Page 14 of The Billionaire and I

“It’s seared octopus.”

“Oh my God!” Jenny practically threw the menu at me. “No wonder they don’t say it in English—they’re trying to trick you! Whatever happened to spaghetti, huh? I thought this place was Italian!”

“It is.” I chuckled. “And there’s spaghetti on the menu, right there.” I pointed to theSpaghetti Alfonso. “Would you like that?”

She wrinkled her nose as she read the description. “What the hell ismicro basil?”

“It’s basil, I think. Just…tiny basil.”

“Tiny basil.” Jenny blinked at me. “That might be the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

“Ha! You’re funny, Jenny.” I poured us each more wine before the server had a chance to come back. “I haven’t known you for long, but I like spending time with you.”

She beamed up at me. “I like spending time with you, too. Just don’t try to make me eat an octopus, okay? That might just be the end of our friendship.”

I keptmy arm around Jenny the whole time we were at Alfonso’s. Our meal was terrific. The wine was flowing; the food was incredible, and most surprisingly, Jenny actually ate. The women I dated—most of whom were models—barely touched their food, opting to save their calories for alcohol. It was refreshing to share a meal with someone who actuallysharedit.

“This micro-basil really kicks ass,” Jenny joked as she devoured the last bite of pasta. She dipped the bread—thepano caldo—into the infused olive oilandslathered butter on it. I watched, impressed, as she polished off the final crumbs and then licked her fingers. Jenny raised her glass. “This was so frickin’ good. Long live Alfonso!”

I tapped my glass to hers. “Salut!Long live Alfonso!”

The server appeared at our table. “Can I interest you in dessert?”

“Absofuckinglutely,” Jenny said. “Do you have anything with micro basil?”

CHAPTER 10

Jenny

We shared someBombolonis—gourmetItalian donut holes—for dessert. They were delish. I never ate anyplace as fancy as Alfonso’s before, and I was sure that Cole could tell. But he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to be genuinely having a good time hanging out with me. The billionaire had his hands on me the whole time, rubbing my back and my thigh, throwing his arm around my shoulder. He was pleasantly possessive, making sure that everyone in the restaurant knew I was his.

I liked that. I wondered what type of women he usually dated, and then I recalled the Victoria’s Secret model.Sheprobably knew how to read a menu in Italian.

But she’s not here,I reminded myself,and you are.

We left the restaurant holding hands, and I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny afternoon in Boston, the type of day I dreamed of during our long, crappy winters. Cole was dazzling in the sunlight, impossibly tall and handsome in his expensive suit. It almost hurt to look at him.

That didn’t stop me.

We waited on the sidewalk while Luca retrieved the Porsche. Cole wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest.He grinned down at me. “I like you, Jenny. I’m glad you’re my date.”

I blushed in pleasure and also, in a little bit of…lust? He was so damn handsome. “I like you, too. I’m glad I’m your date.” My head was buzzing from the wine and having his hands on me. They roamed lower, skimming my ass, and Cole pulled me in for a kiss.

Woah.I mean,WOAH.His lips were firm, his grip on my ass was strong. He darted his tongue into my mouth, and when it connected to mine, electricity zipped straight to my core. Cole deepened the kiss, and I started to feel all charged and squirmy in between my legs.

I pulled back, fanning myself. “Woo! Is it getting hot out here, or what?”

The line of customers waiting to get into Alfonso’s watched us with thinly veiled interest.

“Yeah. Ha.” Cole took a step back and straightened his jacket. “It’s getting hot, all right.”

He grinned at me. I grinned at him. But a warning bell was going off in the back of my head. This was all happening too fast.You are not faking that smile, Jenny.True, but so what? I was just having fun with my client. What was wrong with a little fun?

Just then, Luca arrived with the car. Perfect timing! I couldn’t be dry-humping my billionaire client on the sidewalk in the North End in broad daylight! I mean, Icould, but…

We chatted and laughed as Cole maneuvered the Porsche around the Financial District. He managed to hold my hand as he headed to the Seaport, the neighborhood where he lived. It was a relatively new area in Boston, built out with fancy high-rises and a convention center. The upscale neighborhood was a far cry from my rat-trap apartment in Roxbury. As we pulled down the immaculate streets and the pristine buildings rose uparound us, I couldn’t have been happier that I’d be staying with Cole for the next two weeks.

“Here we are.” He pulled up in front of an enormous building that fronted the Boston Harbor. The fancy sign read,

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