Page 70 of A Billion Dollar Romance
No, I’m in bed with a werewolf mafioso duke,I sent back, and got a call immediately. I smiled, and accepted the call.
“Are you being unfaithful to me, Edie?”
I closed my eyes, listening to his voice, low and rich, and I could picture him, his lazy smile in the back seat of the car as his driver chauffeured him home.
“No,” I said, “never. Are you?” I asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear him say it.
“No, Edie. Never,” he growled. “It’s you I want. I want you in my bed tonight, and you tell me you’re with a… a werewolf duke instead. You can see how I might be jealous.”
“Don’t be.” A smile teased my lips. “It’s you I want,” I said, echoing him. “A werewolf seems inconvenient. And a duke… It’s a big responsibility, being a duchess.”
He was quiet for a moment, and I could hear the now-familiar sounds of his car in the background of the phone.
“And your professor? The CEO of Verity?” he asked, his voice hushed.
“Hmm?” I asked.
“Our history is inconvenient, Edie,” he whispered. “It’ll always be there, when people see us. Talk about us. That won’t ever go away.”
“I don’t care,” I said, snuggling down into my pillows. I reached over and switched off my lamp. “I want to be with you.”
“And the legacy of Verity… it’s a big responsibility.”
“It is,” I agreed. “You’re doing a good job, James. You’re trying. I can see that.”
“Not for me,” he said in a growl. “For my wife.”
My breath caught as my stomach twisted.
“This isn’t a proposal, by the way,” he said, and I let out the breath in a quiet laugh. “I just want to tell you I know I’m asking a lot of you. I have to, because of who I am.”
“Of course,” I said. “But you always have.”
“Have I?” he said, and I heard his exhale. “I suppose I have. But you’ve always risen to the occasion, Miss Taylor.”
“Thank you, professor.”
There was a long quiet again as I listened to the sound of the road passing underneath his car.
“I have something to tell you, when I see you again,” he said at last.
“Anothernot a proposal?” I joked, but my heart was beating fast against my ribs.
“Good night, Edie,” he said, “You’re sure you don’t want me to pick you up? I can have the driver turn around, be there in fifteen…”
“Thank you, but no,” I said. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“At the office,” he replied with a sigh.
“At the office. But–”
“Dinner, after?” he asked. “My place? Don’t worry, I won’t cook. I’ll pick something up.”
I nodded against the pillow. “Yes. That sounds good.”
“Good night, sweetheart,” he said.
“Good night, James.”
