Devoured--A Sexy Billionaire Romance

by Cathryn Fox

  Andrew’s eyes widen. “We could never ask that much of you.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m volunteering, and I’d love to help.”

  A wide smile splits Andrew’s lips as Peyton looks at me, her mouth agape. “That’s a generous offer, Roman, and I’d love to discuss this in depth with you. Right now, I must get the barbecue going.”

  “I’ll get the salads from the kitchen,” Sofia says, and takes a look at our glasses. “And it looks like we could all use a refill on our drinks.”

  Richard jumps up. “I’d be happy to help with the barbecue. I’m sort of known for my barbecue skills back home.”

  I scoff silently. I’m sure he’s known for a lot of things back home.

  “I’ll help you in the kitchen,” Paula announces, and stands.

  “No, please sit and enjoy your drink,” Sofia says, a little too quickly.

  Refusing to take no for an answer, Paula smooths her hand over her skirt and follows Sofia inside.

  The women disappear inside, and as Richard brags about his skills, I lean into Peyton. “What the hell?”

  “Wow...just wow.”

  “You don’t like them either, huh?”

  She frowns. “Do you think she’s right? Do you think my values are going to stand in the way of me getting this job?”

  “Your values are just fine, and your heart is in the right place, but we’re going to have to be very careful. If we’re not...”

  I let my words fall off. Shit, maybe I wasn’t the right guy for this job. I thought I could blend in when in fact, I could be the one to ruin her dream job. But the thought of any other guy pretending with her, touching her, kissing her, exercising marital rights with her...well, that just doesn’t sit well with me. Not anymore, anyway.

  I am so screwed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Peyton

  “YOU DON’T HAVE to walk me to work every morning, you know,” I say, secretly liking his strong, solid presence beside me, not to mention the way he holds my hand, swinging it a little as we stroll. For the last week, he’s insisted on walking me to work, and I always put up a fight, simply because I like pressing his buttons.

  He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Haven’t we been over this?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Jesus, girl, are you forgetting what happens when you argue with me?”

  “Maybe I want you to kiss me.” I lift my chin an inch. “Right here in the street.”

  “Fine.” He grabs me by the waist and tugs me to him. His warm lips find mine, and I sink into the sensations as he ravishes my mouth. His growls reverberate through me, and I wrap my arms around him, loving how I can rattle him like this. He breaks free, leaving me breathless. “Just for the record, you don’t have to give me a hard time every time you want a kiss.”

  “A hard time, huh?” I tease, and press against him.

  “Cut it out. I do not need the mother of all boners right now. Not when you have to get to school, and I can’t push you to your knees and enjoy this sweet mouth of yours.”

  Heat races through me and he gives a playful grin, knowing how much I like it when he talks dirty. “Was that payback for rubbing up against you?” He looks away and whistles innocently. It brings a laugh to my lips. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  “Can’t wait.” He gives my ass a smack. “Now come on before you’re late. We don’t want to give Paula and Richard any more ammunition.”

  My shoes tap on the sidewalk as we head toward the school. “He’s actually been pretty nice this week.”

  His hand tightens around mine. “You’ve heard the saying, keep your enemies close, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t trust him, Peyton.”

  “I won’t.” We both go quiet for a second, lost in our own thoughts. I break it by asking, “When do you think you’re going to visit with your family?”

  He frowns. “Soon. I’ve been busy with some work for Hard Wear and haven’t really had a chance.”

  “You did tell me that was one of the reasons you wanted to come here with me, yet you don’t seem to be in any hurry to visit them.”

  “I know. It’s true. I just...don’t want them to know what’s going on here, with you and me.”

  I crinkle my nose, a part of me wondering if they really would like me, or would they think I’m not good enough for their brother. Could that be why Roman really doesn’t want them to know? On some level does he think the unwanted girl with no parents wouldn’t fit in with his family?

  “I hate for you to be so close and not see them, though,” I say.

  “It’s fine, Peyton. When this is all over, and you’re the new full-time teacher—and we’re officially over—I’ll visit them. They never have to know about any of this.”

  “I’ve always wanted to visit Italy,” I say, putting a little cheer in my voice to hide the unease welling up inside me as I think about him leaving here, disappearing from my life—like so many others have before. “Not that I’m saying I want to go with you or anything,” I quickly clarify.

  He studies my face, opens his mouth and closes it a couple times. Finally, he says, “Are you going to pretend we broke up after you sign the contract, or pretend I was needed back in New York and carry on with the charade that we’re married? We never really talked about that.”

  Even though I get the sense that’s not what he really wanted to ask, I say, “If you have no intentions of ever getting married, I guess continuing to pretend is an option, isn’t it?”

  “I might not want to get married, Peyton, but I’m still a guy,” he teases with a wink.

  Yeah, I get it. Pretending we’re still married means he can’t be seen out with other women. Okay, so why does the idea of him being with another woman bother me so much? Then again, do I really have to ask myself that question? “How about we cross that bridge when we get to it,” I say as I try to wipe the visual of him in bed with another woman from my mind. “Right now, let’s just focus on me being the best candidate.”

