Unable to look up, he kept his gaze on the table. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “We shouldn’t have invaded your privacy.” He swallowed hard. “If you want to leave, that’s fine. I’ll sort things out with the waiter.”
There was a long moment of silence, and then a big hand on his face, lifting it so he had no choice but to look at Léo.
“No one is leaving,” Léo said, his usually arrogant expression soft. His black eyes met Ben’s. “I don’t think you can call it an invasion of my privacy if you read it on Wikipedia. It’s not as if your Dani was hiding in the bushes outside my window.”
Ben’s face flamed again as he remembered that one time he’d actually hidden in the bushes to scope out the guy Dani had been dating. Léo arched an eyebrow.
“Is there something you haven’t told me?” he asked.
After sputtering for a moment, Ben gave up and laughed helplessly. “This may change your mind about me,” he warned, and then launched into the story. Léo listened with clear incredulity at first, before amusement took over.
The waiter arrived with their food and wine, and Ben tried not to be obvious about the fact that he snatched up his wineglass as soon as the waiter filled it. He took a sip, thinking that would probably be sufficient to fool his brain into relaxing, but the rich red wine tasted so good that he went back for another mouthful before reluctantly putting the glass down. It was just as well he wasn’t planning to settle into this lifestyle. He’d become a drunk very quickly.
“Tell me,” Léo asked when the waiter had left, “why didn’t Dani come on this trip with you?”
Ben tipped his head as he forked up pasta, which was thankfully good and not made with anything he hated. “We talked about it,” he admitted. “I wanted her to, but she didn’t feel she could take that much time away from her job and her family. Her grandmother is unwell, and she and her sister and brother take it in turns to help out.”
“Ah. But you speak frequently?”
Ben nodded. “Sure. Text, chat, FaceTime, regular phone calls… I talk to her in some way or another every day, just like at home. This morning she even came shopping with me.” He stopped, aghast. No fucking way was he telling Léo about the impromptu shopping trip to Le Metropole to buy clothes to impress him. “I needed shoes,” he tacked on hastily.
Léo grinned. “And you can’t buy shoes without Dani’s help?”
“Not according to her,” Ben said, then grimaced. “Truthfully, she’s not entirely wrong. Shopping is not my strong point.”
An arrogant shrug was Léo’s response. “Shopping is like anything else. The trouble is that people try to do things they have no skill at. Not everyone would attempt to service their own car, because they lack the skill set. Instead, they hire a professional. The same applies to shopping.”
Ben wondered if he was hearing right. “Are you saying we should hire people to shop for us?”
Another shrug. “Why not?”
“So,” Ben said slowly, “do you hire people to shop for you?” He picked up his glass and took a small sip. He kept getting these reminders that Léo was a billionaire. And not the kind who liked to wear worn-out clothes and pretend to be ordinary. Léo was a high-society billionaire, the kind that appeared in tabloid magazines.
“When I need something, I call my assistant and he arranges it,” Léo said coolly. Ben perked up. An assistant meant a job of some kind, right?
“Your assistant?” he asked. “What does he do? I mean,” he hurried on as Léo smirked, “I know he assists you, but with what?” He cringed. “Um….” He looked longingly at his wineglass, but resisted to urge to grab it and gulp.
“Never mind,” Léo told him. “I know what you’re trying to say. Didn’t Wikipedia tell you that?” he teased, and Ben shoved another forkful of pasta into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to answer. The knowing expression on Léo’s face told him he wasn’t fooling anyone.
“When I graduated university, my father transferred a number of business interests and investments into my name, in addition to some I inherited from my grandfather. Jean—my assistant—helps me manage those and also coordinates my travel itineraries and oversees maintenance at my homes. Plus anything else I need. He’s also my… I suppose ‘agent’ is the best word, in Paris.”
Homes, Ben thought. Dani had told him that Léo owned properties all over Europe, but for some reason Ben hadn’t equated that with homes. He’d vaguely pictured rectangles and cards, as in Monopoly, just words on paper, rather than actual land and houses that needed maintenance and… stuff. Like furniture. They were probably big houses too.
