Once Upon a Billionaire

Chapter Ten

Griffin’s warm hands took hers and he pulled her into his room. The lights were off, but from the light streaming in from her connected room, she could see a heavily rumpled bed. It was obvious that he wasn’t exactly sleeping soundly, either. Was he thinking about her, too? Unable to sleep because he had her on his mind? Or was that wishful thinking?

He released her hand and shut the door to her adjoining room.

It was pitch-dark.

“Should we get the emeralds?” she asked. “I feel strange leaving them in the other room without being nearby.”

“Fuck the emeralds.” His hands moved to her shoulders, and he gently steered her further into the room. “Come to bed.”

She giggled nervously. “You didn’t need much convincing, Mr. Griffin.”

“Please drop the ‘mister’, Maylee. And actually, you can just call me Griff, if you like. All of my intimates do.”

He was implying she was one of his intimates? A warm flush ran through her body at the thought, and her hands moved to cover his where they rested on her shoulders. “Griff, then.”

“That’s better,” he murmured.

“I didn’t bring pillows,” she said in a soft voice. “To put in between us.”

“I’d rather hoped we didn’t need them.”

“Me too, but I didn’t want to presume.”

His hands tightened on her shoulders, and he turned her around. In the dark, she could barely make out the line of his jaw, the gleam of his eyes, and that rumpled hair that rose so adorably from his head. “Maylee . . . before we get into bed, I just want you to know that I have no expectations of tonight. Whatever you want is fine with me. If all you want is some company, I’m fine with that, too. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. Understand?”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she told him, “but I’m a little confused as to why you feel it’s necessary to throw that out there.”

“Because, like it or not, I’m your employer, and I don’t want to use my position to hold power over you. That would be unfair to you. Outside of this room, I’m in charge. In here, what you say goes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” His fingers brushed her neck again in a soft touch that made her skin shiver with want.

“Anything I say goes?”

“Anything.”

“What if I told you to bark like a dog?”

He stilled. “Almost anything.”

She laughed again, mostly because he sounded so very disgruntled. Her hands moved to his chest and slid down the warm skin. “What if I asked you to take off your pants for me, instead?”

“Will you take off yours?”

“No, because I’m the one in charge.”

He grunted at that. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“I’m just flexing my muscle,” she teased. “But if you don’t want to, I understand.”

“So now you’re backing down?” There was a sly note in his voice that surprised her to hear.

“Well, since you put it that way. . . no.” Where was all this playfulness coming from? She didn’t know, but she liked it. “Off with your pants.”

“Done,” he murmured, and he pulled away from her. She heard the rustle of fabric and a soft thump as his sleep pants dropped to the ground. “I’m all yours.”

A sudden wave of shyness took over her, and Maylee giggled again.

“You know, Maylee,” he said, his voice taking on a clipped tone, “most men don’t appreciate a woman laughing when they drop their pants.”

“It’s not at you,” she assured him. “I’m just a little nervous.”

She heard him suck in a breath. “You’re a virgin?”

“Nope,” she said softly. “You make me nervous.”

“Until I take my pants off, upon which you burst into laughter.”

“I can’t see a darn thing,” she admitted. “So it’s not you, Griff.” His nickname felt odd, but pleasant, on her lips.

“We could turn on a light, I suppose, but I’d rather not.” He reached for her then. “You know, the blind see with their hands.” He found hers in the dark and placed them on his chest. “I think they have the right idea.”

She sucked in a breath. Her fingertips brushed along his chest, and she felt the delicate lines of his collarbone. “You want me to explore you?”

“I’d like nothing more,” he said, voice husky.

Maylee shivered at that, and she stepped a bit closer to him, only to feel his erect cock brush against her thighs when she moved closer. Oh. He definitely was naked. Heat scorched her cheeks and she wanted to check him out with her hands to see if he was as long as he seemed to be, but she wasn’t ready to do that just yet.

So she let her fingers draw tiny circles on the skin of his shoulders, feeling the muscles there. Then, she slid them lower and felt his biceps, giving a sigh of appreciation when he flexed under her hands. “I thought you were more of a scholar.”

“I am.” Oh, his voice sounded so close to her ear, and so elegant. She could listen to him talk for hours and hours about nothing in particular.

“You have quite big muscles for a scholar.”

