Page 4 of The Billionaire's One-Night Baby

Right, the moment had passed but Dodi suspected her fair skin remained fire-red, almost the same colour as her hair. She remembered his earlier comment about being alone. ‘Um...right...why did you need to see me alone?’

Jago took a moment to answer her. Was he also feeling caught off guard? No, not possible. Jago Le Roux, Johannesburg’s toughest deal-maker, was always in control.

He hadn’t been in control in Lily’s bedroom... Stop it, Dodi!

‘I wanted to catch you before the others arrived because I need to pay for Thadie’s wedding dresses,’ Jago told her, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket to pull out a slim wallet.

Right. Of course!

Dodi nodded, remembering Thadie’s offhand comment that her mega-successful brothers would be paying for her dresses, the bridesmaids dresses and all the wedding expenses. Her brothers had accompanied Thadie months ago to help her choose her dress, both feeling out of their depth and trying to hide it. It was a testament to the siblings’ close relationship that they were back for this final fitting.

They were there as a stand-in for their dad, who had passed away five years ago. That had been a terrible year for both her and the Le Rouxs with Anju, Jago’s wife, dying in January, Theo, the Le Roux patriarch, in March, and Lily six months later. They’d all attended far too many funerals that year.

But even before Anju died, and possibly due to the nine-year age difference between them, Dodi hadn’t had much to do with Jago and had seen little of him. Thadie had had nothing in common with Jago’s highly intellectual, aloof wife and tended to avoid her. Because Thadie and Anju weren’t close, Dodi had only seen Anju a few times a year when she was invited to a function at Hadleigh House and, beyond saying hello, they didn’t engage.

‘Can I pay by credit card?’ Jago asked her, pulling her attention back to their conversation.

‘Absolutely,’ Dodi replied, relieved. She’d paid the designer for Thadie’s dresses earlier this week and had winced at her low bank balance after the transaction. She’d emailed both Micah and Jago, gently requesting payment, and here Jago was, thank God. Wedding dresses for high-society influencers were not cheap and she’d prayed one of the brothers would offer up his credit card this evening.

Someone upstairs had been listening.

‘My office manager isn’t here but I have a card machine in my office,’ Dodi said. She thought about asking him to follow her and quickly discarded that idea. Her office looked like a bomb had hit it. Books of sample fabrics were stacked high, client folders needing to be filed were stacked even higher and her desk was covered with papers and coffee cups. It looked nothing like her exquisitely decorated showroom. ‘Let me get it and the invoice.’

Luckily Thadie’s file was on the top of the stack, and she’d printed the invoice out earlier. She grabbed the credit card machine, returned to the main salon and sat down at one of the many sofas in the room, all grouped around daises and oversized mirrors. She gestured for Jago to take the seat beside her and waited as he shed his jacket and slowly rolled up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, revealing tanned, muscular forearms lightly dusted with bronze hair. He had great hands, broad and strong. His fingers were long, with neatly clipped, clean nails. She had a thing about hands...

Dodi sighed.Face it, Davis, you have a thing about Jago.

Jago sat, pulled the knot of his tie down and flicked open the button holding his collar closed. Tearing her gaze away from his tanned throat, Dodi flipped open the file and picked up the invoice. She mentally grimaced at the total and handed it over.

There had been no discussion about what the wedding gowns would cost—Thadie had ordered two, one for the church and one for the reception—and, despite their wealth, she had no doubt the total would be a shock.

Jago looked down at the invoice in his hand and his eyes widened. ‘I think you’ve made a mistake, Dodi.’

She shook her head, keeping her face impassive. ‘I really haven’t. And that’s the discounted price as I gave you my friends and family rate.’ Because Thadie was her best friend and she’d garnered an enormous amount of publicity having her as her client, she’d only added a small mark-up onto the cost, just enough to cover the expenses of shipping the dresses from Milan to Johannesburg.

‘Forty-two thousandUSdollars? Twenty for one and twenty-two for another?’

Was his deep voice suddenly an octave higher or was she just imagining it? Dodi nodded. ‘They are Paulo Du Pont creations, Jago. He’s one of the best wedding dress designers in the world. If notthebest.’

‘Holy crap. I could buy a very decent car with that sort of money,’ Jago said, sounding a little strangled.

Dodi leaned back and crossed her legs, not worried. Jago, along with Micah, having inherited the extensive multinational company his father built from a small corner grocery store he established when he was twenty, was an exceptionally wealthy man. The Le Roux twins owned mines and manufacturing plants, shopping malls and farms, hotels and chain stores, both in Africa and overseas.

Dodi found running one business strenuous enough. She had no idea how the brothers kept track of multiple businesses, thousands of employees, managers and billions in assets. But their long hours working were paying off because Le Roux International was still expanding and was, thanks to Jago’s and Micah’s hard work as co-CEOs, stunningly successful.

As shareholders, Jago, Micah, Thadie and Liyana—Theo’s second wife and Thadie’s mum—topped the richest people in the country list. Dodi was pretty well off—she’d inherited all of Elodie’s wealth, a house in a gated community in the wealthy area of Blair Atholl, northeast of the city centre, and this building—but the Le Rouxs operated in another stratosphere.

Dodi knew Jago’s credit card could handle a forty-two-thousand-dollar charge. Hell, she was pretty sure it could handle any amount thrown at it. With certain cards, unlimited meant exactly that and she was pretty sure Jago owned one or two, or ten, of those types of credit cards. And a mega-healthy bank balance to support his purchases.

Dodi heard Jago’s sigh and watched as he pulled a card from his wallet and handed it over. It was sleek, black and heavier than any other bank card she’d ever handled. She recognised the familiar logo but not its weight. ‘Why is it heavy?’ she asked as she swiped the card through the machine.

Jago shrugged. ‘It’s made from titanium.’

Even her machine was impressed by the card because it pushed through Jago’s transaction at double its normal speed. Dodi pulled off the receipt and handed the card and paper back to Jago, her fingers brushing his. Sparks danced along her skin as desire flared in his eyes and she fought the urge to kiss his sexy mouth.

Nobody, before, or since, had kissed her the way he had. With casual confidence, incredible skill and soul-deep passion.

Jago’s eyes dropped to her lips and all the moisture disappeared from her mouth. ‘Do you ever think about the kiss we shared back then?’ he asked, his thumb caressing her index finger, which was still holding his card. How could such a small amount of skin on skin cause such havoc?

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