Page 26 of The English Billionaire's Obsession

“Hey, that’s my line.”

My head rushes when he leans down and kisses me on the cheek in public. It’s quite a statement for a billionaire, but more than that, it’s the sheer heat and casual intimacy. Answers, I remind myself. Romance can come later.

“It’s a touch rainy for the walk,” he says, leading me across the street, “but I thought we could take Loki someplace else. One of his favorite places.”

“Okay,” I say, “but are we going to get a chance to talk?”

“Of course.” He leads me to the back of the car, gesturing inside. “Be ready. He might want doggie kisses.”

“What do you…”

Mean, I’m about to say, but then I get my answer. As soon as I climb into the car, the Jack Russell is on me, the black-and-tan dog slithering across the footwell, propping his paws on my legs, and smiling up at me.

“Hello, boy,” I say, scratching him behind the ear. “Aren’t you just the cutest?”

He yaps happily, then licks my hand.

“He likes you,” Thomas says warmly, climbing into the seat next to me.

“He’s so cute. How old is he? Or is that on a need-to-know basis, too?”

Thomas surprises me with a loud laugh, and then I’m laughing with him, both of us caught up in the absurdity of the situation. Weirdly, we can laugh at it, but I’m starting to learn thatwe’reweird with how we’re able to interact with each other. We can flit between iciness and intimacy, jokes and anger, then right back to warmth again.

“He’s seven. I got him when he was three. They tied the poor bugger up in a caravan for twelve hours a day. Terrified of everything, reactive in the extreme.”

“Seriously? This ball of love?”

Loki is licking my hand, then clambers into my lap, curling into a ball and looking up at me as if to say,Well, are you going to stroke me or not?

“I know. Difficult to believe,” Thomas chuckles, “but he’s learned he doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“Maybe you’ll learn that too,” I say softly.

Thomas tilts his head, as if asking a silent question.

“Maybe you’ll learn you don’t need to be scared that I’m just some gold digger.”

“Ah, right… that.” He grins tightly.

“If I was a gold digger,” I go on, “I’ve gone about my mission in the most roundabout way possible. First, I applied for an overseas internship. Then, I wait at my window for the CEO of the parent company to show up.Then, I wait for somebody to graffiti the house.”

“I get it.” He laughs darkly. “Maybe I’m paranoid.”

“Why?” I ask as the car pulls away, my hand moving through Loki’s fur. “Did something happen? Did you get close to somebody once, and they turned out to be a gold digger?”

“No. Honestly, Amelia, I’ve never been close to anybody.”

I’m not sure if I believe this,canbelieve it, but at the same time, I don’t feel like he’s lying to me.

“I’ve seen it happen,” he goes on, “to men and women. Wealth attracts all kinds of people.”

“I’m here for the city and to work as an artist. That’s all. It has nothing to do with being a gold digger.”

He says nothing, and we continue driving quietly for a few minutes, except for Loki’s contented sigh as I scratch him under his beardy chin.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“I’ve rented a swimming pool for Loki,” he replies. “He loves swimming. He can entertain himself for hours. There’s an area for us to grab a bite to eat and watch him. How does that sound?”

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