Yours Completely (Billionaires and Brides 1)

“This, the fake Roux, and that you managed to keep very calm during your father's episode,” he answered.

I gave a short laugh. “I think you might be remembering someone else. I was the exact opposite of calm.”

“I don't know.” He shrugged and leaned forward, eyes intent on me. When he looked at me like that, it made my stomach do happy flip flops and I wasn't quite sure why. “She was about your height, dark red hair, and the most amazing, beautiful green eyes.”

I couldn't stop the blush that flared around my chest and up my neck and into my cheeks at the compliment. I looked at him, thinking he might be teasing me again, but he was completely serious.

“Thank you.” I smiled and shrugged, trying not to read too much into flattering words. “It sounds like it could be me, but I still think you might have me confused with someone who wasn't panicking.”

He smiled, light shining in his eyes. “What did you think of the sandwich?”

I looked down at my empty plate. It had been absolutely

fantastic and now that it was gone, I was considering licking my plate to get at the crumbs.

“What sandwich?” I asked, trying to look innocent. “Someone must have taken it.”

“Well, that is a shame,” he agreed. “I'll just have to make you another.”

“You really don't have to do that,” I said quickly, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. He pulled away as if I had shocked him. “I mean, I'm sure you have more important things to do with your time than make me a sandwich.”

“Does it look like I'm doing anything else?” he asked tersely.

“No,” I admitted, shaking my head.

“Then, this is what I'm doing with my time.” He stood from the table and collected my plate before going back to the kitchen.

I bit my lip for a moment, hoping he didn't find me ungrateful. I just didn't think I was worthy. “Thank you.”

He threw more bacon into the frying pan before turning around. “Did you find any other treasures hidden away on my walls?” he asked, changing the topic back to art.

“A couple.” I watched his steady hands as he chopped more lettuce, mesmerized by his sure and quick strokes. “I found another beautiful little Morisot in the hallway. I think there are several more of her works scattered throughout the house.”

He paused, looking up at me. “I'm afraid I don't know much about her.”

“She's one of my favorite artists,” I explained. “She's considered one of the best female impressionists. Her work sells remarkably well.”

“Then I'm glad she is on my walls, then.” He flashed me another quick smile that had my heart speeding up again.

“Did you not pick the paintings?” I asked, curious as to why he didn't know what he had in his own house. I picked up my lemonade and finally started drinking it, suddenly thirsty.

“Me? No.” He shook his head and made a face. “I bought this house a few years ago at auction. I wanted a beach house on the island, and the owners had passed away and the estate was being sold. It's time to sell it now while the market is good. What you are cataloging is what was in the house originally. I didn't pick any of it.”

I nearly choked on the last of my drink. I set the glass down and stared at him. “This was all here? This place is practically an art museum!”

He grinned and adjusted the sandwich on my plate before coming back over. “I don't know much about art, but I know a good business deal when I see one.”

I went to reach for the plate and in the process knocked over the empty glass. It rolled off the table but thankfully bounced on the floor instead of breaking. Bastian set the plate on the table and knelt beside me to pick it up.

He handed it back to me, our fingers touched for the briefest of moments, while our eyes connected. I gazed into eyes filled with the gray dawn and bursting with want and hope and so much more with every second I looked. He was close enough that I could smell the clean scent of his shampoo and my fingers ached to run through his hair.

“Hey, Bastian, Leo's on the line and he's...” Charlotte's called out, entering the room and breaking the spell. She had her phone to her ear but her hand over the mouth piece. “Oh, hey, Ava.”

She glanced around at the tableau in front of her, with Bastian kneeling before me in the kitchen, our hands on the glass together, and what I knew must be a frightful flush on my cheeks. I could only imagine what she thought. “Am I interrupting?”

Bastian quickly rose to his feet and set the empty glass on the table. “Of course not.”

Charlotte glanced back and forth between the two of us, one eyebrow arching higher than the other. I looked down at my plate, wishing I knew how to control my blushing. Charlotte took an inhale to say something and then followed my gaze to my plate and instead burst out with, “You made Rough-Day Sandwiches? Did you make me one?”