  We stop in front of the school and he turns to me. “Tonight, let’s get out. Go sightseeing, go to a restaurant. I’ll make us a reservation for somewhere nice.”

  “That sounds like fun.” I go up on my toes to kiss him. “Just so you know, you don’t have to walk me home from work today. I’m a big girl. I can find my own way.”

  “Okay, I’ll probably be too busy today, anyway.”

  Disappointment settles in my stomach. Damn, I was only kidding. I was hoping he was going to fight me on the matter. I smile to cover the ridiculous turmoil careering through me, settling around the vicinity of my heart.

  The first bell inside the school rings and I reach for the door. “See you later.”

  I hurry inside and head to the staff room to grab a coffee before the second bell rings. I make it quickly and reach my classroom as the children start filing in. On my desk there’s a little pink box.

  I open it to find a gorgeous cupcake with pink icing inside. I glance at the note, with my name on it. Paula made me a cupcake? I might not believe in Cinderella, but Snow White and the poison apple, that’s a different story. Just then Richard pokes his head into the door, a big smile on his face.

  “I see you found your surprise.”

  “How lovely of Paula,” I say.

  Anita, the math teacher in the class across the hall, peeks in. “I’m saving mine for break, although I was tempted to call it breakfast dessert and dive in.”

  Richard laughs at her and I mentally kick myself for believing the worst of Paula. She’s obviously just trying to win the staff over with sweets.

  “Saving it, huh?” Richard says with a laugh. “Then how did you get that blue icing on your nose?”

  We all laugh and Anita, good sport that she is, quickly wipes it away. “Well, I
didn’t eat the whole thing,” she says, a sheepish look on her face. “I only had a nibble, and it was delicious.” She glances at my box. “What color icing did you get.”

  “Pink,” I say.

  “She made a different color for everyone. Based on your auras,” Richard says.

  I don’t really believe in such things, but I do appreciate the effort. “Tell Paula thanks,” I say when the second bell rings and they head to their respective classrooms. As I watch them go, Roman’s words of warning jingle in the back of my brain.

  All the lovely little children sit at their desks, their hair combed neatly, their faces scrubbed and shiny.

  “Okay, class,” I say, and pull a package of cards from my bag. “We are going to learn animal names in English.” I hold the picture up of a llama making a funny face, and the kids chuckle.

  * * *

  Before I know it, the bell signaling the end of the day rings, and the kids pack up their desks. My heart is so full as I watch them file from the classroom, and without even thinking I press my hand to my stomach. Not because I’m wondering what it would be like to have a child of my own, but because it’s suddenly very grumbly.

  I take a sip from my water bottle and put it back into my bag. My stomach growls a bit louder and I swallow uneasily.

  “Hey.”

  My heart leaps at the sound of Roman’s voice in my doorway. “What are you doing here? I thought you had work to do.”

  He jerks his thumb over his shoulder and he has a teasing grin on his face when he says, “If you don’t want me—”

  “I want you,” I say.

  He steps up to me and pulls me to his body and I slide my arms around his neck. “Yeah, I can tell,” he says playfully.

  “How about we go home and I get you naked.”

  My body warms at the idea as I say, “What time is our dinner reservation?”

  He puts his mouth close to my ear. “The only thing I’m hungry for is you.”

  A thrill goes through me. “What a coincidence, because the only thing I want to put in my mouth is you.”

  His breathing changes. “Jesus, girl. Keep that up and I’ll bend you over this desk.” He inches back and his brow furrows.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Are you okay? You actually look a bit pale.” He touches my forehead. “No fever, but you’re kind of cold and clammy.”

  “I’m always cold,” I say, brushing it off, but he’s right, I’m not actually feeling great.

  “Not like this, Peyton.”

  “My stomach is a little funny, actually,” I say. “It just started. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

  “Let’s get you home.”

  Home.

  I like the idea of Roman, me and...home. I’ve always lived in houses, never homes, and I’d be wise not to think this time is any different. When he leaves, I leave the villa. I’ll have to find something permanent for myself, something I can afford.

  He leads me outside, and I wince as the sun shines down on me, the contents in my stomach churning. Roman keeps casting me quick glances, like he’s worried I’m going to go down for the count. I’m a little worried about that, too.

  I pick up the pace and he hurries along with me. By the time we reach the villa, I’m in a full-blown sweat and whatever is in my stomach wants out.

  “Roman,” I say, and grab his sleeve. “I’m not feeling good.”

  He scoops me up and hurries upstairs to the bathroom. “Are you going to vomit?”

  “No.” Oh God, this is so embarrassing. “Please leave.”

  “Peyton, I don’t want to leave you.” He stands over me as I grip my stomach. “I think you need my help.”

  “Roman, please, you need to leave right now,” I blurt out, never more embarrassed in my life. “Trust me on this.”

  He hesitates, but the pleading look in my eyes must have convinced him. He steps into the smaller bedroom and closes the door behind him.

  “Go downstairs,” I yell, mortified. “I need to die in peace.”

