Читать книгу Matched to a Billionaire - Kat Cantrell - Страница 11

Three

The scraps of silk had definitely not been in Dannie’s suitcase when she packed it.

She fingered the baby-doll lingerie set and noticed the note: “For a red-hot wedding night. —Elise.”

Dannie held up the top. Such as it was. Black lace cups overlaid red silk triangles, which tied around the neck halter-style. Red silk draped from the bust, allowing a flirty peek at the tiny G-string panties beneath. Or it would if she was insane enough to actually wear something so blatantly sexy for her husband.

This lingerie was definitely the ticket to a red-hot wedding night. For some other woman, not Daniella Reynolds. Dannie had married a workaholic. With her eyes wide-open.

She tucked the sexy lingerie into the very back of the drawer she’d designated for sleepwear. Ha. There’d be no sleeping going on if she wore that outfit. She sighed. Well, it would be the case if her husband pried his eyes off his bottom line. And was attracted to her. And they shared a bedroom.

And what exactly had she expected? That Leo would take one look at his new wife and fall madly in love? She needed to get over herself and stop acting as though Leo had taken away something that she’d never planned on having in the first place.

Elise, the eternal optimist despite being perfectly aware Dannie and Leo had only met that same day, couldn’t have known how things would shake out. It was still depressing to be so soundly rejected. How would there be a possibility of children if they didn’t share a bedroom?

Dannie slammed the drawer a little harder than an adult probably should have and stomped to the bed to finish unpacking her meager wardrobe.

If she was going to be alone, this was certainly the place to do it. Her bedroom rivaled the finest luxury suite she’d ever seen featured in a movie. She didn’t have to leave. Ever. There was a minibar with a small refrigerator, fully stocked. An electronic tablet lay on the bedside table and she suspected Leo had already downloaded hundreds of books since her profile had said she liked to read.

The entertainment center came equipped with a fifty-inch flat-screen TV, cable, a DVD player, a sound system worthy of a nightclub and a fancy touch-screen remote. The owners’ manuals lay on the raw silk comforter. Of course. Leo never missed a trick.

She wondered where he kept the owner’s manual for Leo Reynolds. That was something she’d gladly read from cover to cover. A forty-seven-point profile only went so far into understanding the man.

There had to be more to Leo than met the eye, because no one voluntarily cut themselves off from people without a reason.

By the time she folded the last pair of socks, the hour had grown late. Leo’s parents were due in thirty minutes. She called her mother to see how she was getting along with the nurse and smiled at the effusive recounting of how her mother’s new caregiver played a serious game of gin rummy. Her mother sounded happy.

Relieved, Dannie went into the bathroom, where she had left half a cosmetic counter’s inventory strewn across the marble vanity. She took a few minutes to organize it in the drawers, which had built-in compartments of different sizes. The bathroom alone was bigger than her entire apartment.

Dannie agonized over what to wear and finally selected a simple pale lavender skirt and dove-gray button-up shirt. Her small wardrobe of coordinated pieces had been another gift from Elise. She was between sizes so everything had to be altered, adding yet more cost to the already expensive clothes. Shoes, however, posed no problems whatsoever. She stepped into a pair of calfskin sling backs that fit as if they’d been custom-made for her foot, then redid her chignon and makeup.

Who was that woman in the mirror?

“Daniella Reynolds,” she whispered to her reflection, then said it louder to get used to the sound of it. Only telemarketers and her grandmother called her Daniella. She liked the way Leo said it, though.

Since it was far past time to assume her duties as hostess to Leo’s parents, she navigated downstairs with only one wrong turn.

Leo was not in the lavishly appointed living room. Or the kitchen, or any of the other maze of rooms on the first floor. Finally she spied his dark head bent over the desk in his study, where he was clearly engrossed in the dollar signs marching across his laptop screen.

Leo was working. Gee. What a shock. Why hadn’t she thought to check his study first? Wishful thinking?

For a moment, she watched him, curious to see her husband unguarded. Towering bookshelves lined the room and should have dwarfed the man in it. They didn’t. Leo’s persona dominated the room. He’d shed his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves to midforearm. With his hair slightly rumpled, he was kind of adorable.

He glanced up with a distracted, lopsided half smile and her stomach flipped with a long, feminine pull. Okay, he was more than adorable. He was quite delicious and thoroughly untouchable, a combination she suddenly found irresistible. Her inner Scarlett conjured up a naughty mental scenario involving that red-hot lingerie and Leo’s desk. Hey, here’s a bottom line you can check out.

