The 100 Series: A Billionaire Romance Trilogy

by Adrian, Lara

  “Thank you, Pamela.”

  As she leaves us, I look back up at Nick and his cryptic smile. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going, or am I going to have to wheedle the information out of the crew?”

  He smirks. “I already told you. I’m taking you to dinner. I know this nice little place with a great view and a duck specialty that’s out of this world.”

  I tilt my head, brows raised. “The last time we flew to one of your favorite places we ended up in Miami.”

  He kisses the tip of my nose, then pulls something out of his back pocket.

  My passport.

  “Tonight we’re going a bit farther than Miami.”

  Chapter 25

  “You certainly do know how to impress a girl.”

  It’s morning in Paris—although, admittedly, at ten minutes before noon, it’s barely morning anymore. After arriving from New York after midnight, Nick whisked me off to a dinner at a beautiful historic restaurant that truly did serve a fantastic pressed duck. Although we had arrived long past closing time, Nick had arranged for a private table to be waiting for us with a spectacular nighttime view of Notre-Dame Cathedral and the glistening Seine.

  As if my introduction to the City of Light wasn’t jaw-dropping enough, Nick then brought me home to his penthouse flat on the other side of the river, where he proceeded to make me come no less than three times before we both finally collapsed into a heavy, sated sleep.

  I sigh just thinking of it, my body still thrumming and eager for more.

  Nick walks out of the kitchen to join me at the open French doors of the rooftop terrace. He looks decadent and far too sexy wearing just a pair of loose black lounge pants, his dark hair sleek and damp from our recent shower.

  He presses a steaming cup of coffee into my hands and kisses my temple. “Learning to love surprises, are you, Ms. Ross?”

  “I’m learning to love a lot of things where you’re concerned.” I sigh and lean against him in a fluffy white spa robe, not yet motivated to think about clothing.

  Just beyond the terrace, the postcard landscape of the Paris skyline spreads out in all directions for as far as my eyes can see. From Nick’s premium location on a picturesque side street off the famed Avenue des Champs-Élysées, our multimillion-dollar view is flanked by a soaring Gothic church spire to one side, and, to the other, the bronze-colored, delicate wrought iron latticework of the iconic Eiffel Tower. On the avenues below us, countless five-star hotels and world-renowned designer boutiques stretch from one end of the pavement to the other.

  “Hungry?” he murmurs, his arm wrapped around me.

  “I shouldn’t be, but whatever you’re making smells delicious.” The buttery, vanilla aroma has my mouth watering in spite of how much food and wine we indulged in last night.

  I follow him back to the kitchen where he whips up a batch of crêpes with fresh berries and cream, and another with eggs and ham and cheese. With plates full of sweet and savory temptations, we step out to the little table that’s been set for brunch on the terrace.

  “Best seat in the house,” I say, smiling as we get settled.

  Nick returns my smile, his gaze holding mine. “Definitely the best view.”

  I dig in to the most amazing crêpes I’ve ever tasted, practically embarrassing myself with the orgasmic sounds I can’t even begin to contain. Nick grins, making quick work of his meal then excusing himself to fetch a carafe of coffee.

  I’ve just popped the last bite of strawberry and cream goodness into my mouth when he returns. Instead of returning with coffee, he comes up behind me and crouches at my back. I start to turn, but his low command halts me. “Close your eyes, sweetheart. Give me your hands.”

  His deep voice ignites my senses. I obey him without hesitation, my pulse thrumming, my skin heating from just those wicked, whispered words. I am attuned to him on a primal level now, eager to go wherever he leads me.

  He’s ruined me for any other man, and right now there is no fear in that realization. Only desire. Only love.

  His fingers push up the loose sleeves of my robe, baring my forearms. He strokes me, his mouth pressing a gentle kiss to the side of my neck. Something cold and metallic wraps my left wrist.

  “You can open them now.”

  My eyelids lift and bring my arms back around, realizing with a gasp what he’s done.

