The Heir & I: Taming The Billionaire (8 page)

“You. Have. Got. To. Be. Joking.”
I shook my head in sheer wonder as I regarded these tags. “I mean, this is absurd. I don’t pay this much in rent each month.”

I jumped as my words were met with a low, smooth chuckle; one emanating from the man who sat before me in a cherry wood chair at the center of the Dalton’s show room.

“Don’t look at the price tags, babe,” Oliver
said, himself sharply dressed in a sleek white pant suit, waving away my concerns with a dismissive hand. “Just the clothes. Pick out what you like, try it on, and let me know the verdict. Then I shall proceed to buy anything and everything you happen to like. Does that work?”

I thought a moment, then nodded.

“My name is not babe, Oliver.
It’s Lily,” I informed him, even as I pulled a sleek scarlet dress from its place on a defenseless garment rack and secured it in my hot little hands. “And, yes, that works just fine.”

Moments later I stood in the Dalton’s dressing room, facing the image of a woman I didn’t know.

No, my space hadn’t been unexpectedly invaded by a cre
eper of the female persuasion. I was rather confronted by a mirror image that didn’t seem true to its source. Surely the raven-haired temptress in the sleek, knee length red satin dress wasn’t me. I had no idea that a single dress could be so transformative; accentuating my curves, illuminating my skin and setting off my freshly brushed hair.

“Wow,” I breathed, turning with a flourish for the door of the dressing room.

This same sentiment was reflected in the eyes of the man that awaited me in the showroom.

“Lily,” Oliver breathed, surging from his chair to approach me at the center of the room.

Taking my hand in his, Oliver raised it high above my head and twirled me in a dramatic flourish; his eyes devouring me from head to toe as he breathed, “A lily in bloom.”

Snapping his fingers to attract the attention of a nearby sales clerk, Oliver instructed her to find a diamond necklace with matching earbobs; both of us marveling as she produced some brilliant baubles to accompany my stunning new dress.

“My princess,” he breath
ed, his sturdy fingers feeling the dazzling gems that lingered at my throat—also grazing the sensitive skin that lay underneath. “You’re just glowing.”

With gentle hands he turned me in the direction of a nearby mirror; allowing me to witness the shine of the diamonds as they glowed radiant in the lights above us.

He expressed similar reactions to the next five outfits I tried on; four of which also struck a chord of awe
in my slightly dazzled psyche. The pearl pink pantsuit ironically braided with actual, honest to God beads. The black velvet mini dress both sleek and sexy. The azure blue sundress that dipped low at the neck and flared becomingly at the skirt. The ivory lace gown that fell to my feet and rose high at the neck. Each of these apparel pieces was a work of haute couture, sure to render me the belle of the ball at any party, night club or formal function.

Too bad the last outfit which was a lime green pantsuit that would make Marilyn Monroe appear drab and staid.

“Breathtaking,” Oliver praised, applauding me in full view of the shop.

“Bull hockey,” I replied, planting my hands
square on my curvaceous hips. “Wait here while I slip back into the red number and we’ll head over to Le Jardin. It’s obvious that your hunger is affecting your eyesight.”

Soon I found myself back at th
e site of our first formal date eating a luscious feast of French onion soup, tender, succulent beef bourguinon, creamy au gratin potatoes, and chocolate ganache. The food was heaven on a plate and my companion was heaven on legs. I’d fall just short of calling him an angel…

“Enjoying yourself, Lily?” Oliver purred, breaking my train of thought irrevocably with his soft, dulcet tones. “I hope so, because I myself am thoroughly enjoying my time with you.”

I snorted.

“Now why o
n earth would I enjoy myself?” I sniffed out, rolling my eyes heavenward. “You’ve bought me a whole new wardrobe, each piece of which carries a price tag that equals my monthly car payment. And you spotted me a diamond necklace that bears a suspicious resemblance to the one my mom had to wait a quarter century for. Indeed, it took my dad all that time to save up for that bauble, which he gave to her as a 25
^th
anniversary gift. Now you’re paying for me to eat a dinner to die for, most components of which I can’t easily pronounce.”

Oliver chuckled.

“Oh darling, don’t sell yourself short,” he chided me, adding as he ran his free hand through the tendr
ils of my hair. “I bet you not only could spell and pronounce each and every one of the dishes we enjoyed today, but you probably could tell me something about their origins, and the master chef that created them. Just like in the department store, when I bought you the Chanel perfume and you told me all about the wonderful life of Coco Chanel.”

I nodded.

“I must admit s
he’s an idol of mine,” I beamed. “In a time when women weren’t supposed to work at all, she worked her way up from nothing, creating an empire that took Paris and the world by storm. What an amazing woman!”

