I shook my head, still grinning. “All three of them? That’s quite a coincidence indeed.”
“You can’t listen to Mr. Takahari or the rumors floating around. I’m not always surrounded by two or three women.”
I took a sip of my champagne. “I’ll try to remember that.”
For a moment, a shadow passed over his face. When he looked at me again, it was sharper, appraising—but still with a hint of a grin. “Mr. Takahari was certainly taken with you.”
“He seems like a sweet old man.”
“He’s never been called that before. Not ever. And he’s never been taken with anyone.”
I shrugged, shivering slightly in my thin dress. “I’m glad he liked me. Who is he?”
“He’s a very important client of mine.”
He shrugged off his jacket and placed it around my shoulders in a single, fluid motion. An intoxicating smell rushed up around me, and I pulled the jacket a little tighter as I sipped my champagne. Who in the world would ever believe this story, were I to tell them? Perched with a billionaire at the top of the world. Surreal didn’t begin to cover it.
“Rebecca?”
I turned to see him studying me closely. He bit his lip, as if he was debating something. A second later, he eased the champagne flute from my hand and set it on the balcony. I stared with frozen curiosity as he slid his hands up my wrists and leaned in to whisper in my ear…
“I have a proposition for you.”
Chapter 7
“You’re propositioning me like a hooker?” I shouted. I was livid and kicked him in the balls. “I might not be rich or belong here, but that’s no reason to treat me like a prostitute!”
“That’s not what I meant!” he gasped.
I ran, Marcus hot on my trail—wincing occasionally and doubling over in pain. I felt like Cinderella running home from the ball. It was time to change back into my rags.
“Rebecca, please—you didn’t even give me the chance to say anything! Hear me out!”
“Get away from me!” I sped up, bypassing a pair of entangled Jamaican love birds and yanking open the door to the first limo I could find.
“Rebecca—”
The driver jumped and twisted around, eyeing me like maybe I was drunk. “Hey, lady, this isn’t your car.”
“Look,” I panted, “I guarantee your keepers are still in there getting shitfaced. Can you do me a solid favor and drop me off at the Taco Bell at the base of the hill?”
His eyes went from me—shivering in my dress, to Marcus—gasping in his disheveled tuxedo as he ran up behind me. His chin jutted up as the muscles in his chest swelled.
“Yeah, girl, I got you.”
“You’re a gem.”
I jumped inside and slammed the door shut just as Marcus reached me. He put his hands on the windows and leaned onto the car as his hair spilled messily into his face.
“Rebecca, that’s not what I meant at all. Just give me a chance to explain.”
I rolled down the window a fraction of an inch. “I don’t give a damn what you meant, and I don’t give a damn what you’re used to getting from people. I’m not that kind of girl.”
He hit the side of the car in frustration. “Would you just listen to—”
“You best step away from the car, son.” My driver rose slowly from his seat and stepped out of the limo, biceps bursting out the arms of his suit as he eyed Marcus dangerously. “The lady asked you to leave. We wouldn’t want somebody to get real fucked up, now would we?”
Still panting from our sprint, Marcus threw up his hands and took an exaggerated step away. It looked like his retreat was mostly rooted in exasperation, but the fact that my driver was coming up on seven feet couldn’t have hurt either.