  Around my wrist is a gleaming gold-and-platinum watch, its elegant face encrusted with glittering diamonds. Cartier. It must have cost a fortune.

  I pivot to face him as he moves around from behind me. “Nick, my God. It’s incredible. It’s too much.”

  He takes my hand, turning my wrist so the gold and gems catch the warm light. “It’s perfect,” he says. “Let’s reset the clock, Avery. Let’s do everything over again. Starting now. On this date.”

  “Today?” I look up at him, wondering if he knows what it means to me. But I should know better than to doubt him. He remembers. Of course, he does. I’ve only mentioned it to him once, but he pays attention. He realizes the significance of this date, what it means to me.

  More importantly, he understands what I need to put it behind me.

  I need him.

  All I need is him.

  “Nick.” My voice catches as I stand up and wrap him in my arms. He kisses me with such tenderness it nearly breaks me.

  When our lips finally separate, his eyes burn into mine, scorching yet questioning.

  “I want to do it right with you,” he murmurs. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  I smile up at him, troubled by the bleakness that’s crept back into his eyes. “Well, this is a hell of a way to start. Last night and this morning wasn’t bad either.”

  A grin tugs the corner of his mouth. “Shall we pick up where we left off? Paris is for lovers, so they say.”

  I laugh and smack my palm against the firm slabs of muscle on his chest. “It’s also for tourists, and it’s my first time here. So I hope you plan on showing me all of the sights.”

  “I’ll show you anything you want.”

  I tip my head back for his kiss. “I wish you had clued me in yesterday so I could’ve packed some extra clothes and shoes.”

  “You’ll find a selection of things in your sizes already waiting for you in the dressing room closet. I’ve had it stocked for weeks.”

  “Seriously?” My mouth drops open. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  “I prefer not to leave anything to chance.”

  Shaking my head, I smile up at him in wonder. “How did we get so lucky?” He doesn’t answer, but his eyes smolder as I reach up and bury my fingers in his silky hair. “This is a fairytale, Nick. You’ve slain all my monsters. You’ve picked me up and carried me off to your castle. You’ve saved me.”

  He curses, low under his breath. Something dark flickers across his expression as he caresses my face in his strong hands. “I’m not a prince. God, never hold me in that light. You’ll only be disappointed.” His touch gentles, even as his gaze goes hard with intensity. “I’m not a good man, Avery. But I am the one who loves you.”

  They are words I’ll never tire of hearing from him. Words I’m still afraid to believe, for fear that I’m going to wake up one day and find this was all a dream.

  “I love you too,” I whisper, dragging him to me and taking his mouth in a possessive kiss that would banish both of our doubts.

  I groan when I hear the muffled ring of his phone inside the flat.

  He doesn’t seem happy with the interruption either. The ringtone is one I recognize as belonging to his assistant.

  “I told Lily I would be out of touch for a few days,” he mutters without releasing me.

  “If she’s calling anyway, it must be important. Why don’t you find out what she wants?” I extricate myself from his arms and gesture for him to go. “I’ll clean up.”

  He heads inside and answers the call. Some of the impatience with the intrusion leaves his voice when I hear him men
tion the recreation center and problems with one of the construction contracts.

  “That son of a bitch. He agreed to those terms months ago, so unless he wants to take me on personally about this—” He rakes a hand through his hair and grinds out a curse. “No. On second thought, forget it. I’d rather cut the bastard loose and go somewhere else. The center is the most important thing. Can you forward me the file with the other bids, Lily? Thanks.”

  He meets my gaze as I carry the last of the dishes in from the terrace and start filling the dishwasher.

  “I’m sorry,” he tells me, muting the call. “I need to take care of this right now. I could be a while.”

  “It’s okay. Do whatever you have to. I’ll finish cleaning up the kitchen, and then I think I’ll take a little walk outside.” His brow rankles, but before he can voice an objection I walk up to him and silence him with a brief kiss. “I’ll be fine. You took care of all my monsters, remember? Besides, what kind of trouble do you think I can run into on a street full of haute couture and luxury hotels?”