Once again, he wondered what the hell he was doing, lusting after a billionaire.
Grow up, Ben, he told himself. He wasn’t planning a lifetime commitment to Léo, something that would require him to come to terms with massive wealth and multiple homes throughout Europe. All he wanted was a few days of company with an interesting, off-the-charts-hot man, and hopefully some incredible sex that would ruin him for all men thereafter. He could then spend the rest of his life fondly remembering his fairy-tale fling.
“Maybe I should get an assistant,” he mused, then chuckled. “Probably first I’d need something for them to assist me with.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Are you ever tempted to send—Jean, was it?” Léo nodded, brows drawn together in curiosity. “Have you ever been tempted to send Jean out to do something completely ridiculous?”
“Such as?” Léo asked, frowning slightly.
“If you have to ask, you haven’t,” Ben decided. He probably would. He’d think of something utterly stupid and unnecessary, like finding six leaves of identical size but different shape, and just once, he’d ask his assistant to do it. Because he could.
That was why he should never have an assistant.
“Should I be concerned about your silence?” Léo asked, and Ben shook himself out of his daydream about being able to demand someone peel him a grape and actually have them obey. Not that he even wanted his grapes peeled—who peeled grapes?—but the idea was cool.
“Sorry, just…. Yeah. So. You live in Monaco, right?” Léo nodded. “Why? I mean, why not Paris or wherever?”
Léo laid down his knife and fork and took a sip from his glass. “Not many people have asked me that,” he said thoughtfully. “My father demands it in a way that requires no response, but most others just assume I am here for lack of motivation to be elsewhere—like Paris.”
Ben winced. “Uh, I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushed out, but Léo waved a hand.
“I know. And in all honesty, that is part of the answer. I’m very fond of Paris, but if I were there, my father would be constantly making demands of me, in the hope that if he kept asking, eventually I would give in and join him and Gabriel—my brother, did Wikipedia mention him?” Ben nodded, although he hadn’t known his name. “Yes, well, Gabriel is the epitome of the ideal son, but my father would much prefer to have both his sons in his empire. I cannot stand the idea, so I avoid Paris, except for a few quick visits.”
“Your family lives in Paris?” Ben ventured.
Léo shook his head. “Not officially, although my parents and my brother have homes there and spend a great deal of time in them.”
“So you live here partly to avoid being sucked into the family business,” Ben said, carefully not saying, “so you don’t have to work.” “What’s the other part? And why specifically here? Why not elsewhere in France, or London, or… anywhere else?”
The waiter came to clear their plates, and Léo leaned back in his seat, his thoughtful gaze on Ben.
“I like Monaco,” he said finally. “The weather is almost always nice. Even in winter, it’s warmer than many other places in Europe. The language is comfortable for me. I can always get what I need. Many of my friends are in and out throughout the year, and there are always plenty of things to do. It’s central to the rest of Europe, should I want to be elsewhere. And the atmosphere is more relaxed than in many of
the larger cities.”
Ben pursed his lips. “Fair enough,” he said. “Basically, you like it here.” He wondered if he should ask the question at the forefront of his mind.
Léo nodded. “Yes.” He arched an eyebrow. “I can almost see you thinking. Ask your questions. If I don’t want to answer, I won’t.”
Ignoring the heat rising yet again in his cheeks, Ben said, “I was just wondering about Malik. He lives here too, right? From how you were talking last night, you guys seem close.”
“We are,” Léo answered. “My aunt and uncle were persuaded by my mother to send Malik to school in France. There are only five months between our ages, and we were almost inseparable as children. We both have similar life priorities—Malik much prefers Europe to Saudi Arabia—and so it is not unreasonable that we both enjoy Monaco.”
“He’s your best friend, isn’t he?” Ben asked softly, something in Léo’s expression giving away that detail despite his sensible explanation.
Léo merely looked at him. “Come,” he said, standing and extending a hand to Ben. “If you have only a few days here, you should be enjoying them.”
