Once Upon a Billionaire

by Jessica Clare

  He gave her a curious look, then reached for his glasses and put them on, studying his expression in the mirror. “I look like I belong in a boy band.”

  She laughed. “No, you don’t. You look very handsome. And I’ll have you know, this is how Luke Houston’s hair was done in his last movie.” She’d seen a picture of it in one of the magazines at the hair salon and was inspired. “Trust me, you look like a young, dashing viscount instead of like my Pepaw did your hair for you.”

  He still looked uncertain, touching one of the spikes. “And you like this?”

  “I love it,” she enthused. He did look incredibly handsome this way. It took his look from slightly too nerdy and scholarly to a bit more devilish.

  Griffin nodded, and then reached for his shirt. “Very well, then. We should get going.”

  “All right.” She averted her gaze so she wouldn’t watch him dress—because really, if she was caught staring at her temporary boss, that would embarrass both of them—and concentrated on taking off the borrowed robe and then replacing it in the closet. Her hand smoothed down the soft fabric of the robe. It had smelled like his soap, and it was odd how reluctant she was to part with it. Party dress, she reminded herself. You’re wearing the prettiest party dress ever. You can’t wear a bathrobe over that, no matter how good it smells.

  But, she had to admit, it did smell mighty nice.

  When he put his jacket back on, it was safe for her to turn around, and she watched him put on his cufflinks with long, elegant fingers, and then held the tie out for her again. She fixed him up, and then gestured at the door. “Shall we go?”

  Griffin smoothed his jacket one last time in the mirror, and she realized he was nervous. It made her feel a little better about tonight. Heck, she was nervous, too, and no one was really expecting much out of her.

  “I have something for you to wear with your dress,” Griffin said.

  “An employee badge?” she asked.

  He gave her a wry smile. “Not a badge. A necklace and some earrings. They belong to my title.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I don’t know that I could, Mr. Griffin.”

  “Well, I certainly can’t,” he said, fidgeting with his tie. “They’d clash terribly with my cummerbund.”

  Maylee’s voice rose in a hysterical giggle. “I’m picturing you with earrings on and it’s kinda funny.”

  He grinned over at her, and she felt like she always did when he smiled—genuinely smiled—at her. Like she’d been gifted a present. “I’m more of a brooch man.”

  “Stop it,” she said with a laugh, pressing her hands to the front of her gown. “You’re going to make my boobs pop out of this dress.”

  “Heaven forbid,” he said in a dry voice that implied he wouldn’t mind that so much, and it made her flustered all over again. And she could have sworn he glanced down at her boobs.

  They did look pretty nice in this dress, if she said so herself.

  He picked up a small case off the top of the dresser and opened it, then showed her the jewels. Big, square unadorned emeralds hung from two earring posts, and the necklace consisted of glittering diamond ropes twisted together, with three more square emeralds dangling from the center.

  “Oh, lordamercy, that looks rather expensive,” Maylee breathed.

  “It is.”

  “Oh, dear.” She touched an earring and winced. It was heavy. “What happens if I lose one?”

  “I sue you for three hundred thousand Bellissime notes.”

  Maylee felt sick. She dropped the earring back onto the velvet tray. “Really?”

  “No. It’s just an earring. And it’s insured. Don’t be so nervous.”

  “What happens if I barf on it?” she asked as he picked up the necklace.

  “Is that likely?” He indicated she should turn around.

  “Pretty likely,” she admitted, turning around. Lordamercy, this was just like something out of Pretty Woman, except she wasn’t a hooker. Maylee frowned at the thought. “Do you normally buy girls’ clothes?”

  The cool chain of diamonds slid over the base of her throat, and then she felt Griffin’s hands brush against her nape as he did the clasp. “I can say with perfect honesty that you are the first one I have ever purchased clothing for.”

  For some reason, that made her feel better. She patted the necklace and then picked up the first earring. To her relief, it had two backings—one that was a normal gold clasp, and the other a wax ball that would prevent the post from slipping out of her ear. Thank goodness. Maylee put both earrings on and gave her head a little shake to test them. “How do I look?”