He chuckled. “Sometimes the only chance I get to catch up on my reading is in the gym. So I visit it fairly often. I like to be in shape in case one of trips is someplace off the beaten path. In college, Jonathan and I recreated Hiram Bingham’s original journey up the Peruvian mountains to Macchu Picchu and it nearly kicked my arse. After that, I decided I needed to be fit.”

“Mmm.” He definitely kept in shape. She squeezed his arms again, and then moved her hands back to his chest. Her fingers slid lower, and she brushed them over his nipples, pleased to hear his sharp intake of breath. She wanted to put her mouth on them, to see how he reacted if she took one in her mouth and gave it a little tug with her teeth, but she couldn’t bring herself to drag her hands from him. Instead, she raked her nails lightly down his chest, a little breathless moan of pleasure escaping her when she felt him shiver in response.

“I love your hands, Maylee,” he told her in that elegant, husky voice that was knotting up her insides. “I was thinking of ridiculous lines when I came back here, to try and figure out how to get you to put them on me. I thought about burning myself with a curling iron like Alex, except I didn’t have one. And then I thought about simply telling you that I had a burning ache in my pants, but then I thought that sounded like an infection.”

She giggled again. “You really aren’t very good with people.”

“I’m really not.” He sounded rueful.

“All that just so I’d put my hands on you?”

“I would do anything and everything so you’d put your hands on me,” he admitted.

Oh. Such sweetly romantic words. Maylee moved in and put her hands around the back of his neck, drawing his mouth toward her own. She wanted to kiss him so badly, to make sure that what they’d shared the other day wasn’t simply a figment of her imagination.

His mouth descended on hers hungrily. She was taken aback by the intensity of his kiss, but only momentarily. Being devoured by this man, she decided, was a wonderful thing. And as his tongue slicked into her mouth and danced with her own, she gave herself over completely to the long, passionate kiss that seemed to arouse every last inch of her body.

Eventually, his mouth pulled away from hers, leaving her breathless and clawing at his shoulders. “Oh, lordamercy. You don’t kiss like a scholar.”

“That’s rather good to hear,” he said between nibbles on her earlobe. “Have you kissed a lot of scholars?”

Her fingers found their way to his hair, which was soft and tousled because she’d convinced him not to slick it down. She liked touching it. “Just you.”

“Good.” That possessive note in his voice was rather pleasing.

Maylee moved closer to him, unable to avoid the press of his cock into her stomach. Her fingers were aching to curl around his shaft, but she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about her. She was all for kissing and making out and cuddling in bed, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for sex with him. She wanted commitment, and she knew he wasn’t sure he was going to head in that direction, ever. That was fine with her, but they needed to be clear on things. “Griff,” she murmured, and clenched as his tongue slicked against her sensitive earlobe. “Oh, lordamercy.”

“What is it?” His fingers brushed aside her curls, and she felt the hot press of his chest against her pajama top. The tips of her breasts were scraping against him in the most wickedly delicious tease ever.

“We should talk about . . . uh . . . this.” She was having a hard time concentrating as he nibbled on her earlobes. Who knew they were so sensitive? Every time his teeth grazed over them, it felt like they were touching other, more sensitive parts of her anatomy.

“What about this, exactly?”

“I’m just not sure how far I’m ready to go . . .” Oh, his mouth was making things so difficult to concentrate.

“I told you, Maylee,” he murmured against her throat, and she tilted her head back so he could continue to run his mouth along the sensitive skin. “We’ll go as far as you want to go. I will follow your lead.”

“That’s good,” she told him. “That’s really good.” His mouth found her earlobe again and her knees went weak. “Oh, God, that’s really good.”

“Want to get on the bed?” His husky whisper made her sex clench in response, and she felt her pulse pounding in response.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Let’s.”

Griffin gently tugged her with him, and the backs of her knees hit the mattress. She fell backward, and a moment later, Griffin was on top of her.

A low moan escaped her when his thighs pushed between her own, and his cock rubbed against the cradle of her sex.

“You feel so good under me,” he murmured, still kissing her neck. “Did you want to be on top since you’re in charge?”

“No.” Her voice was so breathless. “I like you there.”

“Do you like me here?” He thrust against the crotch of her pajamas, his naked cock rubbing against her.

