Billionaire Boys Club 4 : Once upon a Billionaire(16)

"Mr. Verdi," he said, pausing at the top of the stairs. "And only here, I'm afraid."

Which was why he never came home if he could help it.

Chapter Four

These people were plumb crazy over the man. They must not know him real well, Maylee thought to herself. Sure, Griffin Verdi looked suave and elegant, but he was not a nice man. He'd done nothing but snarl at her since she'd woken up, mocked her clothes, said she wasn't a good employee, and then tried to ignore her. She could see why his last assistant hadn't wanted to come with him.

She'd been nice and fixed his clothes, and had he even said so much as a thank you?

Not a peep.

Still, he'd stopped talking about sending her back, which was a small win. It'd be a long trip, but she'd smile and take the double time and enjoy her first trip to a foreign country. She'd dealt with cranky men before-her Pepaw wasn't exactly a gem-and she knew how to handle men like him. You simply ignored their pissy moods, remained pleasant, and they'd eventually come around.

Maylee followed Griffin as he walked down the red-carpeted tarmac and followed him to the limo waiting for him. It was ridiculously shiny, the windows heavily tinted, and on the door was another one of those family crests like the one that had been on the wall of the plane.

Not exactly inconspicuous.

Maylee shouldered her bags as assistants loaded Griffin's luggage into the car. No one touched her bright plaid suitcase. She guessed the help's luggage didn't get to mix with the viscount's.

"Shall I take that for you?"

Maylee turned around and saw a man in a suit and a dark hat. The chauffeur. He was young and handsome and had the same accent that Griffin did. He was also smiling at her with appreciation, his hand extended to take her things. She beamed a smile at him. "I'm not sure where my stuff is supposed to go."

"It can go up front with me. Just like you." He winked at her. "So I can listen to that lovely accent of yours."

She grinned at him. "Well, thank you kindly, sir."

"Mr. Sturgess," he said, taking her bag and giving her another flirty smile.

"Mr. Sturgess," she repeated, smiling and extending her hand. "I'm-"

"-my assistant," Griffin cut in, clearly displeased. "And she will have to ride in the back with me to go over my schedule."

Mr. Sturgess's face lost its friendly smile, and he gave Griffin a crisp nod. "Of course, my lord."

Maylee gave the driver an apologetic look as he opened the door to the back seat and Griffin slid inside. Maylee was surprised by that, as it was common for women to get into the car first, but Griffin was a lord something or other, so she guessed she fell below him on the totem pole. Keeping a bright smile on her face, Maylee entered the car after her new boss.

Griffin didn't speak to her for at least a half hour. They drove on, and Maylee was distinctly uncomfortable as they headed through the city. After a while, though, she stopped caring what he thought and just enjoyed the sights. Bellissime was gorgeous. The streets were narrow and paved with cobblestones, and the buildings that lofted above them seemed old and full of personality. In the distance, mountains soared above the rooftops, and everywhere, people walked the streets. It was so charming and quaint, like all the stories she'd heard of Swiss villages. No one ever talked about Bellissime when they mentioned tourism, and she didn't understand why. The little city was so very pretty.

They turned down the main thoroughfare and Griffin looked behind them. He groaned.




 

 

"What is it?" Maylee turned to look, but all she saw were more cars.

"The paparazzi are still following us."

She gave him a surprised look. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"I'd rather hoped they'd give up once we left the airport."

She glanced out the window. It seemed like they were heading through the heart of the city. In a limo. With a big crest on it. This man didn't know the first thing about subtlety, did he? But she didn't point that out, because he was already cranky and he could still send her home. So instead, she asked, "Where are we going?"

"L'hotel de Bellissime."

"Sounds fancy."

He shot her a vaguely scathing look. "It is the premiere hotel in the city."

"So why not stay with your mama and them?"

"First of all, I'm not even sure what language 'mama and them' is. It's certainly not English." He toyed with his cufflinks. "Second of all, we are not staying with my mother because of various reasons."

"What reasons?" she couldn't help but ask.

He glared at her again, as if he didn't like the line of questions, but he still answered. "My mother firmly believes in the appearance of royalty, even though I'm simply a viscount. She believes that no titled man of good family should have less than thirty staff on hand at all times and should never give less than the appearance of complete and utter wealth to the common people. This includes several estates, as many society functions as one can possibly squeeze into one's schedule and, of course, keeping it all heavily documented in the newspapers and magazines so everyone else can see just how very regal we are." His tone dripped with contempt.