The TROUBLE With BILLIONAIRES: Book 1 (6 page)

              “You’re frustratingly hot when you’re passionate like this,” Rawn said, smoothing a piece of hair away from my face, causing a shiver of anticipation to course across my skin. “Moreover, you’re just frustratingly hot all round.”

              “Does that mean you’re going to do as he asks?” I questioned, not bothering to move away from his touch.

              “No. We’ll return this evening, and I’ll convince him otherwise. But it’s refreshing to have someone around me who doesn’t mind telling me when they think I’m wrong.”

             
That’s the problem
, I thought.
I don’t think. I know.

***

              The kitchen of the farmhouse was upsetting. I didn’t understand how even a lonely scientist could live like this. While Rawn made a call back to Portland, I wandered through the house, trying to learn everything I could of Dr. Giordano. However, there wasn’t much to learn, other than the man did not clean up after himself. What photos he had of his wife were covered in dust. As for the pans in the kitchen—they were covered with more than dust, things I was trying very hard not to feel sick looking at.

              Throwing on a pair of blue medical gloves, which I assumed he kept around for his inventions, I began cleaning, offering Dr. Giordano the only gift I knew to give him.

              Midway through the chore, Rawn found me. “I didn’t take you for the domesticated type,” he said, smiling.

              “I’m not. This is sad. I wanted to make it a little less heartbreaking.”

              “He’ll probably never notice.”

              “I’m not doing it so he’ll notice. I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do.”

              Understanding, Rawn also removed a pair of gloves from the box and started straightening up. It shocked me, more than anything else that day. I did not take him for the type who knew his way around a bottle of soap.

              “Try not to look so amazed,” he said, almost playful, more so than I knew he could be when sex wasn’t involved. “It’s an insult.”

              “I just thought…”

              “What?”

              “Never mind. I was wrong to assume. Let’s just get this over with. I wouldn’t mind going for a walk after. We need the fresh air after inhaling all this…I don’t even want to say. Plus, we’re in Italy!” I almost sang. “There’s no rain. There’s no fog. It’s just…sunny. And I don’t mean just the weather. The people here can’t seem to stop smiling. They’re so friendly.”

              “Of course they’re smiling. They’ve been visited by the sun,” Rawn said, glancing at me as he put a stack of clean plates into a cupboard. “I’ve already lined a walk of sorts up. There’s a vineyard down the road that caught my attention on the drive up.”

              “The one with the bronze statue on a hillside of a young peasant girl picking grapes?”

              “That’s the one. I’ve just made dinner reservations, which will follow a tour of the grounds.”

              We’d skipped lunch on the way out to the farm, so I was famished. “Sounds perfect,” I said. “Thanks.”

              “Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “You don’t know what I have planned for you.”

***

              Tanned fields, golden like the sun, looked like patchwork next to the green fields of the vineyards. The hub of this particular vineyard was a sizeable stone lodge where tourists like ourselves could taste the wine and enjoy a meal. But Rawn had no interest in the wine when we arrived. He moved us quickly along to the tour, likely needing to stretch his legs as much as I did. Between the jet, our hotel suite, and the car, I was ready to move, despite how hungry I was.

              Rawn took my hand as we walked. “So you don’t get lost,” he said, indicating the tall vines that acted like walls within a labyrinth.

              I allowed it, releasing his hand only to take off my heels. They would make the tour almost impossible. The grass was soft against my now bare feet, much more so than the plastic within the heels. It felt so natural and made the tour even more enjoyable, as if I had somehow melded within the landscape and become part of its beauty rather than observing it.

              Rawn must have thought the same thing, because he could not stop looking down at my toes.

              “Don’t tell me you have a fetish,” I whispered as the man who guided us around the vineyard lectured on the growing process of the grapes.

              “I have a fetish for every part involving you,” he said back.

              The highlight of the tour was a glass of wine on top of the hillside next to the statue. Though the statue was of a peasant girl, she looked so carefree in her rags. So happy. I wondered if I could ever feel that way. I tried. With my colorful hoodies and the bright décor of my room back in Portland, I tried every day to keep a positive outlook on life. But it was very hard to think happy thoughts when so much anguish had passed by my door. And with a future that was so uncertain…

              “There you go, a million miles away again, but this time you don’t have your stars to blame,” Rawn said.

              “No, there’s no one to blame. Sorry,” I said, pulling myself together, trying to remember exactly where I was.

             
I’m in Italy! And I didn’t spend a dime on the trip. Not bad for a twenty-one-year-old nerd
, I thought.
Take that, every popular girl out there.

              Back at the lodge, an iron table with lattices through it was set up for us outside on a patio surrounded by low-cut trees. As we approached, a waitress in a formal black and white uniform came out and spread a white cloth over the table before lighting a set of candles. It being autumn, the sun would soon set. It was all quite romantic, which made me as uncomfortable as it did excited. I had never experienced a day like today, and I likely wouldn’t again for a long time, if ever. I enjoyed the beauty of the day, but I was uneasy with the obvious seduction hidden within its layers.

              That feeling of unease only worsened when, after I took my seat at the table, the waitress gently tied a blindfold around my eyes, speaking something in Italian.

              “What did she say?” I asked, bewildered at what was happening.

              “She says your hair is the color of the golden fields that surround us. She wishes she had your hair.”

