Girl Meets Billionaire

by Aubrey, Brenna

  There was no reply to my text. Likely he was still in meetings or maybe still in the air. I blew out a breath and fidgeted nervously, determined to satisfy my curiosity.

  I walked around downstairs and briefly glanced at the room service menu before deciding I was too nervous to eat. I looked in every corner around the bar and the single bedroom, where I’d dumped my stuff. I wondered—if the bedroom was downstairs, then what was upstairs? A terrace?

  I galloped quickly up the stairs to find out and landed in an even grander bedroom. It was elegantly decorated with a giant four-poster bed accompanied by similar period furniture in dark woods. The curtains on the sidewall had been pulled aside and the windows looked out over the canals of Amsterdam.

  A fresh set of clothes—which I assumed were Adam’s—had been laid across the bed, but there was no one in the room. I entered and walked to the bed—a king-size, decorated in blues, silvers and light gray French toile fabric. My eyes skimmed over the bed, wondering if this would be the place where things would happen tonight. My heart thrummed again and I swallowed, but there was no way I could tell if that was from fear or excitement.

  He was here already. I heard a noise at the same moment a doorknob—presumably to the bathroom—rattled. I jumped back but before I could skitter out of the room, it opened and Adam stood in the doorway, frozen in midstep. He’d just exited the shower.

  Our eyes locked and my breathing froze. He had one snowy towel slung low around his hips, another draped around his neck. He’d obviously just toweled his hair dry. The short cut was frizzed in every direction as if it had been artfully arranged that way.

  And his chest—every creased valley, every firm muscular angle chiseled in perfect flesh—gleamed with steam. I sucked in a quick breath.

  “H-hi,” I finally said, tearing my eyes from his bare chest with reluctance.

  “Emilia.” He smiled openly with no apparent self-consciousness. “You made it!”

  “I’m—I’m sorry for—I didn’t know you were even here yet. I was just exploring.”

  “No worries. My meeting let out earlier than expected so I beat you here. Did you have lunch?”

  I fought to keep my eyes from drifting downward again, from fixing on those perfect abs, lightly dusted with dark hair, that seemed to have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. “I—I wasn’t that hungry.”

  “Order room service. I could use a roast beef sandwich and theirs is delicious. We can catch up over lunch.”

  “Um,” I stammered and looked away and then back to him. “Sure. I’ll—just go do that, then.”

  He laughed and pulled the towel from around his neck, throwing it back into the bathroom behind him. And that’s when I saw the tattoo.

  Scrawled in elegant jade-green script just under his left collarbone, it was easy to read and very simply designed. Just one word. A woman’s name. Sabrina.

  I couldn’t look away, my eyes zeroing in on that interesting detail. He glanced down to follow my gaze and then looked up again.

  “If you’d just give me a moment…unless you want to stay and do this now?” he said with laughter in his eyes.

  My mouth dropped. “I’ll go order lunch, then,” I repeated lamely before fumbling my way out, nearly tripping down the stairs.

  I ordered his roast beef sandwich with the works—he hadn’t told me what he wanted on it, after all—and for myself, a grilled cheese with smoked brie and Gruyère.

  By the time I was done with the order, he had entered the room, now fully dressed, thank God. Even in jeans and a button-down shirt, he was the epitome of handsome elegance. And even in my breezy sundress I felt awkward next to him. I wondered if that mega-suit he’d worn at the hotel during our first meeting was a fluke. Computer geeks typically didn’t suit up. Most of the coders I knew liked to brag about the casual dress their jobs allowed. But he didn’t seem like a typical computer geek.

  Then again, how would I know? I knew so little about him.

  That was the way I’d wanted it, right? Wham, bam, here’s your cash, ma’am? And suddenly it occurred to me—with no small amount of fear—something I’d never worried about until this moment. What if I didn’t please him? What if he found me wanting in the bedroom? I was completely inexperienced, after all. Would he feel cheated? Like he hadn’t gotten his money’s worth? I shook my head, ridding it of the odd thought. What was happening to me?

