Page 37 of The English Billionaire's Obsession

“True. Want some advice from a happily married man?”

“Please.”

“Take today for what it is. Don’t worry about the gold-digger crap. Don’t let your mind ruin this for you.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” I tell him. “I’ve got to go.”

My woman is walking across the street, looking so adorably touristy I have to smile. I’m beaming brightly all over, warmth spreading, and an injection of sudden happiness immediately dominates me. It’s her, my Ami, more potent than any drug.

She’s wearing a bum bag—she’d call it a fanny pack—with denim dungarees, thick boots, her hair tied up, and a Union Jack pin over one breast. Her lips are curved into an unsure smile as she approaches, and I can’t blame her. She’s probably wondering what version of me she’s going to get. I open the car door and step outside. She stops just short of me, fiddling with the strap of her bum bag.

“Uh, hey,” she says.

The second I hear her gorgeously American voice, I know I made a mistake with the distance, the cold. Sweeping her into my arms feels like the most natural thing in the world. I expect her to push me away, but maybe she has it within her, too, this hungry need to be together. She moans erotically when I kiss her in public on the street. I don’t want anybody else to see her like this, tohearher sexy-as-hell moans, but I can’t resist. She tastes like perfection. Her body burns against me, hot through her clothes, as if her deep desire to be together is blazing through.

“Wow,” she murmurs. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

I keep my arms around her. “I’ve been a dickhead, haven’t I?”

“I wouldn’t put it likethat,” she says with a small smile. “Does this mean you believe me now?”

I swallow, wanting to tell her yes.

“Tommy…” She leans back into my embrace, narrowing her eyes. “I promise she was just being a dork. Telling a silly joke. It doesn’t mean anything.”

I kiss her on the forehead. “I know. I believe you.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes and no,” I sigh. “Come on.”

I gesture into the car, then climb in after her. We hold hands as the driver pulls out of the spot, one security car ahead, one beside us, and one tailing us.

“Yes and no?” she asks, squeezing my hand. “How does that work?”

“I believe you. I don’t think you’re lying to me,” I tell her, “but at the same time, there’s this feeling inside of me. Pathetic since that stuff with my dad happened years ago, but it’s still there.”

“It’s not pathetic,” she whispers, laying her cheek against my shoulder, “but it’s also not true. I was thinking last night…”

“Yeah?” I say when she trails off.

“About… us. If you had no money, I’d still want to… date? Is that what we’re doing?”

More than that, I nearly growl.I’m claiming you for life.

“It’s as good a word as any,” I say gruffly. “How are things at work?”

She gives me a look, her young eyes perceptive. “Does that mean you haven’t been keeping tabs, huh?”

I grin. “All right, guilty. I heard the meeting with the client went well. They loved your drawing.”

She beams, and I’m so proud. Now that I’m with her, it feels impossible that I could ever stay away for three days. Somehow, I could close off my mind, but it’s so much more difficult when we’re together in person.

“There were a few notes, but yeah. It’s more than I ever could’ve expected.”

When her voice falters, I tenderly kiss her on the cheek. “That’s all you, Ami. I don’t have any input in the day-to-day running of Realization, and I definitely can’t control how their clients react.”

She squeezes my hand. “Thank you. We both need to make an effort to believe, huh?”

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