Page 221 of The Billionaires

“Amazing,” I say and finally stick the sushi piece into my mouth.

Without intending to, I moan in pleasure.

Adrian’s eyes grow hooded. “Delicious, right?”

Blushing redder than the salmon on the table, I nod.

He sticks his own sushi into his mouth, and I’m not sure if he’s mocking me, but he closes his eyes too and grunts in the exact way I’d imagine him to while coming.

Miss Miller cannot believe a proper lady would dare entertain such a thought.

“Try the golden eye snapper next,” Adrian says when he opens his eyes, and then he gestures with his chopsticks at a piece identical to the one he just ate.

I do as he says, and this time, I control my moaning, but barely. This piece is light in taste, with a hint of sweetness and an ineffable deliciousness that means one of two things: the chef is using something like heroin for seasoning, or he’s made a deal with the devil.

Speaking of such deals, I can’t believe I forgot what Adrian said mere minutes ago—that he’s summoned me here for some dastardly purpose.

The golden eye snapper suddenly tastes like straw—a crime against all that is sushi.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” I demand after I manage to swallow my mouthful. “Something private, you said?”

Adrian’s expression turns serious, and he mindlessly snatches another culinary creation as he gathers his thoughts. “How much have you read about me?” he asks after he swallows a piece that he doesn’t seem to enjoy either.

“Nothing. It didn’t seem right.” I was severely tempted, though.

“I see.” His lips part—making me want to nibble on them. “I guess I’ll have to be the one to tell you.” He winces. “According to the tabloids, I’ve slept with everyone possessing two X chromosomes.”

Miss Miller thinks the word “rake” would cover that much more succinctly.

“And you haven’t?” I ask.

He blows out a breath. “I was never as bad as they make me out to be, and as of recently, I have actually been celibate—which has not stopped the stupid articles.”

Hmm. “If this is about breaking your alleged celibacy?—”

“No,” he says emphatically. A bit too emphatically not to be insulting, if you ask me. “Sex wouldn’t be part of the arrangement, I assure you.”

I narrow my eyes. “What arrangement?”

He groans. “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

“I have no idea,” I say pointedly. “I’m still in the dark as to what we’re talking about.”

“I have a daughter,” he says.

Miss Miller begins to suspect that this gentleman is looking for a governess.

“She’s still a baby,” he continues. “Do you like babies?”

A silly grin spreads over my face. “I have a much younger sister, and ever since she was born, I’ve been obsessed with babies. Especially smelling them, cuddling them, and simply holding them.”

“That’s great.” He pulls out his phone, swipes at it, and hands it to me.

“Wow,” I gasp when I see the little girl in question. “That’s one adorable kid. And I’m not just being polite. She could do baby formula commercials, or star in a Look Who’s Talking reboot.”

“Thank you.” He beams with so much pride it tugs on something green in my fatherless heart and raises Adrian in my esteem. “So… based on your experience with your sister, are you good when it comes to taking care of babies?”

“I’m a pro.” Should I mention that I’m overqualified to be a nanny—which is where this seems to be headed? Then again, a billionaire can afford to hire someone with a PhD in Nuclear Physics for that job. “I don’t understand what your daughter has to do with your reputation as a rake,” I can’t help but say. “Unless you’ve decided to set a good example for her? But no. She’s still too young to care about what you do. Unless… are you trying not to make more babies?”

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