Page 73 of The Billionaire Submissive
“For making me listen to them, you owe me dessert tonight.”
She tangled her fingers at his nape and moved around the table so she could draw him into her arms and hold him close. Her other hand explored the welts on his back, drawing a gasp from him. “I already called Dmitri to find out what kind of pie he has tonight.”
Lifting his head, Donovan gazed into her eyes, his eyebrows rising with interest.
“Blueberry. And he promised a quart of whipped cream.”
“I think I’m going to need a new bed again.”
Lilly turned to Donovan and squeezed his hand. He hadn’t let go of her since they’d left the hotel. “I thought we were going to Dmitri’s?”
He turned onto a side street and slowed. “I have something I want to show you first.”
She didn’t know North St. Paul very well, but she thought this was the neighborhood where he’d grown up. Sure enough, after a few more minutes, he parked in front of his childhood home, and this time, he turned off the engine.
“Ricardo called to ask a favor.”
She smiled. “Naturally you couldn’t say no.”
Donovan got out of the car, and she waited for him to come open her door. He took her hand again and they walked up the sidewalk to the front door. He didn’t knock or pull out a key, but turned the handle and walked straight on in. “Of course not. He’s had an apprentice working in his restaurant for the past year, but the frantic pace of such a demanding job didn’t suit him. He’s a superior chef, but he wants something more low key and relaxed. Ricardo thought he would make an excellent personal chef.”
Although remodeled with fresh paint and modern yet classic furniture, the home still resonated with craftsman bungalow charm. The dark trim contrasted nicely with the earthy paint colors and the hardwood floors looked original. He’d probably knocked out a few walls to give the first floor a more open-concept feel, but otherwise, she could totally see him growing up in his house thirty-plus years ago.
He led her over to the large mantel above the wood-burning fireplace. “This is my mother, Beverly, and my father, Will.”
Lilly lightly touched the silver frame. It was the picture of the fishing boat he’d found years ago, his mother and father smiling at the camera. His father’s arm curled around his mother’s waist, and her hand rested lightly on her stomach. It was impossible to tell because she was so slim, but Lilly suspected Beverly must have already known she was pregnant with her only son. “She’s beautiful. She has your smile. And I can definitely see where you got your looks. Your father was a dark-haired, handsome devil too.”
Her nose caught the scent of something divine and she narrowed her gaze on Donovan. “Don’t tell me this personal chef is here? Now?”
“Come on, I’ll introduce you.” In the kitchen, a young African American man stirred something on the stove. “Knock knock, Chris.”
Turning, he wiped his hands on a towel before shaking hands. “Mr. Morgan, welcome.” His smile was easy and wide, lighting up his entire face, and she had to admit, she loved his Southern accent. “Thank you again for the opportunity.”
“Not at all. By the way Lilly’s mouth is watering, you’ve already proven yourself to be a valuable asset. Lilly, this is Christopher Barker, our new personal chef. Chris, my fiancée, Lilly Harrison.”
Stunned, she gave Donovan’s hand a warning squeeze. “What did you just call me?”
“Fiancée?”
“I don’t recall any proposal, Mr. Morgan.”
Eyes heavy lidded, he reached up and ran a finger around the collar on his neck. She hadn’t even noticed he’d left his shirt open after leaving the hotel. “I do, Miss Harrison. Though I agree a ring is in order. The biggest, most ostentatious diamond I can find.” He tugged her closer and bent down to whisper in her ear. “Now that I’ve finally won the words I’ve been waiting so long to hear, do you honestly believe I’d let you escape?”
Clearing her throat, she blinked and hoped she didn’t look as teary and emotional as she felt. “We’ll see. So are you living here, Chris?”
He shot a confused look at Donovan and shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m actually down the road in Ricardo’s old house.”
“Oh.” She looked back at Donovan, trying to figure out what he was up to. “That’s convenient.”
“Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. When you called, Mr. Morgan, I set up drinks on the back deck. Dmitri confirmed dessert will be delivered promptly at seven.”
“Thank you, Chris.” Donovan took her hand again and headed for the large French doors. “Chris’s specialty is traditional Southern comfort foods like fried chicken and mashed potatoes, so I’m afraid we’ll have to continue to depend on Dmitri to satisfy your sweet tooth.”
At the door, Hank sat wagging his tail and drooling all over a tennis ball in his mouth.
Her throat closed off and her chest ached so badly she couldn’t breathe. All she could do was look up at Donovan and hope she didn’t burst into tears.
“I’ve been thinking about moving back out here for quite some time, but I was too lazy to leave downtown. Then Ricardo called and it just seemed like the perfect time to make the move. Now both you and Hank can come to stay with me whenever you like, though I’m hoping you’ll just give in and move in with me immediately.”
