Page 63 of The Billionaire's Secret

Her voice seems to come from far away. There’s a roaring in my ears. My vision tunnels.Games. Playing. Hidden meanings. Not what it seems.

"Victoria?" A hand grips my fingers. "My dear, you’re freezing."

My teeth chatter. "It’s just… The weather… It’s gone cold suddenly."

"That's London for you, my dear. Still, I like it best when it's raining." She rubs my freezing hand between her warmer ones. Her flesh is smooth, unmarked. No calluses. Such well-preserved skin. Wonder what hand cream she uses. A chuckle rolls up my throat.Am I getting hysterical?I bite the inside of my cheek, swallow down the bile that laces my tongue.

"Better?" She peers into my face.

"Y…yes." I meet her gaze. "Thank you."

"Come on, let’s get some food into you. Have you had lunch?"

"N…no."

"There’s a lovely spot around the corner, that serves the best afternoon tea.

"But."

"No buts. Saint would never forgive me, if I left you here, on your own."

I twist my lips. "Oh, I don’t think Saint would care either way."

"I think you’d be surprised, my dear." Her eyes gleam.

I frown, "What are you not telling me?"

She laughs. "I’m not hiding anything from you, I promise."

Where have I heard that before?

"You’re right to be this cautious, but I am not the enemy. In fact," she rises to her feet, "I am on your side."

"You are?’

She holds out her hand, I take it and she pulls me up. "Most definitely." She begins to walk. I keep pace.

"Anyone who’ll bring Saint to heel gets my vote… And when it happens to be the right kind of woman who can stand up to him, then trust me, I’ll do anything in my power to ensure that the two of you are happy."

I stumble over a crack in the pavement.

She grabs my arm, "You all right?"

"Of course." I glance up at her, "But you have the wrong idea here."

"Do I?"

I nod, "Most definitely."

We take the zebra crossing across Oxford Street, then turn right.

"It’s not like that between me and Saint."

"Then how is it?"

I peer sideways at her. Is she making fun of me? Maybe having a laugh at my expense. She meets my gaze, her own clear. Her features are composed into an expression which seems to portray… Curiosity…? A slight concern, perhaps. Can I trust her? I raise my shoulders. Does it matter? I have nothing to lose… I have come this far… I only have to see things through, and if she can help me, well, then why not?

"He asked me to marry him."