Billionaire Boys Club 4 : Once upon a Billionaire(82)

"I was an idiot and wasn't paying attention to where I should have placed my hand."

It was hard being so close to him, she realized. Maylee could smell the clean, spicy scent of his cologne, could feel the warmth of his big body next to hers, felt the heat of his gaze on her face. Her stupid body remembered his touch, though. Her ni**les reacted, hardening under her bra, and she wanted to hunch her shoulders in the hopes that he wouldn't notice. This man had been terrible to her-so why was she still attracted to him?

She pulled the last of the fabric free and was surprised to see his hand was curled into a fist. She put her fingers on his and began to gently uncurl them. "Oh, Griff, you really should relax your hand if you've hurt it-"

He flattened his hand and revealed pink, perfect skin.

On his palm, he'd written This hand is the property of Maylee.

She frowned down at it, then looked up at him. "I don't understand. You're not hurt?" Why was she so relieved? And confused?

Griffin's face was solemn as he gazed down at her. "I'm a prat, Maylee. An unthinking prat who hurt your feelings over and over again. I should have held your hand when you asked me to, and then maybe you wouldn't have assumed the worst when you saw those tabloids."




 

 

She shook her head, releasing his hand as if she was the one scorched. "I don't understand. How did you-"

"The driver explained a lot to me, and I found the magazine. It was easy to put two and two together," Griffin said gently. "I never flirted with the princess of Saxe-Gallia. I never flirted with anyone but you. Hell, I'm not even sure I flirted with you, because I'm truly f**king rotten at it." He raked his hand through his messy hair, ruining whatever hope of style he might have tried to accomplish with it. "I came here to ask you to come back with me, and to offer you this." He held his hand out to her again, and she stared at the words written on his hand. "It's yours whenever you want it."

Maylee had a sudden vision of taking his hand and smacking him in his own face with it. She jumped off the porch step quickly, trying to distance herself from him. "You were mean to me. Constantly mean. And you made me feel like I was never good enough for you! You kept trying to change me!"

He stood, looking distinctly uncomfortable in his ceremonial jacket. "I was," he agreed. "I was cruel to you and I shouldn't have been. When Hunter and Gretchen sent you to me, I hated you on sight because you were everything I dislike. You were dressed poorly, talked ignorantly, and I thought I deserved better and that Hunter and Gretchen had foisted you on me to make me miserable at a time in which I couldn't afford to have anyone but the best at my side."

"This is not making me feel better."

"Just listen," he said, and there was a desperate note in his voice that made her stop. "I kept you on because I was stuck."

"And because I could tie a bow tie."

"That, too." A hint of a smile flashed on his face and then he reached for his collar and tugged at it uncomfortably. "And after a few days of spending time with you, my initial dislike changed."

"To hate?"

"No," he said very softly. "I saw that the terrible clothes you wore hid a very large heart and a woman determined to do what was best for her family, even if it wasn't what was best for her. And I saw a woman who was completely out of her depth but went out of her way to make everyone around her comfortable and happy, from the staff in the kitchens, to the hotel workers, to photographers and drivers. To me, when I didn't deserve it. You were nice to everyone, Maylee. And you were genuinely delighted to be on the trip, even though I was treating you like you didn't deserve to be there. And you took all of my abuse because you knew the money would help your family, but I think you also took it because you are a genuinely nice person, no matter how much I tried to beat it out of you." 

She said nothing, simply scuffed her shoe and stared down at it so he wouldn't see the tears welling in her eyes.

"And no matter how much I tried to change you, that remained the same, Maylee. That you had an unfettered joy in life and all the people who surround you, and it made me realize that I needed some of that joy in my life, too. And it didn't matter how you were dressed. Not anymore. In fact, when I kept changing your clothes and your hair, I kept feeling vaguely unsatisfied with the results, and now I know why."

"Oh?" She shifted, arms crossed over her chest protectively. She felt a little uneasy at his words. Was he setting her up for another fall?

To her surprise, he leaned forward and touched the curls brushing her shoulders. "I love these ridiculous curls of yours, Maylee. To me, they embody everything about you-they're a bit wild and carefree, but they're so full of light and sunshine that you can't help but cherish the sight of them. They're untamed, and they should always be so."