Pizza My Heart(A Billionaire Romance, Part 2)(12)

“It’s too big for just one person.”

“Well, you’re here, now. It’s the perfect size.”

It was finally starting to sink in that Devon lived in an actual museum. He had photos and memorabilia from his movies mounted on the walls, autographs of classic movie stars he must’ve collected since he was a boy, books on all topics, souvenir scripts bound in rich leather with gold lettering.

His decor gave the appearance of a man cave, but there was something comforting about low-slung leather couches and chairs, thick carpeting mixed with wood floors, shelves and walls and nooks and crannies filled with things he loved.

“Okay, this might be your house, but I don’t believe you actually clean it,” I said. “It’s huge! How could you possibly have time for it?”

“One chore at a time,” he said. “It’s good exercise, too.”

This was a fairy tale. I was living in a real, live fairy tale.

We cooked side by side in that enormous kitchen, filled with gleaming new appliances. He knew more than he let on, though he entrusted me with some recipes.

“You forget that I cooked for Nana full time,” I said. “I’m a hell of a cook, Devon. Well, for health foods. I’m pretty rusty on soul foods.”

“Chaz will love you,” Devon said. “He’s always on me to eat healthier. He says no amount of gym time will unclog my arteries.”

“He’s right.” The steam rose from a skillet atop a burner, and I jostled its contents around. We were going to have a sweet and spicy stir-fry. It was one of the dishes I could most consistently get Nana to eat. She loved colorful food, and it was packed with carrots and bell peppers and the like.

Sitting down at the countertop and eating a dinner we prepared together felt normal. Like we were just two normal human beings existing in the same space. There wasn’t the added, uncomfortable dimension of a movie star and a pizza delivery girl trying to find common ground. It felt almost as if we were a couple who’d been together for a long time, comfortable with each other, cooking for each other.

“I like this,” Devon said suddenly. “I mean, I wanted you to come out here with me, but I really, really like this.”

“It’s like we’ve known each other for a long time, isn’t it?” I said wonderingly, enchanted that he was feeling the exact same thing I was.

“That’s just what it is,” he said. “You’re my old lady, June Clark.”

“Okay, old man.”

When he took me upstairs to show me where all the “magic” happened, magic did happen. We knew exactly what the other liked, the right tempo to stroke, the right things to murmur, the right time to push each other right over the cliff’s edge, tumbling down the other side together, sinking into each other. We fell asleep side by side, wrapped around each other, and I felt true peace.

This was my life, and for the first time, I was confident that it was going to turn out well.





Chapter 5




“What is this disaster, Devon? Goddammit!”

I awoke suddenly to shouting, which sounded like it was emanating from the kitchen.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Devon. Who is she? Where is she?”

I groaned as I stretched, wondering what was going on. I checked my phone. It was barely eight in the morning. Was this what life with a movie star entailed? Early morning shouting matches? The sun was barely up. I buried my head beneath two pillows and tried to go back to sleep.

Devon’s responses had been calm enough that I couldn’t hear them from my vantage point, but whatever he was saying was growing increasingly louder.

“Did I say you could fucking go up there?” he was demanding. “I swear to God, if you enjoy whatever it is that you buy with the money I pay you, you will stop right now.”

I frowned at that—was Devon in some kind of trouble? And then the bedroom door burst open.

“Wake up!” someone all but shrieked, and I’d finally had enough.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I demanded, launching myself to an aggressive sitting position. “Do you know what time it is? I see you have a nice watch. Is it just for show? Did you never learn how to use it, idiot?”

I was faced with Devon, who was grinning, and another man I’d never met before, whose mouth had dropped open to about his knees. He was handsome enough—if you were into hair gel and dubious tanning practices. But he was rude, and I was happy to have shocked him into silence with my diatribe.

That’s when I realized I was naked, and giving both Devon and his guest quite the eyeful.

I grabbed the covers around me and covered my face with a pillow once more—this time, with the sincere intent to smother myself and put myself out of my misery.