Page 34 of The Damaged Billionaire

“You’ll see,” I say, not knowing if this will make him angry or not, but we need something to lighten the mood, and I didn’t get dressed up for nothing. I give him a small smile, and his eyes soften.

He said a lot of things back in that room that are still swirling around in my head and between my legs. If Eddie hadn’t interrupted, then who knows what would have happened. I think I was seconds away from shedding my dress and letting him bend me over.

The car pulls up right outside Softies, one of the oldest ice cream parlors in the world, taking me from my spiraling thoughts.

“Ice cream?” Tennyson asks, raising his eyebrows, his lips curving upward. I know I made the right choice. Ice cream fixes everything.

“I heard that they have the best rocky road, and ice cream is really what we need right now,” I say with a wide smile, glad to have him back to smiling too.

“You are what I need right now, Willow. If I need to eat ice cream to get you, then I’m okay with that. Let’s go,” he says quickly, not waiting for my reply, which is good because his words hit me in my chest. They are not the words of a playboy trying to get in my pants. He means what he says to me, I can feel it.

He steps out of the car, keeping the door open, and holds his hand out to me. The tension between us is still there. It is simmering, the raging inferno of earlier dimming a little, but not snuffed out. Taking my hand in his, I let him as he keeps me close, his body heat running up my arms. We walk inside, and I eat it up with my eyes. It is so fun and colorful. There is a small jukebox over in the corner, playing old-school tunes. A row of vinyl booths lines the long wall, the black-and-white-checkered floor and neon lights on the walls adding to the vibe of the place.

Luckily, it’s quiet in here for a Saturday night. No need to be concerned about paparazzi or strangers snapping pics.

“Ahhh, hello, lovers, what can I get you?” an old man greets us from behind the ice cream selection as we walk up and take a look at all the flavors. But I already know what we’re getting.

“Two rocky roads, please!” I say with a broad smile as I hold up two fingers, loving how even though he must be in his sixties, he is dressed up like an old-school ice cream server, with red and white stripes and a hat to match.

“My nanny brought me here as a kid,” Tennyson says, not looking at me, but watching the old guy scoop the rocky road ice cream into cones.

“Really? You still remember?”

“I remember everything, Willow.” He says it like it pains him. Like his memories are not good ones. “At the start of every summer. Mom didn’t know. She wouldn’t have approved. But my nanny was amazing like that,” he adds with a smile.

“Here you go. On the house,” the older guy says.

“Oh no, we can pay!” I say, not wanting to be in his debt.

“Don’t be silly, you’re all dressed up, so it must be a special night. Enjoy,” he says before shuffling away as I call out a “Thank you.” Tennyson and I take our cones and sit down in one of the empty booths along the wall, and I’m hoping he’ll tell me a little more.

“So how long did you have a nanny for?” I ask, taking a lick of my ice cream and savoring the sweet taste on my tongue. Tennyson is quiet for a beat before he clears his throat.

“I had the same nanny from the moment I was born until I was about twelve. I then went away to boarding school,” he says quietly, and it piques my interest.

“You must have been close. What was her name?” I ask again, not sure if I should push, because I feel like this is a sore spot for him.

“Helen. She was more like a mother to me than my own, that is for sure.” I notice his jaw’s now tight, and so I move on to safer topics.

“So, how are those bed socks going for you? Is green your color?” I ask with a smile. I am sure he threw them out, but it was more of a joke gift anyway.

“Green was definitely my color tonight,” he mumbles, admitting his jealousy. “How was your conversation with Geoffery Newcomb this evening?” he almost growls, and I hear him crunch on the rocky road pieces. Clearly, he’s still not happy about me talking with Geoffrey. He is cute when he sulks.

“He was nice,” I offer, trying to ensure I don’t make it a bigger deal than it is. I know he is jealous, but he has no reason to be.

“Nice? He is my number one asshole. My main competitor. The continuous thorn in my side. You can’t be flirty with him,” he says, telling me how it is going to be.

“I was not flirty. I was being friendly. I can talk to whoever I want to talk to. It is important for business,” I say, putting my stamp on things before taking a long lick of my ice cream. I need to keep the line of professionalism drawn. I can’t step over, even though I really, really want to.

“Ahh, yes. Business. The sole reason we are here tonight, right?” he asks, calling me out on our little ice cream date. Would I do this with a normal client? No. But Tennyson is anything but normal.

“Tennyson. I can’t be seen—” I start, trying to explain why we can’t step over the lines, but he interrupts.

“You’ve got a little…” he says, pointing to his lip.

“Here?” I ask, wiping the side of my mouth with the napkin.

“Here,” he says, sitting up and leaning over the table. Before I can even make sense of what he’s doing, his hand grabs the back of my head and his lips smash into mine. My mouth opens on a gasp, and I fall into it for just a second, really feeling the softness of his lips, but then he pulls back just as quickly. I am left a little stunned, hot, and wanting more. My heart feels like it is going to thump right out of my chest as my knees shake. Nothing has ever felt so right as his lips on mine. Soft yet demanding. Cautious yet possessive. His hand on my head remains, our faces merely inches apart, and he looks deep into my eyes, searching them, looking for what, I don’t know.

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