Memo: The Billionaire's Proposal

“What I said is true.”

Chaney gave him a look. “I only agreed to fill in for Gemma a few days ago. I realize you have enough money to have a custom suit of armor built for you at the last minute, but unless you’ve found a miracle formula to grow that much facial hair overnight, I’d say you spent well over a week on your beard. Probably longer than that.”

Damn. Most women would have pretended not to see through what he’d said and play along, but not Chaney. Drake didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused by the turn of events. “You may have misunderstood my intentions.”

“Oh, no. Your intentions are quite clear, but I want to make sure you don’t misinterpret mine.”

Forget annoyed. The way she dismissed him so easily and the strength she exhibited were total turn-ons.

She continued. “I’m sure whatever lines you normally use on women must work pretty well or you wouldn’t be so confident, but just so you know, nothing’s happening here tonight, tomorrow or any other day we happen to be in the same place.”

No one ever challenged him like this. Maybe he should try another tack or perhaps cut his losses and send her on her way. The truth was he really didn’t want her to leave. “Would you believe your being here gave me a reason to look forward to this weekend?”

Her clear, sharp eyes told him she wasn’t about to be swayed by empty words or careless compliments.

Guilt lodged in his throat. “I’m sorry to have dragged you up here.”

The tightness around her mouth told him he should be sorry. She picked up her clipboard from the table and headed toward the door.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” he offered.

“And tuck me in?” She pursed her lips. “No, thanks.”

“I don’t want you getting lost.”

“I’ll do fine on my own.”

“You said you hadn’t been to this part of the castle before.”

“I can find my way down a lit stairwell.”

The set of her jaw told him she wasn’t about to back down. Early in life, he’d learned what battles were worth fighting. He knew this one wasn’t. “Okay, you win.”

For now.

Her tired eyes widened behind her glasses. “I didn’t know it was a competition.”

“Life is a competition.”

“Only if you turn it into one.”

Chaney may be tired, but her mind was fully functioning. Still, he’d taken up enough of her time for tonight. Drake opened the door for her. “Thanks for your help. Get some sleep.”

Not looking back at him, she fled down the staircase into the shadows.

Once she was out of sight, Drake closed the door.

Frustration gnawed at him. He hadn’t been this off his game since Chaney’s going-away party in London. But that experience hadn’t left him feeling so damn guilty.

Regret swept over him. He’d taken advantage of her helpful nature to get her to his room. Not that she’d allowed him to take advantage of the situation at all.

He hadn’t liked how she turned him down the last time, given her near hero worship of him five years ago, but he’d understood she wanted more than he was offering.

Tonight, however, stung. He rubbed his chin, still not used to the hair against his fingers. She’d been angry and dismissive. Something had changed. She had changed.

I’m on hiatus from…investing.

He knew who to blame….

Her stupid jerk of an ex-fiancé-turned-brother-in-law.

The guy must have hurt her bad. Her sister, too.

Drake grimaced.

Chaney might be a romantic, but she was a wounded one who needed to learn how to have fun again. That was why she reacted the way she had to his overtures.

All he had to do was figure out how to show her she needed some fun. She needed him.

Not an impossible task.

He’d done it before, with companies he’d purchased, by showing them he had something they needed. He would do the same thing with Chaney. A win-win situation for both of them.

And he knew exactly where to start. Drake picked up the telephone and pressed the button for the staff line.

“Good evening, Mr. Llewelyn,” a propersounding male voice said. “What may I do for you?”

“Please deliver a large bouquet of flowers to Miss Sullivan’s room tomorrow. In the morning, if possible.”

“Roses?”

“No,” Drake answered quickly. She would take roses the wrong way and rightfully so. “A mixed bouquet will be fine.”

“What would you like written on the card, sir?”

He thought for a moment. “’Friends’ with a question mark.”

The man repeated the phrase.

“That’s correct.”

“I’ll take care of this straight away, sir.”

“Thank you.” Drake hung up the phone.

Friends would be the perfect place to start with Chaney. Friends could have lots of fun together.

Staring at the armor she’d neatly put away for him, he smiled.