The Billionaire Gets His Way(16)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

As she entered her kitchen, she shoved all thoughts of Gavin Mason out of her brain and focused on more important matters. Cherry Garcia or Chunky Monkey—there was a dilemma. But it was easily settled by plunking a scoop of each into a big bowl. Now that’s what Violet called living the high life. Who needed Dolce & Gabbana when you had Ben & Jerry?

The opening credits for My Man Godfrey had just finished when there was a knock at Violet’s front door. Which did more than startle her, since not only was she not expecting anyone, but only the most dedicated serial killer would brave five flights of stairs, indicating the one at the door must be truly intent on wreaking mayhem.

Oh, stop it, she told herself. It was probably a delivery for her downstairs neighbor.

A quick peek through the peephole, however, and Violet knew it wasn’t a delivery. She also knew it wasn’t a serial killer. More was the pity. Because she would have been infinitely more grateful for one of those instead of Gavin Mason, who was, in fact, standing on the other side of the door. What on earth was he doing here?

“Who is it?” she called through the door.

“You know exactly who it is,” he replied. “You have a peephole.”

“Through a peephole, everyone looks like a giant fish,” she stalled. “So unless you’re a giant fish, then I don’t know who you are. And even if you are a giant fish, I still don’t know you, because I don’t know any giant fish.”

She heard an exasperated sound from the other side followed by “Open the damned door.”

Violet hooked the chain in its groove, then opened the door the four inches that would allow. “Why, Mr. Mason,” she said when she saw him. “To what do I owe this honor?”

She was proud of herself for not sounding anywhere near as uneasy as she felt. Really, what was he doing here? In a tuxedo? Looking freshly showered and shaved, and smelling even better than he had the last time she saw him?

He studied her intently for a moment. “Actually, it’s you who owes me,” he said. “And I’m here to give you a chance to make good on the debt.”

Oh, she didn’t like the sound of that at all. “I beg your pardon?” she said. Mostly because she had no idea what else to say.

“I had a date for a fundraiser tonight,” he said. “A woman named Marta who read your book, recognized me in Ethan, and who now refuses to speak to me.”

“Gee, that’s a shame,” Violet said. “Not that you don’t have a date for the evening,” she hastened to clarify, “but that you date women who don’t have enough brains to recognize the difference between fact and fiction.”

He frowned at that, obviously wondering if that was a dig at him, too. Which, of course, it was. But he said nothing, evidently thinking that best. Good man.

“Sorry I can’t help you out,” she told him. “But I’m not a dating service.”

He smiled at that. Well, okay, it was actually more like gritting his teeth. But she was going to give him the benefit of the doubt—unlike some Chicago business magnates she knew—and go for smile. “No, you’re certainly not a dating service,” he agreed. “But I’m not here because I want you to fix me up with someone. I’m here because you owe me.”

It took a moment for his meaning to gel in Violet’s muddy brain. “You want me to go to this thing with you?” she asked incredulously.

“No, I don’t want that. But I don’t have much choice. No other woman in town will be seen with me, thanks to you. And going to this thing alone would only illustrate that fact to everyone there.”

“Well, sorry, but I already have plans for the evening,” she said. “Maybe next time you could call first. Surely if you can figure out where I live, you can locate my phone number. Both are unlisted, after all.”

She started to push the door closed, but his hand shot out, his palm flattening against it, and he pushed it effortlessly to its limit again. “I don’t think you understand, Ms. Tandy,” he said. “You seem to think you have a choice in the matter. Like me, you don’t.”

She turned her shoulder to the door and pushed as hard as she could. It didn’t budge. She told herself it was because she couldn’t get any traction on the hardwood floor wearing socks. But she didn’t really believe herself. With a fretful sigh, she gave up and looked through the gap in the door again.

“You owe me,” he said again. “And I’m not leaving until you pay up.”

Oh, she really didn’t like the sound of that. “Do you honestly think I’d open my door to you after you say something like that? Not every woman is as dumb as Marta, you know.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I need an escort to the fundraiser tonight. I figure since it was your damned book that put me in this situation, and since that’s how you used to make your living, you can help me out by going in Marta’s place. It’s the least you can do.”

Actually, the least she could do was slam the door in his face, but she’d already tried that and failed. It wasn’t her fault Marta had bailed on him. The woman obviously wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. Gavin should be grateful she had bailed on him. He’d made clear his disdain for Violet, so why would he even want her to fill in for the woman who’d dumped him? That made no sense.

As if he’d read her mind, he said, “I’ve called every woman I know. None of them will even take my calls. The ones who haven’t read your damned book have heard enough gossip to know I’m in it, and none of them wants anything to do with me anymore. The only reason no one rescinded my invitation to the fundraiser tonight is because I’m one of their biggest donors. Money talks, even louder than gossip. Except among women who are easily slighted.”

Something in his voice almost—almost—made Violet feel bad for him. Until she remembered he was threatening her with a lawsuit that could upend her entire life and destroy a dream future she was that close to turning into a reality.

“Can I come in?” he asked, sounding almost—almost—solicitous. “I have a proposition for you.”

Oh, she bet he did. So much for solicitous. Soliciting was more like it. “Thanks, but no thanks. As I’ve said a billion times, I’m not now, nor have I ever been, a call girl. Or an escort, either. I’m not interested in your…proposition.”

He had the decency to wince at that. “Maybe that was a bad word choice. It’s not that kind of proposition. Look, let me come in for a few minutes to talk, all right? I think we can help each other out.”