Page 101 of The Reluctant Billionaire

Lotta.

The voice is achingly familiar.

Achinglydesperate.

I turn.

* * *

Oh my God.

I don’t know how I thought I could function without him, because now he’s here, every part of my starving soul eats the sight of him up.

The man is a sight for sore eyes. He’s dressed like he just stepped off a yacht, in off-white trousers and a sky-blue, open-necked linen shirt that not only enhances his tan but makes those blue eyes of his look even more piercing.

Actually, I think they’d be pretty piercing without the shirt, because right now they’re boring into my very soul.

It’s the expression in them that makes my heart hurt. They are… God, so many things. Beseeching. Hungry. Fearful.

Lost.

And… I think… loving?

‘Sweetheart,’ he says hoarsely, holding out his arms and taking a stride towards me.

I don’t think about the A-list movie star standing next to me, or how pissed off I’ve been with Aide, or anything else, except how staggeringly relieved I am to see him. How miraculous it feels to have him standing here, right in front of me, like this magical place has conjured him up for me.

His arms are there, waiting for me. I fall straight into them, because there’s nowhere else I belong. And oh my God, when he wraps them around me, and tugs me right into the heat of his huge body, the cradle of it, kissing the crown of my head, I know I never, ever want to be anywhere else.

It’s such a cliché, but I’ve been standing here, in an iconic restaurant in a heavenly part of the world, surrounded by the rich and famous and being gently flirted with by a movie star, for fuck’s sake, and all of it is totally pointless without him, a fact that’s been really irritating me all evening and is now making me so, so happy I could burst.

Because he is here.

He came.

We do this unsteady little dance together as he rocks me in his arms. ‘I’m sosorry, sweetheart,’ he says brokenly into my hair. ‘God, baby, I’m sofuckingsorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ I manage, because the weirdest thing is happening. I’ve gone all floppy and shaky, and if Aide wasn’t holding me tightly I might actually fall down. It’s as if I’ve been holding myself together this entire day, and last night, to be fair, and now he’s here and I can just collapse.

I don’t need to put on a brave face anymore, or dazzle anybody, or make an effort to be the life and soul when, deep down, I’ve felt the polar opposite.

It’s seriously emotional, being here in his arms when I’ve accepted not seeing him for days. I’m sure there’s lots to say, but I don’t give a fuck right now, because his actions are all that matter.

He chose me, which sounds awful, because I don’t want to win a battle against some poor little impoverished children. But he chose us for this weekend.

And it really does mean the world.

I pull away just enough to raise my face to his. He’s a little blurry, because my eyes are teary, but he’s so bloody magnificent, especially because his face breaks into an ear-to-ear grin at what he sees. The soft rays of the sunset are hitting his jaw from the west, and, even better, that wariness is gone from his eyes, and it’s a wonderful thing. We stand there, grinning at each other like fools.

‘There she is,’ he says, reaching one hand up to brush my hair off my face with the gentlest fingertips. ‘There’s my girl.’

He bends his head towards me and all my inner cheerleaders goyes! yes! yes!But before he can kiss me, there’s a polite cough.

‘I’ll just—’ Davide says, and I jerk my head in his direction.

‘Oh my God,’ I’m so sorry!’ I pat Aide on the waist to signal he should release me.

‘Not a problem,’ Davide says with a dashing, and probably trademarked, grin that would have most humans with a pulse swooning. ‘You guys catch up.’

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