Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire

’Should I send him an ”I love you” message?’ Her fingers unconsciously tightened around her phone.

’No. That’s still far too sudden. ...Or is this the perfect moment? No, it’s a bad idea, he literally just came back’

Even though he had called her immediately after landing. Even though he had reassured her without hesitation when she admitted she couldn’t stop herself from worrying about him. Even though he hadn’t thought less of her for it. She still felt a bit afraid that she’ll blow everything...

But what if it really was the perfect moment. Wasn’t this exactly the sort of moment people confessed their feelings in romance films?

Then again, romance films also had an alarming tendency to make terrible life decisions seem profound.

Amelia was suddenly beginning to suspect she had spent far too much time investing in one, the past few days after Stan changed her view in men...

’No. No, absolutely not. I am not taking romantic advice from cinema.’

She buried her face in her hands for several long seconds before peeking at her phone once more.

’What if I blow it?’ That thought, more than anything else, gave her pause.

For the first time in a very long time, Amelia found herself wanting something enough to become afraid of losing it before she’d ever had it.

She wasn’t in a hurry. She could wait. ...Probably.

Her thumb hovered uncertainly over the message icon for several seconds before retreating altogether.

’No. Absolutely not.’ She pressed the phone against her chest once more and allowed herself a small smile.

’Welcome back, my hero,’ she thought quietly. ’Take your time. I’ll wait. No I shouldn’t wait, what if someone takes him from me, I should think about it carefully and send him a message by night time...’

Meanwhile, Stan sat very still for a moment. He checked up on Xenia as well, it’s been long, then after that he sent Vivian a message, asking how both the company and her family had been during the days he was away.

He lingered for a moment after sending it, staring at the darkened screen before finally setting the phone face-down on his thigh.

Beside him, Camilla, who had, through all six calls, maintained the small, courteous fiction of not listening, finally turned her head fully towards him.

The warm coastal light fell softly across her profile. Her crimson eyes had softened in the afternoon glow into something closer to deep, clear garnets.

She looked at him for a long, weighing moment.

Then, in the small, unhurried tone of a woman offering a completely neutral observation:

”Human.”

”Yeah?”

”You told them ten days.”

”I did.”

”And returned in three.”

”I did.”

”And every one of them had already begun to worry.”

”...Yeah.”

”Some of them sound as though they consider you theirs.”

”I’ve noticed that too.”

”And you permit this.”

”I permit a lot of things.”

The corner of her mouth curved faintly.

”I am going to enjoy watching this play out,” she said softly. ”Three days. Ten days. Such a short span of time, and they worry as though decades have passed. Humans truly are fascinating creatures.”

Her crimson eyes shifted briefly towards him.

”Affection makes all of you remarkably unreasonable.”

Stan laughed softly. ”I was afraid you were going to say that.”

She didn’t even know he had his eyes on her as well. Somehow, he had a feeling she would prove no different when her turn came.

Camilla merely turned her face back towards the window, the afternoon light painting her pale features in soft gold as the coastal scenery slipped quietly by.

Stan let out a slow breath, tucked the phone into his pocket, and let his head rest, just for a moment, against the back of the seat.

The sedan rolled on.

The coastal road curved gently inland. The palms passed. The soft warm light of the late afternoon lay across the dashboard in long slanted bars.

Home at last.

The sedan turned off the coastal road onto the smaller inland avenue that led toward Stan’s building. The palms thinned. The light shifted subtly as the road climbed in a gentle rise along the back of the island toward the quiet residential quarter where Stan had, several months and what felt like several lifetimes ago, quietly acquired a penthouse.

Home. It was strange, he thought, how unfamiliar that word felt after only three days.

Camilla, seated beside him, watched the streets outside narrow into the small, clean grid of an affluent residential district. Her eyes lingered briefly on the understated architecture and immaculate landscaping that spoke less of ostentation than of old money and deliberate privacy.

”You live here.”

”I do.”

”Alone?”

”Yes.”

She considered that for a moment before replying.

”That will change, temporarily.”

”So I gathered.”

The faintest hint of amusement touched her expression.

”I wonder what your harem would think when they see me?”

Stan laughed softly under his breath.

”Probably depends which one sees you first.”

That earned him the ghost of a smile.

The sedan slowed before finally pulling up outside a tall pale-stone building set back slightly from the street. Its lower floors were half-hidden behind carefully shaped hedges and flowering shrubs, while its upper levels rose into the warm afternoon sky with the quiet, unadvertised expense of a residence that had never needed to announce itself. There were no garish displays of wealth or excessive ornamentation, simply understated luxury and the sort of discretion that wealth often purchased when it no longer needed to impress anyone.

The sedan slowed before finally pulling up outside the building. By the time it came to a stop, the driver was already reaching for his door, moving with practised efficiency to open the rear door for them.

Stan stepped out first, taking in the familiar sight of the building before him. For the first time since Antarctica, something inside him finally began to settle.

’Home sweet home.’

Camilla followed him from the sedan with the fluid, unhurried grace she seemed to bring to everything she did. She straightened once her heels touched the pavement and paused for a moment in silence.

Her crimson eyes travelled upward over the pale-stone façade of the building before settling upon the small polished brass plate mounted discreetly beside the entrance, the building’s name engraved upon it in elegant, understated script.

There was no surprise upon her face. Only quiet observation.

Then she turned her head ever so slightly toward Stan, one dark eyebrow arching delicately.

”Stan.”

”Yeah?”

”You appear to be quietly wealthy.”

”I appear to be, yes.”

”Ah, well it’s to be expected since you give spirit pools out like candies.”

The single syllable carried an extraordinary amount of meaning despite revealing absolutely none of it.

She was silent for another moment before adding thoughtfully,

”You have a curious habit of concealing things.”

”Do I?”

”You concealed your cultivation. You concealed your abilities. You concealed your resources. Apparently, you also conceal your money. I’m curious about the real you...”

Stan considered that briefly. ”When you put it that way, it sounds worse than it is.”

”It sounds exactly as it is.”

He found he couldn’t argue with that. She can think whatever she wants he won’t correct her, that’s his only leverage.

Without another word, she stepped past him and made her way toward the entrance as though she had already decided she approved of it.

Stan moved ahead of her and pushed open the gate entrance door and stepped inside with her...

He tucked his phone back into his pocket, drew a small quiet breath, and followed after her.

’Home. At last.’