Page 8 of A Billionaire for Christmas

‘I’m a chef,’ she managed to say, her breathing ragged. His hand slid tantalisingly down to her waist, causing her to shiver from top to toe. ‘I run my own…’ Her entire body tingled . ‘…catering…’ She was on fire . ‘…company.’

Not technically a lie, just because the assets were currently frozen and it was on the verge of fiscal collapse.

‘And you?’ she purred, weak with longing. This had to be the slowest lift ride in history. His image was reflecting off all the mirrors. From any angle, he was breathtakingly gorgeous in a kind of striking playboy yet ruggedly down-to-earth way. ‘What do you do, Angelo?’

Between counting your billions every day and fighting off sexual advances from every woman on the planet, life must be so exhausting.

He stopped mid-kiss, a question in his eye. It was almost a challenge. ‘You don’t know who I am?’

‘No.’ She stared back. ‘Should I?’

Her question hung in the air. Now Levi was the one struggling to find the right words and looking flushed.

PING. They sprang apart as the lift doors opened.

‘Oh, there you are…’ Keela stopped talking. Her eyes flickered briefly to Molly, expertly devoid of any surprise. She trained her eyes on Levi. ‘I was just about to bring these to you, Monsieur LeRoux. The hors d’oeuvres you ordered, sir.’

Stepping out of the lift, Levi took the tray from her. He seemed uncomfortable. ‘Thank you, Keela. I’ll take them to my room.’

‘Enjoy. Have a lovely evening.’ As though purposefully not making eye contact with Molly, Keela flew back down the corridor towards the kitchen.

Levi waited until Keela had disappeared before facing Molly. ‘I’m sorry. I should not have lost control like that.’ He was clearly flustered, as though being caught by Keela had brought him to his senses with a sharp slap.

Molly understood. She felt completely out of control herself. What was she doing? Surely she’d be sacked once Levi found out who she was. Keela was bound to tell him eventually. Molly put a hand to her chest. ‘It’s fine. I understand. We were both caught up in a moment of madness.’

They took a beat to regain their composure.

‘Exactly. Forgive me, Molly.’

‘Nothing to forgive, Angelo .’

She gave him a moment to come clean as their eyes met.

He didn’t.

With the atmosphere becoming increasingly awkward, they hovered in the corridor.

Levi could be anyone. He might even have shares in the place for all she knew.

Plus, there was the small matter of the angry redhead determined to sue her into the ground.

Molly decided to leave before she caused any more trouble.

Even in a treacherous storm, the snowmobile seemed the better option.

‘So, anyway, thanks for the kind offer but it’s probably best if I just go and wait in the bar. ’

‘Probably.’

He was clearly having a change of heart about her going back to his room anyway. Molly went to take off his jacket.

‘No. Keep it. That bar might be full of…’ Levi stopped talking.

‘It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll be able to handle a few drunks. Besides, I’ll probably wait in the kitchen.’ Molly looked down at her skimpy outfit. She would immediately go and change into her comfortably padded, libido-crushing snowsuit and moon boots.

‘Kitchen?’

‘No, not the kitchen. I mean the guest waiting area. Where guests usually wait. For the gondola.’

He fumbled in his pocket for his room key, balancing the tray Keela had given him in the other. ‘This is silly. Why don’t you at least hang in my room until the gondola is back up and running? The engineers couldn’t even make it up here on their snowmobiles.’

The storm was too bad for snowmobiles? ‘How long do you think it’ll take?’ Molly had depressing visions of herself sleeping standing up in the kitchen, propped against the freezer cabinets.

‘A while. It’s a bad one.’ Levi opened the door to his suite for her. ‘I’m sure we can behave like civilised adults while we wait for the storm to pass,’ he joked weakly.

Molly took a moment to appreciate the ridiculousness of what he’d just said. They had barely survived a thirty-second lift ride without wanting to act on impulse.

‘You’re right. I’m sure we can behave like civilised adults.

’ She had doubts even as she was saying it.

It would take just shy of a horse tranquiliser to calm her thumping heart.

She was all but dressed for a night of wild sex, and he was a raging pile of pheromones.

Her eyes wandered the length of him. One twang of her garter and he’d be salivating.

With her mind in a whirl, she walked through the doorway into a luxurious living room.

She took in her surroundings. Three giant sofas with tasteful cushions surrounded the flickering fire.

The immaculate wooden décor accentuated the stone walls.

Candles burned discreetly on all surfaces, the smell of jasmine and bergamot filling the air as though she had stepped into a luxurious spa. ‘This place is amazing.’

‘Please make yourself comfortable,’ Levi said in a formal tone as he placed the tray down on the coffee table.

Molly waited to see which of the giant sofas he would sit on and was disappointed when he chose to remain standing. She perched on the nearest sofa.

‘I’ll ring reception for an update.’ He spoke on the phone in fluent French, which she immediately found horny and distracting, but she managed to catch the gist of what was being said.