She gave a whimper of pleasure in response. She liked that far too much. Her nails dug into his back again, and she pulled his mouth to hers for another wild kiss.

“How about,” he murmured between frantic, licking kisses, “tonight you keep everything on and we’ll take it from there? Yes?”

Oh, lordamercy, his mouth was making her regret her initial reluctance. It was doing sinful things to her. “You don’t mind taking it slow?”

“Not if you don’t mind me running my hands all over you.”

She shook her head. She rather liked that, actually.

“Can I put my hands on your breasts?” His tongue slicked into her mouth again, distracting her from the question for a long moment. He stated it again.

“Yes,” she breathed, practically arching against him at the thought. Oh, she wanted his mouth there, but his hands would be the next best thing.

One large, warm palm cupped her breast and Maylee sucked in a gasp.

“Mmm. Perfect size,” Griffin told her. “Plump and delicious. What color are your nipples? Pale pink?”

“Y-yes.” His fingers were rubbing the tip of her breast through the fabric, and her hips jerked involuntarily in response. God, it had been so long since she’d had sex. Had it always felt this good to fool around?

“They feel tiny,” he told her, and his thumb traced the tip. “Small, pale nipples on plump breasts. I can’t wait to see that for myself.”

“Soon,” she breathed.

“Not tonight,” he agreed. His hips wedged further between her thighs, pressing deeper, and before she knew what she was doing, Maylee flexed her knees and then she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him in until he rested perfectly atop her pussy.

Her hands moved to his ass, and she felt the taut muscles there. “Mmm. Not a scholar’s ass, either.”

Griffin chuckled at that. “I’m glad you find me so appealing.”

“Oh, I do,” she said dreamily. “I do indeed.”

He thrust between her legs, and she gasped. The fabric protected her from penetration, but she still felt the heat of him wedge against her in hopeful glory, felt him push against her aching sex, skimming over her throbbing clit.

“Like that?” There was a tension in his voice that hadn’t been there before, as if he were holding back, judging. If she said no, she knew that he’d stop.

But she didn’t want him to stop. “More,” she begged, her fingers pressuring.

He thrust again, and she moaned. Oh, God, humping with clothes on was almost as good as humping with clothes off. It was way more of a tease, because neither one of them could entirely get what they wanted, but the delicious anticipation was an entirely different level of pleasure. When he thrust again, she heard him groan, too. The friction of the clothing was driving them both insane with lust.

Griffin rocked against her, each thrust rough and wild, and she was safely protected by the fabric of her pajamas. But he wasn’t hitting at quite the right spots; there was too much fabric over her clit, and no matter how much she raised her hips and pressed up against him, it wasn’t quite hitting the jackpot for her. Soft whimpers of frustration rose from her throat.

“What do you need?” he gritted between thrusts. “Tell me, Maylee. I want to make it good for you.”

“Need . . . more. I don’t know.” She panted, raising her hips to press against the bar of his cock.

“More?” He shifted his weight atop of her and then she felt his hand press between her legs. A moment later, his forefinger rubbed her clit through the fabric of her now-soaked pajamas. “Like that, darling?”

Maylee cried out, shocked at how that quick touch could make her entire lower half clench so quickly. She was on the verge of an orgasm instantly, and her cries encouraged Griffin all the more. He rubbed harder, thrusting his cock against her protected wet warmth.

Her legs flailed and tightened around his hips, and then she made the most unladylike sound ever. “Holy Christ on a cracker!”

And she came with a damp rush and a clenching of muscles that made her entire body tremble with the strength of her orgasm. And she kept cussing as Griffin continued to rub her clit through the fabric, his voice soothing even as his cock pushed and drove at the junction of her pants.

When the stars faded from her eyes, Maylee sighed, trembling. “Oh, God.”

Griffin chuckled, the sound strained. “Good?”

“Incredible,” she murmured. Her hand slid up his side, all warm and damp with a fine layer of sweat, and she noticed that he flinched when she touched him. “What about you?”

“I’ll just . . . have a quick shower.” He began to roll off her.

She locked her legs around his hips, trapping him. “Did you not . . . you know.” She could hear the blush in her voice.

“Come all over you?”

“Something like that,” she told him primly.

He laughed at her shyness. “You can’t say it? You were screaming some rude things just a moment ago.”