  “Quite elegant,” Griffin said.

  “So in other words, nothing like myself.”

  “Nothing like yourself,” he agreed, that odd look on his face.

  And for some reason, that hurt her feelings all over again. He didn’t seem to like her dressed up or in her regular clothing. She couldn’t win with him. Couldn’t he just tell her he thought she was pretty and actually mean it, darn it? Maylee sighed, all the fun of the evening vanishing again. Now she just felt weighed down, like she was wearing a wallet around her neck. “Are you ready to go, Mr. Griffin?”

  He extended his arm to her in a courteous gesture.

  She put her hand in the crook of his sleeve, and they headed downstairs.

  To Maylee’s surprise, it wasn’t Robbie driving the car tonight. Nor was it the usual sedan. The Verdi limo was out again in full force, and an elderly gentleman was their driver. Maylee smiled at him to make him feel welcome. He had to be nervous on such a big night. She knew how that felt.

  “You changed drivers?” Maylee whispered to Griffin, curious.

  He shot her a quick look of satisfaction. “Mr. Sturgess will be unavailable for the rest of our visit.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “Yes, quite,” Griffin said in a voice that didn’t sound displeased at all.

  As they got into the limo, Maylee slid over on the seat, tugging at her bust line to make sure that her dress didn’t expose anything. She smoothed her skirts and waited patiently as Griffin got in, checking her earrings and necklace again to make sure she still had them.

  When he got into the limo, his pocket buzzed. Griffin pulled out his phone and then made a grunt as if he was in pain.

  “What is it?” Maylee asked. “Is everything okay?”

  He showed her his screen. “They uncovered a marble column and some tile work. They think it might be part of a floor.” The picture he showed her looked like a bunch of broken stonework, but she’d take his word for it.

  “Your archaeological dig in Spain?” she guessed.

  He nodded, staring at the picture. There was a look of intense longing on his face. “I wish I was there.”

  “If it makes you feel better,” she told him, “I wish I was there, too.”

  He looked over at her, surprised. “You’re not enjoying yourself here in Bellissime?”

  Maylee sat, tongue-tied. She wasn’t sure what to say. She could tell him that she enjoyed his company but she found the whole wedding and society thing stressful? That she constantly felt like she was never good enough? That she kept waiting to slip up again and it made her so nervous that she’d almost thrown up in the sink before putting on her pretty dress? Would he be insulted that she didn’t want to be here? So she thought carefully, and then answered, “There’s just . . . so much going on.”

  “True.” He looked down at his phone again and sighed. “I imagine it’s a lot calmer in Spain. No one’s mother to complain that you’re letting your staff become too familiar and too complacent.”

  Her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth. “Your mother said that about me?”

  His expression became a little distant, as if he’d revealed too much. “I wouldn’t read that much into it, Maylee. My mother is affectionately referred to as a harridan and not so affectionately as a royal bitch. No one likes her, not even the common people. Not the quee
n, not even her sons. She is a stickler for the old monarchy, and Alexandra and her family are more progressive. Don’t worry about it.”

  Maylee swallowed hard. “Should I be wearing this jewelry, then? Won’t your mother think that’s too familiar of me?”

  “I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

  Oh, lordamercy. Was he setting her up to fail? So Her Royal Highness Sybilla-Louise would cut Maylee into itty-bitty chunks with her tongue? That sick knot lurched in her stomach again.

  “Really,” he said again. “It’s fine, Maylee.”

  “If you say so,” she whispered. It occurred to her that it was the first time he’d called her anything but Miss Meriweather.

  She had no idea what that meant, either.

  Chapter Nine

  The limo pulled up to the palace, and slowed to a crawl as it waited for its turn at the front of the opulent building. As it inched forward, Maylee grew more and more nervous. They’d passed the gates where paparazzi hovered. The grounds themselves swarmed with people dressed in finery, and the stairs leading to the massive doors of the palace were carpeted in red.

  Maylee was pretty sure she was going to puke on that nice red carpet.

