Heart of the Billionaire (Taming The Bad Boy Billionaire 7)

“Thank you. I’m trying to stay strong, but this is the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. I miss my father so damn bad, and I’d give anything just to see him one more time. It just hurts so much. My granny said death leaves a hole so big that nobody can heal, but love leaves a memory no one can steal. But I want more than memories.”

His eyes welled up with tears as I squeezed his hand. “I can’t even begin to express how much my heart aches for you. I wish I could take away your pain. There are no words to tell you how sorry I am. Ben brought so much joy to everyone around him. He will definitely be missed by everyone.”

He squeezed my hand as he closed his eyes and pondered. I hated seeing him in so much pain, knowing there was nothing I could do to ease it.

He let out a long sigh. “When I was little, Nick and I snuck off and watched some stupid horror movie. It scared me to death and I started having nightmares, swearing that a monster lived under my bed or in my closet. My father would hear me wake up screaming, and he would burst into the room with his monster spray. I would tell him to blast every single creature lurking in those dark shadows straight back to hell. The man would spray it everywhere, under the bed, in my closet, and even in my shoes. Honestly, I just think my shoes stank.”

I laughed. “But it worked. Stay back, monsters!”

He smiled.

“But my dad was like Superman, right there to fight off any monster that might try and do me harm. And I felt safe and secure. He would kiss me goodnight and the entire room smelled like lavender. I knew my room could never be safer. And sleeping in the dark was no problem at all. The scent was so comforting and lulled me to sleep. And to this day, whenever I smell lavender, I think of him.”

“That’s a sweet memory.”

“He never got upset with me. Not matter how many times I woke him up. He had the patience of a saint.”

“I know you had a wonderful dad.”

“He was the best. I’ll miss him like crazy.”

We spent the rest of the day away from everyone. James took me to one of his quiet retreats and we just talked and stayed isolated away from the world and from the press.

A WEEK LATER, WE STARTED working on the English lady makeover. Not only did I awake to James holding a silver platter of tea and pastries, a display made even more enjoyable because he had yet to find his pants, but the second we finished eating, he pulled me out of bed and abruptly announced that we were going to the opera, something that struck me as a very English thing to do.

“The opera?” I repeated incredulously, watching as he tossed the platter carelessly on the floor and headed into the bathroom for a shower. “That’s still a thing?”

The sound of his sparkling laughter echoed off the tiles as he flipped on the water and waited for it to heat up. “Was it ever not a thing, love?”

“I don’t know. I just...” I wandered sleepily inside to join him, stepping out of my tiny shorts and pulling my camisole over my shoulders. “I guess I thought that sort of went out of style back when men wore top hats and women tried not to faint while being slowly suffocated by patriarchy and corsets.”

“Style and class will never go out of style,” he said, placing his hands on my shoulders and leaning down for a soft kiss. “You, my dear, have and deserve both. Now, as far as aristocratic pastimes go, it’s actually not that bad. They’re performing La Bohème tonight, one of my favorites.”

He has a favorite opera? Does he also play polo and hunt quail or fox on the weekends?

“It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” I said, swaying sleepily on the steps, not even noticing when he stepped beneath the jets of water. I squinted contemplatively as I tilted my head toward the ceiling, trying to reconcile a world in which I went to the Royal Opera House in London. Until just a few months ago, I had yet to leave the country. Now I was living in Europe, about to attend the same theater Her Royal

Majesty frequented, with James Cross as my date.

“Not that I wish to risk patriarchy and suffocation, love,” he said above the splish-splashing of the water, “but I wouldn’t object to you stuffing that beautiful bosom of yours into a corset. If the need arises, I will happily offer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” I said, stalling nervously, my eyes widening as I imagined a million things that could go wrong.

He laughed. “I am only teasing about the corset, Della.”

“No, I mean... Well, if this is to be our first official outing as a couple, can’t we start a little smaller? Maybe...pizza and miniature golf?”

He caught my arms with a smile and tugged me gently into the water. “Given that we’re no longer twelve, I must nix the mini-golf on principle. I must also ask that you never bring it up again. Also, given that I must be presentable as the next CEO of the largest corporation in all of Britain, I think the opera’s a good place to start.”

I hedged my bets as he eased me gently under the water, combing his fingers slowly through my long hair. “Surely no one in the corporate world has a problem with the two of us going on a little picnic.”

“I would love that,” he said, then leaned down with a smile and kissed the tip of my nose. “Perhaps we can picnic...at the opera.”

“James, I’m serious!” I complained, lathering sweetly scented shampoo in my hair and leaning back into the water as he sank surreptitiously to his knees. “I don’t know the first thing about how to behave at an opera. I mean, they have them back home, in the States, but I never went to one. Am I supposed to bring my own binoculars? How many commoners do I have to snub on the way over?”

“Ha ha!”

Then, a sudden thought struck me, one more terrifying than all my other worries. “What am I supposed to wear? I keep having these Pretty Woman flashbacks, and that—”