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“Every Thursday.”

“Is that to unwind from your job?”

He smiles. “I don’t have a job. I’m Smith Henderson, son of Bill?”

I fake a look of shock. “Seriously, your dad is Bill Henderson? Who owns airlines and small islands?”

“The very same. So I don’t work. I don’t need to. Instead I keep to a strict regime of pleasure, including massages every Thursday at eleven.”

“A strict regime of pleasure. Hmmm, is that why you think Revealed is poison? Has your pleasure been revealed before?”

His jaw set.

“Not by that particular trash, but by similar. They write crap they don’t know about, regardless of whether they have proof or not.”

“That’s why I like Revealed though.” I replied. “All of their stories are backed with facts.”

His blue gaze fixed on my own. “And that’s why I’ve never been in Revealed, but it’s still built on the same principles—to destroy people.”

“I’d argue it was the featured secrets and lies that destroyed the person, not the fact they were discovered and revealed.”

“So do you have any secrets, Serena? If I dug down and found yours, would you want me to sell them to that magazine? Revealed might be mired in ‘facts’ as you call them, but they’re often subjective.”

“I have no secrets. What you see is what you get.”

His eyes trailed the length of my body and I expected a smart retort, but none came. Still he’d looked. My nipples pebbled under his gaze.

“Are you not having a treatment?” He asked.

“No. I’ve been in the steam and saunas. That’s enough. I’m going to head back to my room in a moment. What do you do after your massage?”

“Go home and watch a movie.” He said.

I smiled. “Oh that’s not a bad idea. I might see what’s on the hot

el menu. Curling up on my bed for a couple of hours sounds great.”

“I watch them in my movie room.” He says. “But for some reason your way sounds a lot better.”

“Well, I’m not inviting you to my room, Smith Henderson.” I laughed. “We just met.”

“Doesn’t stop most women.” He said.

“Well, it stops me.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Serena. I hope you settle in and enjoy your job. I’ll see you around.”

“You will.”

What he did next was bring his A-game, I’d give him that. Instead of walking straight through to the showers, he shrugged his robe off. Remnants of massage oil glistened down a tanned, taut body. I could have bounced quarters off those abs. I imagined him in the shower, droplets of water bouncing off them and then my tongue licking across his torso, capturing one of those small nipples in my teeth…

“Time to cool down, don’t you think?” He leaned closer toward me. “I don’t know if it’s just me, but it’s getting hot in here.”

Chapter Eight

Smith

I wasn’t stupid, no matter how the press portrayed me as the dumb son of Bill, fit only to party all night and hook up with women. Yes, I partied and yes, I screwed around. It was called being young and having fun. I was sure guys the world over did exactly the same, they just didn’t have their every move followed.


Tags: Gisele St. Claire Filthy Rich Billionaire Romance