She blushed in the dark, glad he couldn’t see her face. Her hands stroked up and down his tense arms. “You know what I meant. You didn’t . . . come?”

He hesitated. “I wasn’t sure how far you wanted to . . . proceed. Me jerking off on your belly and rubbing my cum into your skin is probably not what you had in mind for a make-out session.”

She sucked in a breath, the mental image of that scorching. Was it bad that she wanted that? “Well, now I can’t think of anything but that,” she admitted, and her breath hissed out in a laugh. “Do you want to?”

He groaned, and she felt him collapse on top of her, his hands going to the tangles of her hair. “More than anything else.” He thought for a moment. “Well, almost anything else. Burying myself to the hilt inside you and blasting away sounds right jolly at the moment, too.”

Her hands slid on his damp, delicious skin. “Want me to bare my stomach for you, then?”

This time, it was gratifying to hear him suck in a breath. “Maylee, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t have to do anything,” she reminded him gently. “But I want you to come.”

And she took his hand in hers and began to use their twined hands to drag her sleep shirt up her stomach.

He groaned and sat up over her, still between her legs. She could make out his big form rising over hers in the bed, and she moaned when he fisted a handful of her top and jerked it up to her breasts.

His fingers trailed down her bare stomach and he groaned in response, his breathing becoming jerky. “You can still back out,” he warned her, rasping.

“Don’t you want to come on me?” she asked him softly.

He groaned again, and his hand pushed under her clothing, grasping her naked breast. Maylee whimpered in surprise, especially when his fingers roughly began to pluck at her nipple. “Damn. So beautiful.” His voice was a near growl. “So . . . damn . . . beautiful.”

Hot, liquid heat spattered on her stomach, even as he groaned her name.

Maylee lay back, stunned by the eroticism of it. Why was it that what was supposed to be a quick dry-hump had turned into one of the most erotic sexual moments of her life?

Panting, Griffin’s hand moved to her belly and traced around the cum he’d left there. “I should have left the lights on.”

She touched her stomach, uncertain. “Did you get it everywhere? Should I get a towel?”

He chuckled. “No, I just wanted to see you under me, covered in my cum. It’s a primal male thing, I suppose.” He bent down over her and gave her mouth a hard kiss. “And I’ll get the towel.”

The bed creaked as he jumped off, and across the room, a light flicked on. Illuminated by the bathroom light was Griffin’s gloriously naked backside, all tight muscle and corded, thick thighs. Oh, mercy. Wasn’t that a delicious sight. Maylee felt herself getting aroused all over again, and she blinked with disappointment when the lights went out once more, leaving her in darkness.

Then, Griffin was back in the bed, gently wiping down her stomach and tugging at her pajamas. “You should probably take these off. They’ll need a good cleaning. You can sleep in one of my shirts.”

“Oh. I’m sure I have something else I can sleep in—”

“No,” he said firmly. “I like seeing you in my shirt. Humor me.”

She blushed at that. “All right, Mr. Gri—um, Griff.”

When he got up to get rid of the towel, he returned with a soft T-shirt for her to wear and pressed it into her hand. “Need some help undressing?”

“I think I can manage,” she said in a wry, breathless voice. She quickly stripped out of her clothing and tugged on the shirt, mindful of the noises he made as he moved to the other side of the bed. When she pulled the shirt down, her bottom hung out the other side, and she didn’t have any spare panties with her. “Um. Do you have some boxers?”

He chuckled. “If you insist, though I’m a little disappointed that I don’t get the pleasure of having you snuggled up against me all night, bare-assed.”

“Boxers,” she said again, primly.

A moment later, more soft material touched her hand, and she realized he’d had them all along. “You are shamelessly wicked, Griffin Verdi,” she chided him as she wriggled into his boxers. They were a little tight in the ass, as she had more junk in her trunk than he did.

Once that was taken care of, she lay back in the bed and adjusted her pillow. What did they do now? Kiss goodnight and roll over onto their separate sides?

Griffin solved that problem for her. As soon as she lay back, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against him, his hips curving against hers. Aha. He was a spooner. Griffin nuzzled her neck as he settled her against him. “This is much better than the pillow fort, don’t you think?”

His words tickled her ear. “It’s definitely more intimate. I hope you don’t snore tonight.”

