Page 15 of Forbidden Billionaire (Titans #7)

“Better that than the alternative.”

And that’s hard to argue with.

The sudden silence—except for the hum of the air conditioner and Lila moving around the kitchen—is startling.

Now it’s only the three of us—me, Lila, and the man who’s turned my world inside once again.

I twist the cap off a bottle of water and take a sip. Lila joins us, picking through the petit fours and claiming a vanilla one.

Blackwell folds his arms and leans a hip against the brick wall like he owns the entire world. And I’m beginning to think that maybe he does.

He skims his appreciative gaze over me, then glances at Lila. “Any plans for dinner?”

Lila doesn’t miss a beat. She pops half a petit four into her mouth and talks around the bite. “Sera promised she’d take me out to eat to thank me for my help.” Unspoken words hang in the air. You weren’t invited. Her grin is all teeth.

“Sounds good.”

“Uhm.” My stomach lurches. “It’s not your type of place.” After all, I know exactly what his culinary tastes are.

“Not my type of place?” His brows twitch like I’ve just insulted him.

Lila practically purrs, drawing this out like she’s savoring a ripe piece of gossip.

“It’s the Poison Girl in Montrose.” She lifts her water bottle as if she’s proposing a toast with it.

“Total dive bar, tattooed bartenders, graffiti in the bathrooms. Definitely not billionaire vibes.” Then she gives a feral grin.

“If anyone recognizes you, you’ll probably get kicked out. Not everyone likes your type.”

“Willing to take my chances.” He pushes off the wall. “Let’s go. My driver will take us.”

Lila’s mouth falls open.

My pulse flips. He can’t be serious. “Mr. Blackwell?—”

“Let’s go.”

Before we can, Lila has to take another opportunity to needle him. “You sure you’re ready to mingle with the plebes, Blackheart ?”

He doesn’t flinch. Just slides his eyes to me, the corner of his mouth crooking up. “I don’t think you know who I really am.” Gaze cold, he looks at me. “Either of you.”

I think I do. Xavier Blackwell is a shark, no matter what the environment.

The car, with Vionna on duty, is waiting, nice and cool, when we arrive in the parking garage.

Lila piles in next to me, facing forward, which leaves Blackwell riding backward in his own vehicle.

Facing him is so much worse than sitting next to him. He sprawls in his seat like he’s lounging at home, eyes dark and steady, taking me in like I’m some puzzle he intends to break open piece by piece.

Every time I glance up, he’s staring—a slow, pointed sweep from my throat to where my T-shirt clings, then lower, lingering at the hem of my shorts. Picturing them on his bedroom floor? Or worse, imagining what the backs of my thighs might look like with his handprint burned into them?

Damn. How I wish I had changed out of these stupid shorts.

I shift in my seat, crossing my legs like it’ll help. It doesn’t. I’m so tangled up in my own skin that I don’t hear Lila laughs.

“You still with us?”

Heat explodes in my cheeks when I realize he’s grinning at me, all dark amusement and the smug certainty of a man who knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I open my mouth—and thank every god that ever existed when Lila leans forward. “Do you mind dropping us around the back? We like to dip in through the patio entrance.”

Blackwell turns to look in Vionna’s direction. “Do it.”

We pull into the quirky place that’s wedged between a tattoo parlor and a resale vintage shop. I’ve loved it since the first time Lila introduced me to it. Even when my budget improves, I’ll still want to come here for our happy-hour drinks.

The place is crowded but not packed yet; the fans rattle overhead, stirring up the heavy summer air.

Lila slides into the seat across from me, leaving Blackwell to sit next to me. And he edges uncomfortably close.

The tattooed server with a shaved head and dangly goddess earrings stops by to drop off menus. “Drinks to get you started?”

Lila doesn’t hesitate. “I’d like a glass of your nicest chard.”

That sounds so much better than the cheap stuff I usually drink. Still, it’s hard for me to spend money. Even tonight, even knowing I promised to buy Lila dinner, that final Sterling paycheck will only go so far. And life has taught me how quickly things can turn bad.

“Do you like chard?” Blackwell looks at me.

Before I can say anything, Lila answers on my behalf. “She does, even if she won’t say so.”

“In that case, let’s make it a bottle.”

I’m speechless. I know what he usually orders, and this definitely isn’t it.