“Busy?” she croaked and cleared her throat. Duh. Of course he was.

“I’m, uh, just finishing up.” He shot a furtive glance at his laptop as if the screen contained something shamefully un-work-related.

“What are you doing? Watching YouTube videos?” Shut up, Scarlett. It was none of her business whether he was monitoring stock prices or carousing in a role-playing-game forum. “I mean...”

Well, there was really no recovery for that slip.

“No.” He shut the lid and she thought that would be the end of it. But then his mouth twitched. “I mentor college students online. I was walking through a business plan with one. Via chat.”

“That’s wonderful.” What in the world was shameful about that? “They must really pay close attention when they see your name pop up. That’s like winning the mentor lottery.”

Her new husband was so generous and kind. Of course he was. Elise wouldn’t have matched her with this man otherwise.

“I mentor anonymously.”

“Oh. Why?”

“The business world is—” Flustered, he threaded fingers through his already slightly rumpled hair and she itched to smooth it back for him. “Let’s just say my competitors won’t hesitate to pounce on weakness. I don’t present them with any.”

Mentoring the next generation of businessmen could be perceived as a weakness? “Richard Branson mentors young kids. I don’t see why he can do it, but you can’t.”

“He’s considered successful.” The unspoken I’m not hung in the air, but Leo stood and rolled his sleeves down, then rounded the desk, clearly signaling the end of the conversation. “Shall we?”

Her mouth fell open and she clamped it closed, swallowing the dozens of questions that sprang to her lips. His expression had closed off and even she could read the tread-with-caution sign. “Of course.”

The doorbell rang and she trailed Leo to the foyer to meet Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds. Leo introduced his parents and Dannie shook hands with smiling, silver-haired Mr. Reynolds.

The spritely woman with Leo’s dark hair bounded into the house and swept Dannie up in a fierce hug. “I’m so happy to meet you!”

“I’m happy to meet you, too, Mrs. Reynolds.” Dannie breathed in her new mother-in-law’s perfume, which reminded her of vanilla cookies.

“Oh, please. I’m Susan.”

“I’m sorry, but I was expecting someone...” Cold. Unforgiving. Judgmental. “...older.”

Susan laughed. “Aren’t you sweet? Come with me to the kitchen and let Leo talk to his father while we fetch drinks.”

After a glance at Leo to gauge the appropriateness, Dannie followed Susan into the kitchen and proceeded to watch while Leo’s mother bustled around gathering glasses and chattering as if they were old friends. Obviously Susan felt comfortable in her son’s house. Unlike her son’s wife. Dannie wouldn’t have known which cabinet contained glasses.

“I apologize for missing the ceremony, Daniella.” Susan handed her a glass of tea and touched her shoulder. “It was a stupid, useless protest. But I’m mad at Leo, not you.”

“Oh.” She had to find a new response. That one was wearing thin. But it had been so appropriate. All day.

“He’s just so...Leo. You know?” Susan sighed dramatically and Dannie nodded, though she didn’t know. But she’d like to. “Too focused. Too intense. Too everything but what matters.”

No way was she letting that pass. “What matters?”

“Life. Love. Grandchildren.” With narrow eyes, Susan peered at Dannie. “Did he tell you that he draws?”

The tea she’d just sipped almost went down the wrong pipe. “Draws what?”

Susan snorted. “That’s what I thought. Leo would rather die than let anyone know he does something frivolous. He can draw anything. Animals. Landscapes. Bridges and buildings. He’s very talented. Like his namesake.”

“Leo was named after someone who draws?” She envisioned a stooped grandfather doodling cartoon characters on the back of a grocery list.

“Leonardo da Vinci.”

Dannie nearly dropped her tea. Leo’s full name was Leonardo? Not Leonard? She’d noticed the little extra squiggle at the end of his name on the marriage license but had been so fixated on signing her own name she hadn’t thought anything of it.

It shouldn’t matter. But it did.

She’d married a man with a romantic name who created art from nothing more than pen and paper. She wanted to see something he’d drawn. Better yet, she wanted him to voluntarily show it to her. To share a deep-seated piece of himself. To connect with his wife.

Leo’s mother had torn open a tiny corner of her son’s personality and it whipped up a fervor to tear away more. They’d been matched and Dannie hungered to learn what they might share beyond a love of books, family and commitment.

“Daniella.” Susan crooked her finger and Dannie leaned in. “I get that your marriage to my son is some kind of arrangement and presumably, that’s all right with you. I won’t pry. But Leo needs someone to love him, someone he can love in return, and neither will come easy. If it’s not going to be you, please step aside.”

