The Billionaire’s Handler

by Jennifer Greene

  Her shoulders sagged. “I hate it when you handle me. You’re exhausting, Maguire.”

  Yeah, yeah. Getting that woman to do something selfish was like getting a nun to try mud wrestling. It took bullying and cheerleading and taunting and threats.

  And after that, the whole situation only got worse.

  Chapter Six

  Sipping on a pineapple-mango cocktail-minus the alcohol-Carolina looked out the jet window and reflected that she’d learned tons about Maguire in the last twenty-four hours. She already knew his flaws. He could be dictatorial, manipulative, pushy. When the man got an idea in his head, nothing could make the blockhead back down.

  But his absolute, unrelenting kindness was the stunner.

  My God, she was falling in love with him. But it wasn’t her fault. If it hadn’t been for that pain-in-the-keester inheritance, she’d never have met him. He was so one of a kind. She’d never known anyone who worked so hard to hide positive character traits like kindness and compassion and caring. He put on such a strong front. How could she possibly have initially known that he was a man so worth loving? So full of love?

  So alone.

  “Hey, trouble.”

  Maguire, for a blissful twenty minutes, had been napping next to her in the aisle seat. She glanced away from the window, back at him. “Could you conceivably be speaking to me?”

  His grin was as crooked as a thief’s. “Uh-huh. I just wanted to ask-do you ever plan to take those shoes off?”

  “Don’t be silly, Maguire. A girl doesn’t buy shoes like this and hide them away.”

  “Did you actually sleep in them last night?”

  She heard the teasing. He thought the shoe thing was hysterically funny. Naturally she had to encourage him. “Let me put it this way. Where I go, the shoes go. If I’m not wearing them, then they’re on their own pillow.”

  He took a sip of her drink and grimaced when he discovered it was without alcohol. “I just brought up the subject of the shoes again-”

  “Because you can’t let it go?”

  “No. Not that. Because I thought you might want to consider that just possibly they don’t necessarily go with every type of attire.”

  “Of course they do.” She glanced out the window again, distracted when the jet dipped low and started circling. Below was Monaco. It looked far more like a fairy tale than anything real. The city of Monte Carlo was wedged between aqua sea and mountains, with big white yachts framing the curve of the Côte d’Azur. The late-afternoon sun had drenched the background mountains in wet gold. Castle tops came into view, with their turrets and turquoise roofs, and endless splashes of flowering gardens and fountains.

  When she turned back to Maguire, Carolina realized yet again that she must have lost her mind…because she’d rather look at him, concentrate on him, than that fabulous scene below.

  “You didn’t tell me how long we were going to be here.”

  “Because I’m not sure. The plan is only for a couple days, but we could stay a little longer, if you want. Tonight I had in mind dinner at the Ship and Castle restaurant, one of those landmark places right on the Côte d’Azur. The food’s a little on the exotic side, but honestly, it’s one of the best places on the planet. After that, I figured we’d make a run on the Monte Carlo Casino, where we’ll see what a gambler you are.” He sighed. “You don’t have to drip diamonds at either place, but I’d say you’d feel the most comfortable in, like, a black dress kind of thing.”

  “Believe it or not, Maguire, I could probably have guessed that without coaching.” She had to grin as he wiped a hand over his face.

  “I was trying to help, I swear. I just wasn’t sure if you’d want to wear those shoes with a formal black dress.”

  “They’re not leaving my feet, Maguire. Get used to it.” Her voice was firm, but her eyes softened when she looked at her feet. The red patent-leather lace-ups were Versace, cost in the ballpark of four hundred dollars. They weren’t, even remotely, the most expensive shoes she’d looked at, but the cost still put them way, way up there in the Disgrace level. Still, they were the cutest thing she’d ever owned.

  “Now,” she began, thinking that now Maguire was finally awake, she had things to discuss with him. Her brain hiccuped when she caught Maguire staring at her shoes, too. Or possibly not at her shoes. His gaze seemed downright riveted on her calves and ankles.

