Page 34 of Daddy Billionaire Dragon

“Have you ever tried snails?”

“No!” I squeal.

He chuckles at my reaction.

“Are you chicken?” he teases.

“I’d much rather have chicken than snails,” I protest.

“Oh, come on! Don’t be such a wuss!”

“Wuss? I’m no wuss! Alright! Let’s have snails,” I say, gulping audibly. “Have you had snails before?” I ask.

“No,” he grins. “But my mom loves them.”

“Really?” I ask, looking at him suspiciously.

“I swear on my honor! Every time they visit Paris, she devours the little buggers.”

“Your mom seems like an adventurous sort of person.”

“She is,” he says with a fond smile. “You know, ever since Dad retired five years ago, Mom and Dad have made it a point to travel twice a year. France in autumn and one new off-the-beaten-track place in either summer or winter, depending on where they’re going.”

This is the first time he has ever opened up about his personal life to me. I suddenly realize I don’t know a lot about him at all. But I also feel like I’ve known him for many lifetimes, that my soul recognizes him as mine. It sounds insane even in my head, but that’s exactly how I feel.

“They seem like wonderful people,” I say, meaning it.

“They are. I’d like them to meet you sometime,” he says. My hand freezes mid-air with the glass of aperitif halfway between the table and my mouth. He notices the shock on my face, and for a brief moment the expression on his face mirrors mine.

“We have the twenty-fifth anniversary party coming up next month. I’m sure you’ll meet them then,” he continues smoothly with a shrug.

I nod and smile tremulously before I hastily take a large sip of my aperitif. He didn’t mean anything by it, I lecture myself. Stop dreaming dreams that will never come true!

“Your mom and dad have been married for how long?” I ask, unable to hide the longing in my voice. Having been brought up a single mother, I have always wondered how growing up with both parents would feel like. I love my mother more than any person in the whole world, but I can’t help but wonder occasionally. All I know about my father is that he wanted nothing to do with me.

“Nearly thirty-five years,” he says proudly.

I observe him closely as I ask the next question, knowing I might very well be rebuffed.

“You have never been tempted to find what your parents have? I have no designs on you, don’t worry,” I lie hastily when a wary look comes into his eyes. “I am merely curious. I was brought up by a single mother, which has made me determined to have a child only when I’m in a loving, committed relationship. I have seen how my mother toiled and suffered to raise me. What I mean is our experiences shape us. If your parents are in a secure, loving marriage, doesn’t it make you want it?” I say, exhaling noisily. I am babbling as I do when I’m nervous. Perhaps I was out of line.

“No, the risks are too great.”

My eyebrows shoot up my forehead for a brief moment before I rearrange my features. It wasn’t what I was expecting at all.

“How do you mean? There are prenups if you’re worried about losing your fortune,” I say. I seem to have lost all control over my tongue. But when he provided that opening, talking about his parents, I simply could not resist probing. The way I see it, he has some kind of commitment phobia. What is he afraid of?

“It’s not money I’m worried about. It’s something a lot more valuable,” he adds almost inaudibly. My eyes widen. What could he possibly mean? But before I can quiz him further, the waiter arrives with a dish of piping hot snails, and my attention is sufficiently diverted.

The snails are surprisingly not too disgusting. The red meat course follows the snails with a different accompanying wine, which is followed by the cheese course with yet another kind of wine. Lex coaxes me to share a crème brûlée. It is of course followed by coffee.

I insist on walking back to our hotel after the huge meal we’ve had. We walk hand in hand, meandering on the sidewalk as if we didn’t have a single care in the world. In that moment, I actually feel remarkably carefree.

“It was such a lovely day. Thank you,” I say once we are inside the suite, kissing him gently on his cheek. The rough stubble grazes against my lips, sending tingles down my spine. Lex says nothing but takes me in his arms. He slowly slides down the zipper of my summer dress. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. His arms are under my ass, hoisting me up. He carries me to the bedroom as we kiss. This time, our lovemaking is different. It is slow, sweet, tender. I can almost see Lex struggling to give himself completely and uninhibitedly to me, like I have given myself to him. But he holds back. And it hurts. Even when my body is experiencing pleasure beyond belief, my heart weeps silently.

I know with certainty my heart will break, but there is nothing I can do to stop it.

Chapter 16 - Lex

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