Page 59 of Billionaire Romantic
What?
I turn.
Holy fuck.
She’s wearing a little black dress. Her hair is smoothed back and clipped on the sides, but the flaxen curls are as wild as ever, spilling over her shoulders.
She’s achingly, devastatingly gorgeous.
I love her.
L. Emerson Ashton ismyLucky Irish.
27
One hour earlier
I cryall the way through my shower. Real, fat, salty tears that have been accumulating behind some fortified psychological floodgate for nineteen years.
Damn you, Noah Steel. For blowing the lid off some deep emotional well I’ve been able to keep sealed all this time.
I don’t how he did that.
With those filthy-sweet words, that gigantic cock and all those stellar orgasms, that’s how.
I wish he was here. I wish I was soaping up those washboard abs, sliding my hand lower, fisting his?—
Stop. This isn’t helping.
After a while, my tears finally dry up. I rinse my hair and my face, turn the shower off and reach for a towel.
Weirdly, I feel better. Lighter. Freer. Like some of the existential weight I’ve been carrying around with me for a long time has lifted.
I check the time. 9:13.
I choose a simple black dress. I brush my hair and leave it loose. But then I think better of it, smoothing it back from my face and clipping it into place with a tortoise-shell barrette on each side. That will have to do, since I don’t have time to tame it this morning.
Who am I trying to please anyway? Cash Maddox can kiss my ass. I’m hardly going to make an effort for the shark who’s trying to eat my company.
I put on my usual mascara and lip gloss. I notice then that I’ve got several hickies on my neck that aren’t at all subtle.
Really, Steel? What were you trying to do, mark me as your own?
I already know the answer to that question. A small curl of pleasure flutters through me as my body remembers. I put some concealer over the bruises but it doesn’t do much to hide them.
My sapphire bracelet catches the light. I try to take it off but the clasp seems stuck. I finally give up and leave it on.Why, Noah?It doesn’t make sense.Grace must have made a mistake. Two months of studying gems hardly makes her an expert. Machines make gems these days, maybe it’s getting harder to tell. I’m sure there are plenty of jewelry stores that use blue boxes.
I pull on some knee-length boots, find my bag and grab my phone. It’s fully charged. There are now fourteen missed calls from the Unknown Caller. And one text.
CALL ME BACK ~ N
I will. But not now. I need all my wits and I’m barely holding it together as it is.
I can hear the shower in Grace’s bathroom running, so I quickly text her.
Pray for me. Love you, G. See you tonight
I ride the elevator down to the lobby, take a minute to say hi to the concierge and to stop to smell the flowers in today’s bouquet. My mother used to say it was good luck to stop and smell the roses.