Her pulse hammered in her throat. This marriage was nothing more than a means to an end. An arrangement between two people based on compatibility, not love—exactly what she’d signed up for. But nothing close to what she wanted, what she dreamed could be possible.

Leo had asked for a wife to run his household, organize his parties and charm his business associates. Most important, his wife should give him what he needed, which wasn’t necessarily the same as what he professed to need.

The woman behind the man had to be smart about how best to do her job.

Her inner Scarlett snickered and said new plan.

“What if it is going to be me?”

Leo had such a generous heart, but he cut himself off from people. He needed Dannie’s help to understand why. If she could figure him out, it could lead to so much more than an arrangement. It could lead to the enduring love story she’d dreamed of.

Susan’s smile could have powered every light in Paris. “Then I say welcome to the family.”

* * *

Leo shut the door behind his parents and paused a moment before turning. For fortification. It did nothing to ease the screaming awareness of his vibrant wife. Sure enough, when he spun, there she was. Watching him with those keen eyes, chest rising and falling slightly, straining against her soft gray shirt.

He was noticing the way she breathed.

Clearly, he needed to go bury himself in a spreadsheet for a couple of hours.

His parents had liked Daniella, fortunately, because their lively discussion covered the fact that Leo hadn’t contributed much. He’d been too busy pretending not to be preoccupied by his wife. But she’d been so amazing. A good conversationalist. A good hostess. Warm, friendly. Sexy.

It was just the two of them now. Talking was unavoidable.

“Thank you for entertaining my parents.”

She shot him a perplexed look. “You’re welcome. That’s what I’m here for. Right?”

Since she was gazing at him expectantly, he answered her, though the question should have been rhetorical. “Yes, and I appreciate it.”

“I enjoyed meeting your parents. Your mother is very interesting.”

That sounded like a lead-up if he’d ever heard one. “What did she say to you in the kitchen?”

“Nothing of consequence.” The smile on his wife’s face was gracious and innocent. Too much so.

“Don’t listen to anything my mother says, Daniella. She suffers from a terrible affliction with no cure—overt romanticism.”

“Dannie.”

“What?”

She’d inched forward until they were breathing the same air. And her chest nearly touched his with each small inhalation. “Daniella is too formal and stuck-up, don’t you think? Call me Dannie.”

He shook his head. The more formality the better for his peace of mind. “There’s nothing wrong with the name Daniella. It’s unusual. Beautiful. It suits you.”

Her eyes lit up and suddenly, she was the only one breathing because all the organs in his chest stopped functioning. Nothing to the south suffered from the same problem. Everything there hummed on high alert.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

Had he said that? His brain was not refreshing fast enough. “Your name. I said your name is beautiful.” Her expression fell and he cursed. If only he could converse with his wife exclusively by email, then maybe he could avoid hurting her feelings. “Of course you are, too. Very lovely.”

Nice save, he thought sarcastically. Lovely. That described a winter snowscape. From the perspective of an eighty-year-old woman. This was the point where he usually escaped to go do something where he possessed proficiency—work.

Without looking at her again, he muttered, “Good night.”

“Leo.” A firm hand on his arm stopped him before he’d taken two steps past her. “I asked you to call me Dannie because that’s what my friends call me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

The warmth in her voice washed over him, settling inside with a slow burn. He didn’t turn, didn’t dare face her.

Something fundamental had changed in her demeanor—the leash she’d kept on her energy had snapped and yeah, he needed to look out. It leached into the air, electrifying it. She certainly wasn’t afraid to speak to him any longer. “I... Yes. Of course.”

She brushed against his arm as she rounded it, apparently not content to talk to his back. Her shirt gaped slightly, revealing a tantalizing peek at her cleavage. The slow burn blazed faster. They were talking about being friends, not lovers. What was wrong with him?

Dannie. No, too intimate. Daniella was too intriguing. What was he supposed to call her, hey, you?

He couldn’t compartmentalize his wife. That was bad.

“Friends,” he rasped because he had to say something.

Okay, good. Daniella could go into the friends box. It could work. He’d envisioned having a companion to fill a hole in his life. Now he had one.

“Friends.” Without breaking eye contact, she reached up and loosened his tie, leaning into it, fingers lingering far too long for the simple task. “Who help each other relax.”

