Once Upon a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club 4)

Meanwhile, she stood at his side, tongue-tied and terrified of speaking and embarrassing him.

A round of applause made everyone look to the center of the floor, and Alexandra and Luke were leaving, heading to the dais where the queen watched the festivities from her throne. An additional throne had been set for Alexandra, and she sat down, Luke moving to stand just over her shoulder.

They looked wonderful, Maylee decided. Romantic and like something out of a fairy tale. She could have watched them all night, and judging by the dreamy expressions of some of the other women in the room, she wasn’t the only one.

Once Alexandra had her skirts settled, she gave a nod at the direction of the band, and the strains of another song began to play. Couples moved out onto the dance floor, and Maylee watched them with shining eyes. She wanted to etch the memory into her mind so she’d never forget it, all these expensive, gorgeous dresses and beautiful women on the arms of dashing, formally dressed men.

A hand extended in front of Maylee. “Shall we?”

She stared down at Griffin’s hand, then looked at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” he agreed. “Though I must warn you, I have two left feet.”

“That’s okay,” she said happily, and slapped her hand into his. “I’m not much of a dancer, either.”

“Lovely,” he said in a dry voice. “We shall make a terrible pair together, then.”

His acerbic humor only made her laugh.

Her breath fluttered in her throat with excitement, and Maylee let Griffin lead the way as they headed out onto the floor. The song was stately, and everyone around them was clasping hands and moving closer to dance. Oh, how magical.

Griffin’s hands went to her waist, keeping her a modest length from him. Unsure of where to put her own hands, she slid them to his neck.

He gazed at her for a long moment, and she felt her breath catch all over again with the intensity of his stare, even through the square frames of his glasses that normally hid his expressions. His eyes flicked from her face, then down to the necklace at her throat. “I see you haven’t lost them.”

His words confused her. Was that meant playfully? Or did he truly think she’d do her best to lose his jewels? “No. I’ve been very careful.”

“Of course.”

They danced, more of a swaying than any sort of waltzing, which was what she’d imagined. It actually reminded her a bit of a high school prom, and a giggle escaped her throat.

“What is it?”

“Just thinking this reminds me of a school dance.”

A hint of a smile curved his austere mouth. “Oh? In what way?”

She nodded at a couple that moved nearby. “The dresses. The awkwardness. The cool kids and the wannabes.”

“Cool kids and wannabes?” His eyebrow rose. “Which one are you?”

“Oh, definitely a wannabe.”

“Why would you think that?”

She swallowed hard, averting her gaze from him. It was easy to do; she just pretended to watch everyone dancing nearby. “I just worry that I’m going to say or do something wrong and mess everything up. So I try not to speak.”

He shook his head and his hands clasped her waist a little tighter. “No one could be embarrassed by you tonight, Maylee.”

For some reason, that didn’t make her feel better. “Because I don’t look like myself, right?”

“Why would you think that?” He stared, his feet barely shuffling as they danced, and he was right; he wasn’t a good dancer. He’d stepped on her skirt twice and her foot once, but it somehow didn’t matter.

“You said so yourself.”

Griffin sighed.

“Well, you did,” she said defensively. “And then you drove me to the salon so they could make me look “presentable.” Your words.”

“You misinterpret them.”

“I’m really not sure how it’s possible to misinterpret them, Mr. Griffin. You just said that no one could be embarrassed by me tonight. Seeing as how I normally don’t look like this, I have to think I’m embarrassing on a day-to-day basis. And you made that pretty clear by buying me clothes.” Oh, now she was spewing all kinds of hurt at him. She needed to stop, but she couldn’t help herself. “So please tell me how I am misinterpreting that. I may be country, but I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid.”

“Let’s just forget I said anything, all right?” She was ruining this lovely evening. She then turned to look at all the incredible dresses whirling past. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I’m sure it’s not my place.”

“Miss Meriweather,” he began. Then said, “Maylee.” Then stopped again. And sighed.

And now she felt bad. He’d spent a lot of money to get her all gussied up tonight and this place truly was something she’d never forget.

“I . . . I am not good with people,” he admitted.

“Now that’s a lie,” she told him. “You’ve been swanning around with the rest of these nobles all night.”

“I’m good at mingling,” Griffin told her. “I’m not good with . . . people. One on one.” His hands moved at her waist, and he shifted, tilting his neck from side to side as if wanting to tug at his collar. “I know a lot of people, but I don’t have many friends, Maylee. And I never say the right thing.”

“You sure do say a lot for someone who doesn’t say the right thing,” she muttered.

His hands shifted on her waist and, to her surprise, he moved one of her hands from his neck and clasped it in his own. It was almost like a waltz, except she doubted either of them knew how to dance a waltz. “Just because I talk doesn’t mean that I don’t keep f**king things up.”

