The Billionaire's Proposal

“And I want a new espresso maker for the office.”

There was a sudden pause in the quick back and forth. Then Nick threw back his head and started laughing. It echoed brightly through the little shop, bouncing off corners, and making everyone who heard it smile as well.

“So that’s what you think you’re worth, huh?” His eyes sparkled with unrestrained merriment as they stared back into mine. “One espresso maker?”

I cocked my head sweetly to the side.

“No, darling—that’s what I think you’re worth. That’s my price for dating you.”

He laughed again, tossing back his messy hair as he twirled his empty cup.

“Well sweetheart, I’ve never had to pay for someone’s company. But in your case, I think I can make an exception. The espresso maker’s yours.”

Score! I could picture my entire staff cheering at once.

My face glowed in triumph, but I hid it quickly behind my hair. In spite of all my reservations, a strange feeling of excitement had started stirring in my stomach. An anticipation I didn’t fully understand, and trusted even less.

“Well, then I think that’s it,” I concluded in my best professional voice. “We can fly back to New York in the morning, and work out the strategy on the plane. My best guess would be to say that we’d always harbored some kind of feelings, and they blossomed on this trip to—”

“Hang on,” he lifted a finger in the air between us, “I have a few conditions myself.”

I paused in surprise, wondering what in the world could be going through that head of his. This wa

s his idea. He was the one asking me. Now he had conditions?

“You do?” I asked in open astonishment. “What are you—”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, “it’s actually just one.” With that, he leaned suddenly forward, gazing intently into my eyes. “If this is going to work, if this is going to be believable...then you have to let me treat you like I’d treat any of my other girlfriends.”

A sudden shiver swept through me, as a whole host of other implications to this little scheme fell suddenly into place. We were trying to stage an entire relationship, after all. That meant a little more than just posing in front of the cameras...

“Okay,” I began uncertainly, “I can...I can do that.”

Nick cocked his head to the side, eyes twinkling at me appraisingly.

“That means letting someone else take care of you, for once. That means letting yourself get pampered and fussed over. Accepting gifts bigger than a bag.”

“A purse,” I corrected automatically, but his look made me fall silent.

“I have a reputation of spoiling my women, Abby.” A smile was lurking just below the surface, but he kept up an admirable poker face. “A reputation that must be maintained.”

My eyes danced with a sudden Dior flashback, but I kept a careful poker face myself.

“Fair enough. But don’t ever refer to me again as one of your women,” I quoted dryly. “I didn’t sign up for a haram—got it?”

A sudden grin flashed across his face, but he pursed his lips and nodded.

“Got it.”

“On that note,” I continued suddenly, “that also means that you and Anya have to pause your...Pilates for a while.”

He mock saluted.

“No more Pilates.”

I eyed his mischievous face warily, and decided to clarify for my own peace of mind.

“Nick, you know that by Pilates, I mean—”