Page 15 of A Billion Dollar Romance
Right.Thatpromise. I couldn’t explain the sinking feeling in my chest, the one that reminded me I’d enjoyed the promises of pleasure more than the promise of professionalism.
“But why would you pick me?” I asked, my heart thumping loudly.
This time, I was sure of it: that gold glint. “Because we have… history,” he said.
“Sir?” My cheeks were hot.
“Not what happened between us last week. But–I know you, Miss Taylor.” Did he? But then he continued. “I’ve read your writing. Your work. Don’t I know you?”
“Sir?” It came out breathier this time, as my chest seemed to contract.
“Wouldn’t you agree that’s the best way to know someone’s soul? Through their words? Well–” He smiled, a slow, spreading thing, his eyes burning into mine. “The second best, perhaps.”
I couldn’t stop myself. “And the first?”
His eyes grew dark. “Youhaveforgotten my promise, if you’re asking that.”
The warmth between my legs was unmistakable now. I pressed them together tightly.
“You’re a talented writer, Miss Taylor.” He shuffled a stack of paper on his desk. “Intelligent. Thoughtful. Pretty.”
I blinked. “Thank you.”
“Just the type of woman our readers would love to see on my arm.”
I nodded, my cheeks warming.Right.This was about appearances. Marketing. Not the night we shared together.
“I have the paperwork right here, if you’d like to take a look. It can’t leave this office, of course. And there’s a non-disclosure agreement you’ll have to sign.”
He pushed across a leather folio. The name of a legal firm was embossed on the front in gold. This was a professional arrangement, I reminded myself.
I skimmed over the document. It was legalese, but it seemed simple enough. Mr. Martin and Miss Taylor will attend events together. Mr. Martin and Miss Taylor will be seen in public. The undersigned understand that the above is not to be considered a legal engagement to marry, and Miss Taylor waives all rights to Mr. Martin’s estates and holdings, in exchange for–
In exchange for…
“Okay,” I said, making up my mind.
His eyes widened just a fraction. Had I surprised him? But when he spoke, it was only to call his secretary.
“Yes, Mr. Martin?” she asked over the speaker on his desk phone.
“Send in the lawyer for a moment, please, Alice,” he said.
“Yes, Mr. Martin.”
He stood, and I stood as well. “I have a ten o’clock,” he said, buttoning his suit jacket. I may as well have stayed seated, with the way he seemed to tower over me.I’ll have to wear heels to the events we’ll be attending,I thought dazedly.I’ll have tobuysome heels.Then,no, he’ll have to buy the heels, that’s part of the contract.“The lawyer will come in, explain everything to you. I’ve already signed my parts.”
I glanced down at the folio, open to the last page. He’d used the same signature he used to sign his books, I knew because I’d had him sign mine on the last day of classes, blushing and embarrassed to be asking.What was I doing?I nodded.
“When will we… When will I see you?” I asked, unsure of what the correct wording was.
“I’ll have Alice add a few options to your calendar,” he said.
And then he was gone, the faint scent of his cologne lingering as he brushed past me and out the door.
* * *
“No,” Flora said, when I told her that night. “You did not.”
