Unwrapped by The Billionaire

by Joanna Nicholson

  “Chloe. Behave or you will be made to behave.” The handsome man snapped, glaring at her. I hope that isn’t some kind of a euphemism. No! Focus! But on the other hand, his voice was so kind, yet his eyes had a steel. He was clearly not one to be trifled with. Even the severe looking woman looked away from him. I doubt he even gets how truly attractive his dominance is. Makes my stomach twist deliciously.

  “It is nice to meet you Clarrrissa.” He purred my name, and I could feel my face flushing as my stomach filled with butterflies. Oh yeah, he knew exactly what his voice did. He was a smug douche about it too. Good. Good. That’ll make it easier to get over him. “My name is Damian. These are a couple of my colleagues. Chloe Carmichael and ‘Gorilla’.” He chuckled and my stomach flipped once again. Damn him and his funniness. “That is an inside joke. Now, on with the tour.”

  I swallowed harshly, my throat feeling dry all of a sudden. God. No one that beautiful should really be alive. “Of course! Our museum is divided into different artistic eras and then subdivided into different cultures within the same general era,” I went through my usual spiel, thanking God at how many times I’ve done this. The words so ingrained into my head I barely stuttered over them at all, even as I was preoccupied looking at Damian’s face. Examining every expression his face made. He seemed to have no expression that isn’t attractive. Dude could probably make sneezing look good. He was so interested in the art, genuinely interested. But his eyes kept straying to mine, making me look away for just a moment while blushing a bright red before my eyes returned to him.

  He actually had interesting insights into the artwork. I was impressed. Every time he made a clever comment, how the Greeks used olive oil for lube, the changing standards for beauty, Picasso’s perverted nature coming across in the art of his mistresses, my heart skipped a beat. What even is he? Clever, loves art, incredibly handsome, and clearly rich? What?

  Nobody should be that perfect. He’s the kind of guy I would make up in a laboratory!

  By the end of the tour, I had to admit it. I am smitten. Also, about 80% sure that this is an act set up by my mother to find a man. Though how she pulled off such an authentic act, I will never know. Even the aura of confidence that practically oozed off of him, that I would normally call self-obsession, did funny things to my stomach. He just drove me crazy. Luckily, I was not a moron. I could save face because I didn’t drool. I barely made a fool out of myself and retained complete control of my mental facilities.

  His colleagues left first, before him. He sent them off ahead of him. Why did he do that? To give me a bloody heart attack is the only logical answer I could think of. How could any woman stay rational at this point? When it was only me and him alone. When a man who basically embodies all my desires is staring into my eyes… and seeming to like whatever he sees reflected there. “It’s not every day a man is able to spend his time with such a beautiful woman. I am happy to get this opportunity.” His voice was a flirtatious purr that didn’t help me keep myself cool in any real way.

  I froze at the unexpected compliment. I should have expected it, as he was flirting with me basically the whole time. But really? Beautiful? I know some of the things I create are beautiful. The artwork surrounding me is beautiful. Aesthetically pleasing at worst and soulful, deep creations at best. He is beautiful. But for me? I’m a chubby, barely-five-foot woman with thick spectacles who never really grew out of the nerdy look. Cute, I’ve been called. But never beautiful. It’s not like in the movies where the girl grows out of it and finally, she is noticed.

  I am never noticed. And right now, I don’t know if I like being noticed. What if he changes his mind? All of a sudden decides to pick one of the gorgeous women he must know. Even that severe woman. She is incredibly beautiful; the way I wish I was.

  He had an embarrassed smile on his face and I abruptly realized I was frozen like a deer in headlights for over a full minute while he continued to speak. “So, your answer?” He questioned me gently, and I found the light pink dusting his cheeks only made him more attractive. It lessened his intimidation, but I found he felt no less in control. His politeness made it a question and not a demand, but I felt that if I said no to whatever question he was asking of me, he would be able to roll it off his shoulders.

  “Um…. What?” Mortified, I squeaked the question out, avoiding eye contact. My face must be hot enough to fry an egg on right now, with all the blood rushing that direction. He must have asked me something! He asked me something and I just stared at him with this dumb look on my face, because I am an idiot. Grr. I can’t believe I wasn’t even listening to hear what he said! How embarrassing is that?

