Millionaire's Woman

Still, he couldn’t help feeling a niggling annoyance, as he sat through the second half of the concert, that she would assume that women were interested in him only because of his money.

Chapter Five

Garek took Ellie to a French restaurant the following week. The tuxedoed waiter seated them in the atrium, a secluded area lit by candles, decorated with flowers and featuring a magnificent view of the city skyline. The decor was elegant, the clientele exclusive and the prices exorbitant.

Naturally, Ellie thought wryly as she ate wild Atlantic salmon and Alsacestyle cabbage and listened to Garek explain a few details of the art foundation. He was obviously used to the best. Which boded well for the foundation. He would make it a success, she was positive. She should be deliriously happy. And she would be, if it weren’t for one thing. Him.

She looked at the hard angles of his face, listened to the authority in his voice as he recited facts and figures. He had the kind of self-confidence that came from knowing he could make his own way in the world without out help from anybody. She might have admired the trait, envied it, even—if she hadn’t met his ex-girlfriend. It was hard to envy a man who’d been involved with a woman whose eyes were as cold and calculating as Amber Bellair’s.

“Any questions?” he asked as the waiter set plates of chocolate-raspberry torte in front of them.

A million, she thought, glancing away from his strong features. Were all the women he knew like Amber Bellair? Did they all look at him like an investor assessing a potentially profitable enterprise? Were they all like painted photographs, flat and artificial?

“No,” she said, fiddling with her fork.

“I received the assistant’s report. She said you’ve been extremely busy this last week.”

Ellie nodded. Preparing for the silent auction and the show took a lot of time. She’d been able to quit her housecleaning jobs since Garek was paying her a generous salary—almost too generous. She couldn’t quite shake the suspicion that he had some ulterior motive. But although she’d tried several times to question him, he remained evasive. He wasn’t one to reveal a lot about himself.

“Would you like to go over the budget figures?” he asked.

“No, thank you.”

His eyebrows rose.

“I’ve always preferred art and music to math, ”she felt compelled to say. “Balance sheets give me a headache.”

“Didn’t you say Martina was studying business?” he asked. “Perhaps she could go over the numbers for you.”

He’d met her cousin when he’d picked Ellie up earlier that evening, and they’d seemed to hit it off immediately. Martina had tossed her mane of long dark hair and smiled flirtatiously at Garek while Ellie got her coat. “You better snap him up quick, El,” Martina had whispered in her ear before they left, “or someone else will. If only I didn’t have a boyfriend!”

Ellie picked up her fork. “That’s really not necessary,” she murmured to Garek before taking a bite of the torte.

“You think she won’t be able to understand it?”

Ellie bristled immediately. “I’m sure she would. She’s graduating in June, a year early. She’s absolutely brilliant.”

“Is that so?” His mouth curved upward at her defense of Martina, but he didn’t pursue the subject of the budget. “Martina said you’re from Philadelphia,” he said instead.

“Did she?” What else had her cousin said? Ellie wondered uneasily.

“Do your parents still live there?”

“They died in a car accident when I was thirteen.”

She said it matter-of-factly, but the long-ago loss still had the power to cause a dull ache in her heart.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That must have been difficult for you.”

She turned away from his steady gaze and looked out the window at the city lights sparkling in the cold, dark night. She didn’t want him to be sympathetic. “Fortunately, I had relatives who took me in.” She looked back at Garek and forced herself to smile. “What about your family?”

“My father died of a heart attack eight years ago. My mother remarried and moved to Florida a few years later. I rarely see her. There’s just my sister and me. And my fifteen-year-old niece.”

Her breath caught. Even less did she want to feel sympathy for him. But it was impossible not to. He recited the facts as unemotionally as she had, but she knew only too well how pain could be hidden under a facade.

“Are you close to your niece and sister?” she asked, resisting a foolish urge to reach across the table and touch his hand.

He shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of time. Work keeps me busy.”