“I never snore,” he said in that haughty voice. “You, on the other hand, could put a train to shame.”

She snorted. “Now I know you’re lying. I’m a Southern girl. We don’t snore, and we don’t cuss.”

“Mmmhmm. Southern girls are clearly out of touch with reality.”

She tickled his sides before he grabbed her hands and tucked them into his grasp. Then she cuddled against his chest, his mouth teasing her neck, Maylee somehow drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Griffin woke up with a raging hard-on, wild white-blonde curls tickling his nose, and an urge to spend the day in bed.

He sat up and reached over the woman clinging to his front to flick off his alarm, and noticed with amusement that Maylee didn’t even stir. Well, actually, all she did was burrow deeper against his chest, increasing his morning wood problem.

Damn, but he’d liked last night.

He stroked a hand over her out-of-control curls, admiring the way they fluffed and made her look thoroughly, adorably fucked. So they’d had a pajama barrier. He couldn’t deny that fooling around with Maylee had been the best thing to happen to him in a long time. And for the first time, he was rather grateful for the royal wedding and Kip’s inconvenient chicken pox.

Leaning down, he kissed her cheekbone. “Maylee, darling, wake up.”

She mumbled something about feeding the hounds and flicked a hand at her cheek as if brushing away a mosquito.

That was . . . charming. With a grin to himself, Griffin reluctantly released her and made his way to the bathroom. He’d shower and then wake her up when he got back.

He undressed and examined himself in the mirror. He was smiling like a loon. No, he realized, like Reese did whenever someone mentioned Audrey. He normally just rolled his eyes at that dopey, lovesick smile on Reese’s face and figured Audrey could do amazing stunts in bed.

But Maylee hadn’t done amazing stunts. She’d simply been herself—excited, breathless, and wild with need—and he’d thought it was the most erotic thing ever.

Just thinking about her made his dick twitch, and he took himself in hand as he got into the shower, turning the water on. There were small red scratches on his shoulders from her nails, and that made his cock ache all the more. He poured a bit of conditioner on his hand, flattened a palm against the tile, and jerked off, imagining her kneeling before him and burying his hands in those wild blonde curls as he fucked her mouth.

When he finally got out of the shower some time later, Griffin wrapped a towel around his hips and emerged from the bathroom to see Maylee sitting on the end of the bed, blinking sleepily, her hair nearly standing on end.

“You didn’t wake me up,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes.

He moved to her side and leaned down to kiss those crazy, springy curls he was coming to love. “You seemed tired. I thought I’d let you sleep a few minutes more.”

Her cheeks flushed red at that, and she jumped up from the bed. “I should go get dressed so we’re not late for breakfast.”

As she hurried away, he admired the way her ass filled out his boxers. He was going to hide those godawful camouflage pajamas so she’d have no choice but to sleep in his clothing. He liked the look of that quite a bit. She looked like she completely belonged to him.

As she should, he decided.

Griffin dressed, throwing down a few ties to let her pick out one for him. She returned to his room a short time later, those delicious curls tamped down into a tight bun and her even more delicious body encased in a shapeless, demure skirted suit that he was pretty sure he’d seen the princess’s mother wear once. It made her look at least ten years older than she was. He frowned. He’d turned his delicious, tousled Maylee into this frumpy creature.

But she sailed over to him with a beaming smile, plucked a tie from the pile he left for her, and crooked her finger, and he forgot all about anything except that sexy little gesture.

“One of these days,” she teased as she looped the tie around his neck, “I’m going to show you how to tie your own tie. They have tutorials on YouTube, you know. Very informative. And they go real slow so you can follow along.”

“Lovely,” he murmured.

“And just think of how independent you’ll be.”

“Independence is overrated if it means I lose out on your putting your hands on me,” he said boldly, and was rewarded with her blush and a happy giggle.

“There,” she said with a final tug on his tie. “All done. Now come on. We have to eat a quick breakfast today because your schedule is full.”

He sighed. “I don’t see how it can possibly be full. The wedding is in two days and I swear I’ve visited every dignitary, museum, and charity group in all of Bellissime at this point.”

She laughed and gave him a saucy look. “I didn’t make your schedule, Griff. I just manage it.”

True. He could blame Kip for that.

