Page 33 of The Billionaire's Heart

My stomach growls at the sound of potential food. “Pasta is fine. I’ll be down in a few minutes. I just want to wash my face.” Not really, I just need a few minutes to myself to absorb all of this. We’ve been together since he knocked on the door to my hotel room this morning.

Ian nods and quietly leaves the room, closing the door behind him. This is the first time since this morning I’ve been alone, and I have a lot to process. I open my bag and see my notebook sitting on top of my clothes and crochet.

This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me to start Magical Moments. My very own business. Two million dollars is a lot of money and a lot of dresses, suits, veils, and many other accessories. What Ian had said about being the first bridal shop in Hibiscus Harbor made a lot of sense. If I start it now, perhaps I can even eventually include the wedding planning aspect, too. That part isn’t in my business plan because I’ve always considered it a pipe dream, but with this kind of money, maybe it’s not such a pipe dream anymore.

But if I do this, what am I giving up? Obviously, my privacy, if only for a little while. My security, again, for a while. We’d be lying to the world. That doesn’t really sit all that well in my stomach. Then again, two million dollars can buy a lot of Pepto Bismol.

I look at my reflection in the mirror and notice that I look exhausted. With all that has happened in the last day and a half, perhaps this isn’t a decision I should make on such little sleep. The bed at the hotel was lovely; much better than the one in my apartment, but it still wasn’t home. Plus, I’m a nerd. I’m usually in bed no later than ten. Last night, it was more like two in the morning. Then, with all the stress and excitement of everything today, I’m just exhausted.

Splashing water on my face, I feel better. With my decision to not make a decision until I’ve slept on it, I feel even better. Now, I’m hungry and the pasta sounds perfect.

Making my way down the hall and then down the stairs, I find Ian standing in the kitchen staring at a pot of water on the stovetop. “You know, they say a watched pot never boils.”

Ian doesn’t turn around to look at me but keeps staring that the water. “I can’t look away or I’ll screw this up.”

I laugh at him as I stand next to him. “You really can’t cook, can you?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. I can heat up stuff, but cooking is not my forte, but not for a lack of trying. The last time I set fire to the kitchen, I swore I’d never try again.”

My eyes about pop out of my head. “The last time? How many times have you set fire to the kitchen?”

“Three.” He looks like a little boy confessing his sins.

“Three? Okay, give me that and step away from the stove. I’ve got this.” I take the spoon away from him and push him aside. “Don’t need to involve the fire department as well into this crazy day. That would give the press even more fodder, now, wouldn’t it?” I smile at him.

“Are you sure? I can boil water as long as I watch it.”

“No, I’ve got it. Go sit down.” I point at one of the barstools at the kitchen island.

“Okay.” Ian goes to the other side of the large island. It’s so big, it could be an aircraft carrier. Who needs all this space if they don’t cook?

Speaking of needing things, “If I’m going to stay here, I need a few things.”

“Anything. Name it.” Ian pulls out his phone to take notes.

“I need some clothes from my apartment. Especially my work clothes. I don’t think Mrs. Wilcox would be too happy if I showup for work in the morning in shorts and a tank top.” I laugh as I put the pasta into the boiling water and turn down the heat.

“Ah, Mia. You can’t go to work in the morning. Or any morning, anytime soon.”

I spin around. “What? Why? You’re firing me?!”

“No, I’m not firing you, but you can’t go to the club, either. The press will be there. Actually,I’mnot even going to the club. I’ll be working from home this week. I can’t keep you, me, and the staff safe no matter how much security I have in place if either of us goes to the club right now. I can’t risk the staff, too.”

“God. This is such a mess. I hadn’t even thought about that.” How the hell am I going to pay my rent if I don’t do this fake fiancé thing? Maybe Hibiscus Harbor wasn’t such a good idea. Most of my stuff is still in boxes. It shouldn’t take much to move and find a new location to start my life over—again.

The pasta is done, and I heat the spaghetti sauce that Ian had in the cupboard. Assembling it all onto plates, Ian sets the dining room table for two. This feels so domesticated and weird. “Bon appetite.” I say as I swirl my pasta around my fork.

Ian digs in and he must have been ravenous because before I can get three bites in, he’s finished his plate and is going back for seconds. I suppose he didn’t eat today, either, since we both skipped the breakfast room service he delivered.

“What the hell am I going to do all day, then, if I’m not going to work?” I ask as he finishes his second plate of pasta. “If I decide to do this, I will not be a ‘trophy fiancé’ and if you think I am, you’ve got another thing coming. I can’t sit by the pool all day eating chocolate. That’s just not me.”

“Well, if you decide to do this, and I think you should, I assumed you’d start working on Magical Moments. That’s your plan, right?”

The thought never occurred to me. If I do this, I can start immediately working on my bridal shop. Oh, my god, that sounds so unreal, but wonderful.

“I can have a new computer and phone here for you in the morning so you can start on your website, logo, ordering dresses, business cards, finding a location, and whatever else you need to start your bridal shop.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not ready to make a decision right now. I’m too tired and it’s been a lot to process in a short amount of time. I told myself that I would sleep on it and I’m going to stay true to my word.”

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