  “Now,” she began again, but Maguire’s fascination with her legs sent a ball of fire straight to her belly, distracting her. “I was wondering,” she started for a third time, “whether the woman in your life isn’t having a problem with your spending so much time with me.”

  Maguire didn’t even blink. “Well, yeah, of course she has a problem. But she’s so well trained and obedient that she wouldn’t think of expressing it.” He kindly reached over to thwack her back when she started choking.

  Thankfully she recovered quickly, even magnanimously resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs. “So,” she said, “there are no serious women in your life right now, huh. How could that possibly be?”

  “Maybe…most women have better judgment in men than you do?”

  “Can’t be that. I have superior judgment in people,” she informed him.

  “Right. Pit you and a lamb against a lion, and the lamb’d probably be tougher. Way tougher.”

  “Good insult,” she praised him. “But you’re digressing. Were you ever married?”

  “Did I realize that you were nosy before this?”

  “Really? Not even married once?”

  He glowered at her. “You were way, way easier to handle when you were deaf.”

  She was on to him. If she let him get away with his nonsense, it was the same as enabling the devil. So she stayed dogged on the subject. “I’ll bet quite a few women gave you a run for their money.”

  “For my money, maybe. I’ve never gone after a woman for hers.”

  “Aha. You let some information slip out there, Maguire. You’re losing your edge.” She winked at him. “Want to look at my gorgeous legs again?”

  “Hey, did your parents never spank you? No one ever said, honey, don’t touch a hot stove? Don’t open the cage door of a bear?”

  “Did yours? Is that how you got so wary? You’re just too adorable to be alone, Maguire. There should be women snapping at your heels, doing inventive things to capture your interest, thrilled to make sure you never have to sleep alone at night.”

  He squinted at her in the sunlight, just as the pilot announced their imminent descent into Monaco. “You’re getting way, way stronger faster than I thought you would, Cee. I’m beginning to think the shoes are a factor.”

  “Me, too. Think what red shoes did for Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. Of course, all she wanted was to go home to Kansas.”

  Maguire said quietly, “And that’s all you want, too, isn’t it? Your reference point isn’t Kansas. But you want the same thing Dorothy did. To find your way back home.”

  She thought about that on their drive to the hotel. Maguire was right. This crazy journey he’d taken her on was all about becoming strong enough to go home.

  And the truth was…she felt stronger every day. Maybe she still had no clear plan about how to face all the dragons waiting for her at home, but she was starting to feel. Starting to stand up. Starting to own her heart again.

  But she wasn’t ready to leave Maguire.

  Even if a broken heart was at the end of this journey, she’d come far enough-become strong enough-to be absolutely certain how important he was to her. She had no illusions that he felt the same. She only knew she wanted whatever time with him she could beg, borrow or steal. Maguire at his worst challenged her heart more than any man ever had.

  Carolina didn’t expect to see Maguire at his worst quite so soon, but walking into the hotel turned into an eek. A half-dozen messages were waiting for him, all marked Urgent. The hotel rooms he’d wanted weren’t ready. Nothing was right.

  Maguire didn’t do frazzl
ed, of course, he just went into hypermanagement mode. She was given a temporary room, with a couple hours free to nap and change clothes before they met in the lobby for dinner. He took over an office somewhere. It all worked out.

  Actually, it more than worked out. Four hours later she was seated in a magical place. The restaurant had the look of a castle, washed in glowing gilt as the sun went down. They ate outside, their table on the veranda with the bay just below. From the white tablecloths to the sparkle of crystal, the atmosphere was elegant. Tables filled up, but conversations were muted, with others-mostly couples-enjoying the sights and sounds and smells of the fabulous scenery, fabulous meal. Carolina had never before seen more jewels in one spot. There were enough dazzling diamonds to cause neck and earaches.

  Maguire, though, was his usual common-sense self. “You’re certain you want to mix that Japanese sushi and the Thai curry?”