  “Cold?” he said, misinterpreting my headshake.

  “No. I’m fine. Thank you for the dress.” I said, smoothing my skirt.

  “Thank Heath, actually. He had to talk me out of ordering a chainmail bikini.” When I shot him a weird look, he laughed. “Kidding. I asked him to pick out some pretty things for you on the Harrods website and have them delivered to the airport lounge. Seems everything went off well.”

  I snorted. “Heath picked this out?”

  He looked puzzled. “Yeah. Why’s that surprising?”

  “He has the fashion sense of a barnacle.”

  “He is gay, right?”

  “He’s gay. But he’s not that kind of gay. He’d wear a burlap sack to work if they’d let him—or if burlap sacks were comfortable.”

  Adam’s eye traveled down my form appreciatively, but not lasciviously. “He knows colors, that’s for sure. That color suits your dark hair and eyes perfectly. You look radiant. And more importantly, you don’t look like you’ve just spent fifteen hours in transit.”

  I spread my arms out in front of me. “Good thing.”

  “Are you tired?”

  “I chugged a Dr. Pepper on the flight from London and bought another one when I landed here.”

  “Good. Let’s eat and then we can see some sights. I was thinking maybe the Royal Palace and a trip down the canals?”

  I brightened and he smiled at my obvious excitement. “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to!”

  Room service arrived then, and the waiter set it out on the table as if he was a maître d’ at a Michelin-starred restaurant. And we weren’t just eating some sandwiches.

  My croissant and melted cheese was to die for. Adam laughed at my obvious pleasure in the food, but I could tell he was having a similar reaction to his roast beef. “If I could get away with flying these in for lunch every day from Amsterdam to Irvine, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  “Oh, that’s probably pocket change for you.”

  “Nope. I could never bring myself to do it. An ostentatious waste. I already feel enough guilt over my carbon footprint and I pay to offset it. But when I do get a chance to stay here, I make sure to have one. I also took one to space with me.”

  “Shut up!” I said, my eyeballs almost falling out of my head. “You’ve been to space?”

  He nodded, finishing up his next bite. “I spent ten days at the International Space Station last year. Biggest high of my life.”

  Every minute I spent with this man, he managed to surprise me even more. “Are you an astronaut, too?”

  “A space tourist, more like. The Russians sell slots on their launches to the highest bidder. I got lucky. It happens often,” he said, shooting me a meaningful look.

  But he hardly got a reaction from me. I was still reeling from the news that he’d been to space. “What was it like?”

  His eyes drifted off to the side and had a sparkling quality about them, like polished onyx. “It was…indescribable.”

  I blew out a breath of disbelief. “Give me something to work with. Come on, just a few adjectives?”

  He paused. “Unforgettable. Unbelievable. Like…the entire world had gone silent. The whitest of white points against the blackest black, and the huge, blue world below my feet.”

  I took another bite of my delish sandwich, contemplating his words. “That’s very poetic for a geek. It’s fortunate that I can never quote you because you might have to have your geek card revoked if it gets out.”

  He grinned. “I’m a geek for life. Not only am I president of the geek club but I’m also a memb
er.”

  I snickered and bit into my sandwich. “If your geek card isn’t revoked because of the poetry it should definitely be revoked for having all those muscles,” I said and then blushed scarlet, realizing I was still remembering that vision of him with his shirt off. The firm pecs, the clearly defined abs and biceps, like he’d been chiseled from marble. “Geeks don’t have muscles,” I said, lamely covering my embarrassment.

  It was true. What kind of computer programmer had a body like that? He smirked. “The geeks who didn’t like getting picked on in school and decided to bulk up as a deterrent do.”

