Billionaire on Fire (Firefighter Billionaire Stand-Alone Romance) (2 page)

Suddenly they were moving. Duke was strong enough not only to carry Erica in his arms, but also to run at a trot at the same time. Erica guessed that the only reason he wasn’t running at full pace was to avoid the same kind of accident that Erica had encountered.

Gradually, as they rushed through the trees of the park, Erica’s fear turned into embarrassment as they started to pass people by. She must look like a helpless frilly damsel. She could only hope that no one she knew would see her like this. But at the same time, she couldn’t help feeling grateful to have run into this man. There was no way she would be able to make it through the park like this on her own. If Duke hadn’t come along, she would be sitting there for hours.

They came to the edge of the park in what felt like no time. The noise of the street became louder, and Erica felt it was easier to look up as she was being carried, and found herself easily distracted by the strong muscles of Duke’s neck, his intense expression under the shadow of the helmet, and the faint stubble on the underside of his chin. Erica had gotten some sun the past few weeks from running, but she was still fairly pale compared to Duke’s deep tan. And his arms—even his forearms were thick and outlined with muscle, and his biceps were about as big as Erica’s thigh. She noticed as they ran that Duke had a few swirling tattoos on his upper arms that disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt, and Erica had to stop herself from reaching out and lifting the fabric to see where those lines went to.

Duke’s boots pounded against the sidewalk, making Erica bounce. Her elbows were still stinging, but without having to walk, at least her ankle wasn’t bothering her. She sort of liked being held anyway, even if it was by a stranger. She figured, this is probably a part of the guy’s job training: rescuing people, and all that. This is probably everyday for him.

They walked about a block beyond the park and turned north rather than crossing another street. The smell of exhaust was in the air, and the warmth made the city feel sweaty. Erica was glad when Duke stopped outside a redbrick townhouse.

“Hold tight around my neck while I get out my keys,” Duke said, his rumbling chest reverberating into Erica.

Erica did as she was told. She wrapped her arms around the man’s thick neck, and felt one arm disappear from under her. She held on as Duke took out his keys and unlocked the door. As soon as the door was open a crack, Duke’s arm was back around Erica, and he opened the door the rest of the way with his toe. They stepped inside and Duke shut the door behind them.

Erica noticed the quiet at once. They had been around the noise of the city since they had met—the sound of birds and tourists in the park, cars and businessmen on the street. Now they were alone, and Erica worried again if she had made a mistake in judgment. Was she being stupid? No one even knew she was here.

But they were already going up a narrow set of stairs to the second floor. The first floor had been little more than an entryway, and as they rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, they came out onto a large long room with hardwood floors. Part of the space was taken up by a white, immaculate kitchen. Clean white light filtered in across the marble countertops, and silver pots and pans hung from above an island. The other half of the floor was a living room that looked like a page from a Pottery Barn catalog, with a rustic couch draped with a blanket, a coffee table made from reclaimed wood, and an open fireplace in the corner of the room.

All of Erica’s fear was shut off for one quick moment by this guy’s set-up. New York wasn’t cheap, and this kind of space—especially so close to the park—was impressive. Plus it looked so homey and inviting. How could a fireman afford this? This place had to be millions. And she didn’t hear any neighbors or roommates.

Duke set Erica down on the dark leather couch, lowering her carefully and letting her body ease into the cushions.

“I’ll be right back,” Duke said. He set his helmet on the coffee table, revealing his short-cropped brown hair, and gave a small reassuring smile before running up a flight of stairs that went to a third level. And then, unless her ears were deceiving her, a fourth.

A fourth level? Erica observed with some admiration. Who had that? Erica herself shared a dorm with a roommate, the space so small they could barely squeeze in bunk beds. She hadn’t met anyone with living quarters much nicer since she arrived in the city. But then, she had only really hung out with other broke college students.

Before she could look around, Duke’s feet were thudding on the stairs as he came back down. He had a small plastic box full of bandages and first aid supplies. He knelt before Erica.

“Let me take a look at you,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Erica held out her arm, showing where she had been scraped. “Just there, and then my ankle.”

“What about your knees?” Duke asked, eyeing them. “They look muddy. Did you hit them?”

