Page 29 of The Forbidden Billionaire
“No, I’m not. Not anymore, anyway.” I wipe my cheeks. “He didn’t send the flowers.”
“Really?”
“I guess I have a secret admirer,” I try to joke. Then I sigh. “I can’t believe I thought it was him. I should have double-checked before I organized a lunch date. What an idiot.”
“Don’t say that.” He speaks firmly. “You’re not an idiot. You’re right—you needed closure, that’s all. You still had feelings for him, and you were finding it difficult to let him go. What happened is a good thing, because now you can move on.”
I blow out a breath and nod. “You’re right.”
“I’m always right.” He smiles.
Dom is well-groomed, sleek and suave. His grandfather’s Italian, and it shows in his thick, dark hair and his charismatic manner, as well as his Italian suits.
Luke’s handsome too, but in a different way. He’s big and rugged; I can imagine he’d look as much at home in jeans and boots in the country as he does in a suit. He doesn’t have Dom’s charming smile and easy patter, but I discover that I prefer his grumpy manner. I like the way he teases me. I don’t want to be charmed anymore.
He clears his throat and starts the engine. “Let’s get you back to the office,” he says, and then he turns and rests an arm along the back of my seat as he reverses out.
I can’t help but stare at the way his impressive biceps stretch the sleeve of his jacket. Or the curve of his Adam’s appleabove the knot of his tie. And I can’t help but smell his cologne… something clean and sporty that reminds me of a sea breeze, much nicer than Dom’s characteristic spicy scent.
He finishes reversing and glances at me before turning to the front. “Stop it,” he scolds.
“I’m just looking. You have a nice neck.”
“And you’re on the rebound. Face the front.”
“Your cologne is nice.”
“Jesus, don’t sniff me. I need to concentrate on the road.”
I give a short laugh and turn to the front. I know he likes me, but he’d never give in to his feelings. I admire him for that, even though it’s a tad frustrating.
I think about the roses, and frown as I look out of the window, watching the shops flash by. “I wonder who sent the flowers? I wish we hadn’t lost the card.”
“Yeah, that was frustrating.”
“I can’t think who would’ve sent them.”
“I’m sure you have any number of secret admirers, ma’am.”
“I really don’t,” I scoff.
“You might be surprised.”
“I honestly don’t think I invoke adoration in men. And I’m not saying that to push for compliments. I think I intimidate a lot of guys.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I glance at him. “I don’t intimidate you?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re five-foot-two.”
“Height has nothing to do with it. It’s all about personality. I’ve been told my stare is like Medusa’s.”
“I’m sure you’ve turned many men to rock, ma’am.” He’s quiet for a moment. Then he adds, “That came out wrong.”