She squeezed his hand with hers, feeling oddly connected to him at the moment. Maybe it was the intense look of concentration on his face, or the words that echoed her own misery at being out of place. He was at home with high society and didn’t know what to say one on one. She was the opposite—she loved chatting with everyone, but amongst this glittering crowd, she felt like an alley cat that had somehow snuck through the back door. “So if you keep messing things up, what do you think you should be saying?”

Griffin swallowed and for a moment looked so uncomfortable she wanted to laugh. Then he spoke, and the laugh died in her throat.

“I should be telling you that I think you are . . . impressive,” Griffin said in a low voice. “I should tell you that your smile makes the room warmer. That the room seems a little darker when you leave.”

Her eyes widened. All of a sudden, his hand in hers felt incredibly intimate . . . incredibly sexual. It was almost as if he had it on her breast instead of against her own hand.

And for a wild, brief moment, she wondered what Griffin would be like in bed. Would he be that incredibly polished, arrogant—almost bored—nobleman he normally was? Or would she get a glimpse of someone else underneath?

“Say something.”

“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” she murmured. She was so astonished that she was at a loss.

“You’re blushing,” he declared, and that soft tone of his voice had changed a little, becoming a shade of its normal arrogant self. “That blush does ridiculous things to me, I’ll have you know.”

“You don’t have to sound so disgusted about it,” she said defensively. Was that supposed to be a compliment? Was she supposed to be flattered that he sounded revolted at the thought of being attracted to her?

“I’m disgusted because you’re my employee,” Griffin said. “You are off limits because of that. I am not a predator to attack you simply because I hold a bit of power over you.” He looked angry at the thought. “That is not a situation I should ever put you in. I shouldn’t have said a thing tonight, and yet here I am, spouting off like a teapot.”

For some reason, the thought of stuffy, staid Griffin as a teapot made her giggle hysterically.

The music slowed and the song ended. “And I’ve already said too much,” Griffin told her, and his hands left hers. People stopped dancing and turned to clap, and she and Griffin parted, leaving Maylee with a wealth of confused feelings.

***

They left the party about a half hour later, and Maylee was relieved to escape, despite the awkward car ride back to the hotel. Griffin was silent, occasionally fidgeting with his cufflinks.

She wished he would talk, but he seemed to already think he’d said too much. So she stared out the window and watched the night streets of Bellissime roll past. Her own thoughts were a mess, but she couldn’t straighten them out, not with him sitting a few feet from her in silence. So she touched the jewels to make sure they were still on, stared out the window, and tried not to think about how quiet he was.

They didn’t speak as they took the elevator up to Griffin’s room. The security guard posted at the end of the floor nodded at both of them. Outside of her own door, Maylee paused. Her hand touched the ridiculously expensive jewelry again. “I should give this back to you.”

Griffin took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, not glancing at her. “It’s been a long night, Maylee. I’ll collect them in the morning.”

“All right,” she said softly, and opened her door and went inside. Once it was shut, she quickly checked the room for intruders. She could have asked him, but her mind was still all goofed up when it came to Griffin, and for some reason, she didn’t want him in her room if he didn’t want her.

At least, not the real her.

Maylee looked in the mirror at her reflection. The woman who stared back at her had long, dark eyelashes and perfect, smooth blonde hair. She glittered in jewelry and wore an expensive gown that made her look like an elegant lady. It only made Maylee more confused.

Griffin had told her that he liked her tonight, even as he constantly insisted she change what she look like. How was she supposed to take him seriously even as he tried to fix her?

She carefully removed the heavy necklace and set it down on the dresser. Next, the earrings. Then, she removed the pins from her hair and shook it out. It was still too smooth and strange to be her own. So was the perfect face that stared back at her. She needed a shower.

Maylee shimmied out of the dress—no easy feat considering she didn’t have any help with the zipper. She grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom and washed her hair.

When she emerged, her face was squeaky clean, her hair was back to wet, roping curls, and she felt more like herself. She dressed in her camo pajamas and picked up her knitting and climbed into bed. She couldn’t concentrate, though. Her gaze kept straying over to the jewelry on the dresser, and her thoughts kept playing over the night.

Griffin said he liked her. He liked her smile. He liked her touch.

But did he really like her? Did he want the real Maylee? The country girl who wore camo pajamas and knitted and tried to drink out of finger bowls at fancy parties? Or did he want the smooth, elegant blonde he’d tried to make her into?

She put aside her knitting and turned off the light. Even then she couldn’t sleep. What did he want from her?

I’m not good with people.

Maylee thought it wasn’t that he was bad with people; it was that he didn’t know how to ask for things after a lifetime of having them handed to him.

And that thought made her sit upright in the bed.

He didn’t know how to ask for things. Griffin just assumed that they would naturally become his. All the nobility thought like that. He didn’t know how to ask her if she was interested in him. He’d hemmed and hawed around things tonight and eventually told her he liked her.

And that was it. He hadn’t said more. Maybe he hadn’t realized she needed to hear more?