MATCHMAKER (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (28 page)

I was startled when the car came to a stop. I’d fallen asleep and looked outside in mild panic. This wasn’t any airport I recognized.

“Where are we?”

“We’re taking my private jet,” he said, as though he was telling me about the weather.

I looked at him, wide-eyed and confused. He laughed and patted me on the shoulder.

“You seriously thought we were taking a regular old plane? This is much faster. And way more fun.” He leaned forward a little. “Thank you, Gretta.”

“Yes, thank you. It was so comfortable I fell asleep!” I confessed.

“You two kids have fun!” she said and gave Billy a knowing wink. I blushed.
Oh, God.

Billy looked so calm and important. When he walked into the building, everyone greeted him. I could tell they all genuinely liked him. It was easy to make a big deal over a rich guy, especially one so well liked.

A large sign read ‘Allen Carson Airport Terminal.’ The airport was pretty big, considering it was private. The whole place was covered in light gold tiles, and everything sparkled like it was new, or like someone had come in and washed the tiles with special care. The floors were covered in red rugs, and there was a generally happy vibe. No stressed-out workers and miserable patrons like at larger airports.

“This is my private airport. I give high-end clients this option if they prefer the privacy. I also have a service that’s a bit more affordable—for emergencies, of course. The place is named after my father, Allen.”

Everything he did was designed to make more money, it seemed. His mind had a strategic plan no matter what he was doing, which fascinated me as both his therapist and as a person.

“Were you close with your father?” I asked. I felt comfortable as a shrink. I wanted to be a shrink right now and not a surprised tourist.

“Yes. He’s actually still alive. Lives in the Bahamas with my mother. One of the things that drove me to find wealth was the ability to give my parents the kind of life they deserved. They both worked so hard when I was young.”

I was touched by this. “That must be where you get your work ethic from,” I replied with sudden clarity.

He really
did take care of everyone in his life. It would explain why he had such a difficult time admitting he needed help.

He put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re a damn good doctor,” he said. I stiffened and moved away from his hand without trying to be insulting. Luckily for me, he laughed. “Who’s the jumpy one now?” he teased.

A well-groomed pilot awaited us. He looked young, probably my brother’s age. He smiled. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Carson. Ready when you are.”

This was such a casual flight setup. Should I be nervous? Truly, I didn’t know how to behave in this situation.

“What’s up, kid? We’re headed to San Fran today. You ready to fly?” Billy asked the pilot.

“Now that I’ve had the excellent coffee in the staff room, yes indeed.” The pilot seemed comfortable with the casual exchange.

“We have precious cargo today.” Billy grabbed my shoulders from behind. I was flush against him now. My face probably matched the rugs. “So be careful.”

The young man nodded and motioned us aboard. We walked through a loading dock from the building to the plane, for which I was grateful; the wind was cold today. The inside was just as luxurious as the terminal. The plane, too, had a light gold interior. The seats and carpet were red. There were four seats, two joined in the middle by a table with cup holders. The female flight attendant wore a red velvet outfit.

“Welcome, Mr. Carson. Miss.” She greeted us with a white smile. It seemed to be a trademark of Billy and his employees.

We sat near each other. I couldn’t believe this was really happening. I must have looked ashen because the flight attendant looked concerned.

“Would you like something to snack on, Miss? Seltzer?” she asked kindly.

“Yes, please,” I agreed. It might be good to get some food in my stomach. I’d been so nervous this morning that I hadn’t eaten breakfast.

“Are you all right?” Billy asked.

“Yes. I’m honestly just impressed. It’s my first time on a flight like this.”

“I figured. But get used to it. Now that you’re a part of my team, you and your practice will have use of my services.”

“No way.” I shook my head, wondering if he was really interested in the practice or just interested in me. “We couldn’t accept that.”

And if my boss knew this was happening, I could lose my license.

“Trust me. Once I lay the plan out to your boss, they’ll be using my flights. I actually thought maybe we could become partners, and your people could offer my people coaching for business trips.”

“You’re so good at what you do. Brilliant actually. You see possibilities in things I would never dream of,” I said.

“And you’re good at what you do. I might like you, but I’d be investing in you and your company for a hell of a bigger reason than that,” he said.

I wanted to believe him. For now, I would. I wanted to enjoy this experience, and I wanted my boss to be excited by his proposition. Maybe I hadn’t destroyed all of the boundaries after all.

The flight took off. I watched out the window as the world fell. The attendant began serving us our drinks. I took a sip. It was the best champagne I’d ever had, a mixture of tart and sweet and perfectly bubbly.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Billy asked.

“No.”

“Okay. I’ll have my chef make us omelets and mojitos.”

“You have a chef on board?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yeah. He’s the best. His name is Mickey. Just order here.” He pulled out a tablet and a menu popped up. We ordered our food, and when it arrived, we ate in companionable silence.

I had barely finished eating when the pilot announced that we were only two hours or so away. “God. This thing is fast,” I murmured after a sip of minty mojito.

“Yeah. We move at light speed. I hope you like where we’re staying.”

“Where?” I asked.

“My own luxury resort.”

“I have my own private room, I hope,” I replied, a cold edge to my voice.

“Yes.” He chuckled. “Of course, Doc.”

Our knees brushed during the flight. I was wet. The champagne had hit me, and the mojito I sipped didn’t help. I imagined myself straddling him on the plane, my mouth all over his neck. He was a bit closer to me than usual, and I wondered what he was thinking.

