Taming The Bad Boy Billionaire Box Set 1 (Taming The Bad Boy Billionaire 1-3) - Page 88

“You’re not simply impersonating my driver, are you

? You know, at some point, we’ll either have to park or refuel. That sarcasm counts as a joke, by the way.”

He chuckled, taking the same left turn he’d taken a dozen times before.

“You’re certainly impatient, considering where you’re going and all. I would have thought you’d be dying to stall.”

A host of sudden nerves tightened my stomach, but at the same time, I sensed a golden opportunity.

“Yeah, well...I’ve kind of come round to it—if you know what I mean.” I folded my arms on top of the glass, trying to look as innocent as possible. “What about you, Bobby? How do you feel about it? Will you be coming inside as well?”

He needed only to glance at my face, to figure out my plan.

“I don’t think so!” He chuckled again. “If Nick wanted it to be a surprise, then I’m damn sure keeping it that way. I know better than to mess with his plans.”

“But Bob,” I whined, draping my arms entreatingly over the glass, “that’s the point—you do know Nick’s plans. He’s fucking crazy! You have to give me some kind of clue as to what I’m walking into here.”

“Nope. Not a chance.”

He was firm, but I’d been reprogrammed by the PR mavens who came before me, so that I was literally incapable of knowing how to back down.

“Is it a concert? A Turkish dance class? Oh my gosh—it’s not another naked art show, is it? Because I honestly don’t know if I can handle seeing even one more pair of—”

“We’re here.”

Before I could even work myself up into a rant, the limo pulled to the side of the curb and a valet immediately opened the door. It was only then that I realized why we’d taken such a nonsensical route getting there. Half the city had apparently been re-routed to this giant stadium.

It was the cream of the crop in terms of New York’s finest. Actors, athletes, politicians, rock stars. There were a couple foreign dignitaries thrown in, but to be honest, I was having trouble making out specific faces given the fact that they were literally bathed in camera-light.

One thing was certain: it was Nick’s crowd. No two ways about it. And dress or no dress, I suddenly couldn’t have felt more out of place.

“Take me home, Bobby,” I whispered, cringing back into the seat. “I shouldn’t be here.”

When the valet offered out his hand, I resisted the urge to hiss.

Bobby twisted around again, looking at me in surprise. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re Abigail-fucking-Wilder. Go knock’em dead, kid!”

The sudden burst of enthusiasm brought a reluctant smile to my lips, but it did absolutely nothing to calm me down. If I’d thought the press had been bad at the airport, it was literally nothing compared to what was waiting just outside. It was a world of blue again. No escape, no end in sight. And more importantly...no white knight this time to sweep me off my feet.

“That’s sweet, but I’m serious Bob.” I scooted all the way back into the leather, casting a hopeful glance through the partition. “Maybe we can just go once more around the block? Let me get my bearings a little? Or twice—you know! Why limit ourselves?”

I waved off the valet, and shut the door once more. Vehemently supporting my plan even as I suggested it.

“Yes—that’s what we’ll do. We’ll just circle the city another two times, and see how we feel then. With any luck, this cursed event will be over by the time we get back—and we can just head on home. Tell Nick we got stuck in traffic. Come to think of it,” I pulled out my phone to begin texting him my excuse, “I still haven’t figured out what’s even going on out there. You’d think it was some kind of inauguration judging by the crowd—”

The door flew open and a rush of cool air spilled in. I dropped my phone with a guilty shriek, then caught my breath as the most beautiful man in the world stuck his head inside.

“Stuck in traffic, huh?” Nick flashed me a sparkling smile as he slipped his own phone back into his pocket. “Given that information, you seem to have made it here in record time.”

It was then that he seemed to actually notice me for the first time.

He did so in increments, starting with my shoes and working his way up my long legs all the way to my eyes. He lingered there for a moment, mouth slightly ajar, before his eyes slipped back down to my coat—dilating with intensity, as if he could see what was underneath.

“You look...”

I held my breath, as he searched for the right word.

“...cold.”

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