Page 12 of My Forbidden Billionaire

“Thai sounds perfect,” he responded with such sincerity that it clawed at her heart.

“Okay! Tell me what you’d like, and I’ll order it.” She reached for her cell, and he rested his hand on hers.

“No, no, you’re not an intern right now. You’re helping me. You just relax. I’ll order the food. What do you normally order?”

“Panang curry or pad thai.”

“Let’s get both.” He smiled warmly at her, and her stomach flopped. She watched him as he ordered, winking at her when he ordered both the curry and the pad thai. She quickly broke her stare, opting instead to fidget with her nails. When he hung up, he rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s get started.”

They spent hours taking bites of food while staring at documentation. The problem was that Mr. Arnault insisted he had come up with his idea a year before he’d gotten the copyright. He’d even requested to have a prototype drawn up by a man he’d contacted through LinkedIn but whose profile was mysteriously gone, their messages proving the timeline disappearing with it. He’d tried to find the man on Facebook to ask him to write up something confirming their correspondence but found that either he was gone from there as well or he’d never had an account. They scoured through text messages on old work cell phones he had in drawers, checked through sent emails, even checked his diaries to see if they could find a single point at which he had mentioned the tracker before the man claimed he’d come up with it.

“Maybe it doesn’t really matter who gets the credit,” Mr. Arnault finally declared, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. One long strand of hair dangled in front of his forehead just above his eyes. Lainey’s fingers twitched, aching to wrap around it.

“Of course, it matters. How could it not matter?” Deftly, she moved around to the other side of the desk and slid into the seat next to him.

“Did I ever tell you why I came up with the LiveSteady?”

“No.” Lainey watched his hands clasp and unclasp, pick up his drink and put it down. He spooled noodles around chopsticks, then set the chopsticks down. She covered his hand with hers, then cupped it. “I’d love to hear why.”

“My father was getting older. I was getting older too. That’s how it works, you know. You think you’ll see your parents age, and then you’ll age, but you age right alongside them. You’ll see.” Lightly, he crashed a shoulder into hers, sending her bobbing to the right and back to him. “I was in med school, as you know, alongside your father, and it just . . . it wasn’t what I thought it would be. It wasn’t anything likeHouseorScrubs. It wasn’t obscure cases that needed solving. It was heart attacks and strokes over and over. They tell you heart disease is the leading killer, and it’s true.” As if coming out of a trance, he hazarded a look up at her, squeezing her fingers back. His hands were warm and strong. “And then my dad had a heart attack, and I got sort of . . . paranoid. Or I don’t know if paranoid is even the word because I was completely justified. Preoccupied, I suppose. I felt like I was seeing it everywhere. In breakfast foods, cigarettes, overly caffeinated drinks. If I went more than two days without working out, I felt panicked. I wasn’t enjoying life anymore. So, I came up with something that would give me my life back, something so that I could stop worrying about my heart and my dad’s.”

“Did it help?”

“You know, it did. So why should it matter if this guy gets the credit?” At “this guy,” he flipped the corner of a pile of papers. “If he wants it so badly, maybe he should get it. I know what I did, and it wasn’t about money.”

“I know how it feels to wonder if all your hard work was even worth it,” she mumbled. She was fighting back every impulse to hold him, fearing that if she moved even a muscle he may startle and let go of her.

“Do you?”

“Josh—he broke up with me on graduation, called me names, said I thought I was a bigshot because I was going to be a doctor basically.” She laughed bitterly and continued, “All because I didn’t want him to order off the children’s menu.”

“Children get jealous when they see other children with toys they want. You’re a woman now, Lainey. You need a man. He was right to let you go.” It was hard to hear that Josh had done anything right, especially coming from his leather voice and his rosy lips, but it felt true. She felt this sensation of peace for the first time since it had happened. “Anyway, we’re not going to figure this out in one night. Let’s go home and rest and we’ll both think much more clearly tomorrow.” Lainey nodded and reluctantly loosened her hold around his fingers as he did and stood up. They gathered their food, and she was reminded of that day at the restaurant. The memory was hazy now, something she’d have to move through fog to access. Mr. Arnault walked her to her car, and after she put her food in the seat, he said, “Goodnight, Lainey. Thank you for your help.” Then, a little quieter, “Thank you for staying.” Lainey reached out, unsure but longing, and placed both her palms against his cheeks. She could feel his stubble embedding into her skin.

“It wasn’t about money. And that’s why you’re going to get the credit.” He shrugged and turned away from her, but she pulled his face back towards her. “I’m going to fix this.”

“You?” he chuckled.

She let go of his cheeks. “Yes, me. You helped me today in a big way. I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that.”

“Never? But you’re so—” His words broke off, and he gripped her hands with his and lowered them to her sides. “Lainey, I—”

“You . . . protected me.”

“Of course, I did. You’re safe with me. You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“I never should have—”

“Please don’t do that.” Lainey couldn’t believe the bravery that was bubbling up in her. “I wanted you too, and you knew that. You know that.” She was leaning against the car now, her back cold against the metal, her eyes locked on his. Her breathing was shallow as she watched him, trying to gage how he felt.

“Yeah, I guess I do know that.” Finally, like an answer to a question she’d formed as a soul, he rested one thumb on her bottom lip and traced it down to her chin. His other fingers, long and strong, settled onto her jawline, the tips of his fingers pressed into the back of her head. His lips were on hers, melting together until she couldn’t tell where his ended and hers began.

Chapter twelve

Herlegswereinstantlyweak, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her up and around him. One of his wide, baseball-mitt hands was kneading her waist, and the other had seized the roots of her hair, pulling her head back to kiss her clavicle.

“Lock your door,” he grumbled, and she laughed awkwardly, rooting around in her purse and pushing the lock button. He unlocked the door to his office and kicked it open, still holding her, and brought her into his office, where he laid her down on her back across his desk. She felt bare, lying there and looking at him, waiting on his lead. He seemed to sense her uncertainty and relished it for a moment with a grin he let loose across his face. Bashfully, she covered her eyes, laughing wildly until she felt his hands cover her eyes with his instead. Then he was pulling hers off her face and pinning them over her, gripping her wrists with one hand as he used the other to trace her body. His finger trailed down her chest and made half circles along the top of her breasts. She trembled and pulsed under his touch, and he pulled her to a standing position where he turned her around and bent her over his desk.

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