“Yeah, I guess, but mostly when I was trying to get up. They don’t hurt.”

Duke frowned, and then got up and went over to his kitchen. He pulled a few things out of his cabinets, and then ran some water. In a moment he was bent before Erica again, and cleaning her elbows with a warm, wet cloth.

“This is really nice of you,” Erica said.

Duke didn’t look up from his work. He opened a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and dabbed a little into a cotton swab. “Just doing my duty,” he said.

Erica was silent after that. She couldn’t figure this guy out. Was this what rich firemen did? Save people on the side of the street, take them back to their fantastic homes, clean them up and then send them on their way? Or was Erica special? Did she get invited here when others wouldn’t be?

Her elbow stung suddenly and she sucked in air between her teeth.

“Sorry,” Duke said. He waved his hand over Erica’s elbow to dry the wound, and then he ripped open a bandage and aligned it carefully over Erica’s elbow before pressing it down. As he rubbed in the adhesive sides of the bandage, his strong thumb pressed against Erica’s arm, and she could feel herself starting to wake up between her legs. She began to wish she wasn’t wearing such a skimpy top, as soon enough her nipples were getting hard at the stimulation.

She managed to control herself as Duke cleaned and bandaged her other elbow.

“I’m going to have to take a look at that ankle.”

And then Erica’s loss of control was back. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“Just lie back. I don’t want you putting any pressure on it.”

Erica leaned back against a throw pillow and watched Duke’s muscular arms as the man leaned over her foot. “I’m going to take these off,” he said, referring to Erica’s shoes. Erica nodded, and Duke dexterously untied her laces, slid off the shoe of her injured foot, and pulled off her sock. Duke held Erica’s bare foot in his hands, pressing slightly and turning it gently.

After a minute of this, Duke nodded and set down the foot. “Well, it doesn’t look broken. I think it’s just sprained. It might be swollen for a day or so, and you should probably stay off of it.”

Erica let out a groan. “Great.”

Duke looked at her with pity. “You’ve got a track meet or something you have to miss?”

“Nah,” Erica said. “I’m not on any teams.”

“You could have fooled me,” Duke said. “You’re in great shape.”

Erica’s face went red. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “But I think between us, you’re the one in shape.”

Duke’s mouth widened into a confident grin. “Yep,” he said, and raised his arms. He flexed both of them, displaying his huge biceps. “I work out a bit.” He lowered his arms and gave Erica a wink. “All part of the job.”

The confidence this man had, and the frank display of his body’s power—it gave Erica an instant flash of lust. She tried to sit up to hide her discomfort, but Duke pressed a warm hand to her shoulder and held her down on the couch.

“Uh-uh. You’re not moving. I’m not done cleaning you up yet.”

Erica couldn’t find the words to object. She watched, practically drooling, as Duke cleaned the mud from her knees. The man kept one firm hand around her defined calves, and used the other to wipe a washcloth across her leg. The only sound was of their breathing, and the pounding of Erica’s heart in her ears. Then Duke began the process of methodically wrapping a cloth bandage around Erica’s ankle. Meanwhile, Erica’s breathing had accelerated to a series of near gasps, and she was starting to get so wet she was worried about soaking through her shorts. Could Duke tell? Did he care? The man took his time washing her legs, being so careful it gave Erica goose bumps. Duke looked up her, and to Erica’s horror and delight, she saw Duke’s eyes flicker over Erica’s crotch. Then Duke’s eyes traveled up to meet Erica’s.

As the two looked at each other, Erica’s stomach gurgled. It broke the moment.

“Are you hungry?” Duke asked, standing up.

“No, I’m fine.” Erica looked down at her stomach, and it growled with more intensity. “I just need to get back and get some breakfast.”

“Nonsense,” Duke said, walking toward the kitchen. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere. Let me cook for you.”

“You don’t have to go to that trouble. You’ve already done enough.”

“It’s no trouble. I was about to make myself an omelet anyway.” He went into the kitchen and pulled off a pan from the rack over the island, and then walked to the fridge, his boots clomping against the floor. “I’m a good cook, don’t worry. You’ll like what I put into your mouth.”

