Page 13 of Cinderella's Fling with the Off-Limits Billionaire

Skye’s pulse was gushing through her ears, making it hard to think straight.

An hour ago, she’d thought she’d never see him again. She’d thought he’d left the hotel without a backwards glance—and she’d been disappointed. Surprisingly, crushingly so. And now? He was here—or his driver was—wanting to see her again.

As perplexing and out of character as it was, Skye started to walk again, towards the car, swallowing nervously as she slid into the plush back seat. The interior was all a creamy brown leather, and it smelled brand new. She ran her hand over the seat beside her, feeling the softness with admiration, before buckling up her seatbelt.

The driver started the engine—it was practically silent, so she guessed it was electric—and pulled out of the laneway behind the hotel. He drove with ease through the Manhattan streets, away from Midtown and towards the park. Halfway along Park Avenue, he pulled up in front of a steel and glass monolith, one of the newly built skyscrapers and stepped out of the car, coming around to open Skye’s door. Mouth dry, she joined him on the sidewalk, eyes taking in every detail of the luxurious building behind him.

A man emerged in a very fancy suit and top hat, like a parody of a doorman, and approached the driver, who handed him the car keys.

“This way,” the driver nodded towards the revolving glass doors, where two more doormen stood, wearing white gloves and polite smiles on their faces.

Skye was wearing a pair of jeans and a cashmere sweater she’d had for about ten years and loved to bits, and the comfortable shoes she’d bought for work. She was definitely about twenty notches shy of fancy-enough to enter a place like this. Nerves made her stomach zip and fire.

But the driver was looking at her expectantly, and she’d come this far…

Balling up her courage, she fell into step beside him, moving into the foyer and expelling a breath of amazement at how stunning it was. The ceilings were treble height, the floor was marble, the walls were wood paneled, the lights were crystal and gold chandeliers; it was excessive but also elegant.

At the elevator, the driver swiped to summon the lift, and then when the doors opened, he swiped the card again. No need to press a call button; the card evidently unlocked the floor. The driver stepped back out.

“I’ll see you when you’re ready,” he said, and she wondered, vaguely, where he was going to sit and spend time while she was with Leandro.

With Leandro.

Oh, God.

The knots were back, turning her stomach into something barely recognizable. What had she been thinking, to come here?

In the hotel, despite the luxury, it was also very familiar to Skye, almost ordinary, by virtue of the fact she was in those suites every night. This was something else altogether.

Her stomach stayed in the lobby while she travelled at high speed up, up, up to what must be one of the highest levels of the building. The doors pinged open, right into the foyer of an apartment. A penthouse? A…something. Her eyes went wide as saucers as she took in the details of this place. Like the lobby downstairs, the floor was marble, the ceilings were high, the lights were chandeliers. But up here, it was all about the view, with enormous windows showing Manhattan in all its glittering glory, as well as the darkness of Central Park. And at the sound of the elevator doors whooshing open, Leandro appeared, strolling from the lounge room towards the foyer with an expression on his face she couldn’t read.

“You came,” he murmured, a nod of approval.

“I don’t know why,” she blurted. “I just—you checked out.”

He stood where he was, bare feet planted wide on the tiled floor. “Si. It seemed to be a prerequisite.”

“To what?”

A grin flickered on his lips, surprising her. She realized he hadn’t smiled much last night. At all? “To this.”

Her heart thumped. She looked around again. “Are you saying you moved here so I’d sleep with you?”

He lifted one shoulder. “I’ve been looking for a place in Manhattan.”

She shook her head. “You mean you bought this?” She gestured to the luxury sky home behind him, jaw dropping. “When?”

“Right after you left.” His eyes glittered when they locked to hers. Her stomach tightened. “I didn’t particularly want to be in the hotel anyway, so do not take this as anything other than what it is: a convenient investment. The place was empty, owners wanted an immediate change of hands. No pressure.”

“No pressure,” she repeated, looking around.

“Come,” he gestured inside. “Have a drink with me.”

“A drink.” She was parroting; she couldn’t help it.

“A drink,” he confirmed.

“I—,” she what? Didn’t feel like a drink? Didn’t she? The thought of something to take the edge off her nerves was suddenly immensely appealing. “Yeah, okay,” she agreed, fidgeting her fingers a little. She was overly conscious of her handbag and how tatty it was—canvas and with stains from where one of Harper’s food pouches had leaked a year or so ago. It most definitely didn’t belong in a place like this, and nor, Skye thought, did she.

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