Once Upon a Billionaire

  “Thank you,” she said, and gave his knuckles one last rub, then released his hand. “Should be right as rain tomorrow.”

  Oddly enough, the ache in his hand was nearly gone. Strange. He shook it out once more, frowning. “How did you do that?”

  She shrugged. “I’m a burn talker. You rub the pain out. It’s not a burn, but the concept is the same.”

  “Thank—”

  She put her hand to his lips, stopping him before he could get the words out. “If you thank me, Mr. Griffin, you’ll ruin it and the pain will come back.”

  He nodded, spellbound by those small fingers on his lips. He wanted to kiss them . . . kiss her. She was all soft yet authoritative today, and he found it an arousing combination. Competence and confidence. He liked that in her.

  She pulled away and gave him a smile. “You still haven’t apologized.”

  “I told you I’m quite bad at it,” he said, fascinated by her. By that springy, white-blonde hair that was even now escaping her bun. By those dark green-brown eyes that watched him. That light sprinkle of freckles on her nose and cheeks.

  “It’s easy enough. Just repeat after me. ‘I am.’”

  “I am.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Very sorry,” he whispered. “I’m a prat.”

  “Whatever that is, yes, you are.” Maylee smiled again, and it was like the sun bursting from the clouds. “My mama would say you’re a nasty varmint when you’re cornered.”

  “Whatever that is,” he told her, “I’m sure I am.”

  She reached forward and straightened his collar, smoothing it. “Tie?”

  He pulled it out of his pocket and offered it to her.

  Maylee began to fix his appearance, and he watched as she licked her lips as she concentrated. “I’m not a quitter, you know.”

  “Hmm?” He was captivated by those lips. Her upper one was a small half bow, but her lower one was full and lush. It made her look like she was constantly pouting, like she was begging to be kissed. He found those lips utterly entrancing, especially when they gleamed after she licked them.

  “I said, I’m not a quitter,” she repeated as she expertly looped his tie into a knot. “You can pile as much shit onto me as you like, but I’m staying. I’m a Meriweather. We don’t run and hide from our troubles. You can be as mean to me as you want, Mr. Griffin, but I’m going to do my job to the best of my ability, no matter how nasty you are.”

  She thought he was nasty to her? He got frustrated, but . . . he liked her. Hell, parts of his body liked her entirely too much. “I’m sorry,” he told her, and meant it. “I wasn’t trying to be nasty. I’m not good with . . . people.”

  “I know,” she said, and gave his tie a pat. “But I like you anyhow.”

  That smile did in all his self-control. Griffin’s hands went to her shoulders and he dragged her forward a few steps, pressing his mouth to hers in a tight, awkward kiss. She was stiff in his arms—hopefully in surprise—so he relaxed his mouth and swept his tongue against the seam of hers, encouraging her to let him in.

  He felt her give a gasp, and then her hands grabbed his lapels, and she was kissing him back, her mouth opening to accept his tongue.

  And oh, fuck, it was glorious.

  Maylee’s tongue swept against his, their lips melding, and he realized she kissed with all the intensity and enthusiasm that she approached life with. She kissed like there was no tomorrow. She kissed like it was her greatest joy on earth. She kissed and tongued and licked and made these low noises in her throat that told him how much she was enjoying the kiss.

  And his cock was as bloody hard as a rock.

  He groaned when her tongue rubbed against his. He wanted to push her down on the bed and strip that dowdy, prim suit off her and see what she was wearing underneath. Camo underwear? He didn’t fucking care. On her, it’d be amazing.

  She broke the kiss, mewing little pants escaping from her throat. “Oh. Oh, dear.”

  He blinked at her, dazed. “What?” He needed to kiss her mouth again. To feel it part under his tongue, to thrust into her mouth and feel her receive him . . . and imagine that it was his cock.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  That was a blast of cold water on his ego. He stepped away from her. Oh, fuck. He was sexually harassing an employee, wasn’t he? Dear God, he was a repulsive, repulsive man.

