Page 5 of Billionaire's Dangerous Desire

“So, that is what I am to you? That is what I look like?”

He seemed taken aback. I could see it in the flare that sprang in his eyes. “Sorta.”

Like on impulse, I flailed my hands in the air. “What is wrong with everyone else in this town for crying out loud?”

He let out a chortle, and it sounded cute, somewhat inviting, too. “I’ve been asking that same damn question too.”

“So, you’re new here?”

“Well, no. not really, anyways. I was born here, but then, left for college, and everything was the same when I came back. It was like the entire world went forward, but this town paused in some fucking weird orbit.”

“Yeah, they are so trapped in time. Like, who stares at a lady just because she is dressed so formal? The fifties called. It needs it community villains back.” I could feel my forehead relax as I vented. “And, I swear, I just want to breathe. I have been on the road for three days.”

“Damn, girl. That’s a lot. So, where did you move from?”

“Florida.”

“Nice. And what for?”

“Well, I got a nice job. Going to be the manager mayor-aide.”

“Pretty weird title.” He sounded like he didn’t like the mayor for some reason, but I didn’t care. I was swamped, and the heels of my feet and their entire frame were failing me.

“Yeah, but it is a job that matters.”

“So, you are in politics.”

“Working for a politician doesn’t really mean I’m into politics.” Really, what was this conversation turning into?

“Yeah, for sure. So, what do you need help locating?”

“Actually, my house. The one that would come with the job.” I pulled out my phone to glance at the directions once again. “It says it is at Corduroy Lane.”

“Corduroy Lane?” He laughed so heartily I almost thought he was about to choke.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing. Just that you kind of passed that, probably an hour ago. On foot.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a car.”

“Okay, that is cool, but why are you walking? Are you lost? I could show you around.” He was being too nice for some reason. Or maybe that was his own way of saying ‘I am sorry for almost hitting you and dragging your body across the paved streets.’ Seriously, even though he looked like my type— a beckoning brunette, and sounded like my type— a domineering egomaniac, I just was not in the mood for lost.

“I’m just not in the mood.”

“Not in the mood?” He kept trailing me with his car. Luckily, the roads were empty so he could indeed do that even much longer, and it was barely two. “Come on. Didn’t I say I was sorry?”

“Actually, you did not.”Gosh, look how quickly he got me caught in his banters. I really don’t want to be starting something this early.

“Alright then. Can I show you around to prove how sorry I am?”

“So you will just work your way around actually saying the word?”

He smirked. “What word?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I just started walking.

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