Page 16 of How to Blow It with a Billionaire

“I don’t know if it was selfish or not. But I do know I needed you and you were there.”

“Did you also need Pocky?”

“Hell yes. Matcha chocolate cookie is nearly impossible to get over here.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Feel free to look for yourself.”

“Not about the Pocky.” His hand slid fully over mine and claimed it. “About what makes you happy.”

“Generally a good plan in any…um—” Shit. I’d nearly dropped the R-word. The other R-word. “Generally a good plan. Hey, you know what else makes me happy?”

Least plausible cover-up ever. Way to go, Arden.

But he seemed willing to let me get away with it. “What?”

“When you…uh…” I was unexpectedly blushing, though I wasn’t sure it was because of what I was saying now or what I’d nearly said before. “…when you call me your slut—”

“Because you find it romantic?”

“Yes. Because it’s just for me.”

Caspian was silent for what felt like ages. “I think I was right the first time,” he murmured.

“What do you mean?”

“You do have a very strange sense of romance.”

Chapter 5

There was a car waiting for us at Heathrow—a proper billionaire car this time, with a driver—to take us to One Hyde Park. It felt odd coming back. I couldn’t have called it a homecoming because I was pretty sure that shining glass monster would never feel like home, but I was in a way more comfortable than I had been the first time I’d stepped into its gold and marble maw.

Now it was a familiar gold and marble maw. Put it that way.

Unfortunately Caspian couldn’t stay. I hadn’t expected him to, but it didn’t stop the swell of disappointment from whichever organ generated the stuff. The balked duct.

He was, however, very nice about leaving. No vanishing abruptly into the night like the hero-villain from a gothic novel. There was only genuine reluctance, an apology, and a kiss on my nose before he left. Which was something he seemed to be making rather a habit of. Not that I was complaining. It was just unexpected.

Even—hah—romantic.

And my nose did have this very slight, almost questioning uptilt at the end, like maybe it was waiting for him.

Nasal care dispensed, he wished me a good night and promised to see me soon. I trailed him into the hallway trying not to look too desolate and puppyish, and probably failing hard.

He hesitated in the doorway. For a happy moment, I thought he might be about to change his mind, but all he said was, “You should have a word.”

“A word with who?”

“A word,” he repeated, looking everywhere but my face. “In case you need…in case you…in case you don’t like…”

“Oh, a safeword.”

He nodded, a touch of pink rising to his cheeks.

“Why?” Since I couldn’t catch his eye, I had to put all my blatant invitation into my voice. “Are you going to do terrible things to me while I beg you to stop?”

Pink was long gone. Now he was very red indeed. And looking so much like he was wishing the ground would swallow him whole that I felt a little bit bad. But then he nodded again. “Assuming, that is, you have no objections.”