The Billionaire's Desire (A Billionaire BWWM Steamy Romance) (25 page)

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I hung
up the phone and instantly regretted my weakness. I should have never agreed to
see him.

"He
has a right to know," I told my sour looking reflection. "It's only
fair."

I
dressed carefully, down to my shoes, closing the strap around my ankle. Soon I
wouldn't be able to wear shoes like this, I mused. I had better make the most
of it now.

The
knock on my door came more quickly than I realized. For a moment I felt
embarrassed to let him see my tiny studio. He had a French chateau for heaven's
sake, my whole apartment could probably fit into his smallest bathroom.

But
then I told myself to shut the hell up. I was proud of what I had accomplished
and being able to rent a studio on my own as a student was a fucking accomplishment.
I refused to be embarrassed.

But
when I opened my front door, my cheeks flamed all the same. Zachary Kingsley
just looked insanely out of place in the cramped, poorly lit landing outside of
my door. His broad shoulders nearly brushed against the wall on either side of
him, and the gorgeous cut of his suit was entirely at odds with the slumped and
bowed walls that surrounded him. He looked like the most solid thing in the
building.

Zach's
eyes darted past mine and swept over the inside of my apartment. He was curious
about me, I realized with a start. Those quick, discerning eyes were taking
everything in, disseminating it and filing it away for future use. For a moment
I wondered if there was something he saw in there that would inspire his next collection.
In that moment, I could almost let myself relax.

But I
couldn't relax, not yet. This wasn't a date, I reminded myself. No matter how
elegant he looked in his suit. No matter how carefully I had chosen my clothes.
This was the last time I would see him before I said goodbye forever.

If only
I could make my skipping
heartbeat believe
that.

"Hi
Kia," he said softly, clasping his hands firmly behind his back.
He doesn't want to risk touching me
I
realized. I was both sad and grateful.

"Hello
Zach." My voice was calm, but if he put his hand on my neck, he would be
able to feel my pulse fluttering like a hummingbird.

"Do
you have a jacket? I thought we could walk."

That
startled me. I imagined slipping into the back of his car, the driver at attention.
Walking next to Zach, having to see the way he moved....

I
wasn't sure I was strong enough to resist that.

He
nodded as I pulled my favorite lined blazer from the wall. "Another of
your creations?" he said approvingly.

I
looked at him, slightly startled. "Yes," I said, brushing my hand
over the wool crepe. "It's a little warm for today but..."

"But
the drape of it really works with the collar of your dress," he finished.

I
paused and looked down. "It really does," I murmured. I hadn't
realized that when I was reaching for it out of habit. But Zach's eye, that
celebrated unerring eye, had seen right away that those two pieces just
went together
.

"You
have a gift, Kia," he murmured.

Suddenly
he was too close to me. His nearness threatened to overwhelm me. I darted past
him, slamming my door shut and nearly stumbling up the stairs to street level.
I needed cool air before his body heat melted me from the inside out.

It was
Friday night, and the crush of people out on the sidewalk nearly lifted me from
my feet. For one desperate moment it was a repeat of my first day at Kingsley
all over again. I pinwheeled my arms wildly, trying not to fall over.

And
then suddenly my forward momentum stopped. Zach looked me full in the eye as he
gently steadied me. I took a deep breath, ready to thank him, but my words died
away when my eyes fell on his lips.

Everything
in my body yearned toward him at once. The need to kiss him, the hunger that I
had been denying since the day I left Kingsley, was suddenly undeniable. I
caught myself craning my neck, lifting my lips to his.

"Ah,
thanks...," I sputtered, pulling back before I did any more permanent
damage.

Zach's
face fell, but he composed himself quickly. "No problem," he said,
more gently than I had ever heard him speak. He pressed his hand to the small
of my back, guiding me in the direction of the restaurant. I waited for him to
drop his hand back down again once he had turned me the right way.

But
then he didn't.

I
swallowed hard as he guided me, swiftly and safely through the crowd. They
parted around him like he was Moses at the Red Sea, and all around us I saw
women's heads turn when they saw Zachary. I saw frank desire on their faces and
frank envy when they saw him touching me.
 
I smiled and tossed my head, forgetting for a moment how complicated
everything had become and just relishing the pride that came with being squired
about town by a gorgeous man.