Our flight landed early. It was hard for me to believe that we had left in the morning and arrived in the morning. The weather here was so nice and hot. We stepped out of the plane, and I had to pause for a moment to adjust my eyes. A rush of hot air and nausea washed over me. I tried to steady myself as I walked to the exit. Billy guided me down the steps gently. I allowed myself to lean on him. All of these new sensations and the hot air overwhelmed me, but I felt safe leaning against his body.

“I should have warned you. Flying on this thing takes getting used to. I used to always get sick, but I adjusted after the first couple of months. You okay?”

I couldn’t help but notice the concern in his voice. “Yeah. I’m okay,” I mumbled. Luckily, the nausea was ebbing. I allowed myself to linger under his guidance, savoring every minute of it.

***

The resort was huge, ten times the size of the large building that our office was. The décor matched the airport’s, only the floors were hardwood. I could hear an indoor waterpark somewhere and happy children chattering. A huge grand staircase separated the two sides of the resort, the leisure side and what I assumed were the guest rooms. There was an escalator in the middle for those who didn’t want to take the stairs, and elevators glided up and down. People in bathing suits milled around, and elegant hostesses handed out crisp, clean white towels.

“Everyone on your team has such perfect teeth,” I said, my mental filter almost gone after the excitement of the day. And the two alcoholic beverages.

He roared with laughter. “We have an excellent dental package.” He smiled widely.

“That’s why, then.”

“Welcome, Mr. Carson,” one of the men said. “We have your rooms ready.”

Everyone knew who he was. Who didn’t? I hadn’t, at first. I knew
of
him, but that was about all. I felt foolish. No time to worry about that, though. I was so curious to see my room.

Billy guided us to the elevator. “We have the penthouse suites.”

I nearly fainted again. “Okay,” I said. I had given up attempting neutrality in my voice. He looked delighted that I was in such awe of him. I honestly was. His lifestyle was like nothing I’d ever seen.

The bellman had to use a key to unlock the top floor. I understood why when the door opened and we walked directly in the suite. There was a great view of the city, and all the walls on one side were made of glass. The floors were white hardwood, and the couches were all red and silver. My mouth dropped open.

The bellman left us. I looked around and rubbed my eyes. “Is this real?” I murmured.

“Yes. These are my private quarters. Sometimes, I have my executive friends and family stay here,” he added casually. “Your room is in here.”

He opened the door to reveal what wasn’t a room at all, but a studio suite. It had its own little kitchen, huge bathroom, and living room. The door to my bedroom led off the main area. Decorated in lavender, the walls, the rugs, and the drapes picked up the color in a subtle and pleasing way.

“This is my mom’s favorite room,” he informed me.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, looking around. “Thank you!”

“Your reaction alone was worth it.” He chuckled. “Looks like I’ve managed to impress you. Just what I wanted.”

I put on my professional demeanor again. “What are the plans now?’

“My meeting is in a little over an hour. We will freshen up and go. Then dinner after.”

He left me to myself. I unpacked my suitcase into the lavender wooden drawers. I was still a bit nauseated. Luckily, the mini fridge—also purple but in a much darker shade—had fresh cans of ginger ale, among various fizzy drinks, energy drinks, and water.

I sipped one as I changed into my classiest business attire. Everything I brought looked so dowdy in this environment. I had to hide my suitcase, too, because it looked so dumb and out of place. I looked at myself in the mirror—a fancy one that allowed me to see myself from every single angle. I was, coincidentally, wearing a dark purple business dress suit. Pearls and earrings. Not one inch of my skin was showing expect my arms. I looked perfectly appropriate.

I waited for Bill in his suite living room. He walked out of his bedroom wearing a black suit and a red shirt with a bow tie. He looked great. His eyes fell on me and lit up with admiration. “You could win the deal all by yourself, looking that good, Doc,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Carson. Shall we go?” I was nervous being alone in a room with him for too long.

He nodded, and we descended in the elevator again. One of his drivers picked us up. The limo was freezing. I allowed myself to inch my body closer to him for warmth. We rode until we were smack dab in front of a giant building, one I guessed belonged to him.

“Okay. You’re going to come in with me, but I’m not going to tell them you’re my therapist,” he said.

“What will they think, then?” I asked.

“They think you’re one of my assistants. A sexy one, at that. So don’t be afraid to flirt. Oh, and you’ll get commission if I get the deal.”

I nearly fell getting out of the limo. “Commission?”

“Yes. Five percent. Not a lot, but it’ll be a lot more than you make in a month at your job now.”

“Billy, I can’t accept that.”

“Aren’t we a bit beyond that? Besides, just use it for tuition. I think this might pay for at least half the year. Think of it as in an investment.”

I was beyond arguing with him; he was a great negotiator. I could see why he was so successful.

We rode the elevator up to the eleventh floor. Billy looked around before inviting me into his office. He closed the door. “Okay. Work your magic,” he told me.

I took a deep breath. “It’s not that simple. But I can help you relax.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’m game.”

“If it helps you, to begin with, you don’t look the least bit stressed, at least to an outsider. I can tell a bit from your shoulders, but I am trained to notice.”

“Sexy.” He grinned.

“Behave, Billy,” I replied firmly. He smirked and I continued. “I want you to talk out loud to yourself, in the bathroom. Tell yourself that no one here will hurt you and that you have nothing to worry about. Challenge your irrational thoughts.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Talk to myself? Don’t crazy people do that?”

“Quite the contrary. It’s a sign of sanity. It’ll also help train your brain to fight panic with logic. It’ll be weird at first, but it has instant results. Eventually, it’ll be like second nature.”

“Okay, Doc, or should I call you
quack
?” he joked. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it.”