Page 12 of Cinderella's Fling with the Off-Limits Billionaire

“We’re forbidden from having relationships with guests. It’s in the contract.”

“I’m not a guest.”

“You are to me.”

Her whole body was torn between fire, flame and ice. She was so desperate to go back to doing what they had been doing earlier, to enjoying everything he had to offer, to relishing this small pocket of time when she could just be a desirable woman, and he could be the experience that showed her she was well and truly out of Jay’s control.

But her daughter, and her job, had to come first.

“I think we could have fun together too,” she continued wistfully. “I think that’s exactly what I need right now as well,” she added. “But I can’t risk it.” She passed the envelope to him, and this time he took it. “I’m sorry.”

Four

THE VERY NEXT NIGHT, when she was dispatched to the Presidential Suite, her heart was in her throat the whole ride there. She had told herself she’d avoid going to him if he asked for her—somehow, she’d just known he would ask—but then she’d found herself staring at the switchboard lights all night, willing him to call down for something. In the end, she’d missed the call, but came back to the request for a bottle of champagne, two glasses and a tray of chocolate dipped strawberries. Her heart fluttered in the hopes he had organized this for her.

Then in dread, because she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to say ‘no’ again.

In the end, she didn’t get the chance to say yes or no, because Leandro was no longer in the Presidential suite. A couple of boy band members were in situ, wearing matching hotel robes and slippers, too engrossed in each other to even notice Skye.

Back to regular programming, she thought, eyes straying to the carpet—now immaculate—before she placed the champagne and strawberries on the table and lit a small candle for good measure.

She let herself out discreetly, her stomach in knots as she hopped back into the elevator. It was several hours later before she screwed up the courage to ask Susanna, with faux nonchalance, as to where Leandro was.

“Checked out,” Susanna shrugged.

Checked out. And gone where? Back to Italy? Without saying goodbye?

Inwardly, she practically rolled her eyes. Why should he have said goodbye? Because what they’d shared had been so important? It had been nothing. He had been drunk. He’d propositioned her. She’d easily gone along with it. So he’d thought she was going to be an easy lay, and he’d propositioned her again. She supposed she should be glad, now, that she’d said no. This would have been so much worse if she’d actually fallen into bed with him last night.

Or would it have been?

It wasn’t like she wanted any great relationship. Heaven forbid. After Jay, Skye heartily hoped she’d be single forever. She valued nothing more than her independence, and her ability to parent without interference. After Jay, she wasn’t even sure she could be in a relationship. He’d been pretty easy to deal with in terms of custody. The one weekend per month he had requested was still a bitter pill to swallow, but he could easily have asked for more, and that would have destroyed Skye. He had that in his pocket, and she didn’t doubt he’d use it, if he thought she’d actually moved on with her life.

So, no.

No relationships. Not for many, many years, if ever, and Skye didn’t care.

Perhaps she should be feeling regretful that she hadn’t fallen into bed with Leandro. No strings sounded like a heck of a lot of fun for someone like Skye, who’d come out of a brutally committed relationship and still had the emotional wounds to show for it.

Skye’s shift finished at ten that night—the fourth night in a row she’d missed putting Harper to bed. Such was the schedule she kept. She hated missing out on seeing her little girl in the evenings, but her mom sent pictures to her phone and at least Skye knew Harper was happy. Harper had always been an excellent sleeper—Skye knew how lucky she was. It would be another ten hours or so before the little one stirred and Skye could make her breakfast and have the day with her.

As she stepped out of the staff entrance to the hotel, she registered the presence of a sleek black four wheel drive with tinted windows, a man standing outside of it, but it was the sign he held that caught her attention. Skye it said. No last name, but definitely her first name.

She tugged her handbag over her shoulder, frowning a little.

“Hello?”

“Skye?”

“Erm, yeah. Why?”

“Signore Valentino sent a car for you.” The driver opened the rear passenger door. “Ma’am?”

Skye stopped walking and stared, her heartbeat accelerating rapidly. “He did what?”

The driver’s expression didn’t change. Maybe the hotel mogul did this kind of thing regularly, because the driver looked totally at ease.

“He said I should advise you that he only wants a little of your time, then I’ll drive you home.”

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