HIS (A Billionaire Romance Novel) (2 page)

“You just let me worry about how I handle things,” I replied.

Mitchell nodded slowly. I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me that way because he believed I could do it, or because he knew I didn’t have a chance in hell.

As I turned to leave his office, I secretly wondered the same thing…

Mitchell had assigned a driver to take me to Orwin Manor, far beyond the city limits. In fact, it was far away from everything. It took us a little over an hour to get out there, much of which was spent winding down tree-lined roads with no signs of civilization around us.

I looked out the window. The foliage here was thick and blindingly green, nothing like the little trees we had peppering the city sidewalks. Those seemed just for decoration compared to the monstrous branches stretching over the road above me.

As we drove, I tried to concoct a plan. Mitchell had been clear on what he expected of me.
No sex,
he’d assured, and I had taken comfort in that. But I’d had a long time to think on it and wonder what I had that Mr. Cross needed. And it all came back to the same thing.

I remembered the heat of his gaze on my chest as I’d sat across from him during my interview. I remembered the way he’d ran his tongue over his teeth behind his lips as he studied the dip of my blouse oh-so-attentively. I remembered, when he wasn’t looking, unbuttoning just one more tiny button in the hopes it would close the deal.

And it had. I’d gotten the job, hadn’t I? But would something like that work now?

A billionaire like Tyler Cross had to have the veritable pick of the litter when it came to women. He had good looks, charm, and several billion reasons why any supermodel or starlet might want to sleep with him. And just because I was the office flirt who’d been desperate for a lay for damn near a year now didn’t mean that I was any good with men. Not really. Whenever it got serious, whenever it wasn’t just a game, my knees would quiver and my stomach would flutter and I’d start sputtering and forget how to breathe.

That wouldn’t turn on a man like Mr. Cross. Would it?

“Here we are,” the driver said, and I looked back out the front as we pulled into a private drive. A quarter of a mile down that, we reached a tall, iron gate that looked to have been claimed by all manner of creeping vines long ago. Even the call box was mossy and rusted. I wrinkled my nose.

“Are you sure anyone lives here?” I asked, wondering if the reason no one could get in was because there wasn’t anyone to man the gate. Security, indeed.

“I’m sure, miss,” he answered, putting the car into park in front of the gate. Then he turned and smiled. “All right, then. Go on out. If you press the button on the call box, someone should be down to receive you shortly.”

I blinked at him. “Aren’t you going to wait and drive me in?”

The driver shook his head. “No, miss. Those aren’t my orders. If Mr. Cross sees it’s me out here, he’ll never let you inside.”

I sat back in my seat for a moment. So, the plan was for me to show up with no way of leaving and to prey upon Mr. Cross’ sense of pity to make my way inside. It was brilliant and risky. It must have been Mitchell’s idea.

“Thank you,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I meant it, especially not when I stepped out of the car and into the balmy air made all the thicker by the trees closing in on all sides.

“You’ll be just fine,” the driver assured me, reversing back down the drive. “The button you need to press is just there. Don’t worry, someone will be out.”

I watched him go. Every foot he traveled made the pit in my stomach grow deeper and wider. By the time he’d retreated to the road, it felt like my legs were hollow.

What if there really wasn’t anyone there? How long would I have to wait before someone came to get me?

I pulled my cell phone from my purse and checked the signal.
Shit. Of course not.
Why would there be a signal out there? That would be much too convenient.

I tried to remember the quarter million dollars I was owed as I walked the few remaining feet up the drive and squinted at the call box.

It was simple enough to operate, but my skin crawled at the idea. It looked like it didn’t get much use, and out here, that meant more than a few creatures had taken up residence in or around it. A spider’s web took up most of one side, and in the center of it, a big, fat orb-weaver sat staring at me.

Despite all I’d heard about spiders being more scared of me than I was of them, I knew that the moment I reached forward to press the button, that sucker was going to jump right on me. I retrieved a pen from my purse and used that to press the button instead, mumbling a prayer that the eight-legged fiend didn’t get any ideas.

There was a long pause, and I was just beginning to suspect that the place was abandoned when the speaker crackled to life, first with static and then with a low, melodic voice.

“Hello?”

“Ah,” I began, unsure of how to introduce myself. “Yes, um… this is Valerie Hartwick from Cumberland & Cross.” Maybe I shouldn’t have said that part. I blurted out the rest before he could cut me off. “I’m here to see Tyler.”

“Mr. Cross isn’t here, I’m afraid,” the man on the other end droned. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way to find out. But I’d be glad to take a message.”

I sighed. “I don’t have a ride home, though. And there’s no signal. And it’s miles to the nearest bus stop, and I’m wearing heels. If you could just open the gate…”

Another pause. “You don’t have a car? How did you get here?”

I looked up at the gate, scanning along the wrought iron spikes until I reached the column nearest me where it hinged. Partially obscured by a tangled mess of ivy was a little security camera, its red light flickering.

“You can see me, can’t you?” I said, keeping my face toward it and hoping my desperate expression would save me. “You know I’m alone. Please, open the gate. If Mr. Cross isn’t here, that’s fine. I just need to call someone to get me home.”

“And what did you say your name was?”

“Valerie. Valerie Hartwick.”

Silence fell for a few moments, and I struggled not to wrench the pen away as the orb-weaver scuttled just a bit closer to the edge of its web. Then I heard a sigh and the gate began to moan.

