The Billionaire's Virgin(30)

“I guess that’s a giveaway.” Raising a hand, Xavier shoved it through his thick, black hair. “I’ve got two brothers, no three—Nero’s a half brother. But Lorenzo’s the oldest. He’s also the biggest asshole.”

Mia had the weirdest urge to touch the hair he’d spiked up, purely to see what it would feel like. Which was stupid. Touching people was never a good idea. Never. Instead, she pushed her hands under her armpits. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“Nope. And the feeling’s mutual. He’s a cold, stiff-necked bastard who never has a good word to say about anyone.”

“But he’s your brother.”

“So?” An expression she couldn’t read crossed his face. “Let’s just say personality clash and leave it at that.”

“But, I—”

“Did you eat some breakfast?”

As changes of subjects went, it was pretty obvious, yet for a second Mia was tempted to keep going anyway. She wasn’t quite sure why she wanted to know more, she just did. Maybe it was because she’d never had any siblings of her own and was curious. Whatever, that was beside the point since Xavier clearly didn’t want to talk about it and she wasn’t confident enough to push it.

“Yes,” she said instead. “I had two sandwiches.”

His mouth curled in a smile that felt like the sun coming out. “Not bad, sweet thing. Did you drink the milk as well?”

Why did that smile and the warm sound in his deep voice make her want to blush? Why did it make something small and hot glow in her chest?

She tightened her jaw, trying to resist the feeling. “Don’t call me that. I’m not a kid. You don’t need to talk to me like one.”

His smile turned amused. “Prickly, huh? You must be feeling better.”

Mia felt her cheeks get hot. She glanced away from him, not wanting to meet his gaze. “Where are my clothes?”

“You got my note?”

“Yes, but are they cleaned yet?”

There was a silence.

She glanced fleetingly at him. He was looking her over yet again, but this time there was something assessing in his eyes. “Where’s the fire? It’s like you’re desperate to get out of here or something.”

Of course he wouldn’t understand. Why would he? He had money, he had an apartment, warm clothes, food to eat. He wouldn’t know what it was like to not have any of those things, to not even know when you might get them.

He wouldn’t know that sometimes denial was easier than letting yourself have something that could be taken away from you.

“I have . . . things to do.” The words sounded ridiculous even to herself, nevertheless, they were true. She had to figure out where she was going to sleep tonight and where she might get some more food. Perhaps find an extra blanket from somewhere. Then she had to go back to Tony, see if he’d made any progress with getting her birth certificate.

“‘Things,’ huh?” The amusement in his eyes faded, the expression on his face becoming hard. “Speaking of ‘things,’ there’s a few we need to get straight. First, you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here with me. Second, you’ll get your clothes back when I’m good and ready to give them to you. Third, tell me what you have to do and I’ll help you with them whatever they are.”

Her heart squeezed hard in her chest and she had to look away again, catching her breath.

She hadn’t known what he wanted to do with her this morning, but telling her she was staying wasn’t it. “I can’t stay here,” she said, carefully because she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. “I mean, thank you for last night, but . . . I have to go.”

Yet he’d got that look on his face, the same one he’d had last night when he’d told her she was coming home with him. The one that said he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Let me get this straight,” he murmured, his voice suddenly low and a bit dangerous. “You’d rather go out into the snow in cheap, badly fitting clothes, and risk freezing to death instead of staying in a perfectly good penthouse with a bath, central heating, food, and a massive bed?”

That flush was back, creeping through her cheeks, making her feel uncertain and embarrassed. “You don’t understand,” she said, looking down at the floor.

“No, you’re right. I don’t fucking understand.”

And part of her didn’t want to explain it to him. Because why should she? Even if she gave him all the reasons she couldn’t stay, he wouldn’t understand. Men like him never did, not when they had everything and couldn’t imagine not having it.