  “I think the chances of my ever coming here again are nonexistent, so I’m trying everything they’ll let me.” She tried to keep her eyes off him. His business glitches had been taken care of, and he’d lost the take-charge posture, even looked relaxed. But he still stunned her in the tux.

  Apparently tuxes were standard Monaco attire, judging from the number of men wearing them-but it was only Maguire who glued her attention. The shock-white shirt and formal black tux did something to him. He looked all brash and blond. A rogue trapped in gentleman’s clothes. There was something not quite civilized in the tilt of his chin, the way he walked, the arch of his brow.

  She’d had a blast dressing for dinner, but it wasn’t as if she could compete with this crowd. Maguire had had Henry pack a few of her own clothes before this trip, but she was still limited in what she could pull together. The black satin pants and top had been on sale at T.J. Maxx the holiday before, and just happened to go perfectly with her red Versace shoes. Maybe the cowl neck could have used jewelry, but she didn’t have anything for this sort of occasion or place, so her neck and wrists were bare. She’d stroked in some mousse to add body to her hair, used a simple crystal clip to make the style look more formal, but there was a limit to what she could do with the equipment she had.

  Trying to impress Maguire wasn’t a goal, anyway. Or trying to pretend she was something she wasn’t. As far as Carolina could tell, trying to outthink Maguire was a waste of time. He didn’t respect people who lied to him or tried to manipulate him.

  So, she didn’t have to do anything but be herself-a T.J. Maxx girl who intended to try everything on the menu-if they let her. The waiter, so far, had been a hundred percent on her side. “When I saw the menu didn’t have any prices listed, I knew it had to be over the top. And since I’m on major greedy mode, how about if I pay for my own dinner?”

  “Nice try. Not going to happen.”

  “Have you ever been here before?”

  “To Monaco, once. But not to this restaurant. It’s got a reputation around the world for being stupendous.”

  “It sure is.” Midway through the meal, though, Maguire responded to the vibrator mode on his cell. He stood up, apologized and moved away from the other diners to take the call. It was business, Carolina could tell, because he immediately went on hard-face mode. He listened. Spoke crisply. He hadn’t told her what business glitches he’d been dealing with that afternoon-she suspected he never would. But whoever he was talking to, Carolina was mighty glad it wasn’t her.

  The interruption gave her a chance to stand up. She wasn’t sure how many courses they’d finished-surely six or seven-and she was comfortably stuffed. She carried her half-filled wineglass to the balcony edge. Night had dropped. Clouds skimmed past necklaces of stars, and the turquoise waters of the Côte had turned black satin. Just below, cars kept delivering patrons to the restaurant… car models she’d never seen before anywhere.

  She must have been there several minutes before she realized Maguire had joined her, and was leaning over the edge as she was. “You see down there…the first car, the one everyone’s looking it? It’s a Bugatti Veyron,” he informed her. “It’s the most expensive car in the world, if I remember right. Under two million, but not by much. It’s the only car that can hit four hundred miles an hour.”

  “Where on earth could you drive four hundred miles an hour?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  She motioned below. “What’s the yellow one?”

  “Porsche 911. This year’s model. Right behind him is a red car… It’s one of the newest Ferraris. You can buy that one for a cool million. Oh. Man.”

  She glanced below, at the car that had finally brought Maguire to his knees. He wasn’t drooling, but his tongue was all but hanging out. All she saw was a grayish car that looked like a long bug.

  “The Pagani Zonda,” he identified it. “She can go from zero to sixty miles per hour in 3.2 seconds. I had a chance to drive one a few months ago. An idiot friend of mine bought one. Drove it to my place just to show it off, wanted to make me suffer.”

  “Did you? Suffer appropriately?”

  “Oh, yeah. Believe me, she’s a honey. She could park in my driveway any time.”

  Finally, a chink in his armor. Carolina was charmed. “So…were you tempted to buy one?”

  “Well…no. She’s wonderful. But she’s not exactly a car you could take for a trek in the mountains, much less drive in a snowstorm.”

  “Was it bad news?” she asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “All those business calls this afternoon and then, just now. You looked…annoyed.”