  I studied him as I finished up my sandwich, hard-pressed to imagine any idiot picking on Adam. But I had no idea what he’d been like as a youth, so how could I know? Whatever the incentive, it had worked. It, along with his brilliant mind, handsome face and dark good looks, completed a whole dreamy package. One that, I’d bet, many women tried to get their hands on. I pondered that in silence over the rest of my sandwich. I’d found no information about any previous relationships online. Maybe he’d made those women sign NDAs, too.

  We spent the afternoon at the Royal Palace and then on a guided tour down the canal. The city was vibrant, clean, a stunning fusion of old world and new. I’d now stepped into an even stranger world than the one I’d entered in that first-class line at LAX. This world included only one other person and I was sharing every experience, all the conversation—for we were rarely without something to talk about—with him. To use his words, it was like the entire world had gone silent and we were the only two in it.

  I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like the next day when it was time for me to get back on the plane for the return trip home. How would it feel to go back to the real world after dancing at midnight like Cinderella at the ball?

  At least I knew better than to expect my Prince Charming to show up at my doorstep the next day, ready to jam a glass slipper onto my foot.

  We returned to the hotel at around six p.m. and Adam said we should change for dinner. He told me that everything I’d need was in the wardrobe of my bedroom. So I threw it open. There were three gowns—one red, one black and one in filmy crème, all with matching shoes. I chose the black and wondered if Heath had picked these out, too. There was no way. They were all so gorgeous.

  I quickly showered, redid my makeup and arranged my dark brown hair in a simple straight style that brushed past my shoulders to the middle of my back.

  The black dress was beaded at the waist and at the scoop of the bodice, catching the light with glamorous sparkles. It hung on thin straps and was backless to the waist, gathering in loose folds there. Because of the design, I’d have to go braless to wear it, but it seemed to support me perfectly, regardless. I picked out a new pair from a handful of pretty underthings—this one a sheer and lacy pair of panties that made me feel naughty just wearing them. I felt like a princess. Or an actress about to take the stage at the Oscars.

  I slipped into the matching heels—I wasn’t accustomed to wearing them, but these strappy sandals were works of art, glittering with rhinestones. Every step I took sent a flare of brilliant light in every direction.

  When I entered the living room, it was to a wolf whistle. Adam stood near the ice bucket with an open bottle of champagne in his hands, about to pour. I turned—carefully, so as not to trip all over myself—and he shook his head. “You’re going to be the toast of Amsterdam tonight, Emilia.”

  My cheer faded suddenly. I was only going to be the toast of this room. Of his bed. And for far less than a whole night. I’d stepped into a dream and now, in the middle of it, was all too aware that it would be over before I even realized it.

  “We’ll be dining at Ciel Bleu and, if you are so inclined, there will be dancing nearby in the hotel afterward.”

  I gaped. “Dancing? What sort of dancing? You mean like waltzing and stuff?”

  He shot me a strange look. He was adorable when he screwed up his face like that. Like a little boy, almost. Almost.

  He looked stunning in just about everything he dressed in, whether it was jeans and a casual shirt, a designer business suit or this scrumptious black evening suit and crisp white dress shirt. I couldn’t forget what lay under that polished suit. That perfect body, those hard, defined muscles. That tattoo with a woman’s name just above his heart.

  Who was she? And why wasn’t she in his life anymore? I wondered if I’d find the courage to ask before the night was through.

  He held a bubbling flute out to me. “Come, have a sip. Then let’s be off.”

  I should have told him that I didn’t date. I should have told him that this would be so much easier if we didn’t go out. If we just took our clothes off and did this now. But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want the magic to go away so soon and somehow I knew that the moment the act was finished, it would be.

  “Not even one little hint? Come on…” I whined over my glass of iced mineral water.

  His dark eyes flickered with amusement. “The secrets are not mine to reveal.”

  Players of Dragon Epoch had been searching for clues to start the secret chain of quests that lay in the Golden Mountains region for months. It was one of the most notorious Easter eggs ever hidden in an online game, and here I had the CEO and chief designer of the game as my captive audience. Hell yeah, I was going to take advantage and try to weasel some clues out of him.