They put the emeralds back in their velvet box, stopped downstairs to lock them up in a secure safe in the manager’s office, and then continued on to breakfast. They’d barely sat down before Maylee opened the computer and began to type, a look of concentration on her face. “We should ask the kitchen for a couple of sandwiches before we go,” she told him absently. “It’s going to be one of those days.”

He crossed his arms as a waiter put a cup of coffee in front of him, frowning. Damn it. The last thing he wanted was “one of those days.” He wanted a day of relaxation. A day of spending time with Maylee and seeing that beaming smile of hers again. He wanted to see her face light up like it had when she’d bought those ugly, ridiculous souvenirs. He most certainly did not want to spend it listening to a charity or three describing how his money would be best spent by them.

Griffin looked over at Maylee. There were hints of smudges under her eyes. She looked tired, and it wasn’t just from last night. He suspected his grueling schedule would exhaust anyone. He knew he was certainly tired of it. He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. “Have you had a chance to see much of Bellissime, Maylee?”

She was reading emails and her lips moved, as if she were committing the information to memory. He had to repeat the question again before she looked over at him. “What? Oh, no. We’ve been much too busy for that.”

Even as she spoke, she put her hands on the keyboard and began to type again. Then, she pulled out that ridiculous Post-it stack and began to make notes. He constantly found them stuck in the back of the sedan. He’d even found one stuck to the bottom of a shoe once. Just like him, she was running herself ragged.

And for one day, he’d had enough. He thought of her excitement at the paltry souvenir stand they’d visited. How would she react when he showed her Bellissime by the light of day instead of a quick walk at night?

Griffin picked up his coffee cup. “I think I shall be sick today.”

It took a moment for Maylee to stop typing, and when she did, she looked over at him. “Huh?”

“I’m sick,” he enunciated, and took a sip of coffee. “Cancel my appointments.”

“Oh, but . . .” She looked at the computer, then back at him, frowning. “What about—”

“It’s either appointments with my mother, other titled people who want a visit from a royal, or people who want money. Tell the charities that they can send me a bill and I’ll give them what they want. Tell everyone else to sod off.”

She chuckled. “Shall I write it just like that? Lord Montagne Verdi wishes for you to sod off.”

“You can word it much nicer, of course. And then we’re going to go sight-seeing.”

Her eyes lit up, which was all that he needed to know he’d made the right decision.

After breakfast, they retreated back to their rooms to change. Griffin figured that if they didn’t want to be followed, they’d need disguises. Maylee had picked up a few touristy shirts and baseball caps for family back at home, and so they’d separated to change into jeans and the ugly silkscreened T-shirts. Griffin shoved a baseball cap over his head and frowned at his reflection. “Appalling.”

Of course, when Maylee returned a few minutes later, baseball cap over her curls and a tight T-shirt and jeans outlining her curves, he had to change his mind on their choice of clothing. Her delectable ass filled out her jeans remarkably well.

This, he decided, was a good plan.

“I brought you some sunglasses, too,” she told him, and produced a pair of plastic monstrosities with the lenses printed with the Bellissime flag.

“I have prescription glasses.”

“Yes, and everyone recognizes you in them. Can you see good without them?”

“Can you see well,” he corrected.

“I can see just fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

He sighed. “Never mind. I can see without them, yes.”

“Then put them on. It’s all part of your disguise.”

He did, and turned to give her an unhappy glare.

She choked on a laugh at the sight of him. “Very nice,” Maylee told him, unable to keep a straight face.

“The first place we are going is a sunglasses store,” he admonished her, trying to scowl and unable to in the presence of her happiness.

“Come on,” she told him, and extended her hand for him to take. “I know the back way out of the hotel. No one will see us.”

Griffin put his hand in hers and was surprised at how pleasant it was. Hers was warm and soft and reminded him of her touches last night. This was definitely getting more enjoyable by the minute.

They went through the maze of the hotel and then through the back loading dock, and escaped down a narrow alleyway, walking two blocks before coming out into the midst of the Bellissime streets. They were full of tourists, the streets garlanded with the royal family’s colors.

“Where to first?” Maylee asked him with a squeeze of his hand.

He tapped his sunglasses. “We’re getting rid of these.”

She laughed again, and they went off into the shopping district.

