Page 33 of The Billionaire's Bargain
She was inviting him to come with her to visit her mother. Considering they didn’t have a traditional relationship, introducing him to her family hadn’t occurred. But she was offering that to him. It...humbled him.
“Why don’t you invite her here instead since his fever isn’t completely gone? I can send a car for her. Or go get her myself. Whichever she prefers. If you’d like, she can spend the day here with you and Aiden.”
She blinked. “A-are you sure?” she stammered. “This is your home. You don’t have to...”
“No, Isobel,” he contradicted, injecting a thread of steel in the words. “This is our home. And it is always open to your mother, to your family.”
She didn’t agree with him—but she didn’t refute him either.
And for today at least, it was a start.
Eleven
Isobel removed her earrings and dropped them into the old wooden jewelry box that had been a gift from her mom for her thirteenth birthday. Closing the lid, she picked up her brush and dragged it through her hair, meeting her own gaze in the mirror of the vanity. A smile curved her lips, and she didn’t try to suppress it. Even if she looked like a dope wearing a silly grin for no reason.
Well, that wasn’t true. She had a reason.
A wonderful day with her mom, Aiden...and Darius.
She carefully set the brush down as if it were crafted out of fragile glass instead of durable plastic. When truthfully, she was the one who felt delicate...breakable.
Inhaling a deep breath, she splayed her fingers low on her belly in a vain attempt to stifle the chaotic flutter there.
Once the car bringing her mother had arrived, she’d expected Darius to retreat to his study or even head to his office. He’d done neither. Instead Darius had stayed with them, warmly welcoming her mother and melting her reserve toward him with his graciousness and obvious adoration of Aiden. They’d watched movies, played with Aiden, cooked, ate and laughed. She’d glimpsed another side of Darius that day. Charming. Relaxed.
Like his gift of the contract addendum and the bank account with more money than she’d ever see in five lifetimes. She shook her head. She still couldn’t believe that. Not only had he handed it over to like it’d been change in a car ashtray, but he’d given it toher, the woman he considered a money-grubbing user. When she thought on it, the shock returned, and she had to stop herself from pinching her skin like some kid.
She could take care of Aiden.
She didn’t have to work at the supermarket.
She could return to college.
She had no-strings-attached options.
A whirl of electric excitement crackled inside her. In the space of minutes, her world had expanded from the size of a cramped box to a space without walls, without ceilings.
He’d done that for her. For her son.
Isobel spun on her heel, charged out of the bedroom and marched down the hall before she could change her mind. Seconds later, she knocked on the door of Darius’s room. Already cracked, it swung further open under her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, wincing as she shifted into the opening. “I didn’t...know...it...”
The words dried up on her tongue, along with all the moisture in her mouth.
Good. Lord.
Darius stood in the middle of the room, naked to the waist. Miles and miles of golden, taut skin stretched over muscle like barely leashed power. Wide, brawny shoulders, strong arms roped with tendon and veins that seemed to pulse with vitality and strength. A solid chest smattered with dark brown hair that her fingers knew was springy to the touch. It thinned into a silky, sexy line that bisected his rock-hard stomach. Her gaze trailed that line, following it with complete fascination as it disappeared beneath the loosened belt and unbuttoned jeans.
Face heating, she jerked her head up, her stare crashing into his whiskey-colored one. Whiskey. Yes. She’d always compared it to an eagle’s gaze, but whiskey was more accurate. Especially considering the punch it delivered and the heat it left behind.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized again, inwardly cringing at her hoarse tone. Like sandpaper smoothed with jagged rock. “I didn’t mean to interrupt...” She waved a hand up and down, encompassing his towering frame. “I’ll just go,” she said, already whirling around.
“Isobel.” Her name halted her escape. No, it was the swell of arousal low in her belly that froze her. “Come here.”
No “I’ll meet you downstairs.” Not “it’s fine. Let me get changed and we’ll talk later.” Not even “come back.” But,come here.
It was a warning. An invitation.
