Okay, fine. That got a snort out of me.
“Do people act like that around you often?” I asked.
“Nowadays they do,” he admitted. “Not sure you can be a billionaire without people bowing and scraping for a piece of your pie.”
I was too miffed to make a joke about wanting a piece of his pie. “But they didn’t even try to get to know you. All they wanted was your approval.”
“And my money,” he said dryly, reaching for the door of the department store.
“Are you going to give them the seed money?” I really hoped he didn’t. Those men had given me a bad feeling, and I didn’t trust the data behind their software testing.
“Of course not,” he said with a huff. “They’re selling vaporware. The product doesn’t even exist. They’re full of shit.”
“Then why take the meeting in the first place?”
He led me through the clean, open displays. He obviously knew where the men’s department was.
“One of my companies invests in ClutchSoft.”
I turned to stare at him as realization dawned. “You were investigating the competition! You devious genius.”
He shrugged and pointed down a side aisle. His hand rested briefly on my lower back as he gestured for me to turn. I felt the strong warmth through my suit coat only for a beat before it was gone.
“I didn’t become a billionaire by winning a lottery,” he murmured.
I thought about how smart he had to be to have earned a full-ride scholarship to Yale. And then he’d gone on to build mind-blowing wealth in only fifteen years.
“How did you do it?” I asked. I wanted to know the real story, not the watered-down version he alluded to in interviews.
“Mr. Blackwood,” a young woman said with a wide smile and clear affection in her expression. “So good to see you again. Welcome back.”
“Roni, it’s good to see you again. Thank you for agreeing to help us on short notice. This is my… partner, Ellison York.” Grey’s hand returned to the small of my back, only this time it was possessive and not at all fleeting.
I swallowed and nodded at the woman. Apparently, we were doing this. “It’s nice to meet you,” I managed to say.
She had obviously been notified of my sizes somehow. Maybe Jenny had snuck into my room and done some investigating the same way she’d admitted after breakfast to discovering my shoe size for Grey. Roni led us to a private room where two racks stood packed with various articles of clothing. I felt like I was in a movie montage where the ugly duckling was being made over by a wealthy sugar daddy.
It should have grated on me a little, but it didn’t. I was too busy ogling Grey in every outfit I spotted him in. While one of Roni’s assistants marked and measured me in some of the clothes that needed adjusting, I craned my neck to check out my “partner” in his.
The man filled out designer clothes like nobody’s business.
He was tall and broad, trim and fit. My eyes hungered for him. They took every chance to skim across the angles and planes of his body regardless of what he wore. Several times he caught me staring and lifted that imperious brow of his. It was like a cattle prod to my heart rate. Every time he caught me staring, I felt like my heart was going to skitter out of my chest. By the time he tried on a pair of light beige linen pants that draped over his ass and thighs like a slinky lover… well, I was having a hard time fitting into my own pants.
“Done,” I squeaked, turning around quickly and accidentally pricking myself with one of the tailor’s pins. “Sorry. Done. I’m done. This looks good.”
I shuffled back to the semiprivacy of my dressing room before letting out a breath, stripping off my shirt, and opening my damned pants. I looked down at the misbehaving bulge in my boxer briefs.
“If wishes were horses,” I muttered at it, “beggars would ride. It’s me. I’m the beggar in this scenario.”
“Mr. York, are you feeling okay, sir?” the prim tailor’s assistant asked. I could see the tips of his dress shoes under the door.
“Yes, sorry. I just need a little fresh air. Please tell Mr. Bl—”
I jumped back as the door opened. Grey stood in the narrow opening and looked me up and down. “Are you sick? What’s wrong? Do you need to sit down? Do you need…” He turned to speak over his shoulder. “A bottle of cold water, please.”
I clutched at my tight chest, which had only gotten tighter since Grey’s large frame had entered my personal space. I could smell his familiar apple scent. I’d finally identified it as the shampoo he used. The nerves I’d been shoving down—about the trip, the loss of our family’s wealth and control of the foundation, the lies about our relationship, the close contact with the man I’d wanted for so long—sprung up with a vengeance, stealing the air out of my lungs.
For some reason, I shook my head frantically. I couldn’t catch my breath. Grey reached for my face with both of his large hands. “Shh. Take a breath. You’re okay.” His voice was low and calm, the way it was most of the time. He was always so put together. How was that possible? “Sit down. There’s a bench right behind you.”
He helped me sit and then pressed his hand on my upper back to bend me over until my head was between my knees.
“Sorry,” I gasped, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. I’d tried so hard to be agreeable, nonchalant, act like none of this was affecting me very much. But the truth was—it was terrifying. Losing the family business, possibly losing the necessary funding to keep the academy running, all of the children and their families counting on me—on us—to keep things running smoothly, to provide a future for those kids.
“No apologies,” he murmured. “Thanks,” he said to someone else. I felt him shift as he reached for something. “Leave us, please.”
I heard the snick of a door closing and then blessed silence. Even the softly piping music turned off. Grey knelt in front of me on the floor and cracked a water bottle open before sitting me up and urging me to take a sip. One of his hands stayed on my shoulder as the other held the bottle to my lips.
“Take it slow.”
His voice was soothing. I tried to regulate my breathing and drink the water. His hand on my shoulder moved a little until I noticed him gently rubbing the muscles of my shoulder and neck. His fingers brushed against the hair on my neck, bringing up goose bumps everywhere. I closed my eyes and allowed myself a few moments of comforting touch.
When I finally got my breathing under control and took a few more sips of water, I felt the flush of embarrassment wash over me. I sat up straight and put my shoulders back.
“Sorry,” I said again, looking for the shirt I’d worn into the store. “Apparently, I’m a lightweight when it comes to shopping. Who knew?”
Grey’s hand moved around to grab my chin and force me to look at him. “What really happened? I know it’s not low blood sugar, considering you ate your entire panini and then finished my salmon. Are you sick? Do we need to postpone the flight?”
I needed him to be an asshole right now. Badly.
I shook my head. “No, I just… I just thought of everything that’s happened this week and… it’s a lot. I don’t… I don’t want…” What the hell was I even trying to say?