  He doesn’t look enthused with the idea, but he doesn’t argue. With a tight nod, he steps into the other room, resuming his conversation with Lily.

  Chapter 26

  I head out a few minutes later, wearing cropped black pants, ballet flats, and a cap-sleeved striped shirt that makes me feel a bit like Audrey Hepburn. The tree-lined Avenue George V outside Nick’s building is bustling with pedestrians and street traffic. Shoppers and tourists and residents of all types stroll past me as I meander on the sidewalk, admiring the city’s historic architecture, from the residential buildings and famed designer boutiques to the charming bistros and cafes.

  Paris is a feast for the senses and I soak it all in, feeling transported and alive, and so very in love.

  My stroll has taken me to the end of the long boulevard before I realize how far I’ve wandered. I turn back, eager to explore the city with Nick once he’s finished with his business. I’m nearly to his building when I spot a flash of strawberry-blonde hair and a familiar face up ahead of me on the shady sidewalk.

  Claire Prentice.

  She’s stepping out of a Rolls Royce limousine with an older gentleman just outside the entrance of the Four Seasons hotel. She’s dressed expensively, draped in an elegant champagne-colored dress that accentuates every curve with understated, but unquestionably sexy, style. She’s much taller than her obviously moneyed companion, whom I guess to be at least twice her age with his thinning dark hair and rounded midsection.

  She glances my way but doesn’t seem to notice my wave.

  “Claire!” I try again, hurrying toward her to say hello.

  My shout halts her. She turns her head in my direction and I see the surprise register on her beautiful face. Her expression freezes, her smile held in place as I approach.

  “Avery, hello. How lovely to see you.” Despite the warmth of her voice, I feel a prickle of awkwardness as I near her and the gentleman accompanying her. She air-kisses my cheek, still beaming at me in greeting. “What a surprise to see you here. What brings you to Paris?”

  “I’m here with Nick. His apartment is just up the street from here.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize he kept a place in Paris.”

  As she speaks, I glance at her companion, whom I notice seems more businesslike than intimate with her. “What about you? Are you here on an acting job?”

  The man smirks, then murmurs something to her in French before stepping away from us, toward the doorman standing at the entrance of the pricey hotel.

  “Uh,” Claire stammers. “I’m here with my friend.”

  And then I realize I must be an idiot. The fancy hotel. The older, wealthy man. The sense that he and Claire have possibly only just met each other. It all adds up and now I feel worse than awkward. I wish the pavement would open up and swallow me.

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea—”

  “Of course, you didn’t,” she whispers. Then leans in close, adding wryly, “In a way, what I do is acting, right?”

  I blink at the odd statement. The inadvertent admission that has just told me something even more unexpected.

  “This is what you do for a living?” It makes so much more sense now. The multimillion-dollar apartment in the Park Place building. The closet filled with designer clothes and shoes—a wardrobe I marveled at during my stay as her house sitter while she was in Japan those several months.

  But if she isn’t an actress—

  “What about the game show pilot?”

  Now her smile falters. She swallows, glancing away from me. “I really shouldn’t keep my friend waiting. It was so nice to see you, Avery.”

  “Claire. There never was a job waiting for you in Japan, was there?” My face feels numb. My heart is thudding heavily in my chest, a sick awareness washing over me. “Why did you lie about that? Why not just say you were going on a trip or vacation? Why the need for the elaborate story when you hired me to housesit your place?”

  She takes a step away from me, her lips pressed flat. Refusing to answer any more of my questions.

  “Claire, please. I need to know.” The doorman and her companion are staring at me now, everyone looking uncomfortable with my suddenly rising voice. They can’t possibly feel as disturbed as I do. “Claire, tell me. Why did you lie to me?”

  Finally, she pauses. Pivoting to face me, her expression is wooden, resigned.

  Apologetic.

  Even pitying.

