Jessica Clare - Once Upon a Billionaire

She snuggled in his arms, content.

He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Don’t fall asleep for long. It’s not that long of a flight home, and you should get dressed again before Kip comes looking for us.”

She chuckled, running her hands over his skin. “Give a girl a moment to cuddle, will you?”

“Several moments, if you so choose.”

“I do,” she told him, and ran a finger over his tattoo, the ugly skull with the money sticking out of the eye socket. So garish. It was an odd choice for a man like Griffin. “This is rather hideous.”

“Isn’t it?” His droll voice surprised her.

“Why’d you get it if you think it’s ugly? It doesn’t seem like you.”

He hesitated. “Long story.”

She looked over at him. “I’m not going anywhere at the moment.”

He shook his head. “I . . . I can’t say right now, Maylee.”

“Oh, okay.” She smiled at him, but couldn’t hide her unease. Secrets already? She’d hoped they were past that. “I guess I should get up and dress.”

To her surprise, when she tried to sit up and get dressed, he dragged her back down on the bed and kissed her passionately. When his mouth lifted from hers, he whispered, “I said that I can’t tell you right now, Maylee, darling. Not that I won’t. Just give me time, all right?”

And she nodded, because what else could she do? If he wasn’t ready to share all his secrets yet, she supposed she understood that.

She just hoped it wasn’t one that would hurt her in the long run.

Maylee was delighted at Griffin’s townhouse because it was so incredibly Griffin. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been expecting, but at the sight of the wall-to-wall shelves, the antique maps framed on the walls, and the piles and piles of books everywhere, she clapped her hands and laughed. “It’s perfect.”

“It is?” He looked at her in surprise, and eyed his home skeptically, as if trying to see it through her eyes.

“It is,” she echoed, and when he closed the door, she knelt down and let Bubba off his leash so he could suss things out. “It looks exactly like I’d imagine a scholarly nobleman would live.”

He rubbed his jaw, and for a moment he looked embarrassed. “I suppose it does. It’s not an enormous penthouse like Logan’s, though, or a mansion like Hunter’s. I only have three bedrooms and one is set up as a library.”

“Three bedrooms in NYC?” She laughed. “Not exactly slumming it, Griff.”

He moved a pile of books off one table, hesitated, and then dumped them onto another table. “I never considered having more, truly. I grew up in forty-room palaces that never felt like home.”

She smiled, still charmed by the place. There were windows looking out onto Central Park, bookshelves everywhere, hardwood floors, and crown molding. She bet it even had two bathrooms. She loved it already. “There’s no point in a huge house if there’s only two people for it.” She picked up a book and frowned at the layer of dust on it, then looked at him. “Don’t you clean?”

He gave her a sheepish look. “I keep Kip busy enough that he doesn’t do much cleaning. And I have a lady who comes in once a week to clean up the worst of it, but I suppose there’s more to be done.”

“You’re lucky you got a second assistant, then,” she teased.

“I didn’t hire you to clean my house.”

“No, you hired me to clean your pipes.”

He was silent. Maylee looked up in surprise . . . and found that his face was scarlet with a blush. She laughed. “Come on, haven’t you ever heard that expression?”

“Not in reference to me.” He rubbed his ear, and she noticed that it was also red. How cute.

“Is your bedroom full of books, too?”

“There’s room enough for two people,” he said, and she noticed the dazed look had returned to his eyes. He adjusted himself surreptitiously. “Shall I show you?”

That sounded lovely. But first . . . she glanced around. “Where’s Kip?”

He waved a hand. “I told him to pick out a townhouse for himself. On me. I believe he’s shopping.” He grimaced. “The man does love to shop.”

“He can keep the shopping duties,” Maylee declared, and dragged Griffin into his bedroom.

* * *

Three days later, Griffin was the happiest he’d ever been. He had warm, wonderful Maylee in his bed, he was back home in his townhouse, and everything was perfect.

Well, almost perfect. There was a slobbering dog that he’d found chewing on a book earlier that morning, and his townhouse was currently being turned upside down by Maylee, who was determined to organize things, but overall, he was content.

He had the woman he loved in his bed, and he adored her every night for hours. Sometimes several times in one night. Just thinking about Maylee made his cock stiffen, and he got up from his window chair, setting his book aside to go find her.

He found her in the small living room, seated on the floor, cross-legged. She wore her ugly camo pajamas, but he found the sight charming now instead of appalling. And turned off the TV as soon as he came in the room. The smile she turned to him was overly bright. “Hey, you.”

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. You want a snack or something? I was just about to get one—”

As she moved to pass him, he snagged the remote out of her hand and flicked the TV back on. It was a news special about Alex and Luke’s wedding. He gave Maylee a curious look. “Didn’t get enough of it back in Bellissime?”

She shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “I didn’t really see the wedding itself. I was just . . . curious, I suppose.” She patted his shoulder and headed toward the kitchen.

The shoulder with the tattoo, he couldn’t help but notice. And he swore silently to himself when he saw the princess of Saxe-Gallia appear on the TV.

