The Billionaire's Secret (4 page)

After some time she noticed three gentlemen
staring at them. She recognized them from the pictures. They were
the top three on her donation target list. Number one was Ross
Whitman. He appeared to be the more serious of the three. Next to
him stood the second on her list, Trent Davis. And finally number
three: Drew Navarro. Something about his smile said he was enjoying
this more than the others. Every so often Drew or Trent would look
at Jon and her, smile, say something to the other men, and then
they would all laugh. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she felt
like they were talking about her. The more she tried to ignore
them, the more obvious their interest in her became. If Jon
noticed, he didn’t let it show. It was getting difficult to stay
focused on what she was she was telling him. Oh, how she wished she
knew what they found so funny. And then, as if on cue, all three
men were walking toward them. It appeared she would have her answer
soon.

Jon never took his eyes off her as the
gentlemen approached. There was a brief silence before the tallest
of the three, Trent Davis, spoke. “Jon, aren’t you going to
introduce us to your friend?”

He put a protective hand on the small of her
back and pulled her slightly closer. She had to admit, it felt
good, natural. “Miss Burke, may I introduce you to Trent Davis,
Drew Navarro, and Ross Whitman. Gentlemen, this is Miss Burke.” She
exchanged handshakes with both Ross and Drew. Trent, however,
raised her hand to his lips and placed a light kiss on it. “The
pleasure is all mine, Miss Burke.” His eyes never left hers as he
did so.

Oh, yes, he thinks he is so charming.
Some women may have found his attentions flattering or sexy, but
she found them unnerving. Lizette pulled her hand back. She
couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if Jon’s expression had changed
as well since their arrival. His eyes had darkened, his jaw was
tense, and his hand seemed to have taken on a possessive hold on
her back.

From their casual conversation, she found it
difficult to tell if they were friends or not. They all appeared to
be close in age.
Maybe they know each other from college
.
Either way, she could feel Jon’s muscles stiffen each time Trent
spoke directly to her. She had to admit she was impressed that Jon
was not intimidated by their wealth or power. She wished some of
his confidence would rub off on her. She could see Jon out of the
corner of her eye. Everything about him in that moment screamed,
“Don’t fuck with me.” Most men would have taken the hint and
excused themselves, but Jon’s demeanor only seemed to encourage
Trent more. Ross seemed to have noticed the tension building and
said, “Okay, Trent, I think we’ve worn out our welcome here.”
Turning to Lizette, he said, “Miss Burke, it was a pleasure meeting
you and I hope to see you again. Please enjoy the rest of your
evening.”

“Thank you, Mr. Whitman, you also,” she
responded.

Though the men had only been with them for a
few moments, it had been long enough to break the ease of
conversation she and Jon had been sharing before. They stood
quietly as the gentlemen walked away, still laughing. She thought
she heard Trent say, “Fifty to yours, Drew, if you can pull that
one off.” Ross was shaking his head. Drew looked right at her,
smiled, and said, “I’ll take that bet.” Then he and Trent shook
hands before they disappeared into the crowd. Trent seemed to be
exactly what she had thought: an arrogant ass. She hoped he wasn’t
Jon’s boss because she was sure someone like him would never donate
to Another Chance.

Damn
,
I forgot to ask them for a
donation!
What a missed opportunity. But there was no way was
she going to search them out and have another encounter with Trent
again if she could avoid it. Somehow she would have to work harder
on the remaining twelve on her list. As she turned back to Jon they
were once again interrupted. This time it was it was by the woman
who had greeted her at the door earlier.

“Miss Burke, are you enjoying yourself?” she
asked.

“Yes, very much so. Thank you.” What amazed
her was, it was true. She was enjoying her evening—well, most of
it, at least.

“Wonderful,” she said to Lizette before
turning to Jon. “Mr. Vinchi, I hate to interrupt. However, Mr.
Scott asked that we go over the preliminaries so you’re set for the
raffle tonight.” Turning back to Lizette she asked, “Would you mind
if I borrowed him for a while?”

“No, of course not,” Lizette answered.
Turning to Jon, she said, “I’m sorry, Jon, time seems to have
gotten away from me. I didn’t mean to pull you away from your
duties for so long. You have been so gracious keeping me company
and listening to me ramble.” As she walked away from the table, she
thought,
I hope he is not in trouble for spending so much time
with me.