  “Maybe you’d better ask Nick.”

  Chapter 27

  I hear Nick’s voice in another room of the flat when I enter. It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking to me. My mind is numb. My body is moving as though in a trance.

  No, not a trance.

  A terrible dream, where I am engulfed in a fog so thick I can barely force my lungs to breathe. Each heartbeat feels as though it is cracking my chest open, exposing me to a chill I feel all the way into my bones. Down to my soul.

  “Baby? Hey, there you are. Why didn’t you answer just now?” Nick is smiling as he comes to the living area to greet me. His handsome face and tender gaze only breaks my heart open even wider. “Sorry to abandon you like that. I hope you enjoyed your walk.”

  He draws me into his arms. I’m too shell-shocked to fight the contact, but he notices my wooden stance as soon as he touches me.

  He pulls back, frowning. “What is it? Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

  “I ran into someone we know.” At the sound of my toneless voice, a flicker of unease enters his normally unflappable gaze. I don’t wait for him to ask the question. “Claire Prentice.”

  “Here in Paris?” He grunts, clearly taken by surprise. “That’s interesting.”

  “Yes,” I agree. “It was interesting. She was just arriving at the hotel next door with a . . . client, I suppose you’d call him.”

  “Client?”

  I scoff. “Are you going to tell me you have no idea what she does for a living?”

  “What are you saying? That Claire’s a call girl?”

  “She’s definitely not an actress. She just admitted that to me on the street a minute ago.”

  I hold his gaze, feeling some of my shock dissipate, morph into something sharper when I see how deftly Nick can craft a dodge. Doesn’t he realize? I am the master of lies and obfuscation.

  At least, I was before I met him. He tore down all of my old defenses. He left me bare.

  Dear God, I can’t believe I’m only seeing it now. He’s played me like no one ever has before.

  “Why, Nick?”

  He stares at me in a lengthening silence. “Tell me what’s going on, sweetheart.”

  “That’s what I want to know. What the fuck is going on?”

  His brow furrows deeper as he reaches for me. This time I jerk away, well out of his reach.

  “There was no acting job in Japan,” I tell him, searching his eyes for confirmation of the truth. “There was no friend who stood her up th
at night she came into Vendange and told me she needed someone to watch her apartment for four months. Her apartment, which is in your building, Nick.”

  He says nothing, but I see a tendon jump in his jaw. His lack of denial is all the evidence I need. Maybe I should feel some satisfaction that he’s not going to lie to me some more. But I don’t feel anything except pain.

  And confusion . . . .

  I think back to my painting—the self-portrait he bought more than a year ago. The image of me that he’s kept with him all this time.

  I think back to his words in the stateroom of his private jet—his declaration that I have been his for longer than I know.

  “It started with your art,” he admits quietly, knowing me so intimately now, not even my thoughts can elude him. “I saw your gift, Avery. It spoke to me. I’ve never known that kind of pull before. I saw your face in that painting and it touched something deep inside me—something that had been dead for a long time. I felt a connection that I wasn’t ready for. Christ, I wasn’t equipped to feel that kind of pull to another person. I’ve never had that before. I’ve never wanted another woman the way I’ve wanted you.”

  “No.”

  I shake my head, pushing his explanation away. I don’t want it. Not when I’m feeling so foolish. So naive that I had convinced myself this was all some kind of fairytale. That fate had put us together because we were both broken and alone.

  A choked laugh tears out of my throat. “God, what an idiot I am. You actually had me believing that all of this was real. That we were real.”

  “We are real.” His voice is a lash, crisp and sharp. “What we have together, Avery . . . it’s real.”

  “You set everything up!” My chest is heaving with my gasping breath. My heart is banging, fury and anguish throbbing in my temples. “How did you know I would take Claire’s offer? How could you be so sure that I—” The words dry up in my throat. Because I know. The answer hits me with the impact of a physical strike. “The condo development company. The one that bought my apartment building in Greenpoint. It’s one of yours, isn’t it.”