Erica blushed, and when Duke stood up to line up the items on the countertop, he had that confident smirk on his face again.

“Can I do anything to help?” Erica asked, and then remembered she wasn’t supposed to get up.

Duke chuckled and said, “You can talk to me. Tell me about yourself... um?”

“Erica. Sorry, I probably should have introduced myself before you carried me across your threshold.”

Duke stopped what he was doing and looked at Erica. Erica gulped. Was this too intimate a joke? She was only joking though. Either way, Duke’s face did not reveal his reaction. He simply said, “Probably,” and then went back to whisking a few eggs.

There was a moment of silence. Then Duke prodded. “So,
Erica
, tell me about yourself.”

“Oh, right. Well, I’m a freshman, and—”

Duke stopped stirring. “Freshman?” he said. He turned completely around. “Freshman at university, or… high school?”

Erica laughed. “University.” And she saw Duke’s shoulders relax.

“What are you studying?”

“Oh, a little bit of everything. I haven’t really decided what I want to do yet.” She looked up at the man in the kitchen, at his strong shoulders as he whisked the eggs. For a moment it looked like the same motion as if he were jacking off, and Erica found herself distracted. When she realized he had been quiet, she tried to regain the conversation by asking a question. “So can I ask you a personal question?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“You’re a fireman, right?”

“Sure am.”

“How can a fireman afford this great place?”

Duke gave a tense grin. “I thought that might come up. It always does.” He let out a deep sigh. “Are you familiar with Grimaldi Enterprises?”

Erica stared back at him with a blank expression. “Should I be?”

“Grimaldi Holding Companies?” Duke prodded. “Grimaldi Financial?”

Erica shook her head. “Do you, like, work for them or something?”

Duke laughed. “Not a lot of firemen on their staff. Bankers, mostly. They pretty much run the European financial markets.” He looked at her, realized she still wasn’t getting it. With considerable effort, he explained, “How can I afford this place? And my place in the Hamptons, and my place in Italy and in London and San Francisco? I can afford it all because the guy that runs Grimaldi Enterprises, Vittorio Grimaldi, he’s my dad. I’m Duke Grimaldi, his only son.”

Erica raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

He raised a hand. “On my honor.”

“Prove it.”

Duke looked at her for a moment. She wasn’t sure if he found her rude, or amusing. Then he grinned. “You’re feisty. I like that.” He walked over to her, reaching into his front pocket on the way and pulling out his phone. He put in the code to unlock it, then opened up the photos application.

“There is yours truly,” he said, “with my father at our Corsica mansion.” He held up the phone for her to see. There Duke stood with a considerably less fit older man with swept back grey hair and an expensive-looking suit. “And here we are on our yacht off the Mediterrean. Here we are dining with the Prime Minister. With the President. This one was at the Oscars.” He turned the phone toward me and pressed the photo. It turned out to be a video. There Duke was sitting at a table eating with celebrities and movies stars. An action star had his arm around Duke, thanking him for contributing funds to his latest film.

My mouth dropped open. “Whoa.” He put his phone away and started walking back to the kitchen. “So that’s what it’s like to be a millionaire.”

“Billionaire,” he corrected, returned to stir the eggs.

Erica nodded, taking this in. The townhouse was starting to make sense, although she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of Duke’s windfall. But the guy was so nice, and so muscular, that Erica decided to forgive him. “So,” she said, eager to keep the conversation going, “what made you decide to be a fireman? You could have done anything.”

Duke took out a cutting board, and started chopping onions. “I just always wanted to be one, as far back as I could remember. I was a fireman for every Halloween since I was a little kid. I guess I could have followed in my father’s footsteps, but money always seemed so boring. I guess growing up rich, it was never a real concept in a way. It could be alienating too. People judge and hate you before they even know you. So I decided I’d do something worthwhile, partly to prove everyone wrong, but also to prove to myself that I could be a decent human being. So after I fulfilled my family obligations of attending the best university and getting a totally pointless diploma, I went right out and signed up to run into burning buildings.”

Erica watched him. She had never met a fireman before, let alone a billionaire one. “Have you ever done that?” she asked. “Had to run into burning buildings?”