Page 8 of The Billionaire and the Librarian

He has the audacity to not respond. He just keeps walking back toward his office.

“Will you wait up for two seconds?” I ask as I try to keep up with him.

He pauses at the door. I wait for a response.

“Will you please just stay the night?” His voice trembles as if it’s taking all his restraint not to yell at me.

“Why should I?” I ask, my hands going to my hips.

He turns and faces me. His eyes take in my stance, and I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch as if he’s fighting a smile.

When his eyes reach mine, he searches them for a long beat before he speaks.

“If you stay…I’ll consider your request,” he says.

I feel my eyes involuntarily widen. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have to…” I trail off because I realize how ridiculous I sound. Of course, this man wouldn’t want me like that. Look at him! Even with his beard and messy hair, he’s still the epitome of sophistication. Mr. Wellington is dressed in a white button-down shirt that looks more expensive than any clothing I own. He’s wearing black pants that fit him too perfectly because they were probably tailored just for him. And his shoes. His shoes look like they could be in an ad for expensive fine leather. And then there’s the watch. Patek Philippe. I only know of that brand because I read an article about it. Most people wouldn’t have a clue. Understated wealth emits from him like he’s a projector in a movie theater.

His eyes narrow. “You don’t have to what?”

I grimace at his stern voice. “Never mind…I…” I pause as I weigh his offer. Do I say yes? No? He’s not wrong, driving home in that snowstorm would be an irresponsible thing to do. His house is big enough to have guest rooms and he clearly has dog food. He doesn’t seem like a serial killer…well, not really. And Bastian is his friend and Bastian definitely wouldn’t be friends with a serial killer, at least not knowingly. With a sigh, I nod. “I accept your offer.”

“Good.” He runs a hand through that messy hair. There’s something oddly attractive about that motion. I chalk up my irrational thoughts to stress from being stuck in this mansion with the beastly man in front of me. “I’ll show you to the east wing. You can sleep there,” he states. He shuts his office door and starts back down the hall. I follow him, still with three dogs in tow.

“The kitchen is down that hallway,” he says, pointing down a long and narrow corridor.

I nod my understanding. We go up the grand staircase. We make a left and then a right and then a left.

“Could have used a transporter? Will we be there by tomorrow?” I mutter under my breath.

He pauses and turns to look at me, a motion that now feels like a norm between us because he’s done it at least a half dozen times this evening.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“Beam me up, Scottie?” I state as my explanation.

He shakes his head slightly and turns back around. We walk past three doors in silence. He pauses at the last one.

“This is the gym…in case you wanted to work out,” he says as he opens the door to show me the inside of the room. It’s a state-of-the-art gym, similar to the one in town. It has everything you would need including fresh fluffy, white towels, television sets, yes sets, as in plural, and a water and ice machine. I roll my eyes as if I’m going to work out tonight. But then, I remember that my gym bag is in my car. And that means, I have some toiletries and clothes.

“I…I have a bag in my car, a gym bag with some clothes,” I say, mostly to myself.

I see his jaw tic. “I will go get it. Wait here,” he says.

“I…” I trail off as he rushes past me and disappears around a corner. I turn to follow him, but he’s already gone. Was it two rights and a left or a right, left, right? I try to remember the way back to the stairs. I’m gonna need a map or some breadcrumbs.

I’m just about to attempt to find him when Mr. Wellington appears around the corner. His hair and beard still have some snow on them and he’s holding my bag.

“Here,” he says, shoving it toward me. “By the way, try locking your car door from now on.” Oops.

I take it. “Uh, thanks,” I manage as he walks past me. We go around one more corner. The hallway ends with giant double doors. He opens them and turns on a light.

I begin to take in the room. It’s enormous. Easily two stories high with a giant four-poster bed against the far wall. There’s a bay window that faces the wall opposite us. Large oversized chairs sit facing each other in front of a fireplace.

I see two doors to my right. I’m about to ask where they lead when Felipe barrels past me and jumps onto the bed.

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