Page 43 of Owned By a Billionaire

I jumped in my car and headed for Whitechapel.

Caroline would lift my credit limit at the blink of an eye, but that didn’t sit well with me.

I loved her more than I could have imagined, which was a surprising outcome. In my history with women, it was always about sex, and, yes, I admit, the wealthier the better.

After Elise and her charming-free-spirit act swept me off my very immature feet, I’d lived a life of indigence, subsisting on crumbs, and I also had to contend with her extreme, at times violent, moods.

I’d run away and constructed this new version of myself—determined to avoid those waifs who needed saving. Soon, however, it became me who needed saving.

I was about to drive off when a call came from the woman who still made my heart skip a beat. “Caroline.”

“Change of plans. Can we meet at Mayfair? I’m there now.”

“I’m just on Oxford Street, leaving now. Is there anything I can get you?”

“No.”

The phone went cold, much like her tone. My spine stiffened, and I sucked back a breath.

Thirty minutes later, after being caught up in a traffic jam that would have had a Buddhist monk shouting obscenities, I arrived at her charming, palatial Mayfair home, which boasted a splendid view of Grosvenor Square.

A new face opened the door.

“Hello, I’m Cary, here to see Caroline.”

“Yes, sir, she’s expecting you.”

I passed through the door and, upon entering the salon, found her on the phone.

“Okay. If you must,” she said and closed the phone, looking rather dour.

I kissed her on the lips, but that subtle curve to her mouth did little to warm the atmosphere.

She looked up at the new butler. “That will be all, Vance.”

“He’s new.” I sank into an armchair.

“Yes.” She remained remote, and I sensed something about to come crashing down.

“Is there something wrong?”

As she gazed at me, the doorbell sounded, and from a distance, I heard a male voice.

Vance arrived to announce the visitor, Reynard Crisp, following him to the door.

Caroline gestured for Crisp to enter.

The tall, haughty man regarded me with a curt nod. We shared a mutual dislike that neither of us tried to hide.

That man spelled trouble, and despite my occasional question regarding their odd pairing, I remained none the wiser. Like Caroline’s erotic games, her relationship with that creep resided in the "don’t ask" portion of her life.

I rose. “I might just go for a walk, then.”

Caroline gave me one of her enigmatic, forced smiles that could either be construed as an apology or something else. The longer I knew her, the more mysterious she became.

However, mystery was proving to be an aphrodisiac, I was discovering, because I wanted her more than ever.

Chapter 14

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