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at that. “Maybe. And you spend money heedlessly. I saw you give Stacy that limitless black credit card. She is at the spa every day splurging on treatments with your money. People who are born rich tend to be frugal.”
    “That’s a generalization.”
    “True.”
    “So what if I work hard and spend easily?” Stop being defensive. You don’t owe her an explanation. “I still don’t see how you drew your conclusion.”
    “In two weeks time you never took off the suits.”
    He ran a hand over the sleeve of his silk Armani.
    “Not once.”
    “I took them off to go to bed.”
    “But not when people could see you. I had to ask myself why. Why does this handsome, successful man drive himself so hard? He’s supposed to be on vacation and he never takes off the suit. What is he so afraid of?” She paused. “And then it hit me.”
    “What did?”
    “You never felt loved for who you were.”
    Goose bumps spread over his arms at the same time the hairs on the nape of his neck lifted. He tried to laugh, but he just exhaled harshly.
    “So you drove yourself hard in order to get recognition. Status became everything.”
    His throat worked, but no words came out.
    “You became adept at charming others. You adopted whatever image worked. It’s why you wear expensive suits—status, attention getting, uniform of the wealthy.”
    Gibb’s mouth dropped open. How did she know!
    “You came to feel that it was not okay to be who you really were, that in order to be loved, you had to take on the feelings and identity of those whose love you wished to win.”
    He wanted to deny it. He felt the need to contradict her, but he was so floored that he simply couldn’t find the words.
    “Deep down inside,” she went on, “you believe that no matter how much success you achieve you’ll always be a failure. You feel like a fraud.”
    He planned to say, “Hell, no, you’re crazy, you’re nuts,” but instead Gibb simply nodded and said, “Empty.”
    “This friend of yours that you’re flying to see. The one you want to stop from getting married. He’s known you a long time?”
    “Yeah.” Gibb grunted.
    “Before you were rich.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “He’s the only one who knows who you really are, isn’t he?”
    Was the woman some kind of psychic or just perceptive as hell? “How...how can you possibly know this?”
    She met his gaze. “Why, it’s written all over you. Anyone who bothers to look past the suit can see it.”

4
    B ESIDES FLYING , Sophia’s one great talent was the ability to read people quickly. She couldn’t explain her skill. It was intuitive. Perhaps it came from being the youngest of seven, where in order to get her way, she had to figure out what everyone else’s angle was and use it to her advantage. Or maybe it was simply because she loved people, and found them fascinating.
    Unfortunately, she’d learned the hard way that most people did not enjoy being sized up. Usually, she kept her opinions to herself, but something about Gibb had loosened her tongue.
    Now he sat there scowling at her as if she’d given him a bad tarot card reading. For many hours it would be just him and her together in this tiny cockpit.
    “You should be proud that you are a self-made man,” she said, trying to smooth things over.
    “But you see, I’m not.”
    “If you weren’t born rich and you’re not a self-made man, then where did you get your money from?” she asked.
    “My mother married a rich man. He adopted me.”
    “And he died and left you all this money?”
    “No, James is still very much alive.”
    “He simply gave you a billion dollars?”
    “Of course not. I earned my own money.”
    “Then you are a self-made man.”
    Gibb shook his head. “I couldn’t have done it without James’s connections.”
    “So you are in the same business he’s in?”
    “No. He’s in real estate, I made my first few million creating a game app for phones when that industry was just taking off.”
    “Like