Bound by the Billionaire's Baby - Page 16

She drew herself up and returned his cool look with an equally cool one of her own. ‘Thanks for the advice. And if you’re glad you didn’t end up in bed with me because I’m not your type, then I’m just as glad that I didn’t end up in bed with you because you’re not my type.’

She forced herself to smile...the casual, dismissive smile of one adult to another.

‘And I’m not as naive as you think I am,’ she lied, tossing her head. ‘In fact I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and of having a one-night stand, if I ever want one!’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Car’s outside, Susie...it’s been a...a highly unusual encounter...’

God, just his voice was enough to send shivers racing up and down her spine.

She held out her hand in response and pinned a smile on her face as he reached to pull open the front door. ‘Thanks for dinner. And I hope you find the businesswoman of your dreams. I’ll keep looking for the fun guy of my dreams...’

And she dashed out of the open door, back down in that glass lift and slap-bang outside into his chauffeur driven car. She dived in, slamming the door after her and making sure she didn’t glance back as she was driven away.

CHAPTER THREE

SERGIO HAD SEEN the curiosity in the florist’s eyes when he had placed his order. One hundred roses in five different colours. He could almost see the question taking shape at the back of her mind... Who’s the lucky girl?

Stanley, his driver, was a lot more forthcoming than the florist.

‘Who’s the lucky girl?’

Sergio caught his driver’s eye in the rear-view mirror and thought about ignoring the question.

The roses had been carefully placed in the boot, all neatly wrapped in cellophane with straw bows, their cut stems nestling in little bags of water.

‘The “lucky girl” is the one you dropped home the week before last—not that it’s any of your business, Stanley. In case you’ve forgotten the contents of your How to Be a Good Chauffeur manual, it’s not your place to ask questions about matters that don’t concern you.’

‘Ah. You must be keen. The flowers usually only get pulled out at the end of one of your little flings, sir, and even so...never roses...and never that many!’

‘Just drive, Stanley.’

‘Nice little thing, if you don’t mind me saying.’

‘I’m about to make an important call, and as a matter of fact I do mind.’

‘You’ll need to be careful with that one, sir.’

Sergio gave up. He had employed Stanley for over ten years—rescued him from an inner city project that aimed to rehabilitate petty criminals and chronically out of work men back into the community by training them up in stable jobs.

It was one of the many charities sponsored by Sergio’s vast conglomerate of companies.

Some of the lads went into manual labour. Working in garden centres, building sites, in restaurants... Stanley, aged twenty-eight now, once an expert car thief, had come to work for him, and their relationship had prospered against all odds.

Stanley was irreverent, outspoken, unimpressed by Sergio’s trappings of wealth, and eternally grateful to have been rescued from a life of bouncing in and out of prison. He was a good lad gone bad, thanks to circumstances, and had been waiting for someone just like Sergio to get him back on the right track.

Sergio secretly enjoyed his driver’s lack of due respect. He was loyal, would have lain down in front of a train for Sergio, and he knew cars like the back of his hand.

‘I expect you’re about to tell me why...?’

‘Only if you want me to, sir. Wouldn’t want to overstep my brief.’

‘Spit it out, Stanley, and then focus on the road. I don’t want to end up in a ditch because you’re busy imparting your pearls of wisdom and not paying attention to your driving. Don’t forget that your terms of employment are to drive me and not talk incessantly.’

It was not yet five in the evening, but already dark, with a fine persistent drizzle that made the pavements look slick and shiny, as though they had been covered with a fine layer of oil.

‘She’s not like the other women you go out with, if you don’t mind me saying, sir. This one’s...different... Don’t ask me why—just a feeling I got when I was dropping her back...’

Tags: Cathy Williams Billionaire Romance
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