Matched to a Billionaire

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Without looking at her again, he muttered, “Good night.”

“Leo.” A firm hand on his arm stopped him before he’d taken two steps past her. “I asked you to call me Dannie because that’s what my friends call me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

The warmth in her voice washed over him, settling inside with a slow burn. He didn’t turn, didn’t dare face her.

Something fundamental had changed in her demeanor—the leash she’d kept on her energy had snapped and yeah, he needed to look out. It leached into the air, electrifying it. She certainly wasn’t afraid to speak to him any longer. “I... Yes. Of course.”

She brushed against his arm as she rounded it, apparently not content to talk to his back. Her shirt gaped slightly, revealing a tantalizing peek at her cleavage. The slow burn blazed faster. They were talking about being friends, not lovers. What was wrong with him?

Dannie. No, too intimate. Daniella was too intriguing. What was he supposed to call her, hey, you?

He couldn’t compartmentalize his wife. That was bad.

“Friends,” he rasped because he had to say something.

Okay, good. Daniella could go into the friends box. It could work. He’d envisioned having a companion to fill a hole in his life. Now he had one.

“Friends.” Without breaking eye contact, she reached up and loosened his tie, leaning into it, fingers lingering far too long for the simple task. “Who help each other relax.”

Relax? Every nerve in his body skated along a razor’s edge, desperately seeking release from the power of his wife’s touch. The faint scent of strawberries wafted from her glossy lips and he wanted to taste it. “What makes you think I need to relax?”

“I can feel the tension from here, Leo.”

Was that what they were calling it these days? Felt like a good, old-fashioned hard-on to him.

As if pulled by imperceptible threads, his body circled closer to hers and the promise of heat turned into a reality as their lower halves brushed once, twice. His hand flew to the small of her back to clamp her tight against him.

Fingers still tangled in his loosened tie, she tugged slightly. Her face tipped up, lips primed to be taken in another kiss, but this time nothing prevented him from finishing it. From dragging his lips down the length of his wife’s torso, straight to...

He cursed—they’d agreed to be platonic only a few hours ago and they were in the middle of an innocuous conversation about being friends. Yet he was salivating at the thought of kissing her, of laughing together over a joke, of being so much more than a convenience to each other.

He took a deliberate step backward and her hand dropped from his tie.

If she had this strong an effect on him, he was in hotter water than he’d realized. He did not want to be so obsessed with his wife.

“I’m tense because I have a lot of work to do.” He willed his body and his bothersome loneliness back into submission. Or tried to. Seemed as though it was destined to be a losing battle. Since she was clearly no longer too scared to talk, he’d have to put space between them another way. “We’ll spend time together, but this will not be a conventional relationship. If that’s not going to work for you, we should get an annulment.”

A hint of hurt crept into her expression. His chest panged. She’d just asked to be friends and loosened his tie. Why was he turning it into a cardinal offense? Wasn’t this part of letting their relationship grow more intimate naturally?

“What happened to make you so jaded?” she asked quietly, not the slightest bit cowed by his speech. He liked it better when she said nothing more than yes and thank you.

“I’m not jaded. I don’t have anything against relationships or love in general. Without it, I wouldn’t be here. My parents still make googly eyes at each other across the table. Didn’t you notice?”

“Of course. They’re a very happy couple. Why don’t you want the same?”

There was the reason he’d nipped the tie loosening in the bud. They were married and might even become friends, but they were never going to be anything more, and it was a disservice to Daniella to let her have the smallest hope otherwise.

He was already doing himself a disservice by even contemplating “otherwise.”

“Oh, they’re happy, all right.” He rolled his eyes. “At the expense of everything else. My parents have no money. No savings.”

And they refused to accept what they called handouts from Leo. He’d like nothing more than to take care of them, had offered a house, cars, even vacations, to no avail. Apparently, they enjoyed the gangs and graffiti spray-painted on the front sidewalk. Their memories appeared to be short, but Leo could never forget the gun-wielding thief who’d broken into their house when he was six. The terror had fueled his drive to escape and kept him on the straight and narrow.

“You fault your parents for being happy over making money?”

“No, I don’t blame my father for working a low-paying job so he could be home with my mom and me. I choose to live my life differently. I’ll never force my child to be grateful for one gift under the Christmas tree. To stay home from school on the days when the rest of the class goes on field trips to the zoo because I can’t afford for my kid to go.”

“Oh, Leo.”

The compassion shining in her eyes unearthed something poignant inside. That had to go. This wasn’t about feeling sorry for poor, little Leo Reynolds from the section of east Dallas where even the churches had bars on the windows. It was about making a point.

“See all this?” He cut a hand through the air to indicate the house at large. “I worked for every dime. I held three jobs in college so I could graduate with no debt and then put my nose to the grindstone for years to get ahead. I’m still not there. If I take my eye off the prize for even a moment, poof. It all vanishes.”

His wife gazed at him without speaking, lips pursed in a plump bow. Firm breasts strained against her blouse, inviting him to spread the fabric wide and—maybe he needed to internalize which prize he wasn’t supposed to take his eyes off of.

