Pawn of the Billionaire(12)

Once the head waiter had left our side, James leaned forward.

“Let’s get started, Toni. I can see you’re impatient to know why you’re here. The first thing I wanted to do was to apologize properly for not intervening when your boss was giving you such a hard time yesterday. I thought it was completely out of order, both the reason for the reprimand, and the way in which he did it.” He moved a knife a fraction. “I wanted to jump up and stop it right there, but — well...” He looked a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t really trust myself.” He looked up and grinned. “Then I saw you were very capable of dealing with him yourself. You obviously know exactly how to appease him without giving an inch that matters.”

I tried to stay serious, but I knew my lips were curving in a reluctant smile. “I’ve worked there a long time, Mr. — Er, sir.” I still didn’t know what to call him.

“Call me James, please. I’m sorry again. Giving you my card wasn’t really a proper way to introduce myself.” His little crooked smile was on display again. “Please forgive me.”

I could feel myself getting dragged under here. I could feel my thighs slippery with dampness and my swollen, throbbing neediness wasn’t going to help me think clearly. But, oh God! he was so hot. The silence drew out, and I took an unwisely large gulp of the champagne.

James was looking at me oddly. “Toni, do you know anything of your family history?”

I jerked my head up in surprise. I was tightly wound up, just knowing he was going to try and get my app idea. I hadn’t decided whether to go into business with him or accuse him of trying to steal it. Now here he was, asking about my family.

“Family history?” I shook my head. “No, never thought about it, really.”

He reached out, and his hand covered mine. It was warm and comforting. I bit back my gasp as my belly clenched with excitement.

“Toni.” His voice was quiet. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I know you don’t. Toni, you lost your mother a few years ago, didn’t you? That must’ve been very hard for you.” His eyes searched my face. “Tell me, do you remember your grandmother much?”

I smiled properly then. “Nana Elizabeth.” I thought back. “I loved her so much. She was more fun than Mom was. She used to take me to the zoo and places before she got sick. But she always seemed sad underneath, somehow.” I felt tears well up, and blinked them back furiously. “She died, you know, when I was twelve. Then Mom got sick the next year, and everything went wrong.” I’d pushed Nana Elizabeth to the back of my mind in the efforts to care for Mom, to try and help find stuff that would make her better, stuff we could afford. But nothing had worked.

I noticed James was looking at me curiously. “Has anyone ever said you look like her?”

“Like who? Oh, you mean Nana Elizabeth?” I shook my head. “I only remember what she looked like when she was very sick, and Mom never talked about her.”

James slipped his hand into his jacket and drew out an envelope. He took an old photo out of it.

“There’s your grandmother.” He slid the photo over to me, and my throat closed up. She was like a beautiful version of me. She looked about sixteen, sitting stiffly in an upright chair in a gloomy parlor. Her hair and makeup was old-fashioned, but she had a lovely face, with a slight smile. I looked closely. Her expression was serene, more mature than I would have expected for her age.

I looked up. I was going to ask him how he got hold of the photo, why was he showing it to me. Instead, I found myself talking. “She looks very content. I don’t remember ever seeing her without a sadness behind her eyes. Even when she was laughing in the park with me, she always had that shadow there.”

James was serious, thoughtful. “Did she ever talk about her family, her parents or brothers?”

I looked back at the photo. “Never. I should have asked, maybe. But as a child, she was just there. It was just us, you know.” I stared at him. “I never found out who my Dad was. Mom would never say. And now she’s dead, I’ll never know.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I know that. I’m sorry, Toni. I wouldn’t have wanted you to upset yourself.” He stirred, took the photo back, and glanced at it.

“But it’s your grandmother I want to talk about.” He touched her face in the picture with his finger. “You probably never knew that she was the granddaughter of an Earl — an English Lord.”