Jessica Clare - Once Upon a Billionaire

“It sounds kind of backward,” Maylee observed, giving her cone a furtive lick.

“It is. We like to pretend that the royal family is as enlightened as the current times, but they’re still stuck in old protocol more than any other group I have ever imagined. My family was not a warm one. I rarely saw my parents except for state functions, and my brother and I were shuffled off to live with various nannies at my parents’ country estates. When we were old enough, we went to boarding schools.” He shrugged. “I went to Eton in Great Britain.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Eton? It wasn’t so bad.”

“No, your family. Didn’t you love and care for one another?”

He gave her a wintry smile. “I care more for my cousin Alexandra than I do for anyone else in my family.”

“That’s so sad.” Her round face looked unhappy. “Weren’t you lonely?”

“I suppose. I had my books and my studies. I didn’t need much more than that.”

Her hand reached out and touched his.

Griffin grew uncomfortable with her sympathy. “At any rate, my father died when I was fifteen, and my brother, George, became the duke, which made him even more insufferable than he already was. When I was finished with my studies at Eton, I was called home for a time, but it was rather . . . miserable.” He paused, thinking of George’s angry rages about money, his new wife who cried because he never came home, his mother’s icy demeanor that cared more for the hem of his coat than if Griffin was happy. The constant royal functions and scrutiny. “I asked to go to college in the States. My mother was appalled at the thought, but I would not be budged. At the time, I wanted to get as far away from my family and Bellissime as possible, and I thought the States would be the perfect place to do it.”

“They must have finally let you go,” Maylee commented.

“Mmm. Eventually. I did, however, have to forfeit all claim to the throne in order to leave, though. My mother was convinced that Bellissime wouldn’t approve of a States-bred king, never mind that I was ninth in line and would never see the throne unless a plague descended upon the royal house.” His mouth twitched and he looked over at Maylee. “I’d say the joke is on her, considering that Luke Houston will be the next king of Bellissime.”

Maylee wasn’t laughing, though. Her face wore an expression of sympathy.

“So I forfeited any claim on the throne, abdicated all my titles. My mother had the queen dissolve my original title and my inheritance returned to George’s hands, which made him far more amenable to sending me off to the States once that happened. I was given the title of Viscount Montagne Verdi since it wouldn’t do for Mother to have a mere ‘mister’ for a son.” He smiled thinly. “And so I moved to the States and never went back.”

“And you made truckloads of money,” Maylee said. “And rubbed their noses in it.”

He laughed. “I made truckloads of money,” he agreed. “And then I paid off all of Mother and George’s debts.”

Her brows drew together. “Why?”

“Family loyalty, I suppose.” Though sometimes, he wondered why he did so. It certainly hadn’t improved things with Mother or George. If anything, they resented him more for carving his own path and ending up incredibly wealthy.

“Your family sounds like a bunch of jerks, Griff.”

“They’re titled. They can’t be jerks. Snobs and assholes, yes. Jerks, no.”

She laughed and tossed a piece of her cone to the ground. Immediately, birds flocked to it and she began to tear off another piece. “It sounds very sad and lonely, if you ask me. Do you have family in the States, then?”

He thought of the Brotherhood, his friends who had been at his side and helped him more than any family member possibly could have. “I have friends. It’s enough for me.”

His phone buzzed.

Griffin pulled it out of his pocket and grimaced at the photo that popped up. Jonathan and the foreman of his dig, squatting next to a dug trench and grinning like a pair of idiots. “Speaking of friends,” he said dryly. “Jonathan is determined to make me hate him, it seems.”

She peered over his shoulder at the picture. “Because he’s there and you’re not?”

“I couldn’t abandon Alex,” he said. “Though I do wish heartily that she had eloped.”

Maylee laughed.

They spent the day walking the streets of Bellissime, hand in hand. Maylee purchased a few souvenirs, but they spent most of the time simply strolling, visiting tourist spots, and tasting confections at every dessert shop they passed. By the time they headed back to the hotel, Griffin’s feet hurt and his stomach ached from too much chocolate, but he’d enjoyed every moment of the day.

Maylee tugged her hand from his when they got to their floor and headed to her door.

