Page 5 of A Billionaire Dom

Davin

Artisans Restaurant wasour go-to for business lunches, but after listening to Theodore and Loretta Ciardi attempt to order in French, I was considering changing to an American steakhouse where they couldn’t massacre the language.

At least that was the hope. Anything seemed possible with these two, and I was willing to wager that most of it wouldn’t be good.

“…then I ask him, ‘Am I paying you to think or am I paying you to hand me my nine iron?’” Theodore Ciardi threw his head back and laughed. One meaty hand hit the table and nearly knocked over his glass of wine.

I forced a laugh and reached for my glass to avoid having to draw it out. I was grateful they didn’t share my father’s strict religious views because I doubted I would’ve made it this far into the dinner if I’d had to do it without alcohol to take the edge off. Wine was barely cutting it, though. I had a feeling I was going to need something a lot stronger by the time lunch was over.

“My Teddy tells the best jokes, doesn’t he?” Loretta Ciardi leaned against her husband, pressing her large – and obviously fake – breasts against his arm with all the subtlety of a cat in heat.

Fortunately, I was spared from having to answer when our waiter appeared to top off our wine. He smiled politely at Loretta when she reached out to put her hand on his arm but didn’t drop his gaze to the considerable cleavage she was putting on display.

I made a mental note to give him an extra big tip. It wasn’t easy to walk the fine line he had to tread. Too far one way or the other could get him into trouble that I understood far too well.

“Now, Davin, I understand that it’s your grandfather who started Holden Enterprises.” Theodore finally brought up a subject I could talk about without that balancing act.

“He did,” I said. “He and my grandmother were married when they were twenty and built the company together from the ground up.”

Loretta blinked rapidly at me. “But they’ve retired?”

There was no way to make this less awkward, so I stated it outright. “My grandfather has. My grandmother passed away before I was born.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Loretta leaned across the table and reached for my hand.

I casually picked up my fork and took the last bite of my entrée as if that had been my goal rather than simply wanting to keep out of her reach. I’d figured out a while back that if I ate at a leisurely pace, taking the time to set my utensils down during the pauses, I could use the pretense of picking them up again and taking a couple more bites to stall or distract. It also worked when I was trying to avoid having someone touch me.

Being the eldest son from a well-known and wealthy family meant I had more than my fair share of women throwing themselves at me. I was also self-aware enough to know that a majority of straight women found me attractive. Some of those women didn’t seem to understand that not all men liked strangers touching them as a part of their flirting technique.

I liked women, but I’d never been fond of the kind of flirting that seemed common in my social circles. I much rather preferred a straightforward approach to sex. An arrangement between two people for mutual satisfaction.

I didn’t see the point of dancing around it when we both knew what we were after. Women who wanted more weren’t people on whom I wished to waste my time. I wasn’t looking for a wife or a soulmate or a girlfriend.

I liked my neat, orderly life. Relationships just made things messy.

“Your grandfather is still living, though?” Loretta asked.

I wished I could tell her that if she’d simply paid attention to what I’d said, she’d know the answer to that question, but I knew I couldn’t say that. Dad had no tact when it came to dealing with people. No matter how much I would’ve liked to speak my mind, I had to be the diplomat and choose my battles wisely.

Repeating myself about something so trivial wasn’t even close to important enough to bicker about.

“He is. Seventy-eight and going as strong as ever.” I forced myself to make eye contact this time when I smiled, moving my gaze from Loretta to Theodore in the hopes that she’d take the hint that I wasn’t going to return her flirtations.

“Did he get remarried after your grandmother passed?” Theodore wrapped his arm around Loretta’s shoulders and pulled her against him. His hand hovered over one of her breasts as if he was contemplating groping her right here at the table.

“He did. Twice, actually. Divorced wife two about thirteen years ago, and then met Cynthia. They’ve been married for eleven years.”

“Never made it to double-digits myself,” Theodore said, “but Loretta and I are coming up on year eight, so I might get there yet.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Loretta’s expression tighten for a moment before smoothing out. Based on the amount of plastic surgery she appeared to have had done, I was surprised she could make much of an expression at all.

If I had to guess, I would say there were thirty years between her and Theodore. A May-December romance like Grandad and Cynthia, but where Cynthia was the furthest from a trophy wife as she could be, Loretta…well, I wasn’t the kind of person who liked to make judgments about other people, but from what I’d observed, she seemed to be every stereotype of the pretty younger woman married to the rich older man.

Which meant she was already thinking about the fact that she would be getting too old for him soon. I wondered if she was thinking about whoever she’d replaced. Was she already as old as Theodore’s last mistress or wife had been?

“What about you, Davin?” Loretta asked. “Have you ever been married?”

“I have not.” I made a discreet gesture at a passing waiter.

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