Page 23 of Conning the Billionaire
The world spun, and she clutched his arms, which were large and straining against the fabric of his suit.
He broke away. “Let’s get out of here.”
Priyanka handed the blond Italian’s phone back to him and looked at Kylie with huge, disapproving eyes.
Kylie whispered to the guy, “Okay.”
With the diamond earrings heavy in her ears, Kylie followed the blond Italian out of Tiffany’s and toward the bank of elevators that led to the hotel rooms.
8
EXPECTATIONS
MICAH
Micah hadn’t intended to take Kylie Miller to bed.
For a week, she’d ditched every mark she’d conned before they got to the elevators. He even turned his back to her twice, giving her the opportunity to dash.
At the elevators, Micah extended his hand to shake. “It was lovely meeting you, Delilah.”
She looked at his hand, looked up into his eyes, and he could see the calculations running through her head while they stood there.
The elevator chimed beside them.
Kylie turned and stepped into the mirrored elevator, looked up at him with wary eyes, and then faced the doors as he’d punched a number high on the rows of buttons.
When she followed him into the elevator and then reached over, taking his hand, her breasts rising and falling under the fragile navy blue silk of her dress as she breathed more deeply, he was damned shocked.
She moved toward him a little but glanced at the black globe in the elevator’s corner and stopped.
Not an exhibitionist for the security cams. Okay. He wasn’t, either.
Maybe she planned to kidnap or extort him.
He had seen nothing over the past week to indicate that was her style.
Maybe he was blown.
No, that was ridiculous.
And yet, Kylie Miller was obviously connected. If anyone could trace his identity, it would be someone in the garbage business, so to speak.
At the door to his suite, Micah waved his phone in front of the sensor, and the door lock flashed green.
Inside, the entryway had a table topped with a vase of fresh flowers, some white and blue ones to match the furniture and carpeting and stuff.
Kylie turned as she meandered in, staring around at the suite. “Oh, wow.”
Micah shrugged. He stayed back from her, letting her acclimate because, for all she knew, he might be a serial killer who’d lured her to his lair.
Not that he was a serial killer. By definition, serial killers have killed three people on three different occasions, usually but not always in a premeditated or at least opportunistic way and usually for the thrill of it, so Micah wasn’t a serial killer.
Kylie wandered through the suite until she reached the windows overlooking the lights of Atlantic City in the night and the void of the Atlantic Ocean in the distance.
Micah stood behind her, close enough to encroach on her personal space. “So, Delilah, do you want to stay?”
She turned to face him, looking up. The top of her head only reached his shoulder. “Yes.”