  “It’s your company. Your game! And players have been working on that quest chain for months. There are entire wikis and databases full of clues.”

  He grinned, looking off to the side, as if remembering something funny. “Yeah. Half of that stuff is pure bullshit. Some of it was planted by our own developers.”

  I sat back and groaned. “Pretty please?”

  “Emilia, you can bat those gorgeous brown eyes at me all night and I won’t tell you. I am sworn to secrecy.”

  I sighed, surprised at the heated flush crawling up my cheeks. I’d been told before that I had pretty eyes. They were large, round, dark and my lashes were thick. I suppose people found them attractive and I usually accepted the compliment with a self-deprecating smile. No one ever told me that I had a gorgeous butt or lovely breasts. Thank God for that because it probably would have made me die of embarrassment. But it was something about the way Adam complimented my eyes that made me react so strongly. It was so nonchalant. He didn’t throw out the compliment as a way to score points with me or butter me up. He stated that I had gorgeous eyes as if it were a well-known fact—and that no amount of batting them (and for the record, I never batted my eyes!) would get me what I wanted.

  I wanted his secrets. The game secrets would be great to start with but as I had come to spend more time with this man throughout our day in Amsterdam I found myself wanting to know all of his secrets. What drove him to be so successful in his business, to enjoy the trappings of his money without being so ostentatious as to fly in a sandwich for his lunch? What was his family life like? Why hadn’t he slept with anyone in eight months and why wasn’t he with someone now?

  And who was Sabrina? Why did he have her name tattooed over his heart—a man who seemed so unlikely to make such a sentimental gesture? Perhaps he’d had it done when he was very young or drunk. She was the lost childhood love who broke his heart by moving on to someone else once college came along. Or maybe she was a college sweetheart.

  I remembered reading that he’d dropped out of college. He’d already made his first couple million by then. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t finished what he’d started—especially when he seemed to be such a driven person.

  As I was musing over this, he asked me about my own college plans. “So Heath mentioned that you had finished your BS in biology early and are taking the semester off.”

  I took a sip of wine from my other glass. I shot him a look. “Yes. I’m calling it a ‘gap year’ without the Europe experience, but this might well count for that, even if it’s only for two days.” I sipped again. Th
ere was no reason to tell him I was an utter failure and waiting to retake the damn test that was the bane of my existence. I affected a nonchalant shrug. “I’m taking next year off and then on to med school.”

  He nodded. He already knew that, obviously. “What kind of doctor do you want to be?”

  I hesitated, as I often had since I’d done so horribly on the MCAT the previous year. Since that afternoon when I’d stared at those results, slowly watching my dream twist down the drain in a whirlpool of suck. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. “An oncologist.”

  He tilted his head towards me, focusing his attention. “Really. Hard stuff. That would take a special kind of strength to deal with cancer patients all day.”

  “Cancer is a bitch that needs to get the crap smacked out of it. I intend to stand on the front lines with a big-ass bat.”

  He watched my fist clench on the tabletop. “Sounds like it’s very personal to you.”

  I took another sip of wine, studied his strong hand resting on the table next to his dinner plate. “It is. My mom had it.”

  “She’s okay now?”

  I nodded. For the moment. But as close as I came to losing her, there was always the specter of recurrence hovering near. Were it not for her regular inoculation therapy, that specter would be more than just a wispy ghost. But she’d been telling me for months that she didn’t have the money to keep going in and getting treatments. The possibility that she might consider forgoing them entirely almost paralyzed me with fear.

  I lifted my eyes to his. They penetrated like arrows.

  “That must have been rough on all of you.”

  “It’s just us. Me and her. I’m an only child and I have no idea who my father is, nor do I care.”

  His expression didn’t change. He didn’t even move. “So Strong is your mother’s name?”

  Another sip. “Yep. She’s both my mom and my dad. And she’s done a pretty good job of it, I’d say.”

  “I agree.”

  “You don’t even know anything about me.”