Page 13 of Chosen By a Billionaire (Rags to Romance #24)

But oddly enough, when she walked in she felt an instant sense of relief. Not because the place wasn’t beyond lavish: it was. From the ceilings that were as high as she could look up, to the crystals and marble and massive paintings and gold vases, it reeked of money.

But her relief came because there were people around, all dressed in servants’ uniforms, and they were busy preparing for what appeared to be an actual dinner party.

Because of the way she was selected to work the party, she had assumed it was going to be some type of frat party or some wild bachelor party that could easily get out of hand.

But from the way the table in the dining hall was being prepared and the flower arrangements were being laid out, she knew it was going to be high-class all the way.

And she wasn’t going to be just one of a few ladies either.

There appeared to be an army of servants: male and female, black, white, and other races, working that party.

Which made her more hopeful that she would get that high payday Raymond said she should get. Which meant she could blend in with the others and follow their lead on how it was supposed to be done. And for the first time she felt as if there was light at the end of this night. She felt good.

“Right this way, madam,” Allan said to her.

But instead of leading her to the kitchen and dining area where most of the workers were preparing, he led her up the spiral staircase to the second-floor landing.

And then down a long, winding corridor that led to massive-sized French doors Allan opened out onto a terrace that overlooked a sweeping view of Central Park.

The view was so high up and so magnificent that Jayda didn’t see the man for looking at the view.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of that view.

Until she heard the French doors close behind her and she turned and saw that the man she assumed was the butler had left her out there.

And that was when she looked over and saw the person she still only knew as “the perv” seated on a lounger in a tan suit and matching ascot, and with leather dress shoes so large that they looked like boats on his feet.

Her heart sank again. Why did he bring her up here?

Why wasn’t she downstairs with the others?

Was this payback time for her little comment?

For that dent she put in his limo? Had she read him that wrong? ??

“Have a seat,” he said to her.

He hadn’t looked up at her at all, which she found rude. But he appeared to be working. He was looking down, intensely, at his iPad, and was making notations at the margins.

But when she sat down in the chair in front of him and stared at him rather than at the view that had so mesmerized her, an unusual current suddenly rushed through her body as if she had been electrically shocked.

At first she was alarmed and sat upright.

What was that ? But then that sudden jolt turned into a kind of warm, cozy, comforting feeling that came over her.

It was so relaxing that she sat back rather than on the edge of the chair.

She became so relaxed that she eventually crossed her legs and began to flap one as she waited for him to finish what it was he was doing.

But why was she so relaxed all of a sudden? She felt a slight jolt when he came in the breakroom to personally invite her to work his party, but it was nothing like that thunderous jolt she felt when she sat in front of him, or even the relaxed feeling she was feeling now. What changed?

And it wasn’t because they were sitting closer to each other and she could see that he was some great looking man that was turning her on already.

She couldn’t even get a good look at his face at all because he was still looking down at that iPad.

But there was an aura around him that captivated her, and that made her feel as if she had just sat in front of somebody she cared deeply about.

Which was insane! She didn’t give a damn about that man.

But it felt as if she did. And it was a feeling as real and alive as her very being. She stared unblinkingly at him.

And when he finally closed his tablet and looked up at her, and his grass-green eyes bore into her tobacco-brown eyes, she could feel such a rush of adrenalin, and that concern again, and that warmth again, that it actually scared her.

Who was this person? And why did his butler bring her out onto that terrace to be with him?

She thought it was because he was going to exact his revenge for her little perv comment.

But it didn’t feel like that at all. But where were these heightened emotions toward him coming from?

It was unlike any kind of feeling she’d ever felt before.

When Harrison looked up, he was immediately drawn to her huge and soft and eager brown eyes. And when he looked deep into those eyes he felt a strong, strange bolt of lightning rush through his body too, although he was better at hiding it.

But it was there. A definite, almost shockingly-real feeling of absolutism: Of wanting her.

Of needing her. Of a sudden, alarming desire to have her.

Forget her body: Just looking into her eyes made him hard.

Which was the oddest thing. It was coming from a place of lust he assumed.

But he’d never lusted after somebody like that before.

Not on that kind of intense level. It was unlike any kind of feeling he’d ever felt before in the entirety of his life.

Except every single time he’d seen her and only her, he felt something deep.

Why on earth was this happening , was the similar refrain both of them were saying inwardly to themselves, over and over again, as they lost all sense of time, of propriety, of reason even, and they just couldn’t stop staring at one another.

It was Harrison who broke the ice, but not the heat. “What’s your name?” he asked her as he sat his iPad on the table beside his lounger.

The elevator operator knew her name, but he didn’t? It made her realize that men like him left it to others to deal with people like her. “Jayda with a y,” she said.

She waited for him to say something smart about her name like that woman downstairs said, but he didn’t say a word about it. “What’s your name?” she asked him.

Harrison wasn’t accustomed to people being so bold towards him, but it seemed only fair with Jayda. “Harrison with an I,” he said.

She smiled a bright white smile he found most attractive. “I didn’t know Harrison came any other way,” she said.

Another come back. She wasn’t easily intimidated, which would be required to deal with his father. He considered her. “How old are you, Jayda with a y?”

“I’m twenty-eight going on thirty-eight,” she said with a smile. “How old are you, Harrison with an I?”

He smiled. “Well I’m not twenty-eight.”

“Thirty either,” she blurted out, and it was so quick-witted to him that he laughed. Which made her laugh too.

But he never did tell her his age.

Not that it mattered to her. She could tell by his face that he was at least forty, or very near it. And very much, she noticed as she glanced down the length of him, in very good shape.

But glancing down the length of him made her notice something else too: his arousal. An arousal that was so obviously huge that it aroused her.

And as they continued to check each other out, that sensual tension continued to build and embody the room until it all blew up into an escalation neither one of them saw coming.

They first found themselves unable to stop looking at each other.

Staring at each other. Wanting each other.

And then the intensity of those feelings that neither one of them could control or quench became so unbearable, and so maddening, that Harrison couldn’t help himself a second longer.

He had to act or he was going to explode.

Without any prompting from her, he reached out his hand.

“Come here,” he said in a voice that was also undeniable.

In a voice that made clear that she had just stumbled onto a path with two roads.

A crossroads . And there was no escape.

There was no getting out of it. Either she went or she didn’t go.

But somehow it felt like much more than that.

That if she took his hand and went to him she could move forward.

But if she declined his offered hand and didn’t go to him she would stay right where she was for the rest of her life.

That was what it felt like. Moving forward was risky, and scary, and could be filled with all kinds of changes and regrets.

It was safer to stay where she was. She knew that life.

But she also knew how that life would end.

Moving forward was at least going somewhere .

Standing still was going where she already was.

She was tired of standing still.

But what would moving forward require of her? And what if it was too high a price to pay?

What if it destroyed her?

She was never in love with Kenny, so their breakup was more of a financial blow than an emotional one. She had hoped they could learn to love and respect each other over time, and make it work, but he left her in the dust. That hope never materialized in any real way.

But she knew men like Kenny. She’d known them all her life.

But what would this man be to her? How much damage could he do to her if she was already feeling such strong emotions toward him when they’d only seen each other twice before?

Would he use her, abuse her, and then dump her? Could he be her undoing ?

She was at a crossroads alright. And either way was fraught with good and bad and hope and hopelessness and going and staying.

She had to choose which road she was going to take.