Page 48 of Forbidden Billionaire
Rather than argue, I do as he says. When I’m finished, I look at him. “Happy?”
“You know I always like it when you’re my good girl.”
My heart drops to my toes.
There is something about knowing he’s pleased with me that’s ultimately satisfying.
Pretending my hands aren’t shaking, I head to the kitchen.
Then I stop in the living room.
Boxes aren’t piled halfway to the ceiling, blocking the view, and it finally hits me. This is mine. Really mine. Brick walls, pristine hardwood floors, luxurious furniture.
“Hard to believe?” Not for the first time, it’s as if he’s read my mind.
“Impossible is more like it.” Though I know I have neighbors, I haven’t seen any of them, and I can’t hear people yelling at each other through the paper-thin walls.
For the first time in ages, I feel like I can relax.
Or I could, if Blackwell wasn’t with me, filling the space with his impossible presence.
“I’ll grab the champagne.”
Jolted back to the present moment, I nod. “Sounds good.”
He follows me to the kitchen, and he pulls open the fridge, making me gasp. It’s filled with food, and not just the sandwiches and such that Lila had put away. There’s fresh veggies and two containers of the creamer I like. “I had no idea you did that too.”
“Being thorough.”
Like he always is. “That was thoughtful.”
While he reaches for the very expensive bottle of champagne that’s chilling on the top shelf, I take a guess as to which cabinet the glasses are stashed in.
I find it on the first try. Lila did a brilliant job of organizing this kitchen for me. Without her, I wouldn’t feel half as settled as I do right now.
“I have to let you know, I only have wineglasses.” I pull them out and set them on the marble counter. They don’t even match. “No proper flutes.”
“Not a problem. I’ve actually resorted to drinking out of red plastic cups on occasion.”
I turn to study him, trying to figure out if he’s kidding. “You have not.”
“No.” He grins. “I really haven’t.”
I shake my head, and a laugh bubbles up before I can swallow it. The sound surprises me—it’s bright and breathless, an echo of the woman who’s been gone for a very long time.
He joins in too. And I realize we’ve never laughed together before. Everything with him is usually so razor-sharp and serious. This side of him is new and revealing, making me actually like him. That alone makes him even more lethal.
Our gazes meet, and suddenly, just for the smallest heartbeat, we’re two people on the edge of something reckless.
I blink to shatter the moment.
Blackwell coaxes the cork free without spilling a single drop. The soft pop feels celebratory and intimate.
He fills the mismatched glasses, hands me one, then picks up his own.
“Shall we go into the living room?” My suggestion allows me to put some distance between us again. Even though the kitchen is good size, his commanding body makes is tight and a little threatening.
As if I’m drawn there, I cross to the oversize windows. The apartment overlooks Buffalo Bayou. When I had the showing, I fell in love with the shimmering water and the welcome greenery, an oasis against Houston’s massive sprawl.
