Page 16 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Isla

"Oh, wow!"

I take in the flickering candles placed on every table, by the windows, on the shelves by the wall, even along the bar counter at the far end of the restaurant. There’s not a single other soul in sight. Only us.

"You needn’t have shut down the restaurant for us."

"I’m not sharing you with anyone else tonight, LadyBird."

Heat saturates my center. I draw in a breath and a complex, intoxicating, scent fills my senses.

The space not taken up by candles has been filled with roses.

Red roses. So many red roses. Some with petals which are blood red.

Others where the color of the petals is so dark, they’re almost black.

Yet others, so pale a red they are almost blush.

My favorite color. My favorite shades of color. My favorite flowers.

"You… you did all this?" I glance sideways to find Liam watching me from under hooded eyelids.

When he doesn’t answer, I walk over to touch the perfect petal of the most perfect specimen of a rose.

"All Dale King roses." I refer to the family business who has been cultivating flowers for generations, and whose blooms are some of the most expensive in the world. It’s the flowers I turn to for any occasion, or non-occasion.

And somehow Liam had found out about it.

"You must have asked to have these flown in even before we left for Venice."

"And if I did?"

"You had so much confidence in your charm, huh?"

"Is it working?"

I chuckle. "I should find your confidence obnoxious; instead, I find it exciting."

"You do, hmm?" The heat of his body singes my back.

He pushes my hair to the side, then presses a kiss to the nape of my neck.

A flush trickles down my back. My core clenches.

His musky scent laces the air, and the combination of that and the sweeter scent of the roses sinks into my blood.

My head spins. I need to put distance between us.

Need some perspective on this situation.

I pull away from him and walk toward the table in the center, the only one not covered with flowers, laid with cutlery, a single candle in the center.

I came down to find Liam ready and waiting for me.

He was wearing white linen pants and a shirt so thin, I could make out the cut of his pecs.

His hair was brushed back from his temples like he’d just had a shower.

He was freshly shaved, and when I walked over to him, the spicy edge to his dark scent was so potent, my mouth watered.

I almost threw myself at him. I wanted to lick him from head to toe, but I stopped myself. Just barely.

Instead, I brushed past him and walked out of the villa to the waiting car. The driver held the back door open, and I climbed in. So far, he’s the only staff member I’ve seen. Clearly, there are more, since someone delivered my luggage to my room.

Inside of my room, I found all of my essentials, including my medication.

When I asked Liam, he told me he’d reached out to Summer to pack it for me.

He also said he’d asked her not to mention it to me, since he wanted to surprise me.

I messaged her my thanks, and she replied with a thumbs up and told me not to worry about anything.

If only it were that easy, considering I’m positive my inbox and my social media platforms are blowing up with messages.

In a way, it’s good to be ignorant, I guess.

If I don’t know how bad things are, I won’t have to put salvage operations in place.

On the other hand, if things are worse than I think, then good god, it’ll be the end of my career—the end of me as a person…

The end of everything I’ve been working toward.

And what if my family sees the media reactions?

Not that they spend much time online, but what if they do?

How am I going to explain it to them? And Lila?

I left her another message, asking her to call me back, but it went to voicemail.

Again. Oh, god. If she sees the media reactions, she’s going to be so hurt.

I’m a terrible friend and a terrible daughter and—

"Don’t." A touch on my hand sends a current of heat shooting up my arm. I glance down to find Liam’s big hand engulfing mine. "You’re going to give yourself an ulcer or something with this level of stress," he says from his seat across the table.

"Or something." I glance away. Tears prick my eyes. "I know I overthink things. And I keep making up scenarios in my mind, most of which imagine the worst possible results to a situation. It’s just... I want this so badly, you know? It’s been my dream since I was a teenager and saw Jennifer Lopez in The Wedding Planner. She’s my idol, my queen, and when I saw her so sexy and confident and making the dreams of so many brides come true, I thought she was a princess. I wanted to be her when I grew up."

"And you are, only sexier."

I half laugh. "No one is hotter than J-Lo."

"Except for Is-lo."

I chuckle. "That was pretty bad, but I’ll take it."

"You look stunning when you laugh. Come to think of it, you look stunning any which way."

My cheeks flush. "Liam please. Don’t you think you’re laying it on too thick?"

"I never say anything I don’t mean, LadyBird."

I curl my fingers around the stem of my champagne flute. "Thanks… I guess."

The waiter arrives with the first course, and sets the plates down in front of us.

"Wait a second, I didn’t order—" I take in the food. "Is that—?" I shake my head. "No," I laugh. "You ordered—"

"Butternut, sage and hazelnut mini-quiche."

"That’s my—"

"One of your favorite dishes, I know." His lips kick up.

"And what did you order for my main?"

"Why don’t you let it be a surprise?" He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it.

"Tell me," I insist.

"Vegan cannellini nut roast for your main, followed by tiramisu ice-cream cake, also vegan."

"How did you know? I mean, I know you investigated me, but still. You remembered what I love to eat?"

"I remember everything about you" —his eyes burn with intensity— "including whatever it is that you haven’t told me yet."

"Liam, please."

He draws in a breath. "Right, no more serious talk. Tonight, we’re simply a man and a woman who enjoy each other’s company, and who love to eat good food and relish the best champagne in one of the most romantic cities in the world." He reaches for his glass and raises it.

I clink my glass with his, then take a sip. It’s as if I’ve consumed an entire flower garden. "This champagne is exquisite."

"You are exquisite."

My cheeks burn. At this rate, I’m going to turn into a fiery mass of magma. "What are we doing after dinner?"

"What do you want to do after dinner?"

"I know you said you didn’t want to share me with anyone else, but I really want to go to a nightclub."

"A nightclub?" He blinks.

"When was the last time you went dancing, Mr. Lord-of-all-he-surveys?"

"I don’t dance." He picks up his fork and digs into his risotto.

I glance from the food on his plate to his face.

"Did you order a non-meat dish because of me?"

His shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn’t say anything.

“And did you call ahead to tell the chef that both of our dishes should be made with vegan ingredients?”

He flushes.

"Oh, my god, you did call ahead to instruct the chef, and then you ordered a vegan dish because of me. You didn’t have to do that. I may be vegan, but I don’t impose my beliefs on others."

He fixes those deep gray eyes of his on me. "I wanted to do it for you. I want to experience what you do."

My heartbeat grows faster. It feels like my insides are turning to jelly. Why is that the most erotic thing ever? Also, how far will he go for me, I wonder? I peek up at him from under my eyelashes. "So will you also come to the nightclub?"