Page 64 of Most Eligible Billionaire CEO

Slowly, he lifts his head.

The wicked smile that curves his beautiful mouth should come as a precursor. “You’re going to pay dearly for what you’re about to put me through during the next few hours as I imagine your naked breasts underneath this dress.”

I swallow hard.

While we ride to the Contessa’s home, I ask Bryce in which arrondissement she lives. Paris has some exclusive neighborhoods, and you can usually identify someone’s status and wealth by their designated arrondissement.

“Mariella has owned an apartment overlooking the Louvre Museum for the last thirty years. It was a birthday present from her father when she was a young woman, and since then she’s bought the two flats located on each side of hers and created this massive Parisian oasis.”

My eyes widen in shock. “She lives in the premier arrondissement?” That’s the most expensive neighborhood in the city and only the extremely rich can even entertain the idea of living in that part of Paris.

Bryce reiterates his words. “As I said, Mariella is one of the richest women I know. She inherited her father’s fortune and businesses since she’s an only child. She also inherited all of the businesses from her late husband, the Count. Although the Count’s own children were managing the companies, Mariella didn’t hesitate in replacing anyone who wasn’t performing to her standards. She’s a sharp woman. When Parisians used to complain about how the city was going to hell, and left in droves, she’d buy up every available property she could get her hands on. Today, she owns an insane number of luxury apartments which she rents to dignitaries and foreign consulate workers at high prices. She could technically have never worked a day in her life, but she’s a go-getter and hates being handed anything.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Most people are. Don’t take offence if she’s a bit rough around the edges at first. She likes to test people. If she likes you, she’ll give up a kidney for you in times of need.” Bryce ends his sentence as we arrive in front of Mariella’s building. When I get out of the car, I glance around. The Louvre Museum is looking at me.

Wow.

“I’ve always loved these apartments. My sister and I would comb these streets for hours when we lived in Paris. When we got tired, we’d hop back on the subway and make our way home. Our neighborhood was a far cry from the premier arrondissement. My sister and I vowed to own a place here one day, but it never happened.”

“If Mariella likes you, she’ll never allow you to come to the city again unless you stay with her. I’m certain the two of you will get along.” He says this with a twinkle in his eyes. “You’re both hustlers.”

“Hustlers?”

“I don’t know the full story of your past business dealings, Amanda, but I know that if Mariella was caught in a bad place in life, she’d fight her way out of it, just like you’re doing.”

“You have no idea what those words mean to me,” I say, holding back my tears.

The last few months have been nerve-racking, humiliating and depressing. Accepting this job was a last resort for me, but it’s turning out to be vastly different from what I expected.

“I know a fighter when I see one,” he says in a serious tone. “Shall we?” He opens his arms so I can nestle myself in his embrace.

A soft-spoken woman opens the door and greets us with a foreign accent. When she lets us in, I gasp as I take in Mariella’s sumptuous Paris abode. It’s majestic and so beautifully decorated. The well clad guests confirm what Bryce told me.

A voice calls out, “Bryce, my love. Bravi, you made it.” Mariella hugs Bryce so tightly, he might break in half. “Dove è lei? Where is this beauty you talk about?” When she lets go of him, he turns to me and introduces me to the Contessa.

“Mariella, this is my friend, Amanda.”

“Friend? Bryce, you take me for a fool? This woman is far too beautiful to be just a friend.”

“È un piacere conoscerti, Contessa Borini Mozzetti. It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Contessa,” I say.

The room feels like it’s gone silent as the Contessa looks me up and down.

After an eternity, she smiles, nods, and gestures with her hands like Italians often do. “Parla italiano molto bene! You speak Italian so well. I like you already, bella.”

I receive Mariella’s seal of approval. And to think, the evening has only just begun.

Yay me!

The evening is surreal as I rub elbows with some of the most elite and richest people in the city. Only six guests are invited to this weeknight dinner, but the night is simply perfect. Mariella’s husband, Thierry, is adorable and the deep love they share for each other is obvious, even to a blind man.

The food is extraordinary, and I drink a little bit more champagne than usual, which contributes to my mellow mood.

The scrumptious dessert table sends me to heaven.

I can’t believe people enjoy this lifestyle on a Monday night.

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