Page 6 of Shelve that Billionaire

I hesitate, but bullying Jane into talking to me isn’t the way I want to earn her trust.

I take a step back and try to recite the words she’d read to Byron yesterday from an alien romance, hoping against hope that they’ll keep her from slamming the door in my face. “She fought, but it… it wasn’t the struggle of a woman trying to tell a man no… no, it was an inner battle…” For a split second, my mind goes blank. “An inner battle of a woman who knows she wants something, but can’t give in for fear she might lose herself in more beauty than she believes she deserves.”

I know I’ve probably butchered most of it, but Jane stands there slack-jawed, her door still ajar. “How did you… that’s from… I don’t understand.”

“I watch your videos. I read everything you read. Okay, that sounds a lot more creepy out loud.” I rub the back of my neck, suddenly feeling like an awkward teenager, and not the self-made billionaire women typically throw themselves at. “What I meant to say is that I read all the books you post about.”

Jane barks a disbelieving laugh. “Bullshit! What’s your game?”

“No game.” It kills me that my reputation—and the fact that my robot unintentionally got promoted to library assistant—has given her such a poor impression of me. “I can prove it. I have a whole shelf in my library that only holds books you’ve read and talked about on Book Talk with Byron.”

“Yeah right.” She rolls her eyes at me. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. And let me tell you, it was a huge pain to reprogram Byron 2.0 not to shelve the books where they’d normally go. You realize I had to create a call number in the Dewey Decimal Classification System just for you?”

“You did not!” To my delight, she laughs. I think it’s primarily disbelief, but her smile is real.

“Come with me and I’ll show you. If you still want to hate me after you see my library, then I’ll accept it and leave you alone.”

Jane doesn’t say anything. My fucking palms actually start to sweat while I wait. But then she finally nods.

I lead the way back to Main Street, where my SUV is parked a short walk from the library. I would have parked directly in front of it and easily paid the ticket, but I’d have to be a monster to block a fire hydrant in front of a building filled with books.

Jane allows me to open the car door for her and watches me as I get behind the wheel. “I kind of expected you to have a self-driving car.”

“I like driving.”

We don’t speak again on the short drive up the hill to my home—but it’s a comfortable silence. At least for me. It feels right.

Jane seems to relax in the seat next to me, and I keep sneaking glances at her. I just can’t help it.

I’ve always had a thing for librarians, and Jane’s modest take on the sexy librarian look makes it all the more hot. The way her cardigan hugs her curves, pulling my eyes where a more cultured man would be polite enough not to stare. The way her skirt falls just below her knees gives me a deeper appreciation for men’s obsession with bare ankles in the historical romances Jane has had me read as part of her Book Talk with Byron videos. Her hair, up in a bun, makes my fingers itch to free it, while my cock twitches at the thought of taking her exactly the way she looks right now.

I should have acted on my attraction to her sooner; introduced myself before she had a reason to hate me, other than my reputation.

I pull up in front of my mansion, open the door for Jane, and lead her up the front steps. The door slides open automatically when the security camera registers my face. I glance over at Jane to see her reaction but can’t decipher her expression. Is she impressed or disgusted?

“Shoes off at the front door, please. My cleaning robot gets cranky when I don’t make an effort to keep the floors clean.”

Jane rolls her eyes. Definitely disgusted.

“This way.” I place my hand on her lower back and guide her down the hall.

She shivers. Or maybe I transfer a shiver from my palm to her. Because this close, Jane is absolutely irresistible.

There is an unmistakable energy between us, and an attraction I know she feels, too. It takes all my self-control to casually lead her to the library at the back of the house. We reach the door and I inhale a long breath. I’ve never invited a woman into this room. Never shared photos of it on my feed.

I’m letting her into my private sanctuary, which is a risk, but one I want to take. One I wish I’d taken before Jane lost her job—something I will fix, I promise myself.

“Welcome to my happy place.” I push open the oversized, fireproof metal door and gently nudge Jane inside.

The outside wall is all glass so I can read in natural light for a few hours each day. Nothing dusty or antiquated in my sacred space. Shelves line the walls on both sides, stretching all the way up to the ceiling, and Byron 2.0 waits to retrieve whatever book I request—an upgrade I’d planned to one day donate to the library. Though, based on how things went with Byron 1.0, maybe I should just keep it to myself.

I have a small coffee table in the middle of the room, in front of a large, plush velvet couch, as well as other furniture I’d bought specifically for reading. Beanbag chair in the corner. Leather recliners by the wall. Daybed by the window. Not to mention a hammock outside for those hot summer days.

“Oh. My. God,” Jane breathes.

I make note of the way her eyes widen and jaw drops. That is what she looks like when she’s impressed. That is the look I need to find a way to recreate.

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