Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 2(17)

I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about Jaime Zander. I couldn’t get him out of my head. He was having an affect on me like no other man had before. I’d never met a man who could reduce me to a nervous wreck with the just wink of an eye. Make me feel so totally out of control. It scared me. Big-decision-maker-me didn’t know how to handle it. Why the hell didn’t I just tell him to fuck off? And forget about the pitch for my business? Walk away from him while I had the chance? The truth: He had gotten under my skin. I was undeniably drawn to him—both to his sexy good looks and his challenging personality. He was as tempting as he was toxic. Even now, just thinking about him, I was quivering. I sat back against the soft leather seat, glad to be away from him.#p#分页标题#e#

To get my mind off him, I went back to checking my e-mails. I opened Kevin’s first; there were several. The first one brought a big smile to my face.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Glorious! Xoxo~Kev

I e-mailed him right back.

MWAH! Same to you!

Kevin had been my one and only Valentine forever. Neither of us had ever had much luck in the love department. But we had each other. Hopefully, tonight we could celebrate together although we hadn’t made any firm plans. Our traditional pity party for two could be on the agenda.

Waiting for his reply, I read the rest of his e-mails. All great news. The televised broadcast of the Gloria’s Secret Fashion Show had rocked in the ratings, and sales were at record levels at our stores worldwide. Yes, women were flocking to Gloria’s Secret last minute to buy seductive lingerie and sleepwear for the romantic Valentine’s night ahead. And they were standing in line with men, who were clutching replacement pieces for those that might get torn off after a candlelit dinner. I found it bitterly ironic that I sold love and sex but was never on the receiving end. Always on this day, my elation over sales was met with a pang of sadness. My mind jumped again to Jaime Zander. I bet he had a hot date tonight; women were all over him; I saw it with my own eyes. With a heavy heart, I eagerly awaited an e-mail from Kevin to cheer me up.



An hour and a half into the drive, we exited the parkway and followed a rural, wooded road to the retirement home where Madame Paulette was residing. A magnificent gated estate soon came into view. Once the Normandy-styled mansion of one of America’s great oil barons, it was now the Cadbury House for Assisted Living. What I’d read about it had put my mind at ease. The pedigreed staff was attentive, the surroundings luxurious, and the cuisine delicious—prepared by a French chef. I was thrilled that I was able to afford to place my beloved Paulette here for her final years. Even though I had made her a wealthy woman with Gloria’s Secret stock, there was no way I could let her pay for her care. I owed her everything.

The call I had received from the head caretaker just before I’d left for New York had been unsettling. In fact, it had brought tears to my eyes. Madame Paulette’s health was failing rapidly, and it was unlikely she’d make it to the summer. Even if I didn’t have business in New York, I would have hopped the corporate jet and come East to visit her. She meant the world to me. She was my mentor, my role model, and the mother I never had. Upon learning about her numbered days, I vowed I would confess the secret I had harbored my entire adult life. She needed to know. I needed to tell.

Standing in the elegantly appointed entrance with her bag of goodies in hand, I anxiously awaited for someone to show me to her room. Nurse Perez, a jovial, curly-haired buxom woman, appeared in no time and escorted me up a magnificent winding marble staircase to the second floor. “We all love Paulette,” she said as I trailed close behind her. What was there not to love? She was a magnificent human being who would be sorely missed.

Madame’s suite was located at the end of the corridor. Her door was wide open. She gasped when she saw me. I hadn’t told her I was coming. It was a surprise.

“Ma chérie!” she exclaimed. Her voice was deeper and raspier than ever. Over the course of her long life, she had smoked way too many French cigarettes and drunk way too many glasses of wine.

Clad in an elegant lace-trimmed white nightgown, she was propped up in a luxurious down-covered bed against a half a dozen plump pillows. Despite her age—she must have been close to ninety though she’d never admit to it—she was as beautiful to me as ever. Her strong-featured face seemed to be wrinkle-resistant, and her hair, now a shimmering silver, was tied back as usual in a regal chignon. Even in her old age, she epitomized grace and style.

Fighting back tears, I sprinted over to her. We exchanged lots of cheek-to-cheek kisses.