Page 15 of Marrying a Billionaire

“You dream in black and white?”

She drew her eyebrows together. “What?”

“Never mind,” he said as he opened the fridge and grabbed out a water bottle. Then he eyed her suddenly feeling like he needed a reason to approach her. “Here,” he said, extending the beverage.

Lillian glanced down at it. “Thanks,” she said as she took it and unscrewed the top.

He tried not to stare at her, but she was truly breathtaking. There was nothing fake about her. She was genuine, and he was drawn to that.

“What time is dinner?” she asked, glancing over at the clock.

He shook his head. How could he have forgotten? “Seven. We need to go,” he said, extending his hand toward the front door. Out of instinct, he pressed his other hand on her lower back. He felt her muscles tighten, and he instantly regretted it. But before he removed his hand, she relaxed.

There was an inner tug inside of him. One that wanted him to keep as far away from Lillian as he could. The other part wanted to keep touching her. It felt right in a way he couldn’t describe.

Thankfully, there was no need to touch during the fifteen-minute drive to Barbette. When they pulled into the valet, Reed cursed under his breath. He’d forgotten to tell Lillian about the cameras. He’d hoped this wouldn’t scare her off.

Lillian glanced over. “Is everything okay?”

Reed shook his head. There were a few photographers standing at the front door. They were glancing around as if hoping for the next big story.

“It’s just that my mom actually called a few local magazines to let them know that we would be here.” He waved toward the cameras.

Lillian’s eyes widened. “Why would she do that?”

He shrugged. “Evidence, I’m assuming.” He glanced over at Lillian who looked as if she was going to be sick. “We can go someplace else.” He knew that this was a lot to ask of someone.

Lillian clutched her purse as she stared at her lap. Then she shook her head. “Let’s do this,” she said, turning and giving him a confident look.

“You sure?”

She nodded. “Let’s give them something to write about.”

He smiled at her as his fingers found the door handle and pulled on it. He stepped out of the car and handed his keys to the valet attendant who approached him. As he made his way over to the passenger door, flashes started going off around him.

“Who are you here with tonight?” a photographer asked as he raised his camera to his eye and shot a picture.

“You know I don’t give out names,” Reed said as he pulled on the door handle and extended his hand to Lillian. She grasped it and allowed him to help her out.

She squinted as the flashes picked up speed. Once her door was shut, she moved closer. Hoping it was okay, Reed wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. They smiled at the cameras and allowed a few more shots.

“Come on,” Reed said, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “They won’t follow us into the restaurant. Pierre wouldn’t allow it.”

Lillian nodded. The movement caused her perfume to waft up around him. He fought the urge to breathe it in.

When they were moments from the front door, a photographer called out, “What? No kiss?”

Lillian tensed as Reed turned around and shot them a smile. “You think I’d make it that easy for you? Come on, and they say you’re good at your job.”

There was a chorus of laughter as Reed pulled on the handle and ushered Lillian inside. Flashes were dulled when the front door shut behind them. Pierre was standing next to the hosts desk. He was a short man with black hair that glistened in the overhead lights. His gaze met Reed’s, and he smiled. They’d been friends for a long time. This was one of Reed’s favorite restaurants. It was a bit like home here.

“Good evening, Mr. Williamson. I see the paparazzi has followed you again. They tried to come in and use the bathroom, but I ushered them out.” He quirked an eyebrow.

Even though it seemed as if Pierre was joking, Reed knew that he like to keep his high-end clients anonymous. Mobs of photographers at the front door did not sit well with him. Leave it to his mother to offend Pierre. “I know. I’m sorry. My mom insisted that this dinner be publicized.” He shot Pierre a smile, hoping it would make up for the cameras.

Pierre attempted to narrow his eyes in a serious manner. “Just don’t let it happen again.” He laughed, his expression changing to welcoming host as he waved his hand toward them. “Your table is ready for you,” he said.

Reed nodded and motioned for Lillian to follow him. She kept in step as Pierre led them into the kitchen and over to the chef’s table. Clanging of dishes and people talking in Italian filled the air. When Reed glanced over at Lillian, her eyes were wide.

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