Page 54 of How to Blow It with a Billionaire

Great. After all the trouble I went to in order to ensure nobody would have to clean my jizz off Caspian’s carpet, now it was going to be someone’s job to get it out of his bespoke, probably Italian suit. “Two looks in one day. You’re the Kim Kardashian of financial management.”

“I’m who?”

“Oh my God.” My voice shook with the laughter caught in it. “You really have been in more magazines than you’ve read.”

“That’s an accurate assessment.”

He kissed me again—mouth this time—and then rolled away, settling on his back beside me, one arm flung casually above his head. I curled into the space. It was something I was getting weirdly good at it: lying hopefully in the shape of a hug. I was close enough to feel the heat from his body, to smell the sex on him, but he still didn’t touch me.

“Maybe,” I said, “we could do a knowledge exchange.”

His eyebrow twitched.

“I could teach you about popular culture…like…any popular culture. And you could—”

“Educate you on the impact of emerging economies on price movement in global equity, currency, and commodity markets.”

“I was thinking more…get me into sci-fi?”

I wasn’t sure how seriously I’d meant it, but he tensed right up. “I’m hardly an expert.”

“It’s not about expertise. So much as, y’know, sharing something with you. That you like. I mean”—I stretched an arm over the side of the bed and groped around in the box until I found Downbelow Station—“could I borrow this maybe?”

There was a horrible silence.

“Shit, it was your dad’s, wasn’t it?”

Caspian covered his face with his hands. “It’s not that I don’t trust you…”

“No. God. No. I know that. Don’t worry about it.”

“There’s just…when someone dies. There’s so little of them left.”

“I get it, I really do.” Wow. Oh wow. I was a complete fucktrumpet. Caspian’s generosity to me was boundless, ridiculous even. And here I was casually asking him to lend me his last connection to his dead father. “I’m so sorry. Forget I ever said it.”

I wished I could touch him. I felt so helpless, lying there, babbling out apologies that were probably washing over him like water. When all I wanted to do was draw him close and hold him tight. Make him truly believe he was safe with me. That I would take nothing from him he feared to lose. Didn’t choose to give.

Eventually, he emerged, letting out a long, careful breath. “No, it’s me. I’m being foolish. Of course you can—”

“No,” I cried. I mean, it was incredibly touching that he was willing. But it was the last thing I wanted now that I understood what I’d actually been asking. “I mean, sheesh. Paper books? Who reads those anymore? I bet I could pick this up for 99p as an epub.”

He gave a slight shaken laugh.

I grabbed my phone and googled. “Well, okay, $11.99 if I pretend I’m American.”

“Arden, I don’t mind.”

“I do. That thing’s like five hundred pages. It weighs a ton.” Suddenly his arms came around me and he pulled me close, turning the space into a nook, my body tucked into his. To me, at least, it felt perfect. Like I belonged there. And I couldn’t help wriggling in even closer. “By the way, I think your meeting might be a bust.”

“Oh fuck.” Caspian swore so rarely that it always sounded extra filthy—and therefore extra sexy—when he did. He pulled out his phone and dialed with a deft swipe. “Bellerose? Cancel that call, please.” A pause. “No, that’s fine. Yes. Yes. I’ll leave at two. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I made you miss your thing,” I said, once he’d hung up, only lying a little bit. “Was it important?”

“Terribly important. But so am I. And it can wait.”

I tried not to smirk.

“You know”—Caspian gave me a wry look—“you don’t seem all that sorry.”

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