Billionaire In Hiding: The Complete Series (Alpha Billionaire Romance Western Love Story) (54 page)

“I see,” he frowned, clearly not liking
the concept and purpose of Netflix.

He was rich, so buying a Netflix
subscription wasn’t something he would understand.

I raised my champagne glass to change the
subject. “What are we drinking to?”

“To digital innovation,” he said, deadpan.

“Ha, ha,” I said, not laughing.

“Seriously though, to these next six
months,” he said, clinking his glass to mine.

I sipped the bubbly drink and it tasted
like a mixture of white wine and orange soda, something that sounds gross on
principle but my god was it delicious. I closed my eyes letting the sweet,
fizzy taste sink into my taste buds. This was why everyone made such a big deal
about champagne.

“You like it then?” Zayden asked with a
hint of satisfaction in his voice.

“It’s a step above Bud Light for sure,” I
smiled at him, and took another huge gulp.

“That’s a shame,” he said looking at the butler.
“You went through so much trouble locating the perfect bottle for no reason,
Mark. Her standards are at Bud Light—you could have picked up anything bubbly
from CVS next door and it would have served nicely.”

“Noted for next time,” Mark joked back.

There was something inherently pleasant
about the way Zayden was so relaxed and friendly with his staff. Aren’t men
like him supposed to be complete dickheads?

“To both of your disappointment, I now am
spoiled to be partial to nothing but the best,” I said sipping some more of the
goodness.

“Time for appetizers,” Mark said, removing
the lid from one of the silver containers to reveal succulent looking sushi
rolls. “Spicy tuna rolls. Sean had the fish transported from Japan only a few
hours ago. It was practically fished this morning, so I hope it’s fresh
enough.”

I felt a rush of excitement flood through
my veins. Spicy tuna rolls were among my absolute favorite foods. What were the
chances?

“Nah, I am sure it can’t beat the 5 dollar
rolls from China Garden across the street that I’m used to,” I said, trying to
sound nonchalant, even though I was dying to taste one.

When I did, I could just about cry with
happiness. Perfectly soft, slightly crunchy and so, so spicy. I let out an
involuntary moan.

“Tasty?” Zayden asked, looking delighted
by my reaction. “I’ll stick to plain old California rolls. I’m the victim of
mundane taste buds.”

“Suit yourself,” I said between mouthfuls.
It made little sense, though. Why would he ask his chef to make spicy tuna
rolls if he couldn’t handle some spice? I couldn’t be too bothered about it,
however, as I was too busy putting one sushi roll after another into my mouth.
I had already gobbled up an entire portion in less than five minutes. I
probably looked like an uncivilized moron. Just one more…

I had sufficiently devoured two whole
portions, when I heard Zayden, “I will take it from here for the entrees, Mark.
Thanks for your help tonight.”

He handed him what looked like five 100
dollar bills and added, “Share it with the guys and thank them for me.”

Mark took the cash looking completely
un-phased, as though this was a daily occurrence. It probably was.

When Mark left with the remaining
appetizers, there was an awkward silence for a few minutes, and I almost wished
I had another sushi roll there just to keep myself occupied. Zayden was looking
at me straight in the eyes, not a single expression on his face. Should I say
something?

“Is that a push-up bra?”

What? The question was so random and
bizarre, I couldn’t help but snicker.

“I don’t have to answer that question,” I
said pouting.

“Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry, as his eyes
were now fixated on my breasts. “I am just a little distracted.”

His seductive ways weren’t going to stop.

“Let’s see what’s for dinner,” I tried
changing the subject and lifted off the lids of a couple of silver containers.
What the hell? The sushi could maybe just be a coincidence but there was no way
that this entire dinner accidentally constituted of my absolute favorite
dishes. The aroma of rich Indian spices filled the room and one small container
was specifically reserved for spicy peppers.

“You don’t look happy,” Zayden said,
looking concerned.

“No, no!” I widened my eyes. “I’m just…
really surprised. I adore Indian food, and spicy peppers, and spicy anything.
And you said you couldn’t even handle the sushi so how come-”

“I called your emergency contact, some Ms.
Stacey Pace this morning, asking about your dietary preference.”

“You didn’t!” I exclaimed, feeling a
mixture of amazement and slight annoyance at Stacey. She could have told me.
Whose side was she on, anyway?

“I hope you enjoy dinner,” he said,
looking extremely pleased with himself.

I enjoyed dinner, all right. Very, very
reluctantly, I enjoyed the best Indian food I had ever tasted, wanting to laugh
and cry and hug him all at once.

“Dessert?” he asked after we ate.

“I think we have exhausted my capacity to
eat for tonight,” I said, sounding more regretful about not having space for
dessert than I intended to. “Thank you though. This was truly fantastic. You
didn’t have to go above and beyond, you know.”

“It was nothing,” he shrugged. “Really. I
didn’t have to do anything.”

He was grinning. Right. He had help. Ugh.
I felt stupid. He probably did this for every girl he tried to seduce. I had
made myself sound more important than I actually was.

“I know, but I am still grateful that you
took the time to learn what I liked. You’re helping me out with this whole
contract thing a lot more than I’m doing anything for you already. Don’t feel
like you need to put in any effort at all, even if it’s only making a few phone
calls on your part. Honestly, I would have been happy just hanging out and
talking, maybe asking you for some help with an Economics paper…”

I didn’t mean to say that last part out so
casually. Shit. I didn’t dare meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry… I meant
like, if you were interested and had nothing better to do, I could entertain
you with some amateur Macroeconomics.”

