Page 23 of Cinderella's Fling with the Off-Limits Billionaire

He grinned. “So?”

“Well, you wanted to forget, so tell me: what’s going to achieve that for you?”

His eyes bore into hers and for a moment, something between them shifted. He was serious. His features dark. She studied him with interest.

“Come with me,” he muttered, and drew her with him to the bedroom. She followed, glad he’d chosen to go behind door number three, because in her heart of hearts, that’s what she wanted too.

When she arrived the next night, Leandro drew her out onto the terrace. He’d set a table with wine and a platter full of food, but her gaze was naturally drawn to the spa. Steam rose from it and into the night sky and beyond them, Manhattan twinkled like some kind of fairy wonderland. She glanced across at him, wondering if he was wanting her like she was wanting him.

“I didn’t want you to feel objectified,” he said with a shrug.

“What if that’s how I want to feel?” She replied, tapping her foot.

His smile was slow to spread. “Then I can objectify you in the spa. Take off your clothes.”

She laughed. “Done.” She glanced around out of habit, wondering if anyone would see her, and when it came down to it, she left her underwear in place, because she wasn’t much for skinny dipping.

The water was so delightfully warm. As she sunk into it, he poured two glasses of red wine and carried them across. It reminded her of the first night they’d met, when he’d spilled the same coloured wine all over the carpet of the hotel room.

“You got the stain out completely, by the way.”

“That spray did the job.”

“Yeah, hate to think what chemicals are in that.”

“The good ones.”

She tilted her lips. “Is there such a thing?”

He stepped into the spa with easy athleticism, taking a seat opposite her, so their legs brushed under water. She sipped her wine and enjoyed the view, tried to ignore the heat that was spreading through her body and pooling between her legs, the tightening of her nipples against the cotton of her bra.

“How long have you worked at the hotel?”

“Your hotel?” She couldn’t resist teasing.

“My family’s.” There it was again. Thunderclap. She heard it in the short, staccato beat of his syllables. The slightly disparaging tone. Was it possible he wasn’t close to them?

That didn’t make sense. He was filling in for his brother, while he was on his honeymoon. That wasn’t something you did if you weren’t close. Was it? She didn’t know. Skye had no siblings, no cousins she was close to. The relationship dynamic was a mystery to her. But she did know families could be complicated, even when you were close. Being billionaires didn’t insulate a person from that.

“About a year and a half,” she said, sipping her wine.

“You like it?”

“Yeah. It’s a great job.” His brows drew down, like he didn’t quite believe that. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not what I dreamed of when I was a kid. But the hours are good, the pay is decent, and my boss is really accommodating if I need to change shifts.”

“What did you dream of doing?”

She looked around the glittering city, sighing. “I wanted to be an architect.”

“Really?”

“Can you blame me? I grew up with this,” she waved her hand towards the view. “In my backyard. I fantasised about designing skyscrapers for a living.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Her smile slipped. “It just didn’t pan out.”

“Why not?”

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