Once upon a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #4)(62)
Author: Jessica Clare

“The driver explained a lot to me, and I found the magazine. It was easy to put two and two together,” Griffin said gently. “I never flirted with the princess of Saxe-Gallia. I never flirted with anyone but you. Hell, I’m not even sure I flirted with you, because I’m truly f**king rotten at it.” He raked his hand through his messy hair, ruining whatever hope of style he might have tried to accomplish with it. “I came here to ask you to come back with me, and to offer you this.” He held his hand out to her again, and she stared at the words written on his hand. “It’s yours whenever you want it.”

Maylee had a sudden vision of taking his hand and smacking him in his own face with it. She jumped off the porch step quickly, trying to distance herself from him. “You were mean to me. Constantly mean. And you made me feel like I was never good enough for you! You kept trying to change me!”

He stood, looking distinctly uncomfortable in his ceremonial jacket. “I was,” he agreed. “I was cruel to you and I shouldn’t have been. When Hunter and Gretchen sent you to me, I hated you on sight because you were everything I dislike. You were dressed poorly, talked ignorantly, and I thought I deserved better and that Hunter and Gretchen had foisted you on me to make me miserable at a time in which I couldn’t afford to have anyone but the best at my side.”

“This is not making me feel better.”

“Just listen,” he said, and there was a desperate note in his voice that made her stop. “I kept you on because I was stuck.”

“And because I could tie a bow tie.”

“That, too.” A hint of a smile flashed on his face and then he reached for his collar and tugged at it uncomfortably. “And after a few days of spending time with you, my initial dislike changed.”

“To hate?”

“No,” he said very softly. “I saw that the terrible clothes you wore hid a very large heart and a woman determined to do what was best for her family, even if it wasn’t what was best for her. And I saw a woman who was completely out of her depth but went out of her way to make everyone around her comfortable and happy, from the staff in the kitchens, to the hotel workers, to photographers and drivers. To me, when I didn’t deserve it. You were nice to everyone, Maylee. And you were genuinely delighted to be on the trip, even though I was treating you like you didn’t deserve to be there. And you took all of my abuse because you knew the money would help your family, but I think you also took it because you are a genuinely nice person, no matter how much I tried to beat it out of you.”

She said nothing, simply scuffed her shoe and stared down at it so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes.

“And no matter how much I tried to change you, that remained the same, Maylee. That you had an unfettered joy in life and all the people who surround you, and it made me realize that I needed some of that joy in my life, too. And it didn’t matter how you were dressed. Not anymore. In fact, when I kept changing your clothes and your hair, I kept feeling vaguely unsatisfied with the results, and now I know why.”

“Oh?” She shifted, arms crossed over her chest protectively. She felt a little uneasy at his words. Was he setting her up for another fall?

To her surprise, he leaned forward and touched the curls brushing her shoulders. “I love these ridiculous curls of yours, Maylee. To me, they embody everything about you—they’re a bit wild and carefree, but they’re so full of light and sunshine that you can’t help but cherish the sight of them. They’re untamed, and they should always be so.”

His hand in her hair was distracting her, as were his words. She trembled. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love your frizzy hair. I love your slow, drawling voice and how you want to go do your faith healing on everyone you meet. I love that you listen to me ramble about my digs and never tell me that I’m boring you. I love that you never ask me about my money, or if you can spend time with the royal family, and I know that it’s because those things don’t matter to you nearly as much as I do. That I’m a person to you, not just a title or a wallet. And that’s something that I’ve never been to anyone in Bellissime.” Behind his glasses, Griffin’s eyes were serious. “And that’s why I’m falling in love with you.”

And he extended his hand back out to her. This hand is the property of Maylee.

She stared at it, thinking. Then she looked up at him.

Griffin stood in front of her, utterly stiff. His collar was askew from tugging on it, and he looked incredibly uncomfortable.

She didn’t take his hand. She didn’t know if she was ready for that.

He seemed to realize this, too. Slowly, it curled up and he dropped it to his side. “It’s funny,” he said in a soft voice. “When you’re a member of the royal family, you don’t expect to have to work for anyone’s affection. It’s a given that it will automatically be granted. I’ve never had to work at convincing anyone to like me before. I . . . I’m not very good at it.” He sounded disgusted with himself. “And I wish I knew the right thing to say—or do—to convince you of my sincerity.”

For some reason, that rueful confession convinced her more than his declaration of love. Maylee looked up at him and gave him a faint smile. “Would you kiss the dog?”

“I beg your pardon?” He tilted his head, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

“My hound, Bubba. Would you kiss him to prove to me that you love me?”

He inclined his head at her, oh so gracefully. “If I must.”

She put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. “Bubba!”

The dog galloped out of the trailer and toward her, all flying ears, cheeks, and ropes of slobber. He stopped in front of her and she knelt to rub him with affection. “Hello, Bubba,” she cooed. “This man is going to give you a nice kiss, okay, boy?”

“He’s quite a . . . leaky fellow.”

She giggled at that. “He’s a hound. They tend to drool.”

“So I see.”

And to her surprise, he bent down and kissed the top of the dog’s head. Then, he straightened with a grimace. “I’d rather be kissing you.”

“I see that.” Lordamercy, she should be given a medal for managing to contain her laughter.

“Am I forgiven?”

“I haven’t decided. I might need you to kiss a chicken next.”