The Heir & I: Taming The Billionaire (24 page)

“
Unbelievable,” I said. And boy, did I ever mean it.

Leslie, totally misunderstanding the bitter irony that lie just beyond my words, beamed brightly as he considered this response.

“
I know, isn’t it?” he asked, adding with a shrug, “Mom always told me I should have skipped the military and business school, opting instead to become a poet and balladeer.”

Without further hesitation he plopped the tissued mystery gift squarely at the center of my desk; gesturing for me to open my present as he kept close, careful watch.

Heaving a sigh of deep resignation, I peeled away the tissue until my gift was revealed before my disbelieving eyes.

I gasped in spite of myself as these efforts unveiled a radiant crystal rose; an exquisite jewel that caught the light and shimmered in all its beautiful, luminous glory.

“
Beautiful,” I breathed, basking for just a moment in the vision of the rose.

Leslie nodded.

“
So you like it?” he asked, tone cautious and hopeful.

Tearing my gaze away from my shiny, glittery gift, I stared my messenger straight in the eyes and said, “I love it, Leslie—just as I’ve loved every single flashy, expensive gift Oliver has ever given me. But while he showered me with jewels and clothes, dinners and theater tickets, he never gave me the gifts I wanted the most.”

Leslie thought a moment, then shrugged.

“
Well just tell us what you want,” he urged me. “A necklace? A gown? Heck, with his bank account the boss probably could even foot a boat or a car…”

“
Stop it!” I interrupted him, jumping to my feet as I added, “Just stop it, and advise your boss to do the same thing. The truth is, Leslie, that the things I need don’t carry a price tag. Love. Genuine caring. Respect. Those are the things I most needed from Oliver. It was these same things he just could not provide.”

Leslie sighed.

“
This probably isn’t my place to say this, Ma’am, but don’t you think you’re being a bit tough on our boss?” he implored. “I mean, I know that I’ve just met the man, but he seems nice and sincere enough.”

I nodded.

“
Oh he’s plenty nice,” I agreed, adding as I rolled my eyes heavenward, “To every woman he meets—that is, if you can classify those overdone bimbos he dates as actual, honest to God women. And while he may be sincere to a certain extent, he certainly didn’t hesitate to deceive his own father about our involvement.”

Les shook his head.

“
Well I don’t know anything about all of that,” he admitted, adding as he spread his arms expressively before him, “And like I said, Lily, I probably don’t know Oliver quite as well as you do—a good thing, considering the fact that we’re both painfully heterosexual males.” He paused here, adding in a lower, more serious tone, “I’m also a pretty intelligent male, and I can see when a man is in love.”

I froze a moment, considering these words as my gaze again rested on my admittedly stunning jeweled gift.

Finally, though, I stood from my desk with the rose in my hand, holding it with definite intent over my waste can; one conveniently located just next to my work station.

“
I’m not altogether sure that Mr. Oliver Clark knows the meaning of the word love,” I declared. “And until he figures it out, and is ready and willing to express his feelings to my face, I’m afraid that I am unable to accept any more of his gaudy, overpriced gifts.”

With this I released my tight hold on what I was sure was a very fragile crystal rose; watching with a bitter smile as it descended into my waste basket.

My grin dissolved as, with a deep-seated groan, Leslie surged forward and intercepted my pass; catching the discarded jewel before it shattered in so many pieces at the bottom of my trash bin.

Holding the rose close to his chest with almost comical protectiveness, Les regarded me with a cold stare as he stepped away from my desk.

“
Ma’am, my boss spent a fortune on this gift,” he scolded me. If you won’t accept his present, then at least allow me to return it to him in one piece.”

I thought a moment, then nodded.

“
Fine then,” I allowed, waving him away with a dismissive gesture. “Tell Oliver to give the jewel to a woman that wants it—and him.”

Chapter
Sixteen

~

Lily

The moment that Leslie Peterson cleared my office, my rejected gift clutched tight in his hand, my mind and spirit soared with a renewed strength; not to mention a refreshed sense of confidence.

Until this point I had questioned my ability to say no to Oliver Clark; to resist the charming, irresistibly handsome man that had changed my life and claimed my heart. Ah, but I just had: I had rejected his empty charms, and the beautiful, pricey gift that was just as colorful and appealing as he was.

Don’t ask me how I did it; somehow, though, I think I finally came to realize just what I needed from Oliver Clark—and it wasn’t his charm, his money, or even his expensive gifts. It was the truth—and the courage to tell it. I needed him to approach me face to face, and to be honest and forthright about his feelings for me.