A few minutes later, our drinks are delivered, and we all agree on an extra-large pepperoni pizza. I’ve never seen him eat anything with that many carbs.

Once he’s poured us each a glass, he leans back, elbows draped wide like he’s somehow both a king and a street punk in the same breath.

I cross my legs, suddenly hyperaware of how many hours we’ve been moving and packing and sweating in the Houston heat. The day has blurred in my head. How many hours has it been? Eight? Ten? More? I know I’m exhausted, but part of me is wound tight, unable to relax with him here.

I catch a glimpse of a side of him I’ve never seen before. Casual charm. Easygoing banter with us and the server. Who is this man?

After finishing her first glass, Lila pours herself another one, takes a sip, then levels him with a stare that could flay him alive. I feel it coming before she even opens her mouth.

“Lila, don’t,” I murmur. My fingers twist around the stem of my glass. “Please, just?—”

“No.” She cuts me off. “He needs to hear it.”

Blackwell seems unruffled. “Let her, Seraphina. Whatever she’s got to say, let her get it off her chest.”

Lila points her wine glass at him like a dagger. “You fired her for doing the right thing. For not lying. For not rolling over when you wanted to impress your precious shareholders.”

He takes the words in stride, not arguing, not pushing back.

Consideringly he takes a sip. Then he angles his glass to me. Though he’s answering her, he’s looking at me, unflinchingly, never looking away. “Then I’m doubly glad I have a chance to make things right.”

Lila blinks. Around us, the cicadas hum, music blares from the jukebox, and a group of men at the next table laughs.

Somehow, impossibly, we end up having a good time. Lila’s barbs lose their edge, and Blackwell adds an occasional quip that makes my pulse do terrible, traitorous things.

When the check comes, he slides his card across the table before I can open my purse.

“Really. There’s no need.” While we ate, I performed the calculations in my head.

We shared the wine, so that was a savings over individual drinks.

And pizza was about the cheapest thing on the menu.

And I remembered that my rent payment won’t draft from my account on the first. So while things are still tight, they’re not as dire. “I promised Lila. And you helped too.”

“Save your breath, Ms. Hollis.”

His tone is uncompromising.

Back in the SUV, there is silence, and it’s an easy one, surprisingly. Or maybe not so surprisingly. Lila said what she wanted to, and we had a good fun meal after a long, hot day.

When we get to my building’s garage, he exits first, then extends a hand toward Lila like she’s royalty.

“Don’t think this means I like you, Blackheart.”

“Wouldn’t think anything of the kind.”

When I’m standing next to them, Lila hugs me hard. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Really, I think you could.” She shoots me a wicked grin.

“The love? The emotional support? Organizing things? You were a lifesaver. I can’t thank you enough.”

In a whisper, she tells me to text her. “I’m going to want every salacious detail tomorrow.”

Blackwell is watching us both closely.

If he has his way with me, there will definitely be wicked things to tell her at the next happy hour.

After we end the hug, he sees her to her car, closing her in securely. Then she’s gone.

Which leaves us—me and him—standing by the elevator bank. The air feels different now, thicker, weighted, expectant. And my pulse turns thready. I know what he’s thinking. And the problem is, I’m thinking the same thing.

I look at him. He looks at me.

“Your car is at your old apartment.”

On the drive back here, I thought of that. Coming in one car with Lila had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, with all the logistics to consider, not as much. “I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Or I can take you now.”

“Honestly? I’m exhausted, and the mattress in my bedroom is so tempting that I want to spend the night here.”

“And the AC works better here. Makes it easier to sleep. And be comfortable.”

For a moment, neither of us speak, and I shift my weight from foot to foot.

“There’s a bottle of champagne in your refrigerator.”

“There is?” He thought of everything. And it’s surprising that he managed to pull everything off without me knowing a thing about.

After all, as his assistant, I’m now managing the day-to-day details of most of his life.

All this means is that he cleverly and thoughtfully arranged for the movers, flowers, food, security installation, and buying the champagne on his own.

As I said earlier, everything was overkill. But it also means a lot to me.

He made a day that was overwhelming flow so much more smoothly.

“Would you like me to open it for you, Ms. Hollis?”

My heart is racing so fast that I’m afraid it will thunder out of my chest.

“I can help you celebrate your new apartment…”