The Billionaire's Wife by Ava Lore Read Free Book Online Page A

generous glasses of red wine, and ordered
the asparagus salad for both of us from the waitress who stood next to our
table, practically vibrating at attention.
    “Of course, Mr. Waters,” she
gushed. She didn't even look at me. I wondered if I would have to get used to that sort of thing as well when we got married.
    No. If. If!
    Dammit.
    I smoothed the white table cloth
under my hands as she ran off to the kitchen. “I'm not fond of asparagus,” I
said.
    “You will be with this asparagus,”
he said. “It is delicious.” I watched as he shook out his napkin and laid it in
his lap. I envied that napkin. I followed suit, though the table cloth was so
long it seemed like it could do double duty as a napkin just fine. I shoved it
out of my way and laid the cloth across my gaudy red skirt.
    “Care to explain what you are
wearing?”
    I looked up.
    Waters sat across from me, one arm
propped on the back of the booth, his head tilted at an arrogant angle. He wore
another linen shirt today, this one just as impeccably tailored as the one
yesterday, and a tie was conspicuously absent. Every day was casual Friday in
the Empire empire, apparently.
    “Just something I had left over
from college,” I said. Which was mostly true.
    He arched one perfect brow. His
green eyes glinted. “I see,” he said, his tone of voice conveying that he
didn't see at all. I felt like a contrite schoolgirl dragged in front of the
principal.
    Oh no, don't paddle me, Mr.
Principal, I thought, and was immediately angry. It was becoming
increasingly clear that I was fighting a losing battle, and it wasn't with
Waters; it was with myself.
    Of course it was Waters' fault for
being so sexy. It wasn't fair.
    I shrugged at him. “Well, you hung
up on me before I could ask you what I should wear.”
    “And this is what you chose?”
    I looked down at myself, pretending
to be surprised. “Sure,” I replied. “Why not?”
    He studied the glass of wine in
front of him, then reached out and began to play with it, but before he could
answer me the waitress returned with our salads. She chirped something at him,
and he answered, but I wasn't paying attention. I was too mesmerized by the
slow, deliberate way he stroked the stem of his wineglass. It wasn't until the
waitress bustled away again that I realized he had ordered my lunch for me. I
was really blowing this. Ah, well, at least I could get a meal out of it,
right?
    I looked down at my salad and was
perturbed to discover that it was a single piece of asparagus on a leaf of
lettuce, artfully arranged and drizzled with some balsamic concoction that
stung my nose all the way from the table. A lone slice of tomato peeked from
beneath the lettuce.
    “You are trying to get a rise out
of me, Miss Dare.”
    I looked back up at him. His gaze
penetrated me straight to the core.
    I shrugged. “Maybe.”
    He leaned back. “You will have to
do better than that. What purpose would dressing as a prostitute serve?”
    “Well, that's what I'm going to be
for you, right? Your prostitute?”
    “No. You would be my wife.”
    I scowled at him. “I don't see it
that way, and I doubt many other people would either if they knew the truth. I
just thought I'd rather be honest about what I am to you.”
    He pursed his lips. His lovely,
perfect lips. Why was he so distracting?
    “I know what you are to me, and you
know what I am to you, Miss Dare. There is no other reason for dressing in this
fashion than to attempt to humiliate me.”
    I shrugged. “If you think so, then
fine.”
    To my surprise, he shook his head.
"Your opinion of others is so low," he said. "That is
disappointing. Many wonderful women work in the sex industry. I would not be
insulted to be seen with one of them. I hope they would be able to make the
most of it."
    Stung, I stared at him. He was
right, of course. I had just assumed, because he was rich and lucky, because of
the circles he moved in, that he would be angry with my outfit. In a flash