Page 310 of The Billionaires

“Sydney. Like the city in Australia.”

“Cool. I’m Mary, in case you forgot. After Marianne Dashwood, from Sense and Sensibility.”

Mom shakes her head. “Mary is your grandmother’s name.”

“It is?” Mary cocks her head. “How did I not know that?”

“Because you only have the one,” I theorize. “If there were two, you’d need to designate them, either by name or nickname.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it,” Mom says. “But let’s get back to the honorary sister business.” She turns to Sydney. “I’ll consider it if you let me be Piper’s honorary grandmother in return.”

As Sydney examines my mom, she reminds me of Mrs. Corsica. “Can we get to know each other a little first?” she says after a long pause.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Mom says. “Want to come in for tea?”

Sydney nods and they all go into the house, leaving me and Adrian looking at each other in befuddlement.

Mrs. Westfield must applaud the choice of tea as the refreshment for any civilized tête-à-tête.

“Should we go somewhere else?” Adrian asks. “I still need to talk to you.”

“How about my room?” I point up. I’ve always wanted to bring a hot guy there and have never got the chance.

Adrian smiles. “Will your mother mind?”

“No, but we shouldn’t tell her, or else she’ll provide us with condoms and unsolicited sex advice.”

His expression turns roguish. “Want to sneak me into your room?”

I grin like a loon. “I thought you’d never ask.”

And so, the two of us, grown-ass adults, tiptoe up the staircase and then to my room—even though the loud conversation in the kitchen makes the stealth unnecessary.

“Called it.” Adrian points at all the bulging bookshelves. “Historical romance, right?”

“Yes, but that’s not the only thing that defines me,” I say with mock sternness. “I bet you didn’t know about this.” I pick up the stuffed penguin I used to sleep with… until very recently. “Mr. Tuxedo has no connection to those books whatsoever.”

“I wouldn’t dream of condensing you to just one thing,” Adrian says. “Though if I did, it wouldn’t be books. It would be your blushing cheeks.”

Great. My treacherous cheeks choose that exact moment to turn red, as if to help him make his point.

“Yes, those.” He leans in and pecks one of the burning cheeks with his cool, luscious lips. Drawing back to look at me, he says softly, “But I think I want to change my answer. If I had to define you by one thing, it would be your Mona Lisa-like smile. No. It would be how good you are with Piper. Actually, no. It would be?—”

I grab his shoulders, rise on tiptoes, and lock lips with him, in part to shut him up but more so because I really, really want to.

He kisses me back fervently, but after a minute or so, he gently pulls away, even though heat still blazes in his eyes. His voice is rough. “Sorry, but I still need to tell you something.”

I look at his lips longingly. “If it’s about what you said after the wedding night, I forgive you. I think you were actually right. Piper is worth being careful. But now that the hearing has gone your way, maybe we can?—”

Adrian cradles my face in his palms, scrambling my brain so much I forget how to speak.

I think I see what he’s about to say in his eyes before his lips move, and then he utters three words: “I love you.”

My heart turns into a bunny on steroids.

“It’s something I realized at the hearing,” he continues. “But I think I’ve felt it for a long time. I was just afraid to let myself?—”

“I love you too,” I say, coming out of my stupor. “I love your roguish eyes, your rakish grin, your inventiveness. And—not to sound like a copycat—I love the way you are with Piper. No. I love?—”

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