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Bedded by the Billionaire / Tycoon's One-Night Revenge: Bedded by the Billionaire

Год написания книги
2019
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“But maybe Rena thinks that more people would be more generous with their contributions if they actually saw you show up at the charitable functions sometimes. You would be a good example,” she said.

“Maybe,” he said, clearly not convinced. “Do you know how painful these things can be?”

“Probably not,” she said. “But it’s not like you’re making a lifetime commitment.”

He sighed and met her gaze. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. I’ll go to the fund-raiser for the children’s wing of the hospital if you’ll go with me.”

“Me?” she said, shocked. “But I’m pregnant.”

“Does that mean you’re disabled?”

“No, but—” she shook her head “—why would you want me to go? You’re bound to have a dozen other women on the line who would want to go with you.”

“Meaning you wouldn’t,” he said in a dry, amused tone.

“I didn’t say that,” he said. “What about Kiki?”

“I didn’t invite Kiki,” he said. “I invited you.”

Her heart sped up. She cleared her throat. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I can have someone take care of that within an hour.”

He was shredding her protests more effectively than a paper shredder. She stared at him, her mind spinning.

“Think of it as an opportunity to continue your interview,” he said, as if he weren’t at all worried that he would meet and exceed her expectations.

Must be nice to have that kind of confidence, she thought. “This is crazy. I can’t believe you want to take me to this kind of event. Aren’t you concerned about the gossip?”

“With my father, his mistress and my brother, I’ve been dealing with gossip most of my life. This will be a cakewalk.”

Lilli took a shower and as she was fixing her hair, a knock sounded on her door. She opened it to Max’s housekeeper, Myrtle, who held a large box. “For you,” the older woman with iron-gray hair said and carried the box to the bed.

“Already?” Lilli asked, glancing at the clock. When Max said an hour, he meant an hour. “Thank you very much, Myrtle,” she said, opening the box and pushing aside layers of tissue paper. “Omigoodness, this is beautiful. Did you see it?” she asked the chief housekeeper. She held up the black gown with the fitted bodice and deep V-neck. Just under the bustline dotted with tiny embroidered pink flowers, the remainder of the dress fell in a swirl of silk.

The woman nodded. “It’s beautiful. Perfect for you. Mr. De Luca is always very generous.”

“Yes, he is, isn’t he?” She looked in vain for a price tag, wishing she could reimburse him for the dress. “Do you think he would let me pay him—”

Before she even finished, Myrtle shook her head. “Never,” she said.

Sighing, she met Myrtle’s gaze. “I don’t want to be on the long list of people who sponge off of him.”

Myrtle gave a slight smile that softened her usual stern expression. “You will have a difficult time outgiving Mr. De Luca.”

Lilli frowned thoughtfully. “How long have you worked for Mr. De Luca?”

“Six years. One of those years, my husband was ill and he allowed me extra time off with pay. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”

“I don’t know how to ask this, but does Mr. De Luca have any real friends?”

“Very few,” Myrtle said. “He keeps very busy with his company and socializes very little. And there are his godchildren.”

Lilli blinked. “Godchildren? I didn’t know he was a godfather.”

“With such wealth, he’s a natural choice. I should go,” she said. “You’ll look beautiful in your dress. Mr. De Luca would want you to enjoy it.”

“Just on more thing,” Lilli said as the woman headed for the door. “When is Mr. De Luca’s birthday?”

“Next month, the fifth,” she said. “But he never celebrates it.”

Lilli’s mind immediately flew with possibilities. Henever celebrates it. Well, maybe this year should be different. And he was a godfather? Who would have guessed? Sheesh, she should talk to Myrtle more often.

She glanced at the clock again and felt a kick of nerves. She would think about that later. Now she needed to get ready for the charity dinner. She wanted the rest of her to measure up to that beautiful dress.

It occurred to Lilli that perhaps she could have used a team of hairstylists and consultants to get her up to snuff for this event. Instead she would need to rely on the cosmetic tips she’d gleaned from the last fashion magazine she’d read and that had been two or three months ago.

One hour and ten minutes later, Max checked his watch again and wondered if he should sit down and review some reports while he waited for Lilli. Just as he headed for his downstairs office, she appeared at the top of the stairs. He stared for a long moment as she descended the steps. Her blond hair flowing in loose spiral curls to her shoulders and fair skin made her look like an angel. The cut of her black halter dress dipped into a deep V that drew his gaze to her breasts, and the way the fabric bonded lovingly to her curves made him hard.

Her pregnancy was obvious. The dress made no attempt to hide it. He wondered why he was so attracted to this woman. It made no sense at all, especially knowing the baby she carried belonged to his dead brother.

He clenched his teeth and nodded. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “So do you.”

His lips twitched. He chuckled. “Thanks.” He extended his elbow. “Ready?”

“As ever,” she murmured and slid her arm through his. “You can still back out if you want. I mean, unless you’ve changed your mind about having me tag along.”

“Not a chance,” he said, guiding her through the doorway. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

She shot him a sideways glance. “Not a chance. It’s not as if I’m ever going to see these people again.”

“You never know,” he said, escorting her to the luxury sedan parked out front. He opened the car door for her. “You may enjoy yourself.”

“I just hope the food is good. If it’s not, we can always stop for a cheeseburger with everything on the way home.”

He just grinned and got into the car. Adjusting the sound system to play an operatic aria, he noticed Lilli began to fidget after a few minutes. “Problem?” he asked.

“No, no, not really,” she said, pushing her hair behind her shoulder as she moved her foot in a staccato beat at odds with the aria. He heard the soft jangle of her anklet with every movement. It was difficult to keep his gaze from straying to her sexy legs.

“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” he asked.

“Do you know what she’s saying?” she asked, pointing toward the CD player.

“It’s from a German opera by Mozart called TheMagic Flute. I didn’t study much German, but if I remember correctly, she’s saying something along the lines of ‘The vengeance of hell boils in my heart. Death and despair flame about me.’”

“Cheerful little ditty, huh,” she said. “That’s why I’m not crazy about opera. Someone is usually pissed off, plotting to kill someone or getting killed.”
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