Page 34 of Cinderella's Fling with the Off-Limits Billionaire

“Okay.” She tried to flatten out her ambivalence. “Let’s go have dinner.”

He dropped his hands from her face, caught one of hers in his and lifted it to his lips. “Thank you.”

She found it was easy to smile at him, and she kept smiling all night.

He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to telling her about his family. The confession had been right there, the words stuck to the roof of his mouth and rumbling with wanting to be spoken. I just found out I’m adopted.

He’d been so tempted to bare his soul to her, to let her try to fix him, to heal him, but how could she? The wound that had been inflicted on him by his parents’ dishonesty wasn’t going anywhere.

He’d been lied to his whole life, and Leandro couldn’t forgive that. He couldn’t forget it.

Anger stirred in his veins, a dark anger that threatened to consume him. But then he looked across at Skye’s sleeping form and calmness spread through his veins.

She was his escape.

He hadn’t realized just how much that would come to matter. How much she would succeed in pushing the darkness from his life when they were together. This had been about a distraction at first, and it was definitely that. Their chemistry was something else. But it was more now too. She was some kind of a talisman of hope, her bagliore was like glitter that had been bombed throughout his soul, tiny little fragments of sparkle existing inside of him because of her.

He would be leaving Manhattan next week, but until then, he wanted her here, like this. In his apartment, where he could know she was safe and selfishly, where she could keep him distracted. He’d somehow created the perfect setup for her, anyway, with the ideal nanny for her daughter. It would be easy to make this work.

And so, thinking only of the best way to move the pieces to achieve what he wanted, he picked up his laptop and typed out a quick email to his assistant, satisfied once it was sent that he’d pulled the levers necessary to give them the maximum time together. And then, he slipped into bed beside Skye, cradling her warm, soft body back against his, breathing in her sweet vanilla fragrance until he fell asleep.

“You did what?” She screeched, then quickly lowered her voice.

Leandro’s nostrils flared, his indignation clear. “I organized for you to have some time off. Yet perhaps you misunderstood, as you are acting as though I just arranged for the slaughter of every kitten in Manhattan.”

Out on the terrace of his penthouse, she nonetheless looked around to assure herself that Harper wasn’t nearby. She wasn’t. Jane was getting her dressed for an outing to the park.

“You don’t get to organize my schedule, Leandro. I have a job. A job I need.”

“Your job is at my hotel. It was the easiest thing in the world for my PA to remove you from the roster.”

Skye groaned. “I’m sure it was, but what the actual hell?”

“What is the problem?”

He was being obtuse, and it was infuriating. “Are you kidding me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought you would want to spend time with me too, before I leave for Rome.”

Her stomach flip flopped. If only he knew how much she wanted that. But still…

“You had no right,” she ground out. “This is my life.”

“What is the problem?” He repeated, clearly trying to understand why she was so worked up.

“Setting aside the fact I need the money I earn from working, and that I can’t afford to drop so many shifts?”

“I can give you money.”

Anger flashed inside of her. “I would never take it.”

She sensed he was about to argue, and she couldn’t bear it, so she pushed on with her explanation. “Besides, I happen to have experience with a guy calling the shots for me, taking over my life, making decisions unilaterally and informing me of them afterwards and newsflash, buster, I don’t like it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring his body language.

He opened his mouth to say something, his eyes sparking with hers, and then he clamped it shut again, lifting a hand in the air to forestall whatever else she might have been thinking.

“You’re comparing me to him?”

Had she gone too far? “Well, yes. In this one small way, I am.”

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