Relax? Every nerve in his body skated along a razor’s edge, desperately seeking release from the power of his wife’s touch. The faint scent of strawberries wafted from her glossy lips and he wanted to taste it. “What makes you think I need to relax?”

“I can feel the tension from here, Leo.”

Was that what they were calling it these days? Felt like a good, old-fashioned hard-on to him.

As if pulled by imperceptible threads, his body circled closer to hers and the promise of heat turned into a reality as their lower halves brushed once, twice. His hand flew to the small of her back to clamp her tight against him.

Fingers still tangled in his loosened tie, she tugged slightly. Her face tipped up, lips primed to be taken in another kiss, but this time nothing prevented him from finishing it. From dragging his lips down the length of his wife’s torso, straight to...

He cursed—they’d agreed to be platonic only a few hours ago and they were in the middle of an innocuous conversation about being friends. Yet he was salivating at the thought of kissing her, of laughing together over a joke, of being so much more than a convenience to each other.

He took a deliberate step backward and her hand dropped from his tie.

If she had this strong an effect on him, he was in hotter water than he’d realized. He did not want to be so obsessed with his wife.

“I’m tense because I have a lot of work to do.” He willed his body and his bothersome loneliness back into submission. Or tried to. Seemed as though it was destined to be a losing battle. Since she was clearly no longer too scared to talk, he’d have to put space between them another way. “We’ll spend time together, but this will not be a conventional relationship. If that’s not going to work for you, we should get an annulment.”

A hint of hurt crept into her expression. His chest panged. She’d just asked to be friends and loosened his tie. Why was he turning it into a cardinal offense? Wasn’t this part of letting their relationship grow more intimate naturally?

“What happened to make you so jaded?” she asked quietly, not the slightest bit cowed by his speech. He liked it better when she said nothing more than yes and thank you.

“I’m not jaded. I don’t have anything against relationships or love in general. Without it, I wouldn’t be here. My parents still make googly eyes at each other across the table. Didn’t you notice?”

“Of course. They’re a very happy couple. Why don’t you want the same?”

There was the reason he’d nipped the tie loosening in the bud. They were married and might even become friends, but they were never going to be anything more, and it was a disservice to Daniella to let her have the smallest hope otherwise.

He was already doing himself a disservice by even contemplating “otherwise.”

“Oh, they’re happy, all right.” He rolled his eyes. “At the expense of everything else. My parents have no money. No savings.”

And they refused to accept what they called handouts from Leo. He’d like nothing more than to take care of them, had offered a house, cars, even vacations, to no avail. Apparently, they enjoyed the gangs and graffiti spray-painted on the front sidewalk. Their memories appeared to be short, but Leo could never forget the gun-wielding thief who’d broken into their house when he was six. The terror had fueled his drive to escape and kept him on the straight and narrow.

“You fault your parents for being happy over making money?”

“No, I don’t blame my father for working a low-paying job so he could be home with my mom and me. I choose to live my life differently. I’ll never force my child to be grateful for one gift under the Christmas tree. To stay home from school on the days when the rest of the class goes on field trips to the zoo because I can’t afford for my kid to go.”

“Oh, Leo.”

The compassion shining in her eyes unearthed something poignant inside. That had to go. This wasn’t about feeling sorry for poor, little Leo Reynolds from the section of east Dallas where even the churches had bars on the windows. It was about making a point.

“See all this?” He cut a hand through the air to indicate the house at large. “I worked for every dime. I held three jobs in college so I could graduate with no debt and then put my nose to the grindstone for years to get ahead. I’m still not there. If I take my eye off the prize for even a moment, poof. It all vanishes.”

His wife gazed at him without speaking, lips pursed in a plump bow. Firm breasts strained against her blouse, inviting him to spread the fabric wide and—maybe he needed to internalize which prize he wasn’t supposed to take his eyes off of.

Other venture capital companies were unearthing the next Google or staking start-ups that sold to competitors for billions of dollars. Reynolds Capital would be there soon if he kept on course. All he had to do was resist temptation. He’d married a woman who would help him avoid the dangers of giving in.

If she’d just stay in her box, that is.

He breathed in the scent of strawberries and the sizzling energy of his wife. “I work, Daniella. All the time. I can’t invest in a relationship. It wouldn’t be fair if I let you believe in that possibility.”

He couldn’t let himself dwell on the possibilities, either. No weakness. Indulgence led to immersion and immersion led to ruin. Carmen had proved that, nearly derailing his entire senior year and subsequently, his life. It was easier to never start down that path and the last thing he wanted was to hurt Daniella.