Great.
As Jon walked away, Lizette
realized she’d been mistaken again. First she’d thought he was a
“Who’s Who,” then she had thought his boss had sent him as Elaine
had her. But now it seemed he worked for the event chairman, Mr.
Scott. Lizette watched as the woman pointed to the stage and gave
Jon instructions. She could tell by his expression he didn’t like
what he was hearing. The more the woman spoke, the tenser he
looked. Jon nodded a few times, then the woman rose and left the
table. Jon sat alone for a moment before also rising. He did not
follow her. Instead he walked in the direction of the stage.
Something seemed wrong. Oh, God, she would feel so bad if he was in
trouble or, worse, fired for neglecting his duties because of her.
She had to fix this.

As the woman approached, Lizette asked,
“Excuse me. May I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course, Miss Burke. What can I do for
you?”

“Mr. Vinchi wasn’t neglecting his duties.
See, I was nervous, with this being my first time at an event such
as this, and Mr. Vinchi was kind enough to spend time with me so I
would feel more comfortable. Please don’t hold that against him.
This was purely my fault. I am sure he will prove to be invaluable
to this event if given the chance,” she said as she pled her
case.

“Mr. Vinchi?” the woman said questioningly.
Then, with a smile on her lips she said, “Miss Burke, I have no
doubt Mr. Vinchi will prove to be invaluable to this event, and
hopefully more events in the future.” With that the woman turned,
still smiling, and continued on her way. Lizette felt she had at
least made her point. Jon would not lose his job. Somehow that gave
her peace.

She spent the rest of the evening doing
exactly as Elaine had requested. She mingled with the people on her
list—well, most of them—and talked about Another Chance. She felt
confident she had accurately presented the plight of both Another
Chance and the community it served. No one had requested a business
card from her as Jon had, but she had handed them out anyway. When
she wanted to withdraw and hide, she remembered it wasn’t only the
company on the line and all who worked there, but all those in the
community who would suffer if she wasn’t successful. Funny—when she
thought of that, she found herself able to face challenges she
normally would have shied from.

Lizette found a waiter and finally was able
to slowly sip a drink and exhale. The evening was coming to an end.
Though she did not have a purse full of donations to bring back to
the office, she could only hope someone would reach out to Another
Chance after the event.

Now she could relax, but before leaving she
had hoped to see Jon again. She searched the crowd and found Ross,
Drew, and Trent engaged in deep conversation, but no Jon. He seemed
to have vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
He must be in
the back assisting with the raffle,
she thought.

Looking at her watch, she could not believe
how much time had passed. It had been a long evening. Now Mr. Scott
was speaking. “Thank you all for your generous donations, for the
hard work of the participants who have made it all possible . .
.”

Lizette tried to focus on his speech, but
she was thinking of Jon. She wanted to see him one more time. She
hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye and, since she had no plans to
ever attend an event like this one again, she knew this would be
her last chance to see him.

The chairman was announcing the raffle
winners. “And the third-prize winner is . . .”

Blah blah blah,
she thought as the
chairman announced the second prize and the winner. None were
important to her at this moment. It was obvious her chance to see
Jon again had slipped away. There was nothing left to do but go
home. She placed her empty champagne glass on a passing tray and
began making her way to the exit.

The crowd became quiet as the chairman
announced the grand prize. “And the moment I am sure all you ladies
have been waiting for. Which one of you will be lucky enough to win
the Date of Your Dreams with this eligible, handsome billionaire
bachelor today?”

Without pausing to turn around, Lizette
thought,
What?
Imagine the man so full of himself he
would let himself be raffled off.
Shaking her head, she
answered herself:
Trent Davis, most likely.
She almost
laughed when she heard the same excited tone that would arise at
the local meat raffles back home when they were about to announce
the winner of prime rib cuts. She could hear women hooting and
hollering like schoolgirls.
Really? Who would want a prize like
that? Disgusting!
She shivered at the thought. You would never
catch her acting so foolishly over a man she didn’t even know.

As she reached the exit, Lizette turned one
last time and scanned the crowd, hoping by chance Jon would be
searching for her too. She didn’t fully understand why, but
something inside her was drawn to him, yearned to see him again, in
a way she had never felt before. He somehow had the power to ignite
what no one else could. Yes, he was good-looking—extremely
attractive, if she was being honest with herself. But there was
something more, something you read about in a romance novel, a
unique chemistry that was undeniable.