  “Call out if you need me,” he says as I hurry out of my clothes and drop down onto the commode, my entire life flashing before my eyes. “This cannot be happening,” I cry as pain rips across my abdomen.

  Sounds of Roman moving about in the kitchen, and possibly cooking something, reach my ears, although the thoughts of food turn my stomach even more.

  After a long while, I wash up and Roman raps on the door. “You okay in there?”

  “I’m going to our bed to die,” I say.

  “Can I come help?”

  “Yeah,” I say. I swallow against a dry throat as my weak legs carry me to the bed Roman and I have been sharing for the past week.

  I collapse onto the mattress, and Roman enters from the hall. The concern in his eyes wraps around me like a blanket. He sits down next to me and pulls the cover over my now-freezing body.

  “Do you think it’s the flu?”

  “I don’t know. I have severe pains in my stomach.”

  “Maybe it was something you ate.”

  I run through everything I put in my stomach. “We had the same big breakfast, and you’re not sick.”

  “What about lunch?”

  “I was so full from breakfast, I skipped lunch.”

  “Same.” He presses his hand to my forehead. “Do you think you can drink something?”

  “Yeah, I’m really thirsty.”

  “I’ll be right back.” I close my eyes, and a minute later Roman is back with a tall glass of ice water.

  “Can you sit up a bit?” He helps me up and I sip the water, praying to God it doesn’t go through me and thinking it will, judging by the way my stomach is protesting.

  “It came on so fast,” I say.

  He helps me lie back down and lightly brushes my hair from my face. “Are you tired?”

  “A little bit.”

  “Do you want me to leave you to sleep?”

  Before I realize what I’m doing, I reach out and take his hand. “Do you think you could stay for a minute?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell me about your day,” I say, as if we’re an old married couple sharing stories like it’s the most natural thing in the world for us to be doing.

  “I did some work and talked to Cason. He called to see how things were going.”

  “I’ve been meaning to call him.” I swallow as another wave of pain rips across my abdomen.

  “I told him things were going good.”

  I groan. “They were. Right up until today. I mean they still are but...ugh, whatever this is, it’s not good.”

  Concerned eyes rake over my face. “Do you want me to call a doctor?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to find one here yet.”

  “I could take you to Emergency, or I could call my sister Maria,” he says. “Her husband is an emergency room doctor. He might be able to diagnose you over the phone.”

  “Then they’d know you were here.”

  “I think your health is more important than that, Peyton.” He lightly brushes his hand over my forehead, and it feels good. “I can deal with their interfering if it means helping you.”

  “Keep doing that,” I say as his hand soothes me. “The warmth of your hand feels good.” He disappears for a second, coming back with a damp cloth. He lightly presses it to my flesh and it instantly makes me feel better. “That’s good.” I sigh. “Don’t call anyone, though. I think it’s just something I ate.”

  “I’m not sure, Peyton. We ate the same things and I’m fine.”

  “I’m sure it’s just a bug. Promise me you won’t call.” I don’t want to bring the wrath of his family down on him, and he’s spilled enough lies for me already. I’m not about to put him in a position where he has to lie to his family, too.


  He dabs my head a few more times, sets the cloth down and fixes the blanket around me when an almost violent cold shiver moves through me. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” I don’t miss the reluctance in his voice, but I don’t think I need to go so far as to seek medical help.

  “Roman.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks for helping me,” I say. Honestly, I’m so not used to counting on anyone, and he has gone above and beyond in so many ways. He’s so kind, and so giving, and honestly that’s just going to mess me up more when we go back to a clean slate. “I wish it wasn’t you, though. I wish it wasn’t you here with me,” I murmur.

  His shoulders tighten, and the wounded look on his face hurts my heart. “Why would you say that? I thought we’d become friends.”

  I pick up a pillow and put it over my face. “It’s not that. We are friends, it’s just... It’s so embarrassing for you to see me like this,” I say, my voice muffled. He takes the pillow away and sets it beside me, and the understanding and compassion in his eyes eases the mortification inside me.

  “Don’t be,” he says softly. “I had older sisters, remember? They embarrassed me all the time. Someday I’ll tell you about all the terrible things they did to their baby brother.”

  “Tell me now,” I say, wanting him to stay longer. I like his calm, steady presence. I like...him.

  His mouth twists like he’s in pain, and I shouldn’t laugh but he looks so adorable right now. “Fine, remember I told you how much they liked to be in the kitchen.”

  “I do,” I say, and snuggle closer to him, to bask in his strength and intimate familiarity. My lids fall shut, and I relax to the sound of his deep voice.

  He laughs and the rumble soothes me. “This is really horrible but when I was around five, my sister Lucy, who is a year older than me, had this Easy-Bake Oven. She made a chocolate brownie but didn’t have any icing sugar. She made up this weird concoction of yogurt and regular sugar, and I think she put some mud in there for color.” I open one eye and chuckle when he scrunches up his nose. “Of course, she talked me into trying it first. It was pretty bad.”

  “Oh, how horrible.” I take in the small smile touching the corner of his mouth. “You’re smiling.”