Page 62 of The Bossy Billionaire

I need to see them. I need to get clarity, find answers, and get help. I have no idea what to do, but I know my brain always functions better when I talk to them. I rush out the door, and the two bodyguards look at me suspiciously. Once I tell them where I need to go, I slip into the back seat, closing my eyes. I feel instant relief when we start to move.

I waste no time as the car stops, and I get out, not waiting for them as I step through the cemetery gates and swiftly make my way to the grave. I have been here so much that I could find them with my eyes closed, but I haven’t been here since before I went to Whispers. I feel bad for a moment that I have missed so many weeks. There are no people here today. The space is eerily quiet, but I pay little attention to my surroundings, my heart still pounding, my body still shaking. The need I have to sit and quiet my thoughts to try to work out what I need to do is overwhelming.

It isn’t until I get to the grave and look down that the air completely leaves my lungs, and I get my answer.

Because sitting on their headstone is a big, beautiful bunch of fresh chamomile, tied with a thin strip of brown leather.

Huxley. Huxley is my answer.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX - HUXLEY

My car pulls up outside the bookshop, and I look around before I get out. There are no media here, but I have no doubt they are nearby. Harrison has been all over the news, now on the other side of the country, shaking hands and kissing babies.

My eyes settle onto Bloomer Books, and I clench my hands. I still have nothing on Dwayne, his history a complete mystery. A blank slate. Too blank, actually, completely wiped from any public directory. My security guys now need to dig a little deeper to see what they may find. My finance team thinks they have picked up some small amounts of money that are frequently getting skimmed from Bloomers, and I know Lucy isn’t the one responsible for it. Dwayne is stealing it, but I have no proof, which is something I need before I bring it to Lucy’s attention. Until then, I will watch him like a hawk.

I spot her through the shopfront window. It is cold and drizzly, and she looks like an angel inside in the light. She is wearing the outfit I sent to her this morning, hair wavy down her back, her lips glossy and shining. I like her wearing red. The sheath dress hugs her curves, the low back showcasing her skin. Her shoulders are bare with the shoestring straps that I ache to pull from her body, my dick already standing at attention as I watch her.

I rub my bottom lip with my finger, watching her move around the store with books in her hands, still working, even now that the shop has just closed. I sent her a text this morning to let her know I would be here to pick her up. Today marks two years since the fire. The local news obviously covered it, and I know this week they have been calling her, wanting an interview, which she declines each time. She wants to move on with her life, but she still gets dragged back into it all. I feel her frustration. Her hurt. Her pain. My cell phone rings, and I grab it. It is a private number, so I ignore it and step out of the car, then take a big breath of the cool late afternoon air as I button up my suit jacket.

I have no idea what I am doing. This is all new for me. I have never worked this hard for a woman before. Not even Amy. Sure, I go on dates, but they are basic. A quick dinner at a restaurant with me usually meeting them there. A quick escape with no second date required. But Lucy is different. I think of nothing else but her, my thoughts consumed by her. I imagine her with me every night, even though she is miles away here in Baltimore. Something I need to rectify.

I walk into the store, the familiar chimes sounding, and when she looks up and smiles, my steps almost falter. She is so fucking breathtaking, I can hardly stand it.

“Hey,” she says softly, looking at me like I am her everything, and I swallow.

“Hey, beautiful,” I say, walking to her, my feet moving quickly, not wanting to waste any more time until I have her in my arms. “No glasses tonight?” I question her as my arms find their familiar place around her waist, and I draw her to me. I have gotten used to her glasses, and I think she looks beautiful with and without them, but I do like to look into her deep brown eyes. They shimmer now under the shop lights as she looks up at me, contact lenses in place. She looks happy to see me but there is a look in her eyes that tells me something is up.

“I figured since you sent me this beautiful dress to wear tonight that I should perhaps ditch my glasses tonight,” she says, and I smile. We talked about her stepping into being the face of Bloomers. Of her stepping into her beauty, her confidence, for her to be herself. She didn’t agree to it then, but maybe this is her first step. I am proud of her.

“Hmmmm…” I murmur into her ear as I drop soft kisses along her jaw, unable to help myself. “All I can think about is how fucking sexy you look in this dress and how I want to peel it from your body.” My cock presses against my zipper. I can’t help it. Every time I am around this woman, I want to have her naked and my hands on her. Her hands run up my arms and she giggles a little when I kiss her sweet spot on her neck.

“It’s a beautiful dress, thank you. You do bring out the best in me.” I smile against her skin. There she goes, making me feel like a fucking king again. I step back, my fingers intertwined with hers, our arms stretched between us, and I look her up and down. Her smile is there, but not as wide.

“You alright?” I ask her before mentally kicking myself. Of course, she wouldn’t be alright. She is probably in a world of emotions right now after this day.

“Yes. I just want to talk to you about something later,” she says, and I stiffen. Something is definitely up.

“Tell me now,” I say to her, wanting to get it out of the way.

“No. I need food. I need you. Then we can talk.” Her other hand lands on my chest, my skin burning at her touch. I lower my shoulders, her touch putting me at ease, and I watch her for any sign of distress.

“Okay. Promise?” She gives me a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I promise. Now where are you taking me?” she asks as I start to pull her along. We shut off the lights and step outside, and she locks the door.

“I’m getting you out of Baltimore tonight. We are flying to New York. I am taking you for dinner,” I state as I put her in the car.

“New York?” Her mouth is agape as she looks at me like I have lost my mind.

“Be careful, beautiful. With your mouth open like that, I can think of a few ways we can pass the time when we are in the car, or in my jet…” I murmur, smirking when she closes her mouth, her eyes remaining wide in surprise. I pull her out the door and remain a gentleman, holding her hand in the car, keeping her close to me in the jet. This time, she stays awake for the small flight to New York, and I watch her take in the city from the plane as we come in to land. I like having her with me. I have wanted to bring her to my city for a while now and with the anniversary today, it seemed like the perfect time to get her out of Baltimore. But I know Baltimore is her home. She would never leave Bloomers.

As we sit in the car that is taking us to the restaurant, I rest my hand on her leg as my fingers slowly walk up her long silk dress, gripping the material until I get to her bare knee.

“Huxley…” she warns, but I see her chest rise and fall, her perfect tits sitting high, begging to be in my mouth.

“I’ll be good, baby. I am going to be a pure gentleman tonight. But I need to touch you.” I grit my teeth together. How am I expected to be around this woman and not touch her? I trail my fingers up her soft skin, her legs parting slightly as my eyes flick to hers and see her watching me with burning desire in her gaze. I hit her apex at her thighs and still.

“No underwear?” I say in shock as my finger connects with her warm, wet center.

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