Page 377 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Rick

The flashbulb highlights the curve of her neck, the sharp edges of her cheekbones, and the helpless lust that sparks her eyes as she climaxes.

Then, the shock cuts across her face and she turns to face out the window.

So do I. Which is how the photographer snaps the second picture of the both of us—arms about each other, features flushed, anger on mine, surprise on hers.

"Oh my god," she gasps.

"Fucking hell, I’m going to get him." I lift her back onto her seat, then throw open my door and shove my legs out, but the seatbelt holds me back.

"Bloody fuck!" I unsnap my belt, jump out, but by then, the paparazzi has turned and scampered across the street.

I race after him, up the sidewalk, back to the main road.

He runs across, and before I can follow him, the lights change.

Traffic pours out in front of me. I curl my fingers into fists and watch as he hightails it up the sidewalk and out of sight.

"Rick, are you okay?" She grabs my arm, but I shake it off.

"I lost him."

"It’s best not to get into scraps with these guys."

"He took a photo of us."

"It’s okay."

"It’s not okay." I turn on her with such menace that she shrinks back. I see a flash of apprehension in her eyes and draw in a sharp breath. Don’t lose your temper.

Not now, not when you’ve been doing so well.

I squeeze the bridge of my nose. "He took a picture of you at your most vulnerable. I’m not going to let him get away with it. "

"Leave it be. These things happen. You have to expect it now that you’re much more in the public eye."

"He took. Your. Picture. As you climaxed. It is not okay. No one can catch you in that unguarded moment but me. That was for my eyes only. For my delectation. For my appreciation. For me to snapshot and hold in my mind’s eye so it fuels my dreams. It was for me. Only me."

She swallows.

"I will not let him publish that picture. This, I swear."

A flash of something like—lust— flares in her eyes, then she swallows. "Let it be, Rick. Don’t make it worse, please."

"I promise, I won’t."

Some of the worry in her features recedes.

"Doesn’t mean I’m not going to hunt him down and teach him a lesson."

She searches my features. "I shouldn’t find that so hot. I should be worried about how you seem to have no qualms about doing something that is on the grey side of the law, and yet—"

"And yet?"

"And yet—" she looks away, then back at me, "I find that such a turn on."

"Rick Mitchell," a voice rings out. I swing my head to the side to find the traffic has come to a standstill. A man jumps out of his car and points his phone in our direction.

"Shit—" I turn my back on him and plant my body between her and the traffic. "Let’s get out of here."

"You promised me an exclusive, but it’s not one anymore." The journalist we’re meeting for lunch at James Hamilton’s restaurant holds up her phone.

On the screen is a blurry image shot through the glass of a car of a man and a woman caught in the middle of making out.

Their features are a little blurry, but there’s no mistaking the distinctive curve of her shoulder, nor the jut of my chin, or the anger in my eyes. It’s clear it’s the two of us.

After we were caught out by the road, I hustled Goldie back to the car and got out of there as fast as I could.

We reached the restaurant with enough time for her to freshen up, by which time the story was already out in the media.

I knew the journalist would publish the picture, but I didn’t think he’d do it so quickly.

Goldie warned me. News, nowadays, is instantaneous, but I didn't think interest in my personal life would be this extreme.

"You’re the first to know we’re engaged," Goldie interjects in a smooth voice.

"Engaged?" The journalist glances down at her left hand. "I don’t see a—"

"Now you do." I slide the ring out of my pocket, then take Gio’s left hand in mine and slide it onto her ring finger.

"Oh my god," Goldie gasps.

The journalist inhales a sharp breath. "Is it okay if I take a picture?"

Gio nods. "If you’re okay with it," she chokes out, looking in my direction.

"I’m okay if you’re okay," I murmur.

"And I assume I can record this interview?" the journalist asks.

Gio’s staring down at the gold eternity band that wraps around her left ring finger. She manages to nod; so do I. She moves her fingers this way and that, and the light bounces off of the tiny diamonds set amid the swirling design.

"It’s"—she clears her throat—"it looks like an antique."

"It belonged to my grandmother, then my mother.”

"Oh, Rick." She looks up at me and a single tear squeezes out from the corner of her eye.

I raise my hand and swipe it away with my thumb. "Didn’t mean to make you sad."

"I’m not," she declares.

"You’re crying."

She sniffs, then inhales deeply. "I’m surprised is all."

"I know we said we’d pick out your ring together, but I wanted to surprise you—" I raise a shoulder.

"You did, in a good way. I wasn’t expecting this."

I look between her eyes. "Neither was I."

She swallows, then glances away. “When did you have the time to get it?”

“My grandmother gave it to me when I turned twenty-one. She told me I’d know who the right woman was for it.”

She jerks her chin in my direction, her eyes wide with shock.

“I kept it in a safety deposit box in the bank. I took it out the first time I met you in L.A.”

“You’ve been carrying the ring around since L.A.? That was months ago.” She swallows.

“What can I say, I have good instincts.”

Our gazes hold, and the hair on the nape of my neck rises.

The space between us thickens further with unspoken emotions.

Everything else fades away except for the longing in her eyes.

Her cheeks stain, her lips part, and the chemistry that connects us is so potent, a bead of sweat slides down my back.

Her golden eyes turn amber, and I know she’s aroused.

I lean in; so does she. Our breaths mingle, our noses almost bump, our eyelashes brush against each other…

The whisper of a camera beginning to click cuts through the hair’s breadth of space between us.

She begins to pull back, but I plant my fingers around the nape of her neck—a gesture that signals my possession and one which feels so right, too right, but that’s something I’ll think about later.

For now, I hold her in place and search her features. "I’m going to kiss you now."