  Her fingers patted his jacket, smoothing where she’d clutched it. “You’re going to be late to your lunch appointment.”

  Fuck his lunch appointment. He scrubbed his good hand down his face. “Maylee, I sincerely apologize for touching you.”

  “Why? It was a mighty good kiss.”

  He didn’t know what to say. “I shouldn’t have kissed you in the first place.”

  “Oh.” She flinched. “I see.”

  “Because of who you are,” he said quickly.

  Her look grew even more hurt.

  “No, no,” he said. “It’s not the commoner thing. Well, it is partially that, but—”

  “We should go, Mr. Griffin. I mean, Mr. Verdi.” And she was back to giving him those hurt, unhappy looks all over again.

  Hell, he’d fucked up once more.

  Chapter Eight

  To Griffin’s surprise and pleasure, breakfast at his mother’s included the bride-to-be and the groom. He liked his cousin Alexandra. She was levelheaded and rarely ruffled by the pettiness of court. They ate a formal lunch, but when everyone left the table to mingle and walk the grounds after the meal, he sought out Alexandra.

  “Your Highness?”

  Alexandra turned and gave Griffin a delicate smile. “Hello, cousin.”

  Like many in the Bellissime royal family, Alexandra wasn’t a beauty. She had regal, elegant features, but there was a hint of sternness to her face that bespoke of a woman who got her way. There was no softness in his cousin, Griffin mused. Not like Maylee, who wore her heart in her eyes at all times.

  “May I talk to you for a moment?” Griffin asked. “It is in regards to a personal matter.”

  “Of course,” Alexandra said, and offered him her hand. He placed it in the crook of his elbow and they strolled into his mother’s famous gardens. When they were alone, Alexandra craned her neck, looking around. When she was satisfied they were alone, she gave him a devilish grin. “We can drop the formalities now that your mother isn’t around. I swear, she breaks into hives every time she hears Luke call me Alex.” She nudged him with her elbow. “So, what’s troubling you, Griff?”

  He gave his cousin an awkward smile. “Lots, actually.”

  “You can tell me.” She winked at him, all of the austere dignity disappearing from her face, and for a moment, she looked like a sly young woman instead of Her Royal Highness. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

  Griffin considered for a moment. He didn’t have anyone he could talk to except for Alex. Alex would understand. “How, exactly, does one woo a commoner?”

  She laughed. “Well, for starters, you stop calling them ‘commoners’. It’s rude.” She leaned in. “Is this about your little assistant? I saw her. She looks charming.”

  He shot Cousin Alex a frown. “Why would you assume it’s her?”

  “Because I’ve never seen you lose your temper so fast, Mr. Griffin,” she teased, deliberately stressing Maylee’s inappropriate naming convention for him.

  He groaned. “I have tried so many times to correct her, but she doesn’t seem to understand it.”

  “It’s cute.”

  “It’s not cute when she does it in front of my mother.”

  Alex laughed. “No, I can imagine not. Sybilla-Louise is a bit of a dragon, isn’t she? I’d say she’s more proper than our Grandmother, and I always thought she was a terrible stickler for decorum.”

  Griffin sighed as they continued walking. “So . . . how exactly did you let Luke know that you were interested in him? It’s not something I find easy to do.”

  “Goodness, Griff. Have you not da
ted in the past?”

  He had. But those girls had either been daughters of nobility in Bellissime he’d been tossed in with, or rich girls at an Ivy League college who were used to a very specific lifestyle—glamorous parties, polo events, and anything that involved society. “This is . . . different.”

  “Well,” said Alex. “When I decided I wanted to meet Luke, I invited him to the palace for dinner. And then I made sure both my mother and my grandmother were unavailable, so it was just the two of us. And I feigned a great interest in the movie he was making, which was filming here in Bellissime last summer. He invited me onto the set and I showed up every day. After that, he got the hint.”

