Page 10 of The Runaway Bride and the Billionaire

“Mr. Hayes?”

“Yes.”

“He’s great!” Eddie responded enthusiastically. “Working for him is easy. He pays well and he’s super considerate. If he’s going to be working late, he sends me home early. And there are times when he drives himself so I get the day off and he still pays me a full salary.. I’ve never worked for someone so kind.”

“He sounds like a great boss,” I said.

“He sure is.”

I leaned back and stared out the window at the city that was to be my new home. The man Eddie described sounded exactly like the Matteo I knew. He’d also been so kind and considerate of others. It was one of the things I loved most about him. The magnanimity of his heart was what originally drew me to him.

As we drove down the street, I found myself wondering which version of Matteo would be waiting for me at home. Would he be as kind to me as he was to Eddie, or would he be cold like he was when we met in the park last week?

I knew the answer and it broke my heart to accept it.

Eddie pulled into the parking lot of a tall building. I stepped out of the car while he grabbed my suitcases. He led me to an elevator. We rode it to the top of the building. Eddie pulled my suitcases into the living room of the penthouse. Then he stepped back and said, “I’ll leave you here ma’am.”

“Where is… Where is Matteo?” I asked as I glanced around the luxurious room. The large open windows allowed me to gaze out at the city. I could tell from the tinted glass that no one could look inside the penthouse.

A black grand piano sat in the corner behind a cream divan couch. There was a similar but larger couch on the other side of the room. Two medium-sized center tables sat between the couches. On top of them sat books, a vase of white flowers, and small porcelain sculptures. Above us, a magnificent chandelier dangled, its unique structure making the room look even more extravagant.

“He’s at work. He just told me to drop you off here,” Eddie said.

“Oh.”

“Is anything wrong?”

“No!” I said quickly. Then I cleared my throat and tried again. “No, of course not. Thank you so much, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome.”

Eddie left and I finally allowed myself to feel the sadness in my heart. Not only did Matteo send someone else to pick me up from the airport, but he also couldn’t even be bothered to welcome me into his home. I knew it shouldn’t bother me, but it did.

I noticed a white card sitting on the grand piano in the corner. I walked over and picked up the card, reading the words out loud to the empty room. ‘Your room is the second door on the left. Matteo.’

I flipped the card, but the other side was blank. That was the whole note. Once again, I tried to force myself not to care. I pulled my suitcases to the room he’d given me. Pushing the door open, I was welcomed into another world of luxury.

The spacious room contained a king-sized bed, two chaise lounge chairs, a center table, a dressing table, and two small drawers on either side of the bed. I walked around the room, admiring the exquisite decor.

A bright reading lamp sat beside one of the lounge chairs. Its light shone brightly despite the sun obscuring it. I imagined myself sitting there to read on some days and I smiled happily at the thought.

Then I strolled back to the bed where I ran a hand over the white sheets, the warm feeling letting me know that it had recently been laundered. I noticed two other doors which I assumed led to the bathroom and the walk-in closet. I opened one door and sure enough, it was a beautiful closet, albeit an empty one.

I walked back into the bedroom and returned to the closet with my two suitcases. Initially, I had no intention of settling in this much, but it would be a shame to let such a lovely closet go to waste.

After settling into my new room, I went in search of something to eat. It was easy to find the kitchen because an incredible scentemanated from the room. I followed it to where I found a pot of food. I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips.

Sure, Matteo didn’t pick me up from the airport and he wasn’t here to welcome me but at least he cooked me something nice to eat. That had to count for something. Maybe he still cared about me even just a little bit.

I opened the pot and my mouth watered when I realized it was coq au vin. I’d tried the dish many times on my trips to Paris with my parents.

“You must be Amelia,” a voice said behind me.

I was so shocked that I dropped the pot cover. It fell to the ground with a loud clang.

“Oh my, I… I thought I was alone. You scared me,” I said as I turned to look at the older woman behind me. She had a few gray strands in her otherwise dark hair, and she wore a loose-fitting blue gown with a white apron on top.

It wasn’t hard to deduce that she was Matteo’s chef and likely the one who made this meal. I couldn’t believe I actually thought he cooked for me. Why do I keep getting my hopes up when he’s made it clear that he doesn’t care about me?

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