Page 33 of The Billionaire Submissive
“The pleasure is entirely mine. This is your lovely lady?”
“Yes.” Donovan turned to her and his eyes burned with a possessive glint that both thrilled and terrified her. “This is my Lilly.”
It’s too soon for this. I’ve only known him a few days. So we had some terrific sex last night. A powerful scene. He’s just feeling the endorphins of a really good fuck. That’s all.
“Lilly, this is my old friend, Ricardo D’Almeida, French-trained chef and winner of three Michelin stars.”
Ricardo took her hand and kissed it like Donovan had on their first date. “When Donovan told me you’re a lady who loves to eat, I couldn’t refuse his generous request to come cook for you.”
It took her a minute to wrap her mind around it. “A Michelin star chef…and you’re here just to cook for us? For the weekend?”
“Donovan and I go way back. Without him, my first restaurant would have closed long ago. It certainly wouldn’t have become such a phenomenon, nor would we now own five more restaurants across the country. If your palette is as fine as he says, and you find satisfaction with my food, then your praise will shine brighter than any Michelin star.”
She could only stare at him and hope her mouth wasn’t hanging open. Donovan sat on the barstool beside her and drew her against his side. “It’s Ricardo’s fault I’ve invested so heavily in restaurants. My only regret is that he lives so far away. I can’t just stop by and eat at his restaurant like you do at Dmitri’s.”
Her anxiety wrenched up another notch. Sure, she loved Dmitri’s food and she knew it was good. But she didn’t have Michelin star “fine dining” level of taste. “Where is it?”
“New York City. We’ll have to go there to celebrate once the windows are done. We can hit Rockefeller Center, Broadway, whatever you want to do.”
She smiled but her face was stiff and the tips of her fingers were icy. “I’ve never been to New York.”Or Paris, or L.A, or Rome, or any of the other places he has a fucking house, let alone tours for business.
Ricardo returned to his pots, chatting over his shoulder about all the wonderful things to do in New York and how he and his partner would wine and dine them every single night, while she fought not to leap up and run for the door. The only thing keeping her seated was Donovan’s arm around her back and the delicious smells rolling from the stove. She couldn’t tell what the chef had made but it smelled divine.
Donovan reached over and wrapped his free hand around her fingers in her lap. She refused to turn and meet his gaze, but she sensed him watching her out of the corner of her eye.
“I bought this place furnished last year. I’ve been meaning to replace the gaudy furnishings but I haven’t had time. When I’m here, I spend my time on the boat. It’s the private dock I coveted. Not the house.”
Even if the pristine white sofa and antique Persian rug weren’t his, per se, that still didn’t mean…
“It’s just stuff, Lilly. I don’t care about any of it. All I care about is you. So if you’re uncomfortable here, we’ll pack up and go home. We can stay at your place and eat at Dmitri’s every single night.”
She tightened her fingers on his and checked to make sure Ricardo was still busy at the stove. “Don’t make me your whore, Donovan. I won’t stand for it.”
He inhaled sharply, squeezing her hand so tightly she winced. “Why would you say that?”
“All this wealth, the clothes, the fucking five-star chef—”
“Three star,” Ricardo sang from over the stove. “They don’t offer five Michelin stars, but thank you anyway.”
“That’s two,” Donovan growled. “And I don’t mean stars.”
“Donovan—”
“No. Hear me out. Ricky, plug your ears.”
“Aye aye, Donnie,” and he started humming off key.
Even though tears burned her eyes, her lips twitched at the thought of someone calling proud, stiff Donovan Morgan such an immature-sounding name.
“Last night, you did something for me no one has been able to give me in all of my thirty-nine years. How sad is that? I’m getting ready to turn forty and I’ve never been completely whole and satisfied until last night. You did that for me. You took care of me. Yet if I try to take care of you, I’m buying you off? Let me do things for you no one else has ever done. If that means making sure you stay off the road for the safety of all Twin City drivers, then it’s the least I can do. If that means waking your sleepy, grouchy ass up at 6:00 a.m. so I can bribe you with stellar food, then I’m going to send a jet after the finest chef I know. Let alone eagerly taking over if you will just lie back and let me.”
Closing her eyes, she clung to his hand for dear life. “I don’t feel in control here. I’m out of my league with Mr. Moneybags.”
“Then I’ll have to work harder at being Mr. Douchebag. You didn’t have any hesitation taking him down a notch of two. Thanks to you, I can also be lover boy and sexy beast, but only if you brought the crop you promised me.”
She drew a deep, shaking breath and held it for a count of five, then slowly let it out.If I apply too much force to the glass, it always shatters. I’m no different, no matter how tough I think I am. I don’t have to grip everything in my life so tightly.
Ricardo set two large shallow bowls before them. “For lunch today we have bacon and smoked Gouda risotto with delicate green peas, hot flaky croissants fresh from the oven, and a sweet, crisp Italian moscato.”
