Page 16 of The Billionaire's Marriage Dare

So that was his last name, Jane thought. It definitely sounded British, but more than that, the name Christian Ravenhearst didn’t sound like the ideal match for someone whose name was as ordinary as Jane Cooper.

So that should tell her, right?

The elevator whipped them to the sixty-fifth floor in a few minutes, and when the doors slid open, Jane felt like she was stepping into a world where only the most elegant living beings could exist. An enormous crystal chandelier, suspended from the twenty-foot-tall ceilings, illuminated the living area, which was dominated by white velvet cushions and a frosted glass center table. Priceless artwork hung on the wall while expensive vases graced the mantel that served as a divider between the sleek entertainment system and the brick-paneled digital fireplace.

It was, in a word, breathtaking, and made Jane feel like she was trespassing. “Maybe,” she heard herself say, “I should come back another time.”

“Why?”

“Your home’s amazing.” She paused. “So much so I think I should only come here when my outfit costs five digits.”

He coughed.

“Oh, please. Don’t feel like you need to ask for my permission either.” Jane didn’t hesitate to throw his words back at him, saying sweetly, “Just laugh.”

But Christian’ gorgeous features were once again marked with nothing but courtesy. “May I get you anything to drink?”

“Coffee would be nice,” she said after a moment. “As long as it’s not black.”

“Excellent. Follow me please.” Christian flashed a smile that was distractingly sexy, and she hastily lowered her gaze before she ended up gaping.

Christian’s kitchen was just as elegant as the rest of his penthouse, with marble cabinets and drawers on one side, and induction stoves and other state-of-the-art appliances on another. A ten-foot-long island with a marble countertop was built at the center, surrounded by white velvet stools.

“Have a seat, pet.”

The words should have made her feel she was being patronized, but strangely...it didn’t. Maybe it was because of how harsh he had been with Merry?

Swinging her stool around so she could follow his movements, she belatedly noticed the professional-grade espresso machine in the corner, and asked curiously, “Aren’t English people supposed to be into tea?”

“I like it enough,” Christian answered with a shrug, “but I’ve found myself gravitating towards tea at a rather early age.”

Gravitating, she repeated in her mind, more than a little impressed. Was that a product of a fancy British education?

Her eyes widened when he switched the machine on. “You know how to use it?”

“It’s in my kitchen, isn’t it?”

“I thought it was just for show, or you had a butler or something.”

Christian only rolled his eyes.

‘Nuff said, she translated with a grimace.

When he presented her with a cup of caramel macchiato—-

Jane choked.

It even had coffee art, and pretty intricate at that!

“I hate you,” she said without heat as he took a seat next to her. She reached for her coffee and took a slow sip.

It tasted perfect.

“I do really hate you.”

Christian leaned back, asking lazily, “Why?”

“Because you’re perfect,” she answered unhesitatingly, “which means you can be yourself.”

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