  “Are you all right?” Griffin asked her for the second time in the last minute.

  “Just a little . . . scared.”

  “There’s nothing to be scared of,” he said in a soothing voice. To her surprise, he put an arm around her shoulders and gave her an awkward hug.

  It was strange to have Griffin comfort her, but welcome. She huddled a little closer. “I’ve never been to anything like this. Well, I mean, we had prom back home in Pine Valley, but they held it at a Best Western. This is a bit different.”

  His mouth twitched. “Just a bit.”

  “I’m scared,” she whispered. “I’m afraid I’m going to mess something up.”

  “I’ll be with you,” he told her reassuringly, and that heavy arm over her shoulders squeezed her again.

  “Aren’t you supposed to go and hang out with the royals?” she asked him. “And I’m supposed to go hang out with the staff?”

  “Mmm, something like that.” He leaned a bit closer, and she blinked up at him, startled at how attractive he was in the dim light of the car. Not that he wasn’t normally attractive, of course. But the way he normally looked at her—like she was a bug for squashing—was gone. In its place was a warm, appealing gaze. “Tell you what. I’ll steer you to the appropriate people so you don’t get lost. Is that a good compromise?”

  It was. “I’d really appreciate it so much, Mr. Griffin.” Then she wouldn’t have to worry about smiling at a duke to be polite and having him look at her like she was garbage.

  The limo stopped and the driver got out. Maylee’s stomach lurched again, and she gave Griffin a terrified look. He smiled down at her, encouraging. “It’s going to be fine. No one’s going to be paying a bit of attention to you, Maylee. They’re all here to see my cousin and the famous actor she’s marrying.”

  She relaxed a little at that. He had a point.

  The chauffeur opened the door to the limo, and a voice began to ring out over the crowd. “Griffin, Viscount Montagne Verdi.”

  Heads turned just as Maylee slid out of the limo. Her eyes widened, and her stomach felt like it was trying to make an escape from her gut.

  But Griffin was right there, shielding her from prying eyes as she got out of the car. She tugged at her low-cut bodice again to make sure everything was proper, touched her jewelry, and then smiled at Griffin when she noticed he was fighting a laugh at her actions. “Easy for you to laugh,” she muttered, but she put her hand in the crook of his arm that he offered.

  And they went in.

  ***

  Griffin wasn’t surprised to see that the party was wall-to-wall. Everyone who was slightly anyone in Bellissime and several surrounding countries had been invited, and no one wanted to miss out. As soon as they entered the room, the temperature went up by a few degrees simply from the crush of bodies, and he heard Maylee’s uncomfortable gasp as they made their way in.

  His hand tightened on the fingers that lay on his sleeve. “Everything all right?”

  “I didn’t expect to see so many people.”

  He did. But that wouldn’t make her feel better, so he simply patted her hand. “I’ll help you find my mother’s equerry.”

  “What’s an equerry again?” she asked as they descended the stairs into the ballroom.

  “It’s a word that the royal family uses for personal assistant,” Griffin said in a dry voice. “But my mother would never be so common as to use an assistant.”

  He heard Maylee stifle a giggle. If she could laugh, she’d be okay. He knew she was incredibly nervous—hell, this wasn’t fun for him, either—but he doubted he was feeling the same levels of panic that were written across her face.

  A visiting dignitary nodded at Griffin as he passed by, followed by a Hollywood actress. The royal family was nowhere to be found. Damn it all, where were those cowards hiding? If he had to be out here, mingling, so did they.

  With Maylee clinging to his side, it would be almost impossible to navigate the room quickly. Even now, people pressed and brushed up against them, casting him curious looks and Maylee scrutinizing ones. They knew who he was, and they were trying to figure out who she was. Nearby, a photographer was taking photos of people as they mingled. Princess Alex must have allowed one or two of the papers into the ball as a show of good faith, but Griffin was displeased to see it. He carefully steered Maylee in the other direction.

  They made their way to the far side of the room and turned. Maylee gave him a nervous look and swallowed hard.