  He was impressed. “Grandmother didn’t find that extremely forward?”

  “I didn’t ask her opinion,” Alex said, her eyes shining. “I’d already turned down four proposals from suitable candidates in the last two years. I think she was suspecting that I was going to marry who I wanted and when I wanted to, not who she thought I should marry.” Alex shook her head. “It’s a good thing we’re not as stuffy as other royal families, or they’d probably have a fit I was marrying an American.”

  “And a commoner to boot,” Griffin added with a grimace.

  Alex smacked his arm with a silk-gloved hand. “You really need to let go of the commoner thing, Griff. That’s step one.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  “Step two is to let her know that you’re interested. Did you?”

  He thought of the kiss they’d shared that morning. “I think she has an idea.”

  “Then let her know that you are serious,” Alex advised. “That you’re not interested in pursuing anyone else. You’re not, are you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I mean, I don’t know,” Griffin bit out. “She’s . . . different.”

  “How?”

  “She’s very . . . American. Southern American.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “They would refer to her as a ‘redneck’ at home,” Griffin said. At Alex’s confused look, he added, “Very backward country people. For example, Maylee believes she is a burn talker.”

  “A what?”

  He explained it to his cousin, who looked more intrigued than amused. “And you said she used this on your hand?”

  Griffin showed her his knuckles, which, surprisingly, weren’t even bruised. Huh. “I must not have hit it as hard as I thought.”

  “Or maybe there’s something to it,” Alex said. “Stranger things have happened. Very curious. Luke’s superstitious, you know.” She got a soft smile on her face at the mention of her fiancé.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I originally set the wedding date for the thirteenth but he refused. We had to wait until the seventh of the following month, because he believes seven is lucky. And I’ve caught him throwing salt over his shoulder before heading on the set. It’s rather amusing.”

  “Have you ever caught him trying to heal someone with a touch?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then I rest my case,” Griffin said. “My American is more peculiar than yours.”

  “Your American?” She gave him a shrewd look. “It sounds as if you’ve claimed her.”

  Griffin sighed. “I don’t know what I think when it comes to her.” He still wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to pursue Maylee, but he found he was obsessed with her lately. Thought about her in his dreams, jerked off to her in the shower . . . He had it bad, whatever it was. “I suppose I should clarify my intentions.”

  As soon as he figured them out.

  Alex nodded her approval. “Try doing something nice for her. Last time I saw you with her, you were running the poor girl ragged. Why not find out what she wants or needs, and provide it for her?”

  He thought about this. Every time he pictured Maylee, he thought of that wild, springy blonde hair that was constantly escaping its confines. It made her look tousled and fresh from bed. It drove him wild, but he knew it wasn’t entirely appropriate. “I’m not sure.”

  “Is she accompanying you to the ball tomorrow night?”

  “I imagine so.” He wasn’t sure if she had an suitable dress. He’d quite forgotten about the ball. He pictured her in a pale dress, as pale as those wild curls . . . and snapped his fingers. “I think I have just the idea. You’re a genius, Alex.”

  She laughed. “I’ll have to add that to my list of titles. Her Royal Highness Alexandra Olivia the Third, Total Genius. It has a nice ring to it.”

  Griffin smiled.

  ***

  When he got back to the hotel, he spoke privately with the concierge for a few minutes, had an appointment set for the next day, and went up to his room feeling rather proud of himself for being so thoughtful. He even kept his surprise secret through breakfast the next morning, as Maylee chattered on about his schedule. He had another family meeting this morning, followed by a rehearsal of the wedding in which all of the royal family had to attend. After that, there was a celebratory ball. Bellissime’s oldest chapel was Sainte-Anne de la Vallée. All of Bellissime’s monarchy had married there since the time of Charlemagne, and it was a rather tiny affair. As an apology for having a small crowd at the actual wedding, there was an enormous wedding ball that all those who weren’t important enough for the actual chapel could attend. This meant the royal family’s staff, lesser nobles, visiting nobles, diplomats, celebrities, and anyone else who could sneak their way in.

