Page 34 of Billionaire Grump
He reads this in me and it amuses him. And maybe even pleases him. A challenge simmers in those smoky eyes.
I can feel my heartbeat in strange places as his smug, layered arrogance settles into me. I’m aware of a deep warmth low in my belly that’s surprisingly…erotic.
Yikes.
But I hold his gaze, clinging desperately to my inner calmness and self-control. I think of the money. I think of Josh. And I can admit that this assignment doesn’t feel nearly as awful as it did yesterday.
Fine. I’ll see your challenge and raise you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. This is a fake date and nothing more. I can handle you.
At least I hope I can.
He almost smiles and it occurs to me that Cleo’s descriptions of this man don’t match the first impression he’s giving me at all. I’m not getting aloof or uptight. I’m getting self-assured animal power and purely male physicality.
“Are you ready?” he asks in that low, smooth voice, stoking the small rush of…whatever’s going on in the low pit of my stomach…and lower.
God. Am I getting…wet?
“Yes,” I say, sounding almost breathless.
My bag has already been loaded into the helicopter. Alexander opens the door and holds my arm as I climb in. He leans over me to fasten my seatbelt and his huge, looming presence gives me a not-entirely-unpleasant feeling of being dominated.
Cleo, I don’t know whether to kill you or kiss you because damn, those Google images did not do this man justice.
Soon the helicopter blades are a blur and we’re lifting off.
The view of Manhattan in the late afternoon light is stunning.
But I find myself more riveted by the hot, buff billionaire who hasn’t taken his eyes off me once.
And we’re on our way.
9
Twenty minutes earlier…
Fucking wonderful.
I should have known this would happen. The girl who won’t give her last name—if Ivy is even her real first name—and who’s already pocketed my quarter of a mil is now a no-show.
I’m not worried about the fucking money. As annoying as Cleo may be, she does happen to be one of the most reliable people Noah has ever hired, according to him. Which means she can reliably make sure the money is returned. She can keep the money for all I care.
Of course it’s better this way.
It would never have worked. Staging being in love with someone would be impossible, now that I think about it. It was a monumentally terrible idea.
It’s 5:12.
I don’t wait for people. Ever. Especially Gen Z airheads who don’t know how to stick to a goddamn timetable.
Taking my phone out of my pocket, I bring up her photo once more, getting ready to delete it.
I’ll admit I’ve spent some time looking at it. Because it’s a good photo. She looks sort of…dreamy. Her eyes are inky, her expression calm and somehow wise beyond her years.
Would you listen to yourself?
Something about the photo makes me feel a fraction less cynical about life in general. Which is unusual for me. The girl is stunningly, painfully beautiful.
It’s probably just one of those filters people use. No doubt that’s some app-developer’s intention: to make you practically fall in love with people, just because they look so fucking perfect.