Page 61 of How to Bang a Billionaire

“I don’t want his money.”

“He’s not giving you money. He’s giving you access to money in case you need it.” Bellerose stepped past me and put the card on the dining table. The neat click of plastic against glass sounded way, way too loud. “And I should have mentioned, the building also contains a range of leisure and entertainment facilities, including a swimming pool, sauna, steam room, gymnasium and exercise studio, and spa. Now, do you have everything you need?”

“I have way more than any reasonable human could ever need.”

“Then I can return to the office. Enjoy your stay.” He sounded like Caspian again: polite and implacable. I wondered if it had rubbed off on him, same as pets were supposed to get like their owners—oops, that sounded bad—or if he’d always been that way. Maybe it was what had led to him being hired in the first place.

“Um, okay. Thanks.”

He gave me a Jeevesy nod, if Jeeves had been infinitely hotter and quite a bit scarier. Then turned and walked away.

This threw me into a mini-panic because, since I technically lived here now, it was my middle-class duty to politely escort him to the door. Except, he was all tall and graceful with long strides like Caspian, which left me scampering after him in a ridiculously futile fashion.

“I guess you think this is pretty weird,” I blurted out, just as he was about to leave.

He paused. “What I think has no relevance whatsoever.”

And he was right. Apart from, y’know, the bit where I cared what he thought. I couldn’t help it—he was close to Caspian; in fact, he was the only person I knew who was close to Caspian. So I didn’t want him disapproving of me. Or believing I was a leechy gold-digging sponge type person. Or maybe I just wasn’t used to having my personal logistics handled by someone else. And it was just about possible Bellerose was part of the whole arrangement in ways I far too pure-minded to contemplate.

Actually I could sort of imagine him standing discreetly to one side with the implements. Helping with the knots. Making the occasional suggestion… Okay that was pretty sexy. Apart from the bit where his suggestion would probably be “Why don’t you fuck somebody better?”

I took a deep breath. “Look, you were honest with me earlier so…I guess I’ll do the same? I really will try not to make your job more difficult but can you maybe be a touch less Mrs. Danvers about stuff?”

“What?”

On reflection, it wasn’t the best comparison I could have made. “She’s like this—”

“No, I get the reference.”

“Oh good. I mean…not good. I mean, sorry.”

He stared at me and I could almost feel frost crystalizing on my eyelashes. “I’m not entirely sure what you think is happening here. Caspian asked me to take care of you in accordance with his instructions. Quite why this has resulted in you casting me as a sinister housekeeper with suppressed lesbian desires I can’t begin to imagine.”

“Um”—I shuffled my feet, appalled at myself—“because I’m an idiot?”

To my surprise, he nearly smiled. “I’m only ever glad for Caspian’s happiness. And, for the record, I would never maintain a shrine to his ex.”

With that, he was gone. Leaving me alone in One Hyde Park. In an apartment that looked like a scene from a Tom Ford movie. For which I had been hideously miscast.

I unpacked my suitcase—though it took me longer to figure out how the wardrobes worked, since they were cunningly disguised as the wall. And then I laid my laptop ceremonially down on the desk in the study alcove. Where I would definitely be incredibly productive, and not spend all my time staring in blank intimidation at the sparkling temple of Harvey Nichols, which was literally just across the road.

And then I…honestly, I just sat around gingerly for a little while, feeling overwhelmed. I mean, here I was, in London, ready to take on the world. Except, oh God oh God oh God, how did you do that? How did you even start? Even leaving aside the fact that Oxford had left me woefully underprepared for entering into weird nonrelationships with emotionally distant billionaires.

Thankfully, when it came to that, I still had Julia Roberts in my corner. And so I knew exactly how to handle finding myself living in unexpected luxury.

Which was to say I ran into the master bedroom and flung myself across the perfect sheets with a “Wheeee!”

And, oh wow. It was like being cuddled by candyfloss.

A+

Would enter weird nonrelationship with emotionally distant billionaire again.

Chapter 16

In a little while, the new phone wuzzed—it was a text from Caspian, letting me know he’d be coming round later that evening. Which provided just enough motivation to make me stop rolling around the heavenly cloud of bed and investigate what else One Hyde Park had to offer.

Bellerose had run down a rather intimidating list of facilities, so I decided to investigate the swimming pool first, since I at least knew what a swimming pool was and what to do with it. Unfortunately, finding the damn was its own adventure. I ended up creeping through endless silent corridors, surrounded by mirrors and aluminum and padded silk—a bit like living in the world’s most expensive sanatorium, all the time caught in the unblinking Argos gaze of innumerable security cameras.

---