Page 53 of The Billionaire and the Maid

I shake my head slowly and Gus steps forward to listen.

“We were friends, and when she died…well, Lorenzo and I were both heartbroken,” she begins.

“But…I didn’t know you were friends with her,” I interject.

“She and I went to school together. We were very close back then, but of course, we grew up and she had Luca and they were in the city a lot and traveling for fashion shows. She lived this glamorous lifestyle, and I was jealous. We drifted apart, until the very end. And one day she showed up at my door and it was like…all was forgiven. We had the best three months hanging out. Remember seeing that little red car here?”

I nod, vaguely remembering it several years back when I was first living here and was busy with full-time school and working. I suppose I didn’t really pay attention and Greta and I weren’t as close back then.

“Yeah,” I say.

“That was hers. She waited eight weeks to tell me she was dying of cancer. I wanted to kill her right then and there. I was mad. She lied to me. But in the end, I wanted all the time I could get with her. I loved her. She was my oldest and dearest friend. And when she died four weeks later, I just…I didn’t want to talk about her. It was too painful. So, I didn’t. And then a few weeks ago, when Lorenzo figured out you were living here, he stopped by and we chatted, mostly about Margaret. And then he invited me out to his cottage, and we chatted some more. One thing led to another and…I didn’t want to tell you, my dear. I…I didn’t want to complicate things for you any more than they were. I didn’t tell Lorenzo anything about you and Chase. I promise,” she explains.

I fight the tears that threaten. “Greta…I’m so sorry.”

She grasps my hand and gives it a little squeeze. “It’s alright,” she says, wiping a stray tear. “Water under the bridge as they say or something like that. Anyhow, on to happier times. So let’s go.”

“But…your dress?” I ask and then look at Gus. “And tux?”

They laugh. “We’ll be right back,” Gus says, and they both leave while I make my way down the big, curved staircase.

Ten minutes later, they appear. Greta’s hair is swept up in a bun with a little jeweled clip in the front. How did she do that so fast? Gus has combed his hair and applied some kind of product. He looks handsome in his tuxedo.

My mouth falls open as I take in their outfits. “Did you sprinkle fairy dust? How did you guys get dressed so fast?” I ask.

“A little magic, my dear,” she says as she opens the front door. “Come on, you two, we have a ball to attend.”

* * *

“Seriously, how did you guys get ready so fast?” I whisper to Gus as a man in one of those penguin tuxedos opens our limousine door and holds out a hand for me.

“Like Greta said, magic,” he replies, and I know he’s winking at me even with my head turned.

“Whatever,” I grumble. I’m stepping out and using my hands to smooth the skirt of my dress when I look up at the steps leading to the Marino estate’s entrance and find Chase standing there. He looks like some kind of superhero because he’s backlit by the holiday lights around the giant double doors that are open behind him.

My eyes adjust and our gazes meet. He’s staring at me with such hunger in his eyes, that for a split second, I think he might run down here, toss me over his shoulder, and take me up to his apartment to ravage me.

But instead, he slowly walks down and stands in front of me.

“You look…like a dream,” he manages as his gaze takes me in from my head down to my covered feet.

I blush under his praise.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

He holds out his elbow and I slip my arm through it. He pulls me tight against him as we ascend the steps. I feel his warm breath on my ear, and I shiver.

“Just remember, tonight, you’re the princess of this ball. No one can touch you, no one except me,” he whispers and I’m pretty sure I die on the spot. Did he seriously just say that? What kind of romance-story voodoo is happening here? Men don’t talk like that, but Chase just did. He keeps doing things like that. Saying the perfect thing or doing the perfect thing. I want to believe this could be my happily ever after, but a small, jaded part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I take a deep breath and nod. He’s right. Even if I’m just his fake girlfriend, no one but a few select people know that. To everyone else, I’m the woman on Chase Marino’s arm. And I need to act that part, even if Nancy is giving me a dagger stare across the grand foyer as she stands at the entrance to the ballroom.

He escorts me into the ballroom, and I smile because of all my hard work over the past month of painstakingly cleaning each crystal on the lowered chandelier that now hangs high from the ceiling and all the crystals on the small sconces dotting the walls of the room shimmer in the lighting, casting beautiful rainbow patterns around the room. It looks like something out of an eighteenth-century novel. The decorations, the men in tuxedos, and women in ball gowns. The small orchestra in the corner and the cluster of tables on the far end next to two bars serving drinks. Holiday decorations tastefully dot the room, giving it a festive feel. Servers make their way around the room with trays of hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne. A small podium is in another corner. I’ve heard the attendance is supposed to be close to three hundred people, and I wasn’t sure they’d fit in there, but the way the adjoining room’s doors open to make one giant space proves me wrong. Who has this in their home? The Marinos, I answer my question with a small shake of my head.

“It’s amazing,” I declare as we both stand at the threshold of the room’s entrance.

“Let’s dance,” Chase suggests as he nods to the dance floor.

“Now?” I ask.

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