Ben scrambled out of his chair, wondering exactly what Léo had in mind. His room was just one floor down, although it might take them a while to find it in the rabbit warren of corridors.
They paused briefly at the bar for Léo to take care of the bill—Ben guiltily reached for his own wallet, only to be quelled by Léo’s imperiously raised eyebrow—and were soon in the elevator. Ben told himself firmly that he wasn’t disappointed when Léo hit the button for the lobby. He’d almost convinced himself of that by the time they made it outside the hotel—and then he experienced another shock when he realized Léo had used the hotel valet parking service.
“Are you nuts?” he hissed. “Do you know how much this costs?” And the valet would need to be tipped too.
“Yes,” Léo said, looking faintly surprised that cost would even be a consideration. Ben shut his mouth and reminded himself it wasn’t his money. If Léo wanted to spend a ridiculous sum on parking for just— Holy mother of God, was that his car?
Ben had never been interested in cars. He had a cousin who’d plastered his walls with car posters as a teen and could tell you to the smallest detail the difference between a… between two similar cars, but for Ben, the only important things were that it ran, it wasn’t hideously ugly, and that it didn’t cost him more in petrol than his weekly grocery bill.
He didn’t think Léo’s car got great fuel economy.
His jaw had actually dropped as the valet pulled up in the sports car. It was… well, he wasn’t sure, exactly, other than a gleaming, sleek, sexy-looking two-seater that had gained the attention of everyone around.
“This is your car?” he asked faintly. He understood now why Léo would pay for valet parking. No way would he want to park this on the street.
Léo tipped the valet and then gestured toward the car. “Yes. Coming?”
Ben nodded dumbly. The valet opened the door for him, and Ben carefully climbed into the passenger seat. Inside, the car’s combination of sleek sportiness and utter luxury was even more apparent. He could smell the leather of his seat, sank into its cushiony comfort. All the finishes were top-notch, and everything was spotless. It was a far cry from the interior of Ben’s car, which was usually cluttered with jackets, receipts, and the occasional chocolate bar wrapper.
As Ben considered whether he should try to keep his feet off the floor, just in case his shoes weren’t clean enough (and thanked all that was holy that he wasn’t wearing his ratty old runners), Léo started the car.
It thrummed.
The purr of the engine and the muted vibration through the seats were… incredible. For the first time, Ben understood why people went nuts for cars. He’d wanted to jump Léo before, but now, his fondest wish was to strip naked and be fucked over the bonnet of this machine.
Although that might end up scratching the paint or something. So maybe not.
“What kind of car is this?” he asked as Léo pulled out of the Fairmont forecourt and onto the road.
“A Bugatti Veyron Grand Sport,” Léo told him.
That meant absolutely nothing to Ben. “Oh,” he said, trying to sound intelligent. “Is it… new?” He wanted to slap himself for the inane question. “I mean, it’s very clean and shiny still. Almost like it hasn’t been driven much.”
Léo was grinning, an indulgent kind of smile that told Ben he wasn’t fooling anyone, but that Léo thought he was cute. “It’s nearly eleven years old. I just take very good care of it—it’s my favorite car.”
As Ben digested the fact that Léo had other cars, and wondered if they were anything like this one, Léo flashed him a broad smile. “So,” he said, “it’s a gorgeous day. What do you want to see in Monaco?”
Chapter Five
“ARE you sure?” Léo asked doubtfully, hesitating outside the building. When he’d lured Ben from the restaurant with the promise of sightseeing—something he detested—he’d thought to take him to some of the exclusive member-only clubs along the marina, or to the private rooms at the casino. Somewhere they could flirt over drinks, slowly ramping up the tension between them as the afternoon whiled away into evening.
Not this.
“Yeah! It’ll be fun,” Ben enthused, grabbing Léo’s hand and dragging him up the steps to… the Musée océanographique. Léo had been visiting Monaco since he was a teenager, and had lived there for years, without ever having entertained the notion of visiting the establishment.