“Well look who’s talking!” Oliver replied, eyes aglow with what s
eemed to be tender admiration. “Lily, most of the ladies I date couldn’t even pronounce Coco’s last name. They’d be asking me just which ‘channel’ was sponsoring the perfume, ABC or NBC. And now thanks to you, I have every intention of renting that movie you mentioned, that tells her life story.”

I grinned.

“Coco Before Chanel, starring Audrey Tautou and directed by Anne Fontaine—I’m a big aficionado of female directors, from L
upino to Bigelow,” I supplied. “Put it on your Netflix queue, I command you. And if you like, I could also recommend a lot of great books about Coco’s life.”

“I insist on it,” Oliver agreed, adding as he raised my hand to his full, warm lips for a delectable kiss, “Providing, of course, t
hat you watch the movie with me, filling me in, of course, on any gaps in Coco’s life that the film may have missed.” He paused here, nudging my shoulder with gentle affection as he added, “This is one of the reasons I love the idea of this arrangement, Lily. I want to see everything through your eyes, from the ballet to the theater, books to Broadway plays. I can’t wait to drink in more of your knowledge, both in and out of the office.”

Covering his hand on my shoulder, I met his affectionate gaze with one of my own as I told him, “Well thanks to you, Oliver, I can actually own and wea
r some of Coco’s finest perfume and see some of the plays and ballets that until now I’ve only heard about,” I paused here, shaking my head in wonder at the very idea. “I have to admit it, Oliver, I can’t wait to get started. And if I happen to teach you a thing or two along the way, well, all the better.”

I took in my breat
h as his fingers clenched mine. Slowly and deliberately his thumb rubbed my palm as he whispered, “And perhaps, Lily, I could teach you a thing or two in return. Things you just might enjoy, very much.”

Clearing my throat loudly, I wrenched my hand
from his and grabbed up my fork.

“Behave, Oliver,” I chided him, adding as I gestured around us with a very proud and purposeful utensil, “Not in front of t
he stuffy French restaurant.”

Two hours later we finished up a sumptuous three course dinner at the center table at Oliver’s favorite French restaurant; and I blushed in spite of myself as he called over a strolling violinist that strolled free across the plush ivory carpeting that lined the floor of the eatery.

“Do you know ‘Ma Cherie Amour’?” he asked him.

The violinist nodded.

“Mais bien sur,” he affirmed, launching in to the opening notes of the signature love song.

“He just said, ‘But of course!’” I clapped my hands, adding with a smile, “Those French lessons you’ve been giving me between our meetings are really starting to stick.”

Letting loose with a melodious laugh, Oliver surged with a flourish from his seat and extended a chivalrous hand in my direction.

“Care to dance?” he offered on a whisper, arching his feathered eyebrows in my direction.

In lieu of a verbal answer I accepted his hand, standing from my seat to join him on the compact dance floor that occupied the center of Le Jardin.

Taking me gentley
into the clasp of his strong, sturdy arms, Oliver pulled me closer than close as we swung across the crisp tiled floor; staring deep into my eyes as our hands joined and our gazes collided.

“Now Oliver…” I let loose with a ner
vous laugh. “Let’s make this our first and last dance of the evening. We do have work tomorrow, and we’d better get to bed early.”

I regretted my words seconds later, as the mention of the word ‘bed’ brought a curious gleam to Oliver’s cocoa hued eyes; a gleam that soon erupted into a narrow eyed leer that stole my breath.

“Why Ms. As
hton,” he murmered into my ear. “I do like the way you think.”

I had heard enough.

“I meant that we should go to bed separately, at our respective homesteads,” I clarifi
ed, clearing my throat loudly. “We do, after all, have a meeting with your dad and our new clients first thing at 9 a.m…”

Shushing me gently, Oliver pulled me closer to him and nestled my neck; his full, moist lips rubbing my skin

“No
more talk of business, Lily.” Oliver said my name like the sweetest poetry. “I want you to enjoy your time with me, my dear. Think of this whole experience… as your fantasy.”

Without awaiting a response, Oliver pulled me closer to him; his luscious lips nestling my earlobe as he began to croon in my ear; singing th
e tender lyrics of ‘Ma Cherie Amour’ into my ear as I melted in response.

Throwing my head back, my eyes closed as I basked in the sounds of a flawless melody; my heart pounding
as he pulled me closer still. As my head lowered to rest in the cradle of his massive, sculpted chest, my mind swimmed with memories of our first passionate kiss—suddenly I felt his lips on mine, as I recalled with relish our momentary indiscretion.

Only suddenly I realized that the kiss I experience
d was no memory of times past. Oliver’s lips had claimed mine as he swayed me across the dance floor; bending my body backward in a thrilling dip as his smooth, full mouth rubbed and massaged my own.

For a timeless moment I surrendered to his kiss; devouring his lips as our tongues entangled and the music surged around us.

And the
n it happened. Of course it did. It just had to; as the violinist delivered the final notes of “Ma Cherie Amour,” someone just had to say it.