Page 17 of Model Billionaire

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“What? Rich Italian guy?”

I pretend to consider his diagnosis before nodding. “Yes,hotrich Italian guy.” I hold a finger up to that, so he knows I’m not off-put by his social status. He makes this sexy face like I’ve really turned him on now, and I accidentally imagine us having sex. Big mistake. I've got to keep those wild thoughts at bay. Thankfully, the server comes just in time for me to see what time my new security team is picking me up tonight.

The thought of needing a new security makes me sick to my stomach, but I push the thought away as I scroll through my phone to see a text from Kias.

The new house isn’t ready yet, but I should have an estimated time within the hour. Your new security team is changing out cars for your safety and won’t be able to pick you up. See if your date won’t mind doing the honors.

Is he joking? My entire security team just died, and he wants me to be unaccompanied with our enemy for the night? I begin to text him back when I’m interrupted by Romeo.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.Shit.I look up and quickly stuff my phone back into my purse.

“Yes.” I search the deepest parts of my brain to think of some skill I learned from the improv classes I had to take with my Bratva training. “My—“ I grit my teeth.Really? Out of all the times I could run out of ideas, it has to be now?I clear my throat to stall as the rest of the words roll off my tongue. “My grandmother is in the hospital. Pneumonia.” I force myself to swallow, but my mouth is so dry it feels like I’m eating sandpaper. He looks put off by this news, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s sad or pretending to be sad— probably the latter— but I put him out of his misery as quickly as I can.

“It’s totally okay. I was just checking with my- her nurse to see how she is.”

“Oh.” He acknowledges, staring at nothing in particular.

I tilt my head to try to regain eye contact.Does he think that I’m lying? Oh, shit. He thinks I’m lying. I’m going to be killed along with my security tonight because I fucking suck at improv—

“To nurses.” He holds up his glass matter-of-factly. Like some old man giving a toast at his daughter's wedding to the son-in-law he didn’t want her to marry. I laugh nervously, though I hope it sounds natural, and raise my glass to his, mimicking his tone; we clink our glasses and take a sip.

Dinner is a blur because all I want to do is check my phone the entire time. Oddly, every time Romeo speaks, I feel more at ease. It’s during the silences in between that I worry about why I can’t control it. I can’t grab my phone in the middle of dinner, and he can’t know who I’m really texting, so I’m trapped. Might as well make the most of it.

I think we do— make the most of it. We laugh and jest with each other. Like verbal foreplay until we’re out the door waiting for the car.I can’t go home with him.I have to do something. He wants to drop me off, but I'm fully aware that’s just an excuse. He wants to fuck me, but that is the last thing I should be doing—especially with him.

Somehow I get a free second when he’s waving for his car, so I quickly pull out my phone and text Kias back. His most recent texts are the first to appear on my screen.

Penthouse won’t be ready till 1 a.m.

Security won’t be able to pick you up.

Get lover boy to drive you home.

Hello?

I roll my eyes and grit my teeth as I respond.

If he drives me home, he will have sex with me, if he has sex with me now, then he will get bored too soon, and I will fail this mission.

I leave out what I’m worried about beyond that–that I’ll like it too much and get distracted. If I want to rise to the heights I have planned, I don’t want him to think I’m capable of such distraction.

Immediately he responds.

Such little faith in your sexual performance.

He likes the chase, Kias. Trust me.

It shows that he’s typing, and I’m tapping my foot as the seconds tick by, wanting him to hurry before I get caught on my phone again.

They can’t pick you up until 1:30 a.m. That’s the best I can do.

I’m about to message him back until I feel Romeo’s eyes on me. Quickly, I shove my phone back into my purse. I have to stall this, and I have to think on my toes.

“Um,” I say to give me time to think, and then I see past him. The lights from the winter fair are shining a little ways off, only here for one more week because a stupid groundhog told us six more weeks of winter. Romeo looks now, realizing this is something of an interest to me.

“Would you like to go?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious. He’s excellent at this making-girls-feel-special thing.

“To the Ferris wheel?” I ask, playing dumb, and he nods.


Tags: Sophia March Billionaire Romance