Levi clicked off the call impatiently. ‘Sorry. Looks like you’ll have a bit of a long wait. They still need to clear the cables and do a test run. Even the helipad is out of action.’

Thank goodness for her fear of rotating blades. She’d rather stay stranded at the Cigar Lounge in her bone-crushingly tight corset than face getting airlifted out by helicopter.

She shook her head vaguely as Levi paced around the room sounding like he’d come straight from the Met Office. ‘Storms of this severity don’t usually happen too often, thankfully. Something to do with a low-pressure system sweeping in from the Atlantic.’

The romantic atmosphere was waning dramatically as they engaged in what was arguably the most stilted and self-conscious exchange between two people desperately trying to pretend they hadn’t just had their tongues down each other’s throats.

‘I know what you mean. The snow.’ She pointed outside. ‘There’s way too much of it.’ Honestly . Where were her words? The longer, sophisticated words?

He stopped pacing and faced her with a bemused expression. ‘And snow wasn’t something you expected to see holidaying in a ski resort at this altitude? At this time of year?’

Molly wondered whether this undercurrent of sarcasm was strictly necessary, but she could barely look him in the face, he was so ridiculously good-looking.

She needed to stop acting as though she had a schoolgirl crush.

‘I can think of worse places to be trapped during a storm. Not that I’m trapped here.

Obviously not. Great view.’ She was babbling.

Her thought processes were all over the place under the pressure to show him she was a rational and civilised adult.

Without sex on the brain. Three whole years!

Levi followed her gaze to the window. Apart from snow pounding unnervingly against the glass, it was pitch-black outside. All she could see was her own reflection staring manically back.

‘I mean, probably. It’s probably a great view. Through that great window that you have. It’s… it’s a great size. For viewing through.’ Her words petered out as she anxiously smoothed down her hair, aware that she was hardly going to win any literary prizes any time soon.

He seemed to take that as a sign to point out the obvious. ‘Oddly, I always find the view is better during daylight hours.’ His eyes crinkled slightly. ‘What with you being a member here, I’d have thought you were familiar with it. You are an actual member here, aren’t you?’

She made what could only be described as a yipping sound.

Must lying be quite so stressful? Her corset suddenly felt too tight.

She tried pulling it up, managing only to jiggle her breasts at him, causing him to politely look away.

She pulled his jacket around her. She had just yipped at him like an injured chihuahua.

She had no idea what was going through his mind, other than he must be starting to have deep and undeniably justified reservations about her being in his room.

Common sense was poking at her brain. If she was going to be trapped here with this Greek god for the next couple of hours, she may as well try and complete the most difficult of all the bucket list challenges while she waited.

When she didn’t answer, Levi walked over to the coffee table, where an ice bucket with champagne and several crystal flutes stood. ‘Drink?’

‘Please.’ She watched him expertly open the champagne, deftly pour two glasses and hand her one. He then proceeded to knock his back and repour it. She wondered if she was making him nervous.

‘These look amazing.’ Molly pointed to the platter of her creations that he’d placed next to the ice bucket.

‘You mentioned that you’re a chef. How is your knowledge of fusion gastronomy?’ Levi seemed grateful to grasp at any conversational bone thrown his way.

‘Uh-huh. I cook. I create things. I bake. I invent new recipes. In the company that I own. That I run. By myself.’

Please shut up and answer the question.

Levi leaned over and popped one of her canapés in his mouth. ‘Help yourself. They’re quite nice.’

Molly felt a pang of pride as his eyes widened with appreciation, but ideally, like any chef worth their salt, she always hoped for far better than quite nice .

The man might be drop-dead gorgeous, but he clearly had something wrong with his tastebuds.

It was almost a relief to realise he might not be so incredibly perfect after all.

‘As you’re a chef, I’d value your opinion. These little things have been causing quite a stir.’ He swooped another one up, inspected it for less than a nanosecond and threw it down his throat. It scarcely had time to touch the sides.

Little things? Obviously, he had no inkling of how to correctly ingest molecular gastronomy or the effort that went into each and every single creation.

Did he think the delicate compositions, the viscosity, the chemical reactions were a happy accident?

Thrown randomly together by some lazy butt-crack of a chef?

Molly blew out a deep breath. This was very much an opportunity for her to come clean and admit she had made them herself.

She could teach him a thing or two about culinary appreciation, but she took one look at his stubbled jawline and thick eyelashes and decided against it.

Surely men this attractive shouldn’t be expected to keep abreast of everything, she reasoned.

‘Are you in the catering business yourself?’

She watched as he picked up a remote control and increased the flames in the stone fireplace.

They roared to life, instantly restoring the romantic vibe.

‘Not exactly, no, but I’d usually consider acquiring any company that draws people in with a novelty like these have.

They’re supposed to be aphrodisiacs. Very clever.

They’ve gone viral around Val D’Amore. This place is full of randy sods who will pay extortionate amounts for anything that gets them laid. ’

What?

Molly needed a second to think. Apart from wrongly calling her life’s work a novelty and pacing up and down like he was in a lecture theatre, did he just say he might want to buy her company?