The Billionaire From Philly

Victor reached for the phone on his desk and pressed the button to connect with the matching phone in Danielle’s office. “Yeah?”

“How do you feel about Italian for lunch?” Victor smiled to himself. It was a little early for them to be heading out—but then, the specific hours that either of them worked didn’t matter as much as the results. They’d spent two hours at lunch more than once in the two weeks since Danielle had started working for him, and they’d both been the better for the break.

“Sounds really good, actually,” Danielle said. “When are we going?”

“Give me thirty minutes to finish some things up, send some emails, and then we’ll head out,” Victor told her. He could feel the heat lighting up his nervous system, the anticipation of sex that they would—he hoped—end up having after their good meal. Victor pulled up the website for Davio’s, and browsed the menu, thinking of what he might want to eat; nothing too heavy, even if they didn’t end up having sex after lunch, he thought—he would need to be able to focus for the rest of the day’s work.

Victor made up his mind and called Alan to pick him and Danielle up in the next twenty minutes. All he had left to do was send a few emails, reschedule a few things—including opening up the hour after his lunch break, just in case he and Danielle came back in an amorous mood—and he was ready to go. Victor smiled to himself, thinking that one of the better uses of his fortune so far had been hiring the woman he had brought on to spend his money: it was definitely already proving rewarding, even if Nikolai doubted Danielle’s intentions.

Chapter9

Danielle had heard of Davio’s, but never been inside the imposing, upscale restaurant before. The dining room was full of light, with elegant, white-clothed tables and comfortable-looking old-fashioned upholstered chairs. It looked huge, much bigger in some respect than the exterior had led her to think, and for a few moments Danielle felt decidedly out of place—but then she felt the power of the expensive clothes that Victor had convinced her to buy, the power of arriving there in his company and seeing the hostess nod to him, saying that his usual table was definitely available. Once again, she was stricken by how money—having it, and other people knowing you had it, and showing it—was power.

“We have plenty of time,” Victor told her as they sat down with the lunch menu and the bar menu, tucked away slightly from the other people who had come in for an early meal. “You can even order a drink if you want.” Danielle smiled.

“Only one,” she told him. “I do have to go back to work eventually.” Victor chuckled.

“You can handle two,” he countered. “I’ve seen you drink more than that and still function.” Danielle snickered.

“Function yes, but I want to be sharp—I’m still in my first 90 days working for you,” she pointed out. “I have to lull you into thinking I’m the best employee you’ve got, then I can slack off.” Victor’s eyes warmed as he met her gaze.

“I think you probably are one of, if not the best employee I’ve got right now,” he said. “Not just because of your skills at organization, either.” Danielle rolled her eyes.

“If you think me having sex with you on the clock makes me a great employee, you have very low expectations,” she said, turning her attention back onto the menu. But the idea—now in the air between them—that the lunch would be a prelude to a tryst in Victor’s office excited her. Danielle had actively avoided having sex with any of her coworkers—much less her bosses—in the jobs she’d had before. It wasn’t worth the complications in her career.

Danielle carefully didn’t look at prices for anything as she read through the menu, knowing that it would only psych her out. Instead she tried to taste the different items in her mind, even with her somewhat limited knowledge of the components. “I have to say, I can’t quite believe that a high-end Italian restaurant is serving chicken livers,” Danielle remarked to Victor. He snickered.

“Of course, the poor people’s food always ends up on high people’s tables—after ages of it being delicious,” he pointed out. They spent a few more minutes discussing whether they would share an antipasto, what cocktails they might like, and by the time the waitress arrived to take their order Danielle was ready.

They agreed to share the tuna tartare, and Danielle got the arugula salad, along with the scallops, and—at Victor’s prompting—a side of asparagus, and the raspberry mule to drink. Victor got a Negroni to drink and ordered the warm spinach salad and the tagliatelle Bolognese.

“I thought I saw Nikolai Sokolov earlier,” Danielle said hesitantly. Her meeting with Sam, for lunch less than a week before had been tense; she had managed to keep him from finding out about her new job, but he had gone pushy about wanting her to act as cover for him, even when she’d insisted that she wasn’t interested in doing that at all anymore—that she was making more money now and didn’t need his help.

“He wanted to know if I would be interested in the legitimate business opportunity he and I were talking about the night I met you,” Victor said. “It seems pretty solid—and completely out of his usual wheelhouse.” Danielle smiled slightly. There had been a rumor going around—she’d heard it from Sam, at least—that a few of the Sokolov family were interested in going “clean,” over the course of several years.

Sam didn’t lend it much credence, but Danielle could definitely see the allure. If they already had money and connections, why wouldn’t they go about removing some of the elements of risk from their lives?

“Sounds promising—and like more work for me in the future, finding people to take some of that money off of your hands,” Danielle remarked. Victor laughed.

“He was a bit worried—he did recognize you from being Sam’s sister,” Victor admitted. Danielle felt her stomach sink; but before she had a chance to react to the news, the waitress came to the table with their drinks and the first course: the tuna tartare. Danielle sipped her drink, giving herself some time to think about what to say to that. She didn’t want to be too defensive; she didn’t want to make it seem like she had anything to hide.

“What did you say to that?” Danielle set her drink down and reached to serve herself some of the raw, dressed tuna.

“I told him that you had already separated yourself from the Bey family before you ever even met me, and that you were legit—just like I am,” Victor replied. Danielle felt relief flood through her, more intensely than she would have expected.

“I actually had lunch with Sam a few days ago,” she said, keeping her voice light. “He wanted me to cover for him—I told him I didn’t need the extra cash anymore, and that I wasn’t interested in even doing that much.” Victor smiled.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Victor said.

“I didn’t tell him about my new job, though,” Danielle admitted. “I just...I don’t think I’m ready to tell him I’m working for someone connected—even just on paper—to the Sokolovs.” She dared to meet Victor’s gaze.

“I can get that,” Victor said. “These old rivalries between the families run deep. If you’re not ready to tell him about it, I think that’s fair.” Danielle smiled, feeling an even deeper relief. She hadn’t known how Victor would take her hiding the fact that she was working for him—just as she still didn’t know how Sam would react to the news of her new job. She suspected, knowing Sam much better than she knew Victor, that her brother would not take the information particularly well; but she didn’t know in what direction his bad reaction would go. Better to wait until she could control the situation, the conditions under which he found out—if at all possible.

The drink, the tuna tartare, were delicious, and Danielle found herself relaxing as Victor started to discuss the prospect—generally—of how the charity spending would go, and expand over time. The salads came, and Victor transitioned out of work life and into something a little more personal.

“I was thinking, when you’ve worked for me a full month, it might be fun to celebrate that,” Victor said.

“What