Once Upon a Billionaire(47)

Which was why his gift was perfect.

Once he was done with breakfast, Griffin folded his newspaper and tucked it under his arm. “Ready to start the day?”

“Ready,” she said with a smile at him, and closed the laptop. She threw it into a large tote bag she’d taken to carrying around—a ghastly touristy contraption that read BELLISSIME: LAND OF BEAUTY. He didn’t criticize it, though. Time enough for that later.

“We have a full day,” Griffin told her as they left the table. When they entered the main lobby of the hotel, he pretended that he’d forgotten something and snapped his fingers. “I need to retrieve something. I’ll meet you at the car.”

She gestured at the elevator. “Do you want me to go get it, Mr. Griffin?”

He shook his head. “Under control.”

Mystified, she headed out of the hotel and he turned and headed to the concierge’s desk to make sure Maylee’s beauty appointment was set up. The concierge was all smiles, even if she seemed a bit mystified that Lord Montagne Verdi was making a hair appointment for his assistant.

Five minutes later, Griffin made his way out to the sedan . . . and frowned.

Maylee was leaning against the car door, laughing and smiling as the driver, Robbie, hovered close nearby and flirted with her. It was clear that the man was staking his claim, judging by the possessive way he regarded Maylee.

And it pissed off Griffin. He stormed back into the concierge’s office. “I want a new driver by this afternoon,” he informed her.

“Oh, I’m not really sure if that falls under my jurisdiction—” she began.

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Just get it done for me.”

“Right away, Lord Montagne Verdi.”

Griffin straightened his jacket and headed back out to the car. He scowled at Robbie and gestured for Maylee to enter the car. He scowled again when Robbie winked at Maylee and opened the door for her, and she thanked him in her soft drawl. He slapped the business card given to him by the concierge into the man’s hand. “Take us here first.”

“Very well, my lord,” the driver said.

Inside the car, Maylee opened up the laptop and began to go through his emails. “Your two o’clock got shuffled to three,” she told him. “So I had to move a few things around to ensure that we can pick up your tuxedo from the tailor and get everything ready for the ball tonight.”

“And do you have a gown?” he asked.

She bit her lip. “Well, Mr. Griffin, I do, but it’s far too fancy and expensive. I was going to suggest you return it.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “It was purchased with the anticipation of the ball in mind. You’re required to attend while you’re in my employment.”

“I’m not sure I belong,” she hedged.

“Trust me, every fool in Bellissime is going to be at this thing tonight. You’ll belong just fine.”

She winced.

Oh, hell. That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant. “Don’t worry about it,” he added brusquely. “You’re there to work, regardless of who attends.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you should be properly attired.”

“Yes, sir.”

Griffin sighed and glanced up at the driver. He wanted to knock on the glass partition that separated the front of the sedan from the back, but that would make him seem impatient. Still, they had to be arriving soon, didn’t they? The concierge had assured him that the salon was no more than a few blocks away. He stared out at the streets, covered with Bellissime flags and banners, ready to celebrate the wedding of their royal princess. People walked the streets, taking pictures of the decorations, and it seemed like everyone in the world was in the city this morning.

They pulled up to a busy sidewalk and the driver parked the car, then exited to open the door. Maylee glanced up from her laptop, peered at the location, and frowned. “I think we’re at the wrong place.”

“We are not,” Griffin assured her. “I asked to come here.”

Her pale eyebrows rose. “Why?”

“It’s a surprise for you.” He kept the smug expression off his face. He wanted to see her reaction. See that sunny smile spread across her round face. “I’ll arrange for Mr. Sturgess to pick you up in a few hours,” he said as the driver came to her side of the car and not his.

“Pick me up?” She looked even more confused. “But . . . I don’t understand. Why? What are we doing here?”

Griffin adjusted his cuffs, pleased with himself. “I’ve arranged to have a makeover for you. They’ll do your hair and makeup for the ball tonight.”