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

“It’s really all about perception,” he answered evasively.

“Perception?”

“Yes. It’s been brought to my attention that I have a bit of a reputation that works against me. I need to appear...stable.”

A bit of a reputation? Yeah, well, that’s a bit of an understatement, mister!

“Stable, huh?” I glanced briefly through the open door, and my eyes flicked from the half-assembled motorcycle in the living room, to the collection of Persian street knives mounted in the parlor, to the life-sized replica of Da Vinci’s human wings, waiting to take flight in the corner. “In that case, you had better keep them away from this apartment.”

James ignored the joke and shifted uneasily in his chair. “The thing is, I don’t just need to look stable. I need to be stable, with a permanent home, regular activities.” He paused suddenly, his eyes flashing uncertainly to mine. “A steady girlfriend wouldn’t hurt either.”

For a second, the pause button was pushed on the whole world again. Even the birds stopped singing.

Then, with a look of quiet resignation, I pushed to my feet. “I understand.” Without another word, I headed inside, leaving him on the balcony without a backward glance. “Just give me a minute to pack my things.”

James stood and stared after me with a horrified mixture of confusion and shock that I could feel even without looking at him. For a second, he seemed completely incapable of speech, until he rushed after me with all the intent of an NFL linebacker trying to sack a quarterback. “Della, wait! What are you—”

“A steady girlfriend of a certain pedigree, right?” I flashed a wry smile over my shoulder as I snatched my purse from the side table. “I’m sure an American transplant, a yank of lowly estate, won’t do, will it? Especially an employee at your company, a member of the working class.”

He raced behind me like a rebellious shadow, pulling everything out of my hands as I picked it up to leave. “No! I wasn’t saying that at all. I was talking about—”

“And a brunette at that. Not a blonde.” I shook my mop sadly. “That’s just pouring salt in the wound.”

At that point, he seemed to realize I was messing with him, because his frantic efforts to stop me came to a hesitant pause, and he lowered his hands and took a cautious step back. “You’re just... You’re not...” he stammered.

In the next second, I was flying through the air, brandishing a beaming grin as I tackled him. He released a soft gasp as he caught me, but my bag slammed into his legs at full force, sending both of us tumbling to the floor.

“It’s about time,” I said, pinning his wrists to the floorboards as I pressed a mischievous kiss against his lips. “I’ve been waiting for quite a while.”

“Have you now?” His eyes twinkled as he gazed up at me. “My apologies.”

I tightened my grip, imprisoning his arms above his head as my legs tightened slowly around his waist. He stiffened automatically beneath me, and without breaking eye contact, I reached down and started to unzip his pants, wearing that same playful smile.

“Ferdie!” he called. “I think you should take a break for a bit.”

“Please,” I echoed, remembering my manners. “Please and thank you, Ferdie!”

There was a disgruntled huff from the kitchen, followed by what sounded like a muttered tirade against the reckless sexual abandonment of Generation Y. A metallic dinging sounded from the elevator, and a second later, he was gone.

“Please and thank you?” James repeated with a smile, still staring up at me with an insatiable hunger as my dress fell down to my waist. “You surprise me.”

His hands lifted to touch me, but I captured them firmly above his head. “Manners, James,” I reminded him, then punctuated that with another kiss. “Those are two words I promise you’ll be saying a lot more of in the hours to come. Is that understood?”

His body shook with silent laughter beneath me, his eyes sparkling in the light as he bit down on his lip to restrain a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Then, without another word, I ripped off his belt and looped it expertly around his wrists, doing my best to conjure up some fun with his stuffy work attire. “In that case, let’s begin.”

A second later, his pants were around his ankles, and my dress was on the floor.

“Delilah Jones, I do believe we’ll make an English lady out of you yet.”

“Not so fast, Prince Cross. I don’t intend to be ladylike for quite some time,” I teased.

Chapter 9

WE WENT TO THE FUNERAL and laid James’s father to rest. Abby and Nick were so supportive. Nick told him how his dad was like a second dad to him. James held the tears back that I know he wanted to cascade down his cheeks. I saw Madison and other people from the office there to show their support. Robert even showed up, but kept his distance from James. When we were off on our own, James softly sang one of his dad’s favorite songs as he stared out, looking at the blue sky and pretty trees.

“That was beautiful,” I said.