I pulled my hand away and took a few steps back, finally distancing myself from the spider and its long, spindly legs and too many eyes. As I let my nerves settle, I watched the gate fold open, each of its black wings drifting away from me like the angel of death preparing to take flight. They screeched and groaned and clanged as they finally unfurled all the way, allowing me unfettered access to Orwin Manor.

The estate was enormous. Although the gate and the drive had obviously been neglected, everything about the home itself was positively pristine. The walls, though crawling with ivy, shone white beneath and the windows were so clean I could hardly tell there were glass panes in them. On the third story there was a balcony looking over the grounds with the perfect view of the topiary and hedge maze, both of which suffered from the same state of decay as the entry point, and through those French doors blocked by thick drapes on the other side, I wondered if that was where Tyler’s bedroom lay.

I had met him only a handful of times, and I still thought “met” might have been too strong a word to describe our interactions. Stage three of the hiring process had involved a face-to-face interview between us, during which time he’d said very little but listened a lot, staring at me so hard I nearly toppled backwards out of my chair. He’d always come across as a quiet, stern man, the sort of man who didn’t take stock in pleasantries, but revered manners, and who practiced a certain cold formality at all times.

He kept everyone at arm’s length. I’d always known that. But this was excessive, even for him. He’d walled himself up inside a fancy cage, and here I was to set him free.

As I mounted the steps toward the front door, I wondered how I’d manage it. After all, I could lead a horse to water. But could I make him drink?

One of the two ornately-carved doors swung open unexpectedly and I stared into the face of a man who was clearly no stranger to scowling.

“Miss Hartwick, I presume?”

He was in his late fifties with a full man of gray hair and a beard to match. His pale skin was drawn tightly around his features, especially at the cheeks, which were gaunt and hollow. His sunken eyes blazed like two perfect sapphires and when his lips moved, it was always in a sneer, like for him distaste was some kind of reflex.

I swallowed and smiled. “Yes. If I could just use your phone…”

“I know what you’re here for,” he said, stepping aside to grant me space to walk through into the foyer. “It’s on the table near the end of the hall. You may wait on the seat there until your ride gets here.”

I took a deep breath. I’d expected Tyler to be difficult, but adding his guard dog to the mix made the task seem insurmountable.

I walked slowly to the little table the man had indicated, soaking in the opulence of Orwin Manor in the process. It reminded me of the Myrtle Plantation in Louisiana. Much of it still bore that old, antebellum charm, although it had been modernized in all the right places. And yet so much of it seemed like it was never touched except for someone to clean it, like I was walking through a museum filled with artifacts no one could bear to disturb. It was unnerving, but not as much as the man glaring at me from the foyer.

I picked up the phone. It was an old model that had been restored to working order. I fumbled with the rotary dial. I didn’t tell him I was calling my own cell phone.

As expected, it didn’t even ring. I pretended to wait patiently for someone to answer, and then feigned leaving a message for a friend.

“Hey, Alyson. It’s me, Val. I need a ride from Orwin Manor. You must be at work right now. Call me first thing when you get off, okay? Thanks. Bye.”

I hung up and gave the man a resigned shrug. “I guess I’m stuck here for a while.”

He regarded me coolly. “Had we the staff that we once did, I’d have a driver take you. But perhaps you should call a cab.”

“I…” I had to think of some excuse. “Well, I don’t have any money…”

“I’m sure what Mr. Cross has afforded us in petty cash can take care of it,” he said.

I bit my lip. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly accept that. It’s not your fault I’m stranded, after all. I mean, I don’t want to impose—”

“But you are,” the man said, clasping his hands behind his back. His rigid stance and black suit made him look like a cross between a corpse and an undertaker. “Imposing, I mean.”

I hesitated. I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but I hadn’t expected anyone to get combative, either—much less a man I assumed was some kind of butler.

Apparently, he took my silence as defeat. He added, “I’ll make the arrangements, Miss Hartwick. It really is best for everyone if you go as soon as possible.”

This man was so dead set on my departure. He made me feel unwanted. He made me feel small. And those were two feelings that made it impossible for me to argue back. I’d failed before I’d even begun.

“Lucas,” I heard a voice say from upstairs, “are you harassing our guest?”

I turned and looked. There on the landing with his hand curled tight around the wooden banister was Tyler Cross, the very man I’d come to see.

The man whose butler had insisted wasn’t home.

Lucas turned his head as well. “No, Master Cross. I was only making arrangements for another of your Cumberland & Cross visitors to leave the premises.”

Tyler began to descend the stairs in earnest now, his tattered robe skirting his ankles and filling the silence with a rhythmic swishing sound. “That’s not just any visitor,” he said once he’d made it halfway. “That’s my assistant. And I’d like to talk to her.”

This gave Lucas pause. He looked back to me, then again to Tyler before replying, “I see. Very well, then. Shall I make you some tea?”

“That would be fine,” I said, looking up at Tyler as he made it to the ground floor.

His tawny hair was swept lazily over one side of his head and tousled just enough to look like he’d just finished having some
really
hot sex. The last time I’d seen him he’d been clean-shaven, but now he sported stubble all along his chin and jaw. It crept up toward his cheeks and disappeared into the shadows below his high cheekbones and his hooded blue-violet eyes. Those eyes halted my breath in my lungs. I’d forgotten how beautiful they were and how easily they pierced me.