  Griffin was unlucky enough to be invited to both the wedding and ball, as a member of the royal family. Maylee, however, merely had to look presentable for tonight, as she would be on call for the wedding, but not actually invited.

  Which was why his gift was perfect.

  Once he was done with breakfast, Griffin folded his newspaper and tucked it under his arm. “Ready to start the day?”

  “Ready,” she said with a smile at him, and closed the laptop. She threw it into a large tote bag she’d taken to carrying around—a ghastly touristy contraption that read BELLISSIME: LAND OF BEAUTY. He didn’t criticize it, though. Time enough for that later.

  “We have a full day,” Griffin told her as they left the table. When they entered the main lobby of the hotel, he pretended that he’d forgotten something and snapped his fingers. “I need to retrieve something. I’ll meet you at the car.”

  She gestured at the elevator. “Do you want me to go get it, Mr. Griffin?”

  He shook his head. “Under control.”

  Mystified, she headed out of the hotel and he turned and headed to the concierge’s desk to make sure Maylee’s beauty appointment was set up. The concierge was all smiles, even if she seemed a bit mystified that Lord Montagne Verdi was making a hair appointment for his assistant.

  Five minutes later, Griffin made his way out to the sedan . . . and frowned.

  Maylee was leaning against the car door, laughing and smiling as the driver, Robbie, hovered close nearby and flirted with her. It was clear that the man was staking his claim, judging by the possessive way he regarded Maylee.

  And it pissed off Griffin. He stormed back into the concierge’s office. “I want a new driver by this afternoon,” he informed her.

  “Oh, I’m not really sure if that falls under my jurisdiction—” she began.

  He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Just get it done for me.”

  “Right away, Lord Montagne Verdi.”

  Griffin straightened his jacket and headed back out to the car. He scowled at Robbie and gestured for Maylee to enter the car. He scowled again when Robbie winked at Maylee and opened the door for her, and she thanked him in her soft drawl. He slapped the business card given to him by the concierge into the man’s hand. “Take us here first.”

  “Very well, my lord,” the driver said.

  Inside the car, Maylee opened up the laptop and began to go through his emails. “Your two o’clock got shuffled to three,” she told him. “So I had to move
a few things around to ensure that we can pick up your tuxedo from the tailor and get everything ready for the ball tonight.”

  “And do you have a gown?” he asked.

  She bit her lip. “Well, Mr. Griffin, I do, but it’s far too fancy and expensive. I was going to suggest you return it.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “It was purchased with the anticipation of the ball in mind. You’re required to attend while you’re in my employment.”

  “I’m not sure I belong,” she hedged.

  “Trust me, every fool in Bellissime is going to be at this thing tonight. You’ll belong just fine.”

  She winced.

  Oh, hell. That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant. “Don’t worry about it,” he added brusquely. “You’re there to work, regardless of who attends.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you should be properly attired.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Griffin sighed and glanced up at the driver. He wanted to knock on the glass partition that separated the front of the sedan from the back, but that would make him seem impatient. Still, they had to be arriving soon, didn’t they? The concierge had assured him that the salon was no more than a few blocks away. He stared out at the streets, covered with Bellissime flags and banners, ready to celebrate the wedding of their royal princess. People walked the streets, taking pictures of the decorations, and it seemed like everyone in the world was in the city this morning.

  They pulled up to a busy sidewalk and the driver parked the car, then exited to open the door. Maylee glanced up from her laptop, peered at the location, and frowned. “I think we’re at the wrong place.”

  “We are not,” Griffin assured her. “I asked to come here.”

  Her pale eyebrows rose. “Why?”

  “It’s a surprise for you.” He kept the smug expression off his face. He wanted to see her reaction. See that sunny smile spread across her round face. “I’ll arrange for Mr. Sturgess to pick you up in a few hours,” he said as the driver came to her side of the car and not his.