Sure, currency and charm were always nice; but the “c” word that I needed him most to express was commitment. I needed him to acknowledge the fact that the feelings between us were all too real and to express true appreciation for the things that I brought to his life. If I had indeed managed to change Oliver Clark, then I needed him to show it—by expressing a true desire to make things right, to at least try to join me in turning our faux mance into a real and very meaningful relationship.

When would he realize that instead of spending all that money to buy me expensive presents he should instead spend a little more time in my presence; looking into my eyes and sharing his feelings for and intentions toward me?

Only he knew the answer to this question—or maybe he didn’t, and that was the whole problem. At any rate, I for one felt better than I had in ages; confident and prideful in the knowledge that I was the woman that had put Oliver Clark firmly and directly in his place.

Surely the women of the world will honor me for this singular accomplishment. Maybe I’ll get a plaque, a lovely and tasteful floral bouquet, maybe even some decorative candles in my favorite scent and a gift certificate to my favorite sushi bar or miniature golf course.

And while my mind and spirit reveled in this knowledge, in this out and out victory on behalf of all womankind, my heart and body weren’t so sure. Both still ached for want of the man that my brain so reviled; and while my waking hours were filled with the duties that came as part and parcel of my wonderful new job, my nights remained plagued by dreams of that devil; that man that still never failed to arouse and intrigue me.

I now knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I could in fact resist Oliver Clark; only some parts of me didn’t exactly want to resist him.

And I bet I can tell you just which parts
, I rolled my eyes heavenward, sitting up straight as I welcomed yet another visitor to my office—this one substantially more welcome than the last one.

Office clerk Kirk Taylor came strolling into my office with a manila folder in his hand; depositing the parcel on my desk with a bright, friendly smile.

“
Please tell me that this interoffice delivery a. is intended for Trisha, not for me and b. is not coming directly from one Mr. Oliver Clark,” I returned his smile, but through gritted teeth.

“
Um… yes, it’s for Trisha and no, it’s not from Mr. Clark,” Kirk assured me, arching his eyebrows in a quizzical fashion. “Are you OK, Lil?”

I shook my head.

“
At this point, Kirk,” I admitted. “I’m sure of nothing.”

The light laughter that I expected in response to this remark was replaced by an intense, curious stare; one that my visitor aimed in my direction as he parked himself on the edge of my desk.

“
Lily, can I level with you?” he asked me, voice low and intimate. “Can I tell you the total and absolute truth?”

“
No,” I replied, shaking my head from side to side with absolute certainty.

Ignoring my caustic reply, Kirk went right ahead and said, “People around this office have been talking about you and Mr. Clark—and, by exercising the refined art of eavesdropping that I learned from dear ol’ Mom—I’ve come to hear your story, piece by piece. And now I understand why you didn’t want to go have drinks with me the other day.”

I shrugged.

“
I don’t know what to tell you, Kirk,” I told him, adding as I shifted uneasily in my seat, “Things are just really complicated right now. I don’t think any sensible, reasonable man would want to get himself involved in the only slightly organized mess that is my life right now.”

Kirk shook his head.

“
In my mind, Lily, things aren’t so very complicated at all,” he insisted, adding with his arms outstretched before him, “You know that you deserve better than some playboy who disposes of his women much faster than he does his silk monogrammed handkerchiefs. You really do want to get over Oliver Clark—chances are, though, you’re not going to get over him unless and until you give someone else a chance.” He paused here, leaning forward to affix my shoulders with two strong, tender hands. “Look, Lily, I know I don’t have his money—but I also don’t have the little black book that isn’t so little at all. And I do believe I can cough up just enough spare change to cover a round of drinks at Jubilee dance club this weekend. Why not forget your troubles for a night and come dancing with me?”

Lifting my head to stare straight into his eyes, I took a moment to savor his warm, sincere words—and, for that matter, the simple masculine beauty of the blue-eyed blond that had said them.

I opened my mouth to issue yet another lame excuse to his kind invitation; only to surrender the cause seconds later and say, “Yes, Kirk. I’d love to go out with you this weekend.”

Chapter
Seventeen

~

Lily

Saturday evening came around far sooner than I would have liked; indeed, I must admit that I didn’t particularly look forward to my weekend dance date with Kirk. I really didn’t feel much like dancing or dating at all; wishing instead that I could just stay home, put on a movie, drink a soothing glass of wine, and fall asleep in front of my home entertainment center.

“
Yeah,” I chortled aloud, pulling myself from the surface of my day bed and walking with slow, trudging steps in the direction of my bedroom. “If only I could just stay home and watch one of the movies that Oliver and I enjoyed during our infamous movie marathon, drink the vintage wine that he used to share with me, and eventually nod off to dream about the man that bought me that wine in the first place. Grand plan, Ashton.”