Other venture capital companies were unearthing the next Google or staking start-ups that sold to competitors for billions of dollars. Reynolds Capital would be there soon if he kept on course. All he had to do was resist temptation. He’d married a woman who would help him avoid the dangers of giving in.

If she’d just stay in her box, that is.

He breathed in the scent of strawberries and the sizzling energy of his wife. “I work, Daniella. All the time. I can’t invest in a relationship. It wouldn’t be fair if I let you believe in that possibility.”

He couldn’t let himself dwell on the possibilities, either. No weakness. Indulgence led to immersion and immersion led to ruin. Carmen had proved that, nearly derailing his entire senior year and subsequently, his life. It was easier to never start down that path and the last thing he wanted was to hurt Daniella.

Four

Dannie slept poorly that night. The bed was comfortable, but she wasn’t. Leo had her tied up in knots.

Now that she knew how truly earthshaking his eyes looked when they were hot with passion, she didn’t know if she’d ever be comfortable again. The spike of awareness inside—deep, deep inside—had peaked the second he touched her and then died a miserable death during the “I’m a workaholic, deal with it” conversation.

He was definitely attracted to her. And perfectly willing to ignore it in favor of his bottom line. How exactly did he envision them moving past being polite strangers?

Her new plan might need some refining. Just because she and Leo’s mother thought he might benefit from a woman’s tender affections didn’t mean Leo thought that. And if Dannie irritated him any further with unwanted advances, he might seek that annulment on his own. At which point she’d get nothing and she’d let her mother and Elise down. Plus herself.

But as far she was concerned, they were married for life, and she wanted to eventually be friends and lovers. Despite Leo’s impassioned speech, she really didn’t understand why he didn’t want that, too.

Hence the sleepless night.

She woke in the morning, groggy but determined to be a better wife to Leo Reynolds than he could ever dream. Rob had wanted a fade-into-the-background woman and she’d messed up. Elise’s training had taught her how to beat back that strong-willed inner Scarlett.

Leo was going to get what he’d asked for.

If she addressed his needs—especially the unrealized ones—maybe that would lead them into a deeper relationship.

After she dressed and arrived downstairs, one of the maids informed her Leo had already left for the day. Instead of wallowing in disappointment she had no business feeling, she familiarized herself with the kitchen as she toasted bread and scrambled eggs. Tomorrow morning, she’d set an alarm and be up early to make Leo coffee or breakfast or whatever he preferred, which she needed to learn pronto if she hoped to see him in the morning.

Dannie spent the rest of the morning in an endless parade of tasks: learning the ins and outs of a difficult phone that she refused to believe was smarter than she was, memorizing the brands of Leo’s clothes, determining how he preferred his closet to be organized, researching the recommended care of all the fabrics. As mistress of the household, it was her responsibility to ensure the servants did their jobs well and correct poor performance as necessary. By lunch, her brain hurt.

And she hadn’t even started on Leo’s social calendar.

Once she tapped into the wealth of information named Mrs. Gordon, Dannie breathed a little easier. Leo’s admin talked for a solid hour and then sent a dozen emails full of links and instructions about the care and feeding of a venture capitalist.

Dannie read everything twice as she absently shoved a sandwich in her mouth.

Mrs. Gordon wrapped up the exchange with a tip about an invitation to an alumni event from Leo’s college, which was that very night. She kindly agreed to delete the reminder entry she’d already set up so Dannie could practice scheduling.

Perfect. Dannie plunked the stupid phone into her palm and eyed it. “I’m the boss. You better cooperate,” she told it, and proceeded to manhandle the appointment onto Leo’s calendar.

When his acceptance appeared, she nearly broke into an impromptu dance. Until she noticed she’d scheduled it for tomorrow night. Grimly, she rescheduled and got it right the second time. Leo was probably sitting in his office shaking his head as he accepted the updated request.

Enough of that job. Dannie went to agonize over her meager wardrobe in anticipation of her first social appearance as Mrs. Leo Reynolds. This she’d have to get right on the first shot. She couldn’t carry a second outfit in her clutch in case of dress remorse.

Leo walked through the door at precisely six o’clock. Dannie was ready and waiting for him in the kitchen, the closest room to the detached garage. The salmon-colored dress she wore accentuated her figure but had tasteful, elegant lines. Elise had taught her to pick flattering clothes and it looked fantastic on her, especially coupled with strappy Jimmy Choos heels. Would Leo notice?

“How was your day?” she asked politely while taking in the stress lines and shadows around his eyes that said he’d slept poorly, as well.

Something unfolded in her chest, urging her to smooth back the dark hair from his forehead and lightly massage his temples. Or whatever would soothe him. She wanted to know what to do for him, what he’d appreciate.

He set a brown leather messenger bag on the island in the kitchen. “Fine. And yours?”

“Wonderful.” Except for the part where he hadn’t kissed her goodbye. Or hello. Shut up, Scarlett. “The alumni gala is at the Renaissance Hotel. My driver will take us as soon as we’re ready.”

He hadn’t said a word about her dress. Perhaps she’d take that as a sign he wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with her and not dwell on whether it got a response or not. Compliments weren’t the reason she’d married Leo.