              It was a nice compliment, but it wasn’t the root of my question. “Why the blindfold?”

              “That was my request. It’s part of the experience. If we’re going to be working together like this, Madison, I need you to trust me. I know I don’t deserve it. Not after leaving you in the woods alone. But believe me when I say I was not aware of your predicament. I truly thought you knew your way back. I was foolish. Forgive me.”

              “Fine. Forgiven. Now can we take the blindfold off? I’m not sure I like it.”

              “It’s compulsory.”

              “According to who?”

              “According to me.”

              I knew he wasn’t speaking as my boss, but I didn’t resist. He couldn’t take me here, not at the vineyard with so many people around. I’d humor him now, but the blindfold would not leave the dinner table. However, complying with him didn’t mean I couldn’t speak on my own behalf.

              “Is it my trust you’re trying to earn, or are you trying to train me to accept your dominance?” I challenged.

              “Both. To me, they’re one and the same.” His voice was as liquid as the nearby stream that ran through the vineyard, rich and effortless. He held no shame in who he was, or what he wanted.

              “It’s a twisted philosophy.”

              “And yet you haven’t pulled the blindfold off. Like any scientist, you’re curious. It’s that curiosity that I’m relying on.”

              I couldn’t deny what he said, so I reached forward for my water, my throat suddenly dry.

              “Only a little,” he instructed when I found the glass. “Save some for the meal.”

              “What are we having?”

              He laughed lightly. “That’s where the trust comes in.”

              “You mean the dominance.”

              I could almost sense him shrugging his shoulders indifferently. Moments later, footsteps announced the arrival of the waitress. Her arms brushed past me as she set a plate down on the table, along with what was either a jar of water or a bottle of wine, based on the sound of the glass making contact with the table.

              When she was gone, Rawn spoke. “I’m going to feed you something. You may not like it, but you’re not allowed to spit it out. Chew it slowly, savor the flavor, even if it repulses you. Then swallow.”

             
I bet he’s getting a hard on just telling me this
, I imagined, bracing myself for whatever he was about to stick in my mouth.

              The cool metal of a fork pried my lips apart and a small, salty delicacy was placed on my tongue. To my horror, I felt it wriggle. Instinctively, I reached for a napkin to remove it from my mouth, but Rawn placed his hand over my own.

              “Chew,” he ordered.

              I did, for reasons I wouldn’t admit to myself. As I got over the initial shock of eating a living creature, I found the taste quite nice. It was definitely seafood. The texture was like rubber, elongating the time it took to swallow it down.

              “How was it?” he asked.

              “Different. I didn’t hate it.”

              “Which means you enjoyed it,” he said triumphantly.

              “That’s a bit of a stretch,” I said, taking a sip of water. “But I didn’t hate it. What was it?”

              “Raw octopus. It was only freshly killed. The tentacles have a tendency to move, especially if they come into contact with salt.”

              I took another sip of water, not sure knowing what it was made the experience any better, and leaned back in my seat. The chill of a breeze told me the sun had started to set. “I get it. You know what’s best for me. At least, that’s what you believe. I just don’t understand why men in power like you always feel the need to be in charge. Isn’t your ego fueled enough at the office?”

              “You have it all wrong,” he said. “Obeying me isn’t for my pleasure. It’s for yours. If you would have me, everything I’d do to you would be entirely for your pleasure. I think you know what I’m saying to be true. You’ve experienced it already—in the woods.”

              Damn it. He had me there. Before he had abandoned me, it really had been the best fuck of my life. Technically, it still was. My thinking him an arrogant jackass didn’t change the way he had worked my body or how hard I had come.

              And if I was being totally honest with myself, after our conversation on the plane, I didn’t think him so intolerable anymore. Just more human.

              But he was still arrogant. And I hated giving arrogant men what they wanted, especially if there was a risk I could fall for such a man…that when such a man held my hand amongst the vineyards, more than just my body ached for him. I couldn’t fall for anyone. If Rawn knew what had happened to my sister, he wouldn’t be sitting here feeding me octopus.

              Thankfully, the waitress returned with another plate before I had a chance to respond. The smell that wafted with the breeze gave away that it was more seafood. However, this time when Rawn placed it in my mouth, it didn’t move. It was sweet and fishy, served on a piece of bread with garlic olive oil.

              “That wasn’t so bad,” I admitted, almost wishing for another bite.

              “Fried baby eel. Or
cieche fritte
. It’s a popular appetizer.”

              My heart flipped at the baby part. I wasn’t a vegetarian by any means, but I didn’t like the idea of eating any living animal that didn’t have the opportunity to grow. It’s why I didn’t touch veal.

              “I take it back. It was bad. I won’t eat baby anything. If there are any more dishes on the way, and they’re similar, please send them back.”

              “Just one more,” he announced. “A dish served with pasta known as
pajata
. But it involves calf.”

              “Nope,” I said, taking off the blindfold, enjoying the revival of the scenery around us. “Not happening. I have morals. What is wrong with these Italians?”

              “There is nothing wrong with unusual tastes. It’s just…different.”

              I took another sip of water, hoping to wash the baby eel completely off my tongue. “I’m not opposed to different. I just won’t eat the young.”

              I thought he would be irritated that I had put his game to an end, but his eyes shined. “So something strange and unfamiliar doesn’t scare you?”

              “I ate the raw octopus, didn’t I?”