Page 55 of The Forbidden Billionaire
It’s kind of put me off dating a bit. I’m only twenty-six, I reassure myself. I don’t need to provide an heir—I can leave that to Marcus and Caesar, if they pull their fingers out. I don’t need a man at all. I have a vibrator for the physical side of things, and friends to make me laugh, and a therapist if I need to confess anything. I don’t need a man to make me complete.
“Evening, ma’am.”
My head snaps up and my heart leaps at the sight of Luke in front of me. As usual, he’s standing with his hands behind his back like a soldier, but he’s also wearing a tux. It’s a delicious combination.
What was I thinking about not needing a man?
“Finished patrolling?” I ask. “My little drummer boy?”
He gives me a wry look. Glances over his shoulder at the area of the lawn they’ve reserved for dancing. Then looks back at me. “Would you like to dance?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “What?” I blink at him. “Seriously?”
“It’s okay, I’ve been given permission.” He’s teasing me.
“By whom?” Even as I say it, I know what’s happened. “Jesus, did my father talk to you?”
He just holds his hand out, though. “Come on, take a spin around the floor with me.”
“I’m not dancing with you just because my father told you to ask me.”
“He didn’t tell me to ask you. I asked him if he’d mind if I asked you. Totally different thing.”
“You have to ask my father’s permission to dance with me? This isn’t the nineteenth century.”
“I was being polite because I’m on duty and technically he’s my boss. I wasn’t asking him because… Jesus, will you just dance with me?”
Glaring at him, I slide my hand into his and let him pull me up. Holding it, his fingers warm around mine, he leads me to the dance area, turns, and slides his right hand onto my waist. I rest my left on his shoulder, and we start to move the music.
It’s an old Elton John song,Blue Eyes. Luke’s lips curve up as he sings, “Green eyes… baby’s got… green eyes…”
“Ma’am,” I add.
“Ma’am,” he says, and we both laugh.
I’m wearing heels today, but he’s still a lot taller than me. I try to focus on his bow tie, but it’s impossible not to look at his throat, chin, and jaw.
“Growing a beard?” I comment. Usually, he’s clean shaven, but he’s had stubble the past few days.
“Yeah.” He tilts his head back. “What do you think?”
“I think your girlfriend is going to complain when you give her a bristle rash on her thighs.”
He meets my eyes, amused, but he doesn’t say anything. Gosh, I shouldn’t tease him. Now I’m stuck with the thought of him going down on me.
“Don’t scowl,” he says. “I thought you’d like to dance, that’s all.”
“Yeah, can’t let the maiden aunts sit on their own all evening.”
He laughs. “What a terrible description.”
“Fitting though.”
“Not at all.”
“I’m a lonely spinster. I’m going to die alone in my apartment, and they’re going to discover me covered in cat hairs.”
“I didn’t see any cats?”