When I finally looked at him, his eyes
were shining, with a tiny hint of a smile on his lips. “Macroeconomics, huh?
What is your paper on?”

“The economic benefits of progressive
taxation,” I said, my eyes planted on the silverware in front of me.

“Isn’t that a little left of center for
college economics?” He sounded genuinely interested. “When I was in college
they taught us to be a lot more conservative.”

“Well, that’s the thing.” I was finally
able to look at him without flinching again. “My professor is a hardcore
Republican who doesn’t believe any good could come out of taxing the rich. He
accused me of being a dirty communist. So I am writing this paper to prove him
wrong.”

“People don’t easily change their
long-standing political opinions, Aria. You are probably taking a risk
challenging him like that since he decides your grades.”

“He can’t fail me for disagreeing with me,
and this paper is my one chance to show him that his way isn’t the only way.”

“Saving the world, one Econ professor at a
time?” he laughed.

“Fine, you don’t really have to help me. I
just thought it would be a fun thing to do if we are going to spend so much
time together. But this is your contract, we do whatever you want on your
time.”

Dinner had been so nice and relaxed; I had
almost forgotten why I was there. We weren’t just two people hanging out and
getting to know each other, he was
paying
me to do this. We weren’t friends. We weren’t anything. I was his employee. Why
did I ever think he would be interested in my stupid – I jumped as I felt his
hand over mine. Suddenly, without any warning, my mind went completely blank
and I felt a jolt of electricity run through my veins. His hands were strong
but tender, his long, slender fingers completely engulfing mine. He was
twiddling his thumb against mine and I felt a sensation in a place that had no
right to react to what was happening. I couldn’t remember what I was thinking
about or what we were talking about. All I knew was that I wished that my body
didn’t react to his touch the way it did. I squeaked involuntarily and pulled
my hand away gently.

What the hell was that? Once more, I had
trouble looking him in the eye. This time for completely different reasons.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the
time he finally said, “I’ll help you with your paper. Every night after dinner
we will work on it together. Okay?”

When I met his bright blue eyes again, he
was flashing me a genuine smile and my heartbeat picked up. How embarrassing.
Snap out of it, woman! Agreeing to help me with homework was just one of many
tricks in his big game plan of getting my clothes off, just like organizing a
custom dinner with my favorite dishes. He wasn’t interested in my food choices
or my paper or my world views or my economics professor. I would be an idiot to
let myself believe otherwise. He had made no attempt to hide his motives behind
this entire set-up, and if I let myself get confused into thinking he actually
cared about me, only I would be to blame when I got hurt in the end. Staying
grounded through these six months seemed like a harder task right now than it
ever had before, but I had to be strong and take this for what it was to him: a
game.

“Thank you,” I said, trying not to betray
my train of thought.

“And one of these days,” he added. “I
would be happy to come to your apartment for some pizza and Bud Light. We can
do the Netflix thing as well if it makes you feel normal.”

“All right.”

---

When I finally got home that night,
however, I started panicking. Zayden Sinclair, in my house? The living room
floor was covered in magazines, and Stacey and Nick would scrutinize him to no
end, and our T.V. was not even a flat screen. The couch was fifty-years-old, a
gift from Nick’s now deceased grandmother. Maybe I could get him to change his
mind…

As I covered myself with blankets, my
thoughts drifted away from the apartment to that moment during dinner when his
thumb was rubbing against mine. Laden with desire, I softly rubbed my fingers
against each other. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I could not let him have
this kind of an effect on me. This was exactly what he was trying to
accomplish, and I knew better than to let him have what he wanted. With the
firm decision to actively block any compromising thoughts of him, I closed my
eyes.

That didn’t stop me from dreaming
compromising dreams all night, though.

CHAPTER
6

ZAYDEN

I was surprised by Aria’s progress on her
paper so far. Over the past few years running the company, I had grown cynical
of women, and the thought of them as intellectual beings had not crossed my
mind since my MBA days. It probably had to do with not working with many smart
ones. But man, this girl was bright. Had I not been dallying with her with the
intention of getting into her pants, I might even have offered her a long-term
analyst position at the bank. She would crawl up the ranks quickly with her out-of-the-box
thinking and passionate articulations of ideas on the impact of individual
economic status on large-scale growth of a national economy. Unfortunately,
some other institution would be lucky to have her as an asset, since I had
already decided on utilizing a whole different set of her talents; hopefully
she had those talents, even though she was a virgin. Oh, who was I kidding, I
was going to enjoy every minute of it even if she just lay there like a rock.
Getting her to lay down next to me was going to be the hardest part.

I was doing everything I could:
researching her favorite cuisines, offering to hang out in her comfort-zone,
even helping her with homework. But it wasn’t enough. I had to do more.
Suddenly, I had a flash of inspiration and logged onto the MBA homepage of my
alma mater.

If I submitted her abstract for
publication in their Economist Tribune, they would jump to accept it purely
based on my recommendation. I could gladly throw some money at them if that
helped, but I did more than enough to uphold the university’s financial
standing. There was no way they would decline something that came from me. I
had to be careful, though, in letting her know just how much influence I had on
their decision. She needed to know that it would not have happened without me,
but her pride would suffer if she didn’t feel she merited the publication. In
order to get her running into my arms, I had to find the perfect balance
between the two.

I had begun working on the submission when
she walked in.

“It’s almost six, did you want me here
tonight?”

“Of course, every night. Didn’t we go over
this?” I looked up at her.

She frowned. “You just look busy is all, I
wasn’t sure-”

“Seriously, every night.”

“Did you get a chance to go through my
paper yet?”