Because
Zach was gorgeous.
 
In my
self-imposed hiatus, I had somehow managed to convince myself that he wasn't as
incredible as my memory insisted. But now that I was next to him again, with my
eyes free to wander over his tall, broad frame, taking in the incredible
cheekbones, the squareness of his jaw, the long, straight nose,
those
incredibly soft lips....

 
I caught our reflection in the
plateglass windows of the storefronts we passed and I couldn't deny that we
made a good-looking couple; with his dark hair falling in waves that were
slightly too long and rumpled, his white skin contrasting with my black.
 
In fact, with his sharply cut suit and
my one of a kind wardrobe, we actually wouldn't look all that out of place in a
fashion spread...that is, if things were somehow completely different.

The
absurdity of my situation suddenly overwhelmed me. Try as I might, I could not
suppress the frantic giggle that bubbled up between my lips.

"What
are you laughing about?" he asked as he scanned traffic to guide us safely
across the street.
 

"I
don't even know," I confessed. "Sorry."

He
shot me a sharp look. "No, tell me, please."

I
swallowed, grateful for the distraction of traffic. "It's nothing. This is
just funny, that's all. I, uh, I pictured us moving quickly through traffic in
one of your cars or something. Like all private and discreet. But instead I
feel like you're parading me around like you
want
to be seen with me."

I
giggled again but my laughter died away when he stopped and turned to me.

"Why
wouldn't I want to be seen with you?"

"No
reason," I demurred.

Zach
gripped my arm, hard. "Answer me, Nakia. Why in the world would you think
I wouldn't want to be seen with you?"

I
tried to explain but the words wouldn't come. I was reduced to just gesturing
helplessly at his suit, his shoes...at
him.

He
shook his head, his lips pressed together angrily. "Yes, I want to be seen
with you, and that's why I chose this place for dinner," he said,
gesturing to the doors in front of us. "We're going to sit down and enjoy
a meal together like we should have from the very start."

He
turned to the door, opening it with such a flourish that I giggled again in
spite of his harsh words.

But
that smile died away from my lips the minute I walked into the restaurant - if
the restaurant was truly the right word for such a place.
 
It looked more like a palace. White gloved
waiters swished past silently as a fountain burbled quietly in the very center
of the vast expanse. Each seated couple was more gorgeous than the last,
nibbling delicately at beautiful plates of artfully placed food.

I
felt completely out of place. That is until Zach swooped in and took my arm
again. "I love this place," he grinned looking around like it was
nothing more than a neighborhood dive bar.

I
exhaled nervously. "How often do you come here?"

He
pointed upward. "I'm living upstairs," he grinned. "Coming down
here is like walking into the kitchen."

I
shook my head, baffled at how different our lives were. If this place was his
kitchen, then I couldn't help but laugh about what he thought of as his closet.
It certainly wouldn’t be some three foot by two foot deep affair behind a
mirrored folding door that never stayed on its track…

Zach
quickly guided me over to a table in a little alcove up on a raised platform.
He pulled out the chair and gestured for me to sit down.

I
smoothed my skirt over my hips and allowed him to push the chair forward. I
felt like we were on display over here, like everyone was looking to see who
the power couple was that took the best seat in the house. Once more I saw
several women look enviously at Zach and then me and then back to Zach again.

He
sat down like he owned the place, throwing a confident arm back over the back
of his sumptuous chair. "Good evening Neil," he smiled at the smooth,
unctuous waiter that appeared silently at his elbow.

"So
nice to see you again, Mister Kinglsey, sir," Neil replied. "Will you
be needing menus this evening?"

"Let's
leave it up to Gerard tonight."

"A
wise choice sir," Neil gave a slight bow at the waist, then disappeared
for a moment, reappearing with spindly looking glasses of clear liquid that he
placed in front of us on the table. Then he disappeared again in one fluid
motion.

I
reached for the glass, marveling at how light and fine it was in my hands. It
was so delicate that I was afraid it would snap in half in my fingers.

Then
I lifted it to my nose and grimaced. Alcohol.

I couldn't drink. Gingerly, I
set the glass back down again, trying to ignore how Zach's eyes bored into me.

