Page 63 of The Bossy Billionaire

“Not tonight,” she says, all breathy, and I am about to lose all self-control, but the car stops, and the driver knocks on the privacy screen.

“We’re here,” I say to her. “You’re safe for now…” I murmur through my grin before leaning over and pecking her lips. Her thin dress strap looks dangerously close to falling from her shoulder, and I already know she isn’t wearing a bra either. I half think about taking her straight to my apartment and keeping her locked up for a week, but I want to take her out. I want to show her off. I want her on my arm, and I want every other fucking man in this country to see it. Tonight is about getting her out of Baltimore and forgetting the past. But it is also about cementing ourselves as a couple because I am her future. There have been pictures and gossip about us for months. Ever since the fundraising gala in Baltimore. My photo has been taken coming and going from her bookshop. But seeing us publicly together on a date, with my hands on her fucking amazing body, will let everyone know exactly how serious this former playboy is. Just as Lucy needs to shed her past, so do I. Because I am not playing anymore. Lucy is the one.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN - LUCY

The restaurant is amazing and exactly where I would imagine a man like Huxley would frequent. The lights are low, candlelight everywhere, soft linens, hushed music, and all eyes on us as we walk through, toward a table for two at the back. I usually wouldn’t like a place like this. It’s too polished, too extravagant, but as I walk in on Huxley’s arm, I feel like I belong.

“Wine list, sir?” the waiter asks Huxley once we are seated.

“A bottle of champagne, please,” Huxley says, dismissing him with a nod.

“Glad to see your bossiness in full effect in this city too. This place is beautiful. Do you come here often?” I ask him and internally cringe, because I really prefer not to hear about where he takes his dates. But I am nervous. Because this is a date. A serious date. Our first official as a couple. We have spent a lot of time together, but not out like this. Tonight is a statement, one I gladly make with him. But I feel nervous, my jitters still not under control from seeing Terry Jones in my bookshop yesterday. Plus, today being the anniversary of the hospital fire, I have had the feeling like I want to vomit all day. But Huxley is doing a good job of helping me forget all about my woes every time he looks my way, and being out of Baltimore actually helps a lot, new scenery, almost a world away even though it is just a short flight away.

“I haven’t dated in a long time,” he murmurs, leaning back and looking at me. Appearing open to the next question, I suddenly feel like interrogating him.

I huff a laugh, because before me, he had a different woman every week. “Of course you dated. You are one of the biggest playboys in the country,” I say, smiling in jest, but he doesn’t laugh with me.

“Was. You are the only person I have looked at since the moment I met you,” he confirms, looking serious, grabbing my hand on the table, our fingers intertwined, his thumb brushing my skin. I feel the weight of his words. “I dated before you, but I never took them out. It was never about spending time with anyone. Not like this.”

“I first met you months ago…” I say to him, thinking back to that time.

“I remember it like it was yesterday. You had your hair down, your old coke bottle glasses on, and you walked into Harrison’s boardroom without a care in the world. I thought you were hot.” I giggle at that.

“I was a hot mess that day,” I say, smiling at the memory. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“One I wanted to strip naked immediately and make scream my name,” he teases, his eyes boring into mine, and the temperature in here just went up a few degrees.

“I bet you think that about all the women who barge into boardrooms,” I tease.

“Only you, Luce. In the few months since I met you, it has only ever been you.” I bite my lip.

“You really want to bite your lip right now? Because having you here in my city, wearing that dress with nothing underneath, I am seconds away from closing this entire restaurant and eating you instead,” he threatens, and I swallow. God, he is hot.

“Champagne, sir.” The waiter appears from thin air and breaks the growing tension. He pours two glasses before leaving us again, and I look at Huxley who has his already raised.

“What are we celebrating?” I ask him, lifting my glass.

“To the most beautiful woman I have ever met,” he says, tapping the rim of my glass with his as I grip the table with my other hand so I don't completely swoon out of my seat.

“I have something for you,” he says quickly, digging into his pocket. I place my glass down and take a breath. The air gets caught in my chest as he pulls out a dark-navy box and slides it across the table as he looks at me.

“Huxley?” I say his name in a choked breath.

“Open it,” he commands, and like everything he tells me to do, my body moves on autopilot as I grab the box and open it. I swallow as I see the words Harry Winston written on the soft plush velvet inside. The navy cushioning holds a small charm. When I look at him, he is smiling. I look back down and tap it with my finger, too scared to remove it.

“Huxley, this is…” I say, not sure I can form words.

“It is a charm for your mother’s necklace. I know you don’t take that off, and I wanted to give you something that you can keep with you, always.” My eyes water as I take it in. It is small, but it is covered in diamonds. It is a charm of a stack of books.

“The top book is yellow diamonds, the middle book is pink diamonds, and the bottom book is pure white diamonds.”

“Huxley, this is too much…” My heart thuds, my palms sweat. I never received a gift that is so obviously expensive, yet exactly to my taste, before in my life. It is not large and ostentatious. It is perfect.

He huffs. “It is not too much, and it is going to look perfect around your neck, with your mother’s necklace.” I melt. He isn’t buying me a new necklace; he is enhancing what my mother has already given me. Even though the chain around my neck is probably only worth a few hundred dollars, at best, and this charm is no doubt worth thousands, he brings the two together effortlessly.

I close the box and look at him. “Thank you, Huxley. I love it,” I say sincerely, and he picks up my hand and kisses it, before turning it and then placing a small kiss on the inside of my wrist. My heart races as his eyes burn into mine. We get interrupted by the waiter again, and we quickly order our meals before our conversation flows.

“So, Katie and Brian are taking me shopping tomorrow,” I tell him, sipping my champagne, feeling like Cinderella.

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