Читать книгу Beddable Billionaire - Alexx Andria - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

Nico

“I’M REALLY NOT an asshole,” I insisted, but I couldn’t quite prevent the tiny half smile curving my mouth. Even I couldn’t make that statement with a straight face, but the fact that she handled my curveball without missing a beat was arousing as fuck. I had to know more about this woman—by any means possible. “Okay, how about this... I will answer any question you have for me...over dinner.”

“Dinner,” she repeated with open suspicion. “Why dinner?”

“Let’s be honest...we both bungled this interview. Let’s wipe the slate clean and start fresh. I’m willing to believe that we’re both reasonable human beings, so why not forget this terrible first impression happened and start over. Preferably over a glass of wine.”

Her gaze narrowed, but the tiny smile playing at the corners of her mouth told me she enjoyed negotiating as much as I did. Oh, the things people reveal without realizing it. “Dinner, no wine. Purely business. No funny business,” she countered, her gaze glittering as she tacked on, “at a well-lit restaurant.”

I shook my head. “Here.”

“I’d rather a restaurant.”

I knew if I pushed, she’d push back. She wasn’t the kind of woman who was easily impressed or intimidated, so I had to try something else. “May I be completely honest?” I asked. She nodded slowly, curious. “It may come as a surprise, but I love to cook. It’s the one thing that I wasn’t given simply because of who I am. I’ve earned my skills through plenty of trial and error. If I’m going to have a shot of changing your perception of me, cooking you a meal is the best way I know how.”

Her stunned silence was more telling than she knew. What she couldn’t know was that I was being completely honest. I felt most comfortable in the kitchen, and I took great pride in knowing that every skill I had with food was 100 percent legit. Of course, I withheld the mention that I’d discovered long ago that women found men who can cook irresistible. I couldn’t count how many panties had dropped over a seemingly innocent homemade dish of risotto alla Milanese paired with a perfectly roasted leg of lamb.

After a long, contemplative pause, Lauren nodded, accepting my proposal. “You have yourself a clean slate, Mr. Donato. I’ll see you tonight. Seven o’clock,” she said, rising as she thrust her hand toward me to seal the deal. I chuckled and accepted the handshake when I really wanted to brush my lips across that pale, soft skin to watch the goose bumps cause an all-out riot. I wanted to know what stole Lauren’s breath and caused those beautiful dark eyes to darken further—and I definitely wanted to know what she was hiding beneath that ugly dress. However, I played the part of the gentleman, opening her door and watching her leave without a further suggestive remark or inappropriate suggestion.

Pretty proud of myself, actually. I rarely denied myself whatever pleasure caught my eye, but I suspected Lauren was a diamond hidden inside that crusty coal and I was more interested in discovering how to reveal what I was truly interested in.

The question was, what about Lauren turned my clock? Hell, I hadn’t a clue. Generally speaking, I preferred women to be soft and malleable, maybe even a little on the vapid side. But then, I wasn’t accustomed to women actively pushing me away. Usually it was the other way around. Most times I had to shake the women off with a stick.

Got quite annoying, actually.

But not Lauren.

Her employment with Luxe came to mind, as she clearly didn’t fit the blueprint for the self-indulgent magazine.

Hence, the plot thickens, eh?

Everything about the woman intrigued me, and for fuck’s sake, I was bored enough to dig into the mystery.