  “No. It was just some problems. Solving problems is what I do.” He straightened. “And right now we have a problem to solve together-which is to find out how you take to gambling.”

  “That’s easy. I can tell you right now, I’m a wild gambler.”

  “I’ll have to see that to believe it.”

  “I’ll stake both of us, since you sprang for dinner,” she offered.

  “I’ll stake myself, Carolina… but I’m all for you using your own money to play with. My thought would be to give you a little stake to get you started, until you learn what the games are about.”

  “No way. I’m thrilled we’re doing this. But I’ll learn on my own money. Period.”

  He shot her a look. “Whew. You’re getting tougher all the time.”

  She was used to his teasing, but this time it itched. Just because she’d been through a stretch when she was overwhelmed didn’t mean she had no character or strength or skills. Just once, she’d like Maguire to see that she didn’t need or want to be treated like Waterford crystal.

  By the time they reached the infamous casino, she was buzzed. Maguire cupped her elbow as he escorted her past fountains and lights, and into the heart of the casino. The buzzed sensation intensified, just from the warmth of his hand on her arm. From the way he walked next to her, as if they were a couple. From the way her pulse did musical scales-in several pitches-just from being this close.

  “So…do you have any ideas which games you’d like to play? Or like to learn?”

  “Hey, I can hold my own at a card table. Trust me.”

  “I do trust you. The way I’d trust a lamb at a slaughterhouse. If you just wait here for a minute, I’ll get us some chips. You pick the game-anything you want is fine by me.”

  “Baccarat,” she voted.

  “Yeah, I watched that James Bond movie when I was a kid, too. You tired?” he asked swiftly when she stumbled.

  “No!” It was possible, very unlikely, but possible, that she’d been wearing her new shoes nonstop for a little too long and her feet were a wee bit tired. But admit that to Maguire, and she’d never hear the end of it. “I’ll just wander around while you’re getting the chips, okay?”

  “Sure, but stay in sight. This is safer than an alley in a big city, but there are still sharks here. They just look nicer. I want you to have fun-but we’re not putting you in any situations where you have to worry.”

  She couldn’t have been les
s worried. She picked a baccarat table, and wedged herself between a woman draped in sapphires and a white-tuxed Japanese gentleman. There were no seats together, but Maguire had a spot at the end. The gaming table was one of the most crowded. The dealer, Carolina thought, spent more money on a hairstylist than she did. Was cuter, too.

  She settled down on the velvet bar stool, not just prepared to have some fun playing the game, but to prove to Maguire that she wasn’t such a sissy or a wuss. Granted, he’d seen her in bad shape, but that was before. Days ago. Aeons ago.

  It seemed as if a lifetime had passed since she’d known Maguire. There’d been life before she met him. And life since. And “life since” was all that seemed to matter.

  The dealer shuffled, dealt. Maguire’s eyes met hers across the table. “The noise level bothering you?” he mouthed.

  She shook her head, amazed at her own answer. Of course, all the casino noises were friendly, not scary. But it was only a couple weeks ago when she’d shrank from all noise. It was amazing to her-how much had changed. How much she’d changed.

  The dealer dealt her a natural five-a potentially great card. She glanced at the chips Maguire had given her, and abruptly realized that her smallest chip was fifty dollars.

  She almost had a heart attack. Got over it. And carefully bid a single chip.

  Maguire picked up a face card in the deal, which in this game was the same as a zero. Still, anything could come through with the second card.

  Carolina waited her turn. When the dealer sent her a second card, she shrieked-delicately-to reveal it was a four, making her two cards a natural baccarat. The dealer chuckled at her enthusiasm and paid her chips.

  Twenty minutes later, Maguire burst onto the balcony with a grim face and alarmed eyes. “My God. Where have you been?”

  “Just here. Enjoying the night.” She could see how worried he looked. “Hey, I’m sorry. I was trying to give you some space so you could play. And I was happy enough, just enjoying the sights and sounds from the balcony here-”