Once Upon a Billionaire(30)
“It’s hideous. Can you take it off?”
She winced at his cruel words and tugged it off, then crossed her arms under her breasts, waiting for him to pick apart her dress next. It didn’t exactly match her shoes, but she’d honestly not given much thought to multiple pairs of shoes when she’d packed. She’d been in too much of a hurry.
He sighed. “I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me that he’d destroyed your clothing. You’re just making do with what you have.” He patted her arm. “Forgive my words.”
Maylee was shocked. He’d . . . apologized? Over insulting her clothing? He’d done that repeatedly. “Um, okay.”
“We’ll fix it.”
Her brows furrowed, but when he didn’t clarify, she simply looped his tie around his neck and tied it for him, then straightened his jacket. His hair was slicked down again, and he looked like the same old fussy, slightly stodgy and completely disapproving Griffin. She wouldn’t think too much about that, though. Smiling at him, she turned to the door. “Come on. Let’s go get breakfast. I forgot to eat dinner last night and my stomach’s been growling like a badger.”
He frowned as they left his room. “Why didn’t you eat dinner?”
She waved a hand at his concerns. “I got distracted with all the goings on last night.”
“I see.”
Maylee saw several of the familiar staff as they went down to breakfast, and as soon as they were seated, she pulled out Griffin’s laptop and began to go over his schedule, writing notes to herself for things to remember on Post-its. She ordered the same thing that Griffin did for breakfast again, since she didn’t recognize half the stuff on the menu and didn’t want to seem like a rube.
She noticed him watching her, and then she looked up from the computer. His hands were empty. “Did you forget your book upstairs? Do you want me to go get it for you?”
He shook his head and looked thoughtful. “What’s first on the schedule this morning?”
She ran a finger down the screen. “From nine until eleven, you’re meeting with the Bellissime Historical Society—”
Griffin nodded. “Go ahead and cancel it.”
She blinked at him. “But . . . it’s my job to keep your appointments.”
“I know. And I want to cancel that one. What’s after that?”
“Lunch with the mayor?”
He grunted. “I guess I can’t get out of that one. He’s an old family friend. Very well.”
She pulled out her phone and then frowned. “What shall I tell them is the reason for the cancellation? Anything in particular?”
He shook his head. “A viscount doesn’t make excuses. I’m simply busy.”
She nodded and got up, crossing the empty private dining room to make the phone call. He was right, though. No one questioned his cancellation in the slightest.
When she returned to the table, breakfast had been served, and she intercepted the waiter on his way back to the kitchen and pushed a twenty into his hand for a tip. “Thank you.”
He took it with a smile and winked at her.
Maylee sat back down at the table and picked up her napkin. Breakfast this morning looked like runny eggs covered with some sort of weird reddish gravy and what looked like caviar on top. Ew. Why couldn’t the man order some grits and bacon like a normal person? It was a shame she was so hungry. She was going to eat it anyhow. “So . . . what would you like to do this morning now that you’ve got it free?”
“After this, I’m going to have the staff go up to our room and arrange to have your clothing dry cleaned at their expense so you can have it back tonight.”
She blushed. Our room? “You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t,” he agreed. “But they do. And then we’re going shopping.”
Maylee gave an excited little wiggle in her chair. “We are? Souvenir shopping?”
He gave her a funny look. “I am a native of Bellissime, Maylee. I’m sure I don’t need postcards or cheap shot glasses to remind me of the fact.”
“Oh.” How did he always manage to make her feel so stupid with just a word? She poked her fork at her egg-things, her appetite disappearing.
“We’ll get you clothing. Something appropriate to wear.”
Maylee’s heart thumped with excitement . . . and then it was followed by immediate hurt. “Because I look so awful?”
“That, and because what you’re wearing is appallingly unacceptable for a visit to the Bellissime Royal Palace,” he said, salting his eggs and taking a small bite.