Page 37 of The Grumpy Billionaire
The house, the art—all of it was exactly what I would have chosen if I’d been the one to become a self-made-billionaire.
“Here, come this way. I thought you might like to have lunch first, before we tour the property and look at possible locations for filming.”
Reid’s voice was upbeat, carefully polite. Completely at odds with the tension so evident in his face and posture.
I nodded my agreement, and he led me deeper into the house, looking back every few seconds, as if worried I’d change my mind and bolt for the front door.
We turned a corner, and my feet stopped moving without my permission. The entire back of the house was made up of windows. Beyond them, the lawn sloped down to the open ocean.
The view was nothing short of breathtaking, even better than the one on my family’s estate.
And Reid had bought this place with his own hard-earned money. It was hard to wrap my mind around it.
While I’d grown up wealthy, he and his mom had lived a frugal existence in their little cottage on the estate. He used to say he didn’t care about becoming rich or the trappings of wealth. But his lifestyle now begged to differ.
Well, as my mom had said, people changed. Apparently Reid had changed alot.
He stood waiting for me to catch up, half-in, half-out of a French door that opened to a wide stone patio running the entire length of the mansion’s back side. I followed him out onto the patio and to a table which had been set for two and held an array of tempting salads and a dish of what looked like Chicken Piccata.
My favorite.
I looked from the food to Reid’s face, and he smiled again. There was a disconcerting little flip inside my chest.
I’d managed to tame my nerves on the drive here, restating my plan to myself—get through the day, do my job, be calm and professional no matter how much nastiness Reid might direct my way.
But I hadn’t been prepared for this—the niceness, the smiling, the fact that he’d remembered my favorite meal.
“Looks good.” I cautiously returned his smile and took the chair he held out for me. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it was a bribe. Hedidwant something from me after all—an interview that made him look good, instead of like the scornful, ruthless business titan he’d become.
“Did you make this?” I asked, already knowing the answer. I reached for the salad tongs and moved some to my plate. “It looks delicious.”
“Oh, no. I don’t really have time to cook,” Reid answered. “I have… a few people around who help with things like that.”
He looked almost embarrassed as he said it, as if there was something shameful about hiring domestic help.
I finished chewing a bite. “Well, the chef’s fantastic. And your place is gorgeous. You must love living here.”
“You like it?” He smiled. “I thought you might enjoy eating out here on the piazza. I remember how much you always loved looking at the ocean.”
There was that damned flippy thing again in my chest.
Stop it, Mara.
He was just being charming to make up for his pissy departure from our interview the other day. But he was right—I had always been a sucker for an ocean view.
The two of us had driven down to Narragansett or out to the Beavertail Lighthouse in Jamestown so often after we’d gotten our driver’s licenses. We’d walk on the beach or sit on the stone ocean wall and stare at the surf and talk, hold hands, kiss—
“Excuse me?” I was aware he’d said something, though I hadn’t heard quite what.
“I said I really appreciate you agreeing to do this after the way I acted the other day.”
“Oh. Well, after your assistant told my boss that it was my idea, I didn’t have much choice.” I gave him a raised brow and a smirk.
Reid grinned. “Yeah, Lee’s a quick thinker. When I told him I’d fucked it up, he said not to worry about it, that he’d fix it.”
“He certainly did that.”
I lifted the beautiful glass near my plate and took a sip of the golden wine it held. Mmmm, Chardonnay—oaky, buttery—even though that was way out of “wine fashion” these days.