Griffin decided he rather liked spending time with Maylee. She was fascinated by everything, from the street vendors with wooden puppets in the shape of both the crown princess and Luke Houston, to the chocolate cakes sold on the corners. They passed plenty of stores, but Maylee was more interested in buying things to send to family than for trinkets of her own.

He got a far less embarrassing pair of sunglasses, and he let her lead the way after that. To his surprise, she was just as interested in the older buildings of Bellissime as she was with the touristy stops. Every plaque they passed by, she stopped to read and then would ask him questions. It was a pleasure walking the streets with her and telling her about his homeland, and she soaked up every word. He especially liked her intake of breath when they passed the Saine-Anne de la Vallée Cathedral, the tiny, ancient church that Alex and Luke would be married at a few days hence.

“It’s so beautiful,” she told him.

“It’s very old,” he agreed, and went into an accounting of the church’s history, dating all the way back to Charlemagne. She listened to every word with wide-eyed pleasure. Normally when he went on about his antiquities interests, people got bored or tuned out. Maylee just looked impressed and fascinated. He made a mental note that he’d have to arrange for her to travel with him on a future trip. Perhaps to Peru. Wouldn’t she be impressed with Macchu Picchu? He knew he’d found it a bracing sight, and he wouldn’t mind seeing it again, through her eyes.

Then he frowned at himself. Maylee wasn’t his assistant, but Hunter’s. She was simply on loan.

He wondered how much he could pay her to defect to him. Maylee was loyal as could be, and he wasn’t sure if Hunter would be willing to give her up, since Gretchen seemed fond of her. Of course, hiring Maylee would cause all kinds of new problems. Kip was rather possessive of his job, and the last thing that Griffin needed was two assistants. He’d have to figure out the details somehow.

“Boy, they sure like dessert here, don’t they?” Maylee asked, her drawl catching his attention. She’d paused in the street, staring at a sweets shop.

“Bellissime is very proud of its chocolate,” he agreed. “Do you want to try some?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she said, grinning.

A few minutes later, they emerged from the shop, two gelato cones in hand. Griffin had gotten a traditional chocolate spumoni and Maylee had gotten a chocolate crème de menthe, which she joked was a fancy pants way of saying chocolate and peppermint.

As they left the shop, Maylee gave her cone a lick. “Mine is amazing. I think I love Bellissime.”

He laughed. “We take chocolate very seriously here.”

She eyed his cone. “Is yours better than mine?”

“You want to give it a taste?” They moved to a nearby park bench and sat down. A fountain burbled nearby, and people strolled past, taking pictures. It was all very touristy and pretty. “I’ll share if you want.”

“If I say yes, are you going to laugh at me for eating yours and mine?”

“Not at all. I’d love to watch you lick my cone.” And he wagged his eyebrows at her.

She snorted. “Perv.” But she reached for his hand and dragged his cone toward her mouth, and then gave it a tentative lick. Then, she moaned. “Oh, my God. That’s incredible. Why is everything so good here?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth, the small pink tongue darting out to lick at his cone again, and then retreating back between those pretty, perfect lips.

And now he had a rather uncomfortable erection forming. He closed his eyes and started counting back from a hundred, even as she made little pleased noises in her throat as she ate her gelato.

“You want to taste mine, Griff?”

God, she was really going to drive him to distraction today, wasn’t she? Forget the counting. He opened his eyes and looked over at her, just as she was giving the top of her cone an open-mouthed kiss, her tongue flicking out against it. Chocolate coated her pink lips.

He leaned forward and took her lower lip in his mouth, sucking on it. “Delicious,” he murmured, and then nibbled on her upper lip while she made soft mewing sounds that drove him wild. “I think I like yours better.”

She stared at him, dazed, as he pulled away. Her lips were slightly parted, her mouth wet from his kisses. “You . . . you want to taste it again?” Her voice was breathless.

“More than anything,” he admitted. “But if I do, they’ll cite me for public indecency.”

Her gaze flicked to his lap, where his arm was carefully maneuvered over his cock. And she laughed. “I’m sorry. I’ll behave.”

“Let’s discuss something that will rid me of my problem, shall we? And save the tastings for later.”

“All right,” she said cheerfully, and took a big crunching bite of her cone. After a moment, she said, “Tell me about your childhood.”

That’d do it. Talk of his family always made any sexual thoughts disappear. “Must I?”