But her search for him was turning up
fruitless. And it was obvious he wasn’t out there looking for her.
Maybe what she thought had transpired between them had only been
felt by her. That thought gave her an empty feeling in the pit of
her stomach. “I need to get out of here,” she said softly.

She pulled open the door to the exit but
then paused. The room had suddenly fallen silent—so silent she
could hear her own thoughts for the first time that evening. Then
once again she heard the chairman’s voice: “And the grand prize
winner is . . . Miss Lizette Burke.”

She stopped in her tracks by what she
thought was her name being called.
Impossible,
she
thought.

After a short pause, the chairman repeated
himself with excitement and enthusiasm reserved for the greatest
prize a person could win. “Miss Lizette Burke, you are the lucky
winner of the Date of Your Dreams with Mr. Jonathan Vinchi! Come on
up and claim your prize!”

Oh, my God!
she screamed inside.
Jonathan? Jon? He was the most eligible bachelor? It was
impossible.
Billionaire? Jon is a billionaire?
It could not
be. Despite her earlier intention not to feed into the frenzy
surrounding the raffle, she needed to confirm what she’d heard was
not a mistake. Everything within her prayed it was.

Lizette turned toward the stage across the
room. Even from this distance, the truth was apparent. Jon stood
next to Mr. Scott as cameras flashed. Why hadn’t he told her? Why
had he lied and told her he was here on business? She felt foolish
for thinking he’d enjoyed the time they’d spent together. He was
probably only humoring her, showing her pity for being so awkward
and uncomfortable in his environment. He was nothing like her; he
was one of them, the elite. That knowledge brought what had been a
wonderful evening for her to a crashing halt. How could she not
have known, not made the connection? Her initial reaction told her
he was powerful; why hadn’t she listened to herself? And to add
insult to injury, she had just won him in a raffle. Could this
night get any worse? She wasn’t going to wait to find out. One
thing she knew, there was no way was she going to walk back into
the main hall and claim her prize. Let them call another name,
someone who actually wanted to see Mr. Vinchi. Right now all she
wanted to do was go home and forget all about tonight, forget all
about him. If she never saw him again it would be too soon.
Angrily, she turned and exited the building.

The coolness of the night air offered little
relief from the anger that boiled within her. As she stepped into
the limo, Lizette felt like Cinderella when her coach turned back
into a pumpkin. The limo pulled away, leaving behind the sweet
dream of what might have been.

The room fell quiet except for the
orchestra, which now played a soft love song. They glided across
the floor as though they had been dancing together for years, one
of her hands on his shoulder and one of his on the small of her
back. As the dance continued, she moved closer to him, so close
their bodies now felt as one. His hand gently stroked her back as
the dance slowed and they stopped, standing still and holding each
other. Neither of them looked away as she traced her lips with the
tip of her tongue. She felt him take a deep breath and his hands
twitched against the bare skin of her back. She raised her right
hand to the thin shoulder strap of her red gown. Without breaking
their gaze, she hooked it on her thumb and slowly slid it off her
shoulder. Tipping her head to the left and arching her back, she
offered her neck for the taking. He did not disappoint. She sucked
in her breath as his lips touched her for the first time. A soft
moan escaped her lips as he pulled her hard against him. Her hips
pressed tightly against his hard bulge. She could feel the heat
through his pants. There was no denying it: He wanted her as much
as she wanted him. His lips now trailed kisses across her jaw, then
her neck. Wanting more, she pulled the strap down even farther
until it revealed her bare breast. His lips eagerly replaced what
the fabric once covered. His kisses continued from her neck to her
breast to rest upon her nipple. He gently traced it with his
tongue, licking and sucking until her legs began to quake. Only the
support of his strong hands kept her standing. Loving what his lips
were doing, she wanted even more. Her left thumb unhooked her
dress’s other strap, revealing both breasts. His hands cupped them
possessively, eagerly, bringing her to the brink of climax as his
tongue began to trace its way lower. He removed his hands from her
breasts to grasp the gown that now hung loosely around her full
hips. In one fluid movement he slid it to the floor, leaving her
standing in front of him in, wearing only her lace panties. Hands
on her hips, he pulled her closer as his tongue quickly made its
way to the only barrier left between them. He slipped a finger
inside her panties and stroked her, slowly at first, then circling
her clit, bringing her over the edge as she began a shuddering
climax. She wanted more as she pulled him closer. As she did, the
music that had been playing changed. It became louder, more
annoying . . . like a buzzing . . . or a beeping . . . so
distracting . . .