”
“If?”
He pointed toward the road.
“Drive gently.”
“No hard acceleration.”
“Watch temperature.”
“If it rises at all, stop.”
She nodded.
Then opened her handbag.
The single father immediately said:
“No.”
She looked up.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re reaching for money.”
“You have impressive instincts.”
“Two hundred.”
She withdrew a slim wallet.
Pulled out several hundred-dollar bills.
He shook his head.
“Two.”
She held out three thousand dollars.
The single father stared.
Then at her.
“No.”
“You just repaired a car worth more than your house probably cost.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“That sentence went badly.”
She heard it too.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know.”
She lowered the money slightly.
He continued.
“Still no.”
“Why?”