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The
cocktails Neil brought out were some of my absolute favorites. I was already
lifting my glass for a toast when I saw Kia sniff and grimace, setting the
stemware down delicately like she was afraid it would burst in her hands. And
once more I was filled with the regret of assuming I knew anything about her.
Maybe she didn't drink at all?

I
took a deep breath and reached across the table, letting my hand rest over
hers. My thumb traced the line of her wrist, strong and sure, but somehow delicate
too. I loved her hands, how capable they were with a needle, how finely tuned
they were. I could feel the weight of all that was unsaid between us bearing
down on my shoulders. I needed to do this right. "I'm sorry, Nakia,"
I began.

Her
warm brown eyes snapped up at me, instantly defensive. "Why are you
sorry?" she asked, with more vehemence than I was expecting.

I
moved my other hand to envelope hers and lifted it to my lips. She inhaled
sharply as I kissed her fingertips delicately before setting her hand hack
down. "I should have done this first," I explained, gesturing to the
restaurant, the fancy silverware,
the
hushed
conversation. "Taking you out. On an actual date. Where we could talk
about something other than the Winxching account."

Her
lovely soft lips curled into a smile, and I saw her shoulders relax slightly.
She reached over, sipping her water, consciously avoiding the cocktail.
"This is nice," she murmured, her voice thick with something unsaid.

"I
mean it," I told her, leaning back. "I fucked things up, I know I
did. I know I put too much pressure on you. I should have known it was too
much."

"You
didn't," she interjected vehemently, squaring her shoulders and looking me
right in the eye. "I knew what I was getting into, Zach. I knew what I was
doing and I was
good
at it."

"You
were...," I tried to interject, but she slipped her hand out from mine and
held it up, silencing me with a raised eyebrow.

"No,
I am. You don't have to build me up. I have endured a lot harder things than
working for you."

I
felt chastened. "Like what?" I asked her. When I saw the skepticism
in her face, I leaned forward. "No, Kia, I want to know. Tell me about
yourself. I want to know everything."

Her
lips parted slightly. "You do?"

"More
than anything." When I said that, I knew I was speaking the truth.

When
she opened her mouth again, the torrent of words poured out and I knew I was
finally seeing the real Kia,
my
Kia,
for the first time. She spoke of being raised by her mother all alone, the two
of them a team from the very beginning. She talked about her mother's
struggles, the nights she went to bed with no supper so that Kia could eat. She
teared up slightly when she spoke of her mother's diagnosis and the nights Kia
sat up with her, holding her hand to help her mother sleep as the pain wracked
her body. Then she recovered herself and talked about how her mother had taught
her to sew, to alter her clothes so they would fit and flatter her body. About
the shoes I had noticed, those little luxuries both women shared. About how
they pinched her toes because they were the wrong size but she would never stop
wearing them.

Then
she sat back, her words spent. As I looked at her shyly playing with her
napkin, she was suddenly more beautiful, more radiant than I had ever seen her
before. "Thank you," I exhaled.

She
lifted her eyes a little, peering at me through the dark fringe of her lashes.
"I just chewed your ear off," she smiled. "And you're thanking
me?"

When
I leaned forward to grab her hand again, this time she leaned forward too.
Whatever I was feeling for her there in the soft candlelight, the magic of her
words, of having her open up to me, it caught me up so completely that for once
I didn't consider my words before I said them. "Let's start from here,"
I declared, raising my glass. "The past is behind us, let's start over
again. A toast," I told her, lifting the cocktail glass, "to
us."

I
expected her to smile, to laugh, to show her pearly white teeth so perfect
against her caramel skin. I definitely didn't expect her face to slam shut on
me, all of the openness and trust draining out while she stared at me in shock
and fear. "I can't drink," she blurted.

"Why
not?" I pressed. I was feeling expansive. I wanted her to share in my
delight.

"I
just can't."

"Are
you too young or something?" I smiled at her, teasing. "I promise, I
won't tell."

"No
Zach."

"You
really won't have a drink with me?"

"I
can't."

"Could
you at least tell me why?"

"Because!"
her eyes snapped and I saw the color flare on her cheeks as she slammed her
napkin down and stood up, her chair screeching across the floor. "I'm
pregnant," she hissed, low. "I can't drink because I'm pregnant. And
it's yours."

She
turned on her heel and stalked towards the door.