He was surprised. They’d kissed several times today, and flirted even more. They’d held hands for hours. Was she not going to sleep by him tonight? He’d be lying if he didn’t admit he’d been thinking about it all day. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head and pushed open her door. “Just need to call my Mama and do a few things.” And she disappeared inside before he could protest.

Was she blowing him off? Tired of spending all her time with him? Frustrated, Griffin tore off the hideous baseball cap he was wearing and tossed it onto the bed. He picked up his book and began to read, but irritation kept him from being able to concentrate. Instead, he got up and began to pace.

The faint sound of Maylee’s voice made him pause, and he leaned against the door adjoining their rooms. She was definitely on the phone, though her voice was pitched too low for him to make out. He sighed and returned back to the bed and picked up his book again, reading the same paragraph over and over. Why was it so important that she call her mother just before bedtime? He’d thought they’d gotten along very well today. Actually, more than just well. He’d never felt so comfortable with a woman. Normally, his relationships were one awkward scenario after another, a brief round of fucking and then eventual mutual apathy.

He could honestly say there was not an ounce of apathy as far as Maylee was concerned. In fact, he rather hated that she was gone. Did he say he hated hovering? Was that why she’d disappeared? To give him space? Because he rather liked her hovering. She listened to all of his stories and seemed genuinely interested in them, as opposed to simply humoring him. He’d even talked about his current project for at least an hour, comparing their theoretical Atlantis to Tarshish and why they were pursuing the ruins in Spain versus the Mediterranean like most assumed where Atlantis was located, if it indeed existed.

She’d seemed interested. Unless he was just bad at reading her? Perhaps he’d said something that troubled her and she wanted someone to complain to? A guilty stab made him sit up in bed. Had he inadvertently hurt her feelings again with his careless words? Hell.

Griffin got up from the bed and went to the adjoining door. He raised his hand to knock just as she opened it.

She looked at his hand in surprise, and then beamed at him. “Miss me, didja?”

He lowered his hand. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.” She stepped into his room and shut the door behind her.

“Do we need to talk?”

“Nope,” she repeated, and began to undo the zipper on her tight jeans. “Wanna shower?”

“Together?” His cock surged to life in his jeans again.

“Yep, you and me. Just a little bit of hanky panky before bedtime. What do you think?” She gave him a sassy wink and dropped her jeans, then stepped out of them. A string bikini panty curved along her hips and the triangle of fabric in the back seemed to hug her ass more than cover it. It was a glorious sight.

“I think that is a splendid idea,” Griffin murmured, following her into the bathroom.

The bathroom in his suite was almost as large as her room. He had an enormous sunken jetted tub and a stonework shower that swallowed a great deal of the floor. He watched Maylee pad into the room, stripping off her shirt and revealing a plain beige bra that turned him on more than any lacy undergarment he’d ever seen. “You have towels, Griff?”

“Somewhere.” He wasn’t leaving this room, not while she was taking off her clothing.

She went to the counter where his soaps and shampoos were kept in a dainty basket, picked one up, and sniffed it. “Yours are different than mine. Have you been taking the extras every day?”

“Extras?”

“You know, they replace them every morning with new ones. You’re supposed to hide them if you don’t use them so you get new ones every day.”

He frowned. “Isn’t that a bit like stealing?”

“Nope. The hotel expects you to do that.” She wagged her finger at him. “I need you to start hiding the bottles every morning if you don’t use them. And the soaps. For me.”

“I can buy you soaps—”

“It’s not the same as a free hotel score,” she teased him. And she began to unhook her bra.

“I can’t believe we’re having a discussion about purloining hotel soaps while you’re getting naked,” he murmured, fascinated by her casual stripping.

She paused just as she unclasped her bra. “You’re right. You should be getting naked, too.” She let the loose bra hang on her shoulders as she approached him, a mischievous look on her face. Maylee’s hands went to his zipper and she rubbed him through his jeans. “Seems like someone’s mind is on something other than showering.”

He groaned. God, she was forward with a little confidence. He loved it. Hell, he wished he’d dragged her into his bed a week ago. “You’re a vixen.”