“Well, no, I guess you don’t have to.”

Griffin regarded the fountain nearby. “I’m afraid it’s one of those revolting ‘poor little rich boy’ stories. Except when I was growing up, my branch of the family wasn’t all that wealthy. We had several estates but other than the crown’s money, we were essentially bankrupt. My mother, Her Royal Highness Sybilla-Louise, married my father because his branch of the family had an acceptable title and enough wealth to keep the family estates afloat. It was not a love match. Not even close. You’ll notice that with the exception of my cousin Alexandra, not many in the royal family marry for love.”

“It sounds kind of backward,” Maylee observed, giving her cone a furtive lick.

“It is. We like to pretend that the royal family is as enlightened as the current times, but they’re still stuck in old protocol more than any other group I have ever imagined. My family was not a warm one. I rarely saw my parents except for state functions, and my brother and I were shuffled off to live with various nannies at my parents’ country estates. When we were old enough, we went to boarding schools.” He shrugged. “I went to Eton in Great Britain.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Eton? It wasn’t so bad.”

“No, your family. Didn’t you love and care for one another?”

He gave her a wintry smile. “I care more for my cousin Alexandra than I do for anyone else in my family.”

“That’s so sad.” Her round face looked unhappy. “Weren’t you lonely?”

“I suppose. I had my books and my studies. I didn’t need much more than that.”

Her hand reached out and touched his.

Griffin grew uncomfortable with her sympathy. “At any rate, my father died when I was fifteen, and my brother, George, became the duke, which made him even more insufferable than he already was. When I was finished with my studies at Eton, I was called home for a time, but it was rather . . . miserable.” He paused, thinking of George’s angry rages about money, his new wife who cried because he never came home, his mother’s icy demeanor that cared more for the hem of his coat than if Griffin was happy. The constant royal functions and scrutiny. “I asked to go to college in the States. My mother was appalled at the thought, but I would not be budged. At the time, I wanted to get as far away from my family and Bellissime as possible, and I thought the States would be the perfect place to do it.”

“They must have finally let you go,” Maylee commented.

“Mmm. Eventually. I did, however, have to forfeit all claim to the throne in order to leave, though. My mother was convinced that Bellissime wouldn’t approve of a States-bred king, never mind that I was ninth in line and would never see the throne unless a plague descended upon the royal house.” His mouth twitched and he looked over at Maylee. “I’d say the joke is on her, considering that Luke Houston will be the next king of Bellissime.”

Maylee wasn’t laughing, though. Her face wore an expression of sympathy.

“So I forfeited any claim on the throne, abdicated all my titles. My mother had the queen dissolve my original title and my inheritance returned to George’s hands, which made him far more amenable to sending me off to the States once that happened. I was given the title of Viscount Montagne Verdi since it wouldn’t do for Mother to have a mere ‘mister’ for a son.” He smiled thinly. “And so I moved to the States and never went back.”

“And you made truckloads of money,” Maylee said. “And rubbed their noses in it.”

He laughed. “I made truckloads of money,” he agreed. “And then I paid off all of Mother and George’s debts.”

Her brows drew together. “Why?”

“Family loyalty, I suppose.” Though sometimes, he wondered why he did so. It certainly hadn’t improved things with Mother or George. If anything, they resented him more for carving his own path and ending up incredibly wealthy.

“Your family sounds like a bunch of jerks, Griff.”

“They’re titled. They can’t be jerks. Snobs and assholes, yes. Jerks, no.”

She laughed and tossed a piece of her cone to the ground. Immediately, birds flocked to it and she began to tear off another piece. “It sounds very sad and lonely, if you ask me. Do you have family in the States, then?”

He thought of the Brotherhood, his friends who had been at his side and helped him more than any family member possibly could have. “I have friends. It’s enough for me.”

His phone buzzed.

Griffin pulled it out of his pocket and grimaced at the photo that popped up. Jonathan and the foreman of his dig, squatting next to a dug trench and grinning like a pair of idiots. “Speaking of friends,” he said dryly. “Jonathan is determined to make me hate him, it seems.”

She peered over his shoulder at the picture. “Because he’s there and you’re not?”

“I couldn’t abandon Alex,” he said. “Though I do wish heartily that she had eloped.”

Maylee laughed.