Beddable Billionaire

He shrugged. “I was curious but now I’m just bored and irritated.”

“Why should my opinion matter at all?” I countered, feeling reckless. There was something about Nico that I couldn’t quite shake, something that made me want to push when otherwise I might wisely fold.

Or maybe I was just tired of being railroaded for the sake of a paycheck. Patrice had never been my biggest fan, and this colossal train wreck of an interview shouldn’t come as too big of a surprise, right?

Would she fire me?

Maybe?

Nico leaned forward, invading my space. “You think I’m another useless trust-fund baby with nothing better to do than spend my money on hookers and blow or at the very least strippers and booze.” When I didn’t deny it, he barked a laugh at my expense, as if I were an unprepared newb who hadn’t done a lick of research. “My family donates gobs of money to various organizations and charities, but it is scattered among the different companies we own. We choose not to advertise our philanthropic endeavors because we believe that’s private and we aren’t looking for accolades. So we don’t talk much about those things, but because we don’t advertise, you make an assumption that I’m just another rich playboy who wipes his ass with money.”

I had thought all of those things. Had I underestimated him? Was it possible? Right now I felt like an embittered, snarky bitch who hated all men, and it wasn’t a nice feeling at all. “I may have misjudged you on first appearances,” I admitted in a low tone, “but you haven’t done much to disabuse me of my first impression.”

“Was I supposed to? Or were you supposed to come here with an open mind?”

I swallowed, squarely put into my place by the most unlikely of people.

“You were rude,” he stated flatly.

I chewed the side of my cheek before uttering a reluctant “Yes.”

“You admit it?”

I’d have rather swallowed knives but nodded. “I didn’t realize I was being so rude. Please let me start over.”

“I should probably just ask for another reporter. Might be for the best.”

“Please don’t.”

“I think it would be better for everyone involved.”

“I assure you, it’s not. Unless you want an idiot writing your article,” I ground out. For someone who was supposed to be groveling, I was terrible at it.

“Nobody likes to be judged,” he said quietly, and I understood where he was coming from. I suppose not even Nico Donato was free from judgment, though I never imagined that he might care what others thought.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, meaning it this time. “I shouldn’t have come in with a preconceived idea of who you were.” Nico appeared mollified enough to accept my apology. I drew a deep breath and tried a real smile. “Can we start over? Wipe the slate clean? I promise you, even though I might’ve started with a bad attitude, I’m a pretty good writer. No one else at Luxe will do as good a job as me.”

Nico regarded me with speculation, his blue eyes deepening a shade. As much as I wanted to ignore the obvious, Nico Donato was easy on the eyes, and it’d been a long time since I’d allowed a man to enter my thoughts in any sort of sexual way.

Raw energy pulsed between us, parching my throat and leaving me out of sorts. Patching things between us might save my job, but I feared something far more frightening than job hunting in New York with a near-useless degree.

Nico had a thing about him...some kind of sexual voodoo, and I could already feel something happening between us even if it was in fits and starts—but it took only a spark to burn down a forest.

And that was the part that worried me.

CHAPTER FOUR

Nico

“I’M REALLY NOT an asshole,” I insisted, but I couldn’t quite prevent the tiny half smile curving my mouth. Even I couldn’t make that statement with a straight face, but the fact that she handled my curveball without missing a beat was arousing as fuck. I had to know more about this woman—by any means possible. “Okay, how about this... I will answer any question you have for me...over dinner.”

“Dinner,” she repeated with open suspicion. “Why dinner?”

“Let’s be honest...we both bungled this interview. Let’s wipe the slate clean and start fresh. I’m willing to believe that we’re both reasonable human beings, so why not forget this terrible first impression happened and start over. Preferably over a glass of wine.”

Her gaze narrowed, but the tiny smile playing at the corners of her mouth told me she enjoyed negotiating as much as I did. Oh, the things people reveal without realizing it. “Dinner, no wine. Purely business. No funny business,” she countered, her gaze glittering as she tacked on, “at a well-lit restaurant.”

I shook my head. “Here.”

“I’d rather a restaurant.”

I knew if I pushed, she’d push back. She wasn’t the kind of woman who was easily impressed or intimidated, so I had to try something else. “May I be completely honest?” I asked. She nodded slowly, curious. “It may come as a surprise, but I love to cook. It’s the one thing that I wasn’t given simply because of who I am. I’ve earned my skills through plenty of trial and error. If I’m going to have a shot of changing your perception of me, cooking you a meal is the best way I know how.”

Her stunned silence was more telling than she knew. What she couldn’t know was that I was being completely honest. I felt most comfortable in the kitchen, and I took great pride in knowing that every skill I had with food was 100 percent legit. Of course, I withheld the mention that I’d discovered long ago that women found men who can cook irresistible. I couldn’t count how many panties had dropped over a seemingly innocent homemade dish of risotto alla Milanese paired with a perfectly roasted leg of lamb.

After a long, contemplative pause, Lauren nodded, accepting my proposal. “You have yourself a clean slate, Mr. Donato. I’ll see you tonight. Seven o’clock,” she said, rising as she thrust her hand toward me to seal the deal. I chuckled and accepted the handshake when I really wanted to brush my lips across that pale, soft skin to watch the goose bumps cause an all-out riot. I wanted to know what stole Lauren’s breath and caused those beautiful dark eyes to darken further—and I definitely wanted to know what she was hiding beneath that ugly dress. However, I played the part of the gentleman, opening her door and watching her leave without a further suggestive remark or inappropriate suggestion.

