Page 11 of Dating the Billionaire
“I don’t think I’ve charmed your friend,” Francesca said.
She hadn’t, but Blair didn’t need both Rinaldis charming her. Teo was enough.
He was more than enough. The minute they had stepped inside the gallery, he had been so very attentive despite the other guests and artists trying hard to capture his attention. He’d waved over waiters to keep Blair supplied with champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
She would have liked to blame the champagne for making her light-headed, but she knew it was him. He was so handsome, so charming that he was nearly making her dizzy. Or worse yet, giddy...
“I’ll make up for what you’ve lacked,” Teo assured his sister as he slid his arm around Blair’s waist and steered her toward the door. People tried to stop him, but he brushed past them all as if he couldn’t even see them. He saw the car, though, and guided her right to the door the chauffeur held open for them. After helping her inside, Matteo slid onto the seat beside her.
“Grazie, Alfred,” he told the chauffeur who closed the door, leaving them alone in the enclosed space. Then Matteo turned to her and said, “Thank you.”
She chuckled. “For what? For protecting you?”
She had seen that he hadn’t needed any protection, not with how easily he had been able to move through the crowd. Matteo Rinaldi could obviously take care of himself and apparently everyone who mattered to him as well. For a second, just a split second, she allowed herself to wonder what it might be like to matter to him, to really matter, not just as an act to fool his meddling sister.
But Blair didn’t need anyone to take care of her; she’d been taking care of herself for far too long to rely on anyone else. In fact she moved a little distance away from him, so that she didn’t brush up against his body with each turn of the vehicle along the winding road.
“Your chauffeur can drop me at my hotel,” she said. The partition between the front and back seats was closed, or she would have given the driver the address herself.
“We have a dinner reservation,” he said, and he slid closer.
She couldn’t be certain if he’d done it purposely or if the car’s movement had caused him to slide over the seat. She knew his closeness affected her, making her pulse quicken and her skin tingle. His muscular thigh pushed against hers, the heat of his flesh penetrating the thin material of his tuxedo trousers and the silk of her dress.
“You don’t have to feed me,” she said. “I had plenty of hors d’oeuvres.”
“Those were just appetizers,” he said, his dark gaze on her mouth like he considered it the main course.
She shook her head. “Seriously, you don’t have to do this,” she said. “I know that you just signed up for the service so you would have someone to show to your sister, so that you could get her to stop trying to set you up on dates of her choosing.”
He chuckled. “You would be very hard on my ego—with the way you keep trying to get away from me,” he said. “But you were walking away from my room before I even opened the door, so I don’t think it’s because you find me so unattractive.”
In fact, it was quite the opposite. She found him entirely too attractive and too charming.
He continued, “So it makes me wonder...why did you sign up for the service? Was it only to appease your meddling friend?”
She would have thought so, but she’d had a revelation over what he’d told her earlier that evening. “I don’t think I would have let her talk me into becoming a member of the service if it was something I absolutely didn’t want to do.”
“So you really do want to meet someone?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I’m not looking for my—” she could barely choke out the word “—soul mate or anything.”
He chuckled. “Did she make you that promise as well?”
“I didn’t drink the Kool-Aid, did you?” she asked.
“Kool-Aid?”
“Guess that reference didn’t translate,” she murmured. “I don’t believe in soul mates.” She doubted that Miranda believed, either; it was just part of her company’s new marketing campaign.
“That is something else we have in common,” he said.
“Something else?” she asked. “I wasn’t aware that we have anything in common.” While she was financially secure, or as financially secure as one could be when one’s business partner was a professional gambler, she certainly wasn’t on the level that she suspected Matteo Rinaldi was. Too many people had bowed down to him at the gallery—like he was royalty or extremely rich and influential.
“We have something very important in common,” he said, sliding his fingers along the edge of her jaw to the place on her neck where her pulse pounded madly. “Attraction...”
She could have denied it, but it was palpable, vibrating on the air all around them. Her skin tingled with it; her heart beat with it. She couldn’t remember the last time—if ever—that she’d been this attracted to anyone. She wanted him. Wanted to close the distance between his mouth and hers. His handsome face was so close—all she had to do was lean a little more toward him.
Brush her lips across his...
