Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 1(50)

When we finally wandered out into the streets, the city was different than it had been this morning. Lamplight filled the stone world, and the smell of the sea hung sharp and cold in the air. I reveled in it, letting it sober me up a bit as we walked the cobbled streets. Or stone-paved streets. They kept changing under my feet, and it wasn't long before I was completely turned around and lost. All I knew was that we were on a large, main thoroughfare. It had rained again while we slept, and the streets gleamed wetly, small puddles reflecting the street lamps, gilding the stone world in gold.

I was very warm from my stifling under things and the walk through the streets by the time Malcolm steered me off the road and into a little cafe. No chairs or tables stood in the street outside it, but inside a few lights burned, and when we stepped through the door I nearly fainted with hunger at the delicate smells of fine herbs and sweet shellfish. Traditional music played, tinny and old-world sounding on an ancient sound system. White tablecloths shone in the warm yellow light, and I immediately felt at home.

An older man, his face lined so deeply he looked like a raisin, came out of the kitchen and exclaimed something in French, his arms open wide. Malcolm returned the greeting and the two hugged and kissed like old friends.

Friends. That was what Malcolm was like. A friend to everyone. Straightforward. Open. Welcoming. And despite his strange talk and idiosyncrasies, he seemed to be exactly what he appeared to be. The realization startled me. I'd known so many men who hid things, who led double lives. But Malcolm was completely transparent. Everything there was to know about him was floating on the surface, written in plain words in a language I was learning to decipher.

Malcolm introduced me to Dominic, and the old man embraced and kissed me as well, his arms surprisingly strong for a raisin. Speaking in rapid French, he ushered us over to a table in the middle of the room decorated with fluttering candles. Malcolm helped me into my chair, and then seated himself.

And then my phone rang.

Real world calling.

The happy buzz of the wine receded somewhat before I realized that the ringtone was not Felicia's. I probably had a million texts from her, but she'd known I'd gone to see Malcolm on Monday because he'd asked her for the day off so he could paint me. If there was anyone in the world who would understand getting swept off her feet and off to some other place by a rich, magnetic man, it would be Felicia. So... someone else was calling me.

I didn't want to answer it. Whoever it was could wait. I kicked my purse under the table and shrugged out of my coat. The corset kept me sitting straight, and I suddenly realized how far my breasts were pushed out toward Malcolm. And he knew it. His eyes glittered at me, dancing mischievously in the candlelight.

Dominic rattled off more rapid French as he poured out small glasses of liqueur. Malcolm tossed his back immediately and I... well, I let mine sit after taking a whiff and feeling my stomach turn. I really needed something to eat first.

My phone rang again. I gritted my teeth, then gave Malcolm a bright smile. “Just a second,” I said. “I have to turn that off.”

He smiled back at me. “Very well.”

I ducked under the table, the tightness of the corset making me wheeze as I grabbed my purse and ripped it open, fishing the offending piece of technology from its terrifying depths.

A number I'd never seen before flashed on the screen. New York area code.

I hesitated. What if it was an emergency? What if something had happened to Felicia and someone was trying to get a hold of me? What if something had happened to Felicia and Anton together? Felicia and Anton and Arthur, and the whole company...?

Well, okay, the more I thought about it the less likely it seemed that everyone I personally knew would have been consumed by the same disaster, except of course it had happened before. Many times. I hadn't seen the news lately...

“I have to take this,” I said, suddenly feeling more sick than drunk.

Malcolm frowned at me. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Haha!” I said. “Probably! Is there a bathroom here?”

Wordlessly, concern lighting his eyes, he pointed to the back of the restaurant, and I shuffled past him, my heels clacking loudly on the wood floor. I barely made it to the water closet before voicemail picked up. I answered the call. “Hello!” I chirped. “Sadie MacElroy speaking.”

“Where the hell is Mr. Ward?” Don's angry voice surged across the Atlantic, pissed beyond belief. “I know he must be awake by now.”

This. Fucking. Guy, I thought. Two could be righteously angry! “How'd you get my number?” I demanded.

“That's not important. I need to talk to Mr. Ward as soon as possible.”