Pretty proud of myself, actually. I rarely denied myself whatever pleasure caught my eye, but I suspected Lauren was a diamond hidden inside that crusty coal and I was more interested in discovering how to reveal what I was truly interested in.

The question was, what about Lauren turned my clock? Hell, I hadn’t a clue. Generally speaking, I preferred women to be soft and malleable, maybe even a little on the vapid side. But then, I wasn’t accustomed to women actively pushing me away. Usually it was the other way around. Most times I had to shake the women off with a stick.

Got quite annoying, actually.

But not Lauren.

Her employment with Luxe came to mind, as she clearly didn’t fit the blueprint for the self-indulgent magazine.

Hence, the plot thickens, eh?

Everything about the woman intrigued me, and for fuck’s sake, I was bored enough to dig into the mystery.

CHAPTER FIVE

Lauren

I COULDN’T EXPLAIN what had happened between Nico and me. I’m not entirely sure how he’d managed to turn the tables so neatly, but I had to give the man props for style and finesse.

For all his talk about wanting a fresh start to make a better impression, I wasn’t buying into his story, but there was something about Nico that made me want to play the game.

Was this how it started? There was a saying, “bad judgment made for good stories,” and it certainly applied to my current situation. I should’ve shut him down, told Patrice that Donato wasn’t a good fit for the center feature and moved on. But somewhere between being completely annoyed and defensive to the point where he actually had me anticipating a countermove, my interest level had changed.

I had no doubt he was playing a game with me, but I wasn’t without my own skills. If he thought he could charm the pants off me with an impressive culinary show, he was headed for an aching case of blue balls, but I wasn’t above enjoying a fine home-cooked meal on someone else’s dime and effort.

My ex had come from a wealthy family, and Houston had pulled out all the stops to impress me. Unfortunately, it’d worked on a naive girl, but I wasn’t that girl anymore. Getting knocked up and abandoned did a lot to make a girl grow up.

When I’d met Houston, I’d been just out of college, and much more trusting.

Now I was fairly certain everyone had an agenda.

Except my sweet son.

Oh, crud. Speaking of, I’d have to find a babysitter for Grady tonight. I didn’t want to call my mom because she’d ask questions, but the last time I left Grady with my best friend, Ronnie, he’d gotten Grady hooked on Drag Race. It’d taken weeks to convince Grady that a feather boa was not an acceptable choice for kindergarten attire. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I loved that Grady was exposed to different lifestyles and completely open to alternative ways to be a human being. But I had a hard enough time as it was with the school administrator each time Grady said or did something that shocked the pants off his teacher.

I called my younger sister, Claire, hoping that she was available. Voice mail.

I chewed my bottom lip, vacillating between calling my mom and calling Ronnie.

I went with Ronnie.

“Hey, babe, you available to watch Grady tonight for me?” I asked, hailing a cab.

“Oh, honey child, why do you do this to me? You know I would die to watch the little man, but I totally have plans already. Unless you don’t mind if I take him with me,” he answered with a dubious tone that immediately set off alarm bells.

“Where are you going?” I asked, wary. “No drag shows.”

“Oh, poo. Well, if you’re going to be like that, then no, I already have plans.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You know you can’t take Grady to a drag show. Most are held at a bar.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is a private show, and mostly kid-friendly. I think.”

Yeah, I wasn’t about to take the chance. “Not this time,” I said, chuckling. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Grady to be safe with Ronnie, but sometimes my friend didn’t think about how impressionable a six-year-old was, and learning how to effectively tuck a penis wasn’t a skill set I needed my son to pick up anytime soon. “No worries. Enjoy your show,” I said and clicked off.

That left my mom.

Ugh. My mom and I were often on opposite sides of everything. For example, my mom thought I ought to be going after Grady’s dad for child support even though I’d explained that it was better for Grady and me if Houston wasn’t involved. I wasn’t about to poke the sleeping bear. Houston was content to pretend that he didn’t have a son, and I was totally fine with that. But my mom saw only the potential dollar signs floating out the window.

“He needs to take responsibility for his son,” she’d said during one of the many pointless arguments on the subject. “He has enough money—he needs to pay up.”

“I don’t want Houston around Grady,” I’d replied, hoping the conversation was finished. “We’re better off. Houston isn’t exactly ready to be a father.”

“You should’ve thought of that before getting knocked up,” Ellen Hughes disparaged with a cool look. “If your father were alive today...well, let’s just say he’d be having words with that young man.”

I winced, hating when she brought up the subject of my dad. “Leave Dad out of this,” I warned. “The man has earned his rest after being married to you for thirty years.” It was harsh, but things tended to slip out when I argued with my mother.

“Lauren Elizabeth Hughes, you watch your mouth. I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful.” My mother’s mouth pinched as she added disapprovingly, “A boy needs his father.”

“No, he doesn’t if that father is a useless playboy who cares more about partying than raising a child,” I returned sharply, giving my mother “the look” as I finished putting away Grady’s toys. My mother took the hint and gathered her things to leave. “Do you need me to call a cab?” I asked helpfully, but my mom was already out the door.

So, yeah, I wasn’t super excited to have her babysit.

I could always bring Grady with me.

The thought popped into my head almost as a joke, but then I realized maybe that was an excellent idea.

I doubted Nico would try anything inappropriate with a six-year-old boy in attendance.

Maybe I was risking my mom card for using my kid as a shield, but the idea had merit. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was a viable solution to a sticky issue.

With Grady there, I could keep the conversation on point and I could also use Grady as a legitimate reason to leave on time.

I’d get my interview and escape with my integrity.

Problem solved.

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