  That made him concerned. “Are you all right?”

  She grimaced. “I haven’t eaten anything. My stomach couldn’t handle it.”

  Griffin frowned and waved over a waiter with an hors d’oeuvres tray. The man arrived with a flourish and presented his tray. “Lobster wrapped in cucumber and prosciutto?”

  Maylee took one of the little confections and popped the entire thing into her mouth, chewing like a chipmunk. He knew it was nerves, but he had to smother a laugh. “It’s good,” she mumbled, putting a hand in front of her mouth to cover it. “Thank you.”

  “Eat another,” Griffin insisted.

  She plucked one off the tray, and the waiter nodded and moved on. Immediately, another waiter came up with a small crystal finger bowl on his tray, a linen napkin beside it. The queen was a stickler for finger bowls, so guests could wash their fingers after snacking. Griffin was used to seeing the little delicate bowls at parties, a slice of lemon floating atop the water to keep it fresh.

  Maylee crammed the other hors d’ouevre in her mouth and then reached for the finger bowl. She picked it up and lifted it to her lips.

  Dear God.

  Griffin leaned in, stopping her before she could make a fool of herself. “Maylee. You don’t drink that.”

  “Oh.” She looked at the little crystal bowl in her hand, then back at him. “It’s not a cocktail?”

  “It’s for you to wash your hands.” He gestured at the napkin, ignoring the shocked look of the waiter that held the empty tray.

  “Oh,” she repeated, and an embarrassed look crossed her face. She returned the bowl to the tray and gave Griffin an uncertain look. “That was stupid of me, wasn’t it?” She blinked rapidly, as if she were fighting the urge to cry.

  “Not at all,” Griffin said, and dipped his fingers into the bowl to show her how it was done. Then, he wiped his fingers on the napkin and gave the waiter a challenging look, as if daring him to mock Maylee in front of his face.

  The man nodded at Griffin, waited patiently until Maylee finished cleaning her fingers, and then moved on to the next guest.

  As soon as he was gone, Maylee turned to Griffin and gave him a frantic look. “I don’t think I can do this, Mr. Griffin.”

  “Nonsense,” Griffin said. “You’re doing fine.”

&
nbsp; “I’m not,” her whisper rising to a hysterical note. “I’m going to embarrass both of us! I don’t know what to do in parties like this. I—”

  “Shhh,” Griffin said, and reached out and caressed her cheek. “You’re fine.”

  She looked startled at his touch. He didn’t blame her; he was a little startled that he’d done it, himself. But it had felt right and natural to comfort her. She was his to protect, damn it.

  “You’re fine, and you’re beautiful,” Griffin reassured her in a low voice, and leaned in. “And I would bet my entire wallet that one of these Hollywood types does the same thing that you did.”

  She gave him another nervous giggle that nearly broke his heart. “Your wallet is always empty, Mr. Griffin. That’s not much of a bet.”

  That little tease of hers made him feel better. “You’ve figured me out, have you?”

  “Oh, I think I have you pegged.”

  God, was she flirting with him? He liked that. He liked that a lot. “I think you’d be wrong about a few things.”

  “Is that so? Try me.”

  I don’t think you realize I want to kiss the hell out of that little smile of yours right now, he thought, but said nothing. He was just happy her nerves were fading. “I would love to, but alas, I see my mother’s equerry.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay right here.”

  She pointed at her feet, indicating she’d stay put, and winked at him.

  And he laughed.

  Five minutes later, he had Maylee sent off with the equerry, who was all gentle smiles and encouragement to poor frightened Maylee. He made a mental note to give the man a raise, since Griffin was the one who paid for all of his mother’s servants anyhow. When the two left, Griffin waded into the crowd, looking for family members. He could do his time, spend a while talking to George and his mother, greet Alex and Luke Houston and the queen, and hopefully do one dance or two and then escape.

  An arm went around his shoulders. “There you are, little brother.”

  George. Well, one obstacle down. “Hello, Your Grace.”

  George laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “So formal. Mother must be getting to you.”