Maylee still had doubts. She knew he held at least one secret—that of the Brotherhood, and until she was sure he wouldn’t hurt her again, she was uneasy. He recognized the look on her face. It was the look she’d worn so often in Bellissime after he’d hurt her feelings. Guarded. Wary.

Expecting to be hurt at any moment.

He groaned and rubbed his face in frustration, nearly knocking his glasses off his face. What the devil was he going to do to prove to her that he loved her? To make her feel safe and comfortable with him?

He’d told Maylee that he loved her a dozen times a day.

She’d never once said it back. He kept waiting and hoping that she’d relax, become more at ease around him, and then she’d realize that she felt as strongly for him as he did for her. But holding back her “I love you” seemed to be some sort of armor for her. That as long as she didn’t expose herself fully, she could still escape him unscathed.

He wasn’t planning on letting her go, though.

Frustrated, he listened to Maylee putter around in the kitchen. He went in and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m going to finish my studies.”

“All right,” she said, and her voice was a little too bright again. “I’m going to straighten up in here.”

He retreated back to his office, and instead of heading for his books, he picked up his phone. He stared at the screen for a moment, thinking. He could call Hunter and ask for advice, but Hunter had that beast of a woman, Gretchen. He wouldn’t know the first thing about dealing with a heart as sensitive and delicate as Maylee’s. He needed a gentle hand.

So he called Cade, but it went to voicemail. Damn. He didn’t want to leave a lovesick message, so he tried Jonathan next.

You there? Jonathan almost never answered calls, but was an unfailing texter.

Here, came the response a moment later. What’s up?

You back in NYC?

No, headed out. Had some stuff to take care of.

Griffin thought for a moment. I need . . . advice. About a woman.

Oh, Jesus.

Piss off.

Is this about that bouncy little blonde that was with you in Spain? She was cute as a button. And it was clear she was into you.

For some reason, that made Griffin feel better. Was it?

Oh, yeah. Kept staring at you every time you spoke like you were shitting nuggets of gold.

Griffin’s mouth twitched with amusement. Her name is Maylee and I asked her to move in with me, but she’s not happy.

Why isn’t she happy? She can’t fit her shoes in with all your books? Then, a moment later . . . Why are you having this conversation with me?

I don’t know. Cade isn’t available, Reese is a prat, Hunter is terrible with women, and Logan would just suggest I buy her something.

Did you try buying her something?

She’s not into money.

Christ, how did you find the one girl in NYC who isn’t into your wallet?

That’s besides the point. She’s not happy. She’s trying to be, but I don’t think she trusts me. He thought for a moment, then texted, She left before because she thought I was hiding her because I was embarrassed.

And were you?

Originally? Yes.

Ouch, man.

Piss off. Again. Maybe it had been a bad call to go to Jonathan for advice. But hell, he was desperate. You know I’m not good with this emotion stuff.

Okay, okay. Are you still hiding her?

Of course not. She moved in. Kip thinks she’s very nice.

No one gives a shit what your assistant thinks. I meant, did you introduce her to everyone? Make her feel welcome?

Oh. He hadn’t even thought about it. You mean like Gretchen and Audrey and the others? She asked about my tattoo.

It was a long moment before Jonathan responded. Look, man, I’m not going to tell you not to tell her about the Brotherhood. I could try, but if you’re thinking with your dick like everyone else, I know it’s a lost cause. So you do what you feel is right. I trust you. We all do, or you wouldn’t be in the Brotherhood.

Griffin didn’t know what to say. I . . . see.

And one more thing.

What’s that?

If you’re in love—I mean really, really in love—you gotta move heaven and earth to show her that you love her. Because if you don’t, you’re going to lose her. And then life isn’t worth living. Take it from me, all right?

Griffin frowned at the screen. Jonathan kept himself remote from everyone, even his Brothers. To hear that confession made Griffin wonder what he was hiding. What does that mean? Is that some shoddy clue about a broken heart?

Tell you some other time. Right now, I have a plane to catch.

Later.

He clicked off his phone and thought for a long time. Did Maylee think that he wasn’t taking her seriously? Was it time to do more? Be more demonstrative? He made love to her every night. Told her he loved her several times a day. They went for long walks in Central Park together, holding hands and walking the dog. He’d even let her bring her foul beast to New York City into his book-strewn townhouse. If that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.

But maybe she needed bigger gestures. Something that she couldn’t dispute in the slightest.

Griffin thought for a moment more, and then texted Reese. Is Audrey there?

Why are you texting me and asking for my wife? Get your own woman.

Irritated, Griffin gritted his teeth and sent back, I have one. I want to throw a party for her and don’t know where to begin. I thought Audrey might know. Reese’s wife could organize just about anything.

Oh. Fuck, man. I am out of any party discussions. I’ll go, but you’ve got the wrong guy when it comes to planning.

Hence why I asked for your wife.

Hang on. A moment later, Reese texted, Here’s Audrey’s number. Call her.

Griffin did, and an efficient voice answered the phone. “Hello?” Audrey Petty was no nonsense and practical, which was why it still surprised Griffin that she’d ended up with someone as volatile as Reese.