Borrowed Billionaire #5 Set it on Fire by Mimi Strong Read Free Book Online

blow job in a department store change room.”
    He winced and swallowed hard. “Lucky guy.” He held his hand out to me. “I'd like us to be exclusive from now on. I don't care what you did in the past, just what you'll do in the future.”
    I kept tapping my foot. “Did you book this lunch at a hotel because you were planning to sleep with me?”
    “Not planning to . More like hoping to.” He gave me a big smile. “Is that such a bad thing?”
    I glanced over at the cleaning woman, who was rapt.
    Still holding my ground, I put my hands on my hips. “So, are we dating, or what?”
    “We're dating. If you'll agree, I'd like you to be my girlfriend. Officially. I guess I'll lose my bet with Grace, but I can handle the penalty.”
    The cleaning woman sighed.
    “I think I might be a little screwed up, and maybe you are too, so ...” I looked into his eyes, and I saw something different.
    He wasn't just the man who stood before me, Mr. Luthor Thorne. He was also the boy, the one who lost a brother and was left yearning for more emotional contact. On top of that, though, I saw other versions. He was the man he'd be a year from now, made stronger by our bond, more confident. He was the older version of himself, his temples graying, but still handsome, the same man, but more.
    In his eyes, I also saw myself, as he saw me. A smart, confident young woman—a little screwed up, but willing to move beyond the past and be loved. Willing to love. Willing to say the words.
    I practically ran into the room, throwing myself into him.
    We kissed, our lips crushing into each other. The door closed behind me, and I already had Luthor's shirt unbuttoned.
    Something caught my eye and I stopped, pulling back. “Seriously? A grand piano?”
    Holding my hand, he walked me over to the baby grand in the corner of the room. I'd seen hotel suites like this in magazine and in movies, even in my fantasies, but not in person. My mouth gaped as I stared around at the opulence, from the crystal chandeliers high overhead to the fine furnishings. One night in this suite was likely more than a month's mortgage payment.
    “Do you play?” he asked.
    “I can noodle around with a few chords, but no, I don't play piano. Do you?”
    He sat on the bench and ran his finger down the keys.
    He looked up and caught my gaze, and began to play. “Why don't you pour us some of that champagne?”
    I turned around and found a tray with champagne, fluted glasses, and strawberries dipped in chocolate. After just eating lunch, I wasn't hungry, but my mouth watered at the sight of them.
    Luthor continued to play—something jazzy, but I couldn't have guessed the name of the song—and coaxed me into opening the champagne myself, even though I was terrified of sending the cork into a priceless chandelier.
    He laughed. “I own the chandelier and I give you permission.”
    With that, I popped it open and only spilled a little bit near my shoes on the hardwood floor.
    “Question for you,” I said. “I swear when we first met, I asked if you owned hotels, and you said you didn't. Does the honesty start right now?”
    “Ah. You asked if I owned 'hotel chains' and I don't. I own hotels, but they're all boutique hotels. Not chains.”
    “Same difference.”
    “Okay, I was evading your question. Can you forgive me? I barely knew you. It's a reflex to be vague about … my business.”
    I nodded slowly, as though convincing myself. “Okay, I can sorta see that. Actually, I get it. Sometimes I meet people socially and they're so nosy about what I make as an organizer. I don't want to say the annual figure, because it's up and down, plus it's none of their business, but when they find out the hourly rate we charge, they get all weird and stare at me like I'm Donald Trump or something.”
    “You look nothing like Donald Trump.”
    I laughed. “You would know. You guys are probably golf buddies.”
    Luthor made the funniest face, which I took to mean they were not.
    I