“Fun,” Léo repeated. “Aren’t you Australian? Why do you want to visit an aquarium when you have the Great Barrier Reef right there?”
Ben dropped his hand. “I don’t live anywhere near the Reef, and the last time I got up that way was years ago. I want to see the turtles—I’ve never seen one in real life before. I guess I can come another time, by myself.”
Léo sighed. Despite his bunny’s bravado, he could see Ben’s disappointment, and as stupid as it made him feel, he wanted to fix it.
“Let’s go,” he said, trying to muster some enthusiasm as he recaptured Bunny’s hand. “Turtles.” The way Ben’s smile lit his face almost made him forget that he hated places like this. The curve of that mouth….
“Léo?” Ben prompted.
Léo blinked. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “What did you say?”
Ben’s cheeky grin was ridiculously enticing. “I said, after this, you get to choose what we do next.” Bunny flushed bright red, and his gaze darted away. “Anything you want,” he finished, his voice a trifle unsteady.
Despite the roaring in his ears, Léo managed a hoarse agreement, already planning what he wanted to do.
It made walking up the steps a little uncomfortable.
The next issue arose quickly when Ben announced his intention to pay for their entry.
“Absolutely not,” Léo exclaimed, aghast. “You’re a visitor here, and my guest.”
The stubborn, mutinous expression Ben had worn last night when Léo had ordered champagne was back, but this time Léo found it less annoying and more… sexy. He wondered briefly if his brains were going soft. Maybe there was a long-hidden strain of insanity in his family?
“You paid for everything last night, and for lunch today,” Ben said. “It’s my turn. And the next turn is mine too.” Léo opened his mouth to protest, and Ben insisted, “I pay. Or we say goodbye now.”
He closed his mouth and considered. “I will allow you to pay our admission now,” he conceded. “But everything in the future is still open for negotiation.” Negotiations that would go his way, he was determined. Generations of business and diplomatic skill were in his blood.
Ben squinted suspiciously at him and looked like he might continue to argue, but the people in the line behind them were growing impatient, so he gave a sharp nod and paid the cashier.
So they could go to the aquarium.
SEVERAL hours later, Léo led Ben i
nto his home. The apartment was not overly large, certainly smaller than his other homes—far smaller than most—but the location and facilities were second to none.
He dropped his keys onto the original Louis XIV sideboard he’d bought for that express purpose, and gestured toward the living area. “Make yourself comfortable. What would you like—” The sound of running water caught their attention, and they both turned toward the corridor that led to the bathroom.
“Do you have a roommate?” Ben asked, sounding surprised.
“No,” Léo said, entirely disgruntled as his plans disintegrated. “It’s probably Malik. He has a key.”
“Oh.” Ben looked disappointed, and Léo couldn’t blame him. They’d been subtly teasing each other all afternoon, and Léo was certain that his casual invitation back to his place for drinks hadn’t fooled anyone. He wondered how long it would take him to get rid of Malik. The trick would be not seeming too eager for him to go—Malik loved nothing more than to torment him.
There was the sound of a door opening, and moments later his cousin strolled into the living area, his stride hitching only slightly when he saw them. “Well hello. I’m surprised to see you here,” he said—in French. Ben sighed and pouted, and Léo resisted the temptation to go over and lick that lip.
“English, please, Malik,” he said instead. “Ben doesn’t speak French.”
“My apologies,” Malik said, turning to Ben and inclining his head. “Ben, is it?”
Ben cleared his throat and nodded. “Ben Adams. Nice to meet you.”
“And you,” Malik said, his smile wicked. “I’m Léo’s more intelligent and better-looking cousin, Malik al-Saud.”
“I know,” Ben said, and then blushed vividly red. “I mean, that you’re his cousin, not that you’re better-looking. I mean—” He broke off and squeezed his eyes shut as Malik shouted with laughter. Léo hid his own smile, not wanting to add to his bunny’s embarrassment. Ben took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
The Bunny and the Billionaire Page 5