  He frowned at me. Oh. Oh no. Damage control, Clarissa. Don’t look like that much of an idiot.

  “I-I’m sorry!” I almost shouted. “I was just, you know, distracted. You are very attractive and funny, and I… I was just, thinking, maybe… cause I’m not- err. A-And -”

  I stopped the word vomit that was pouring from my lips at the sound of laughter. So first of all, No. I failed at not sounding like an idiot. Second, I really liked his laugh. It was a soothing rumble, something between the purr of a new car and a lawnmower. He… He’s laughing at me. I was unsure whether I was offended or just glad he wasn’t frowning anymore.

  Either way, I really wanted to hear his laughter again.

  A moment later, as his laughter grew louder, I had my answer.

  Not NOW!

  “How dare you laugh at me!” I stomped my foot and my lower lip stuck out in an adorable pout that I just knew all the guys go crazy over. Now I’m acting like a little child.

  “You find me attractive.” It was a tease and it was the first words out of his mouth as I continued to pout at him. It’s the truth, but that doesn’t mean he should say it out loud like that! “Kitten,” He purred. “Go out with me.” It wasn’t stated as a question this time, his tone dripping with sugar as he spoke those honeyed words.

  I don’t know how I felt about that nickname. Kitten? The word sounds amazing dripping like honey from his lips, but it is also a pretty sexist comment. And I don’t really think I approve. On the other hand, how could I not approve of him? He is so handsome.

  Forgetting all about my quandary as his next words hit my ears is just like me. He… He’s actually… genuinely asking me out. Oh god! I’m so incredibly not prepared for this. My lips begin moving a mile a minute, my brain to foggy as his piercing sapphire eyes stared – practically into my very soul – to actually hear whatever drivel was coming out of me. I am glad I couldn’t hear whatever I was saying. It ought to be incredibly stupid, and I really don’t want to be reminded of what it was.

  His hand was covering my mouth now, pinching my lips closed. His eyes shone with mirth now, and I was even more embarrassed than I was previously. I had major doubts that that was even physically possible! “Just say yes.” He smirked down at me, his form towering over me.

  Almost saying no just to spite him caused me to clench my fists. No, Clarissa. Don’t give up a good thing just out of your own childish temper tantrum. Who is that going to help? Yourself? Not fucking likely! You’re just going to talk him out of wanting to go on a date with such a child.

  “If… if I can pencil you in... for my schedule.” I eventually answered, letting him wait for a moment. It was so fun to watch him squirm while trying to figure out what I would do. He seemed to know I wanted to say yes but was unsure what I would actually do.

  The smile lighting up his face made me shiver. He is so beautiful and passionate. How am I the one who got that passion aimed towards me? I have never actually been that smart or beautiful. Nobody’s ever really wanted me.

  He pressed a slip of paper into my palm, before kissing the back of my hand like some kind of knight. Oh. I’m so amazed. Did I somehow transport myself into some modern retelling of Lancelot’s story? Or some chivalrous knight. I can’t remember which. That is the only answer that makes a lick of sense even though it essentially still didn�
��t make any sense.

  “My number. Text me, when you clear your schedule.” His lip was quirked up in amusement at the idea. As if he just knew I didn’t have anything better to do. Asshole.

  He’s right, of course. But he doesn’t have to be a jerk about it. Well, he wasn’t being a jerk about it that much, but still. Hiding my blush, I replied, “If I can clear my schedule.” I tried to make my voice sound as sassy as I usually was, but it didn’t work. He was just too… much. There was something about him that attracted me to him like a moth to a flame. Why couldn’t I at least fake that I wasn’t that into him?

  I wish I could say it was just his looks. That I’m just a shallow girl who saw the hottest guy and decided that he’s the one, regardless of personality. But that would be a lie. Works of art are art because they are so much deeper than what they are on the surface. Maybe he is flawed, but from my perspective, he is beautiful as any other masterpiece in this museum. And that is what I sense. Buzzing right under the surface, there is something that I simply had to see. I had to examine him.

  I had to see it, no matter what is going to happen.

  Chapter 2

  Work sucks, but it paid for all the groceries in my arms and the house I’m driving to on the bus. But at least now I’m almost home, and my body was humming with anticipation. For my art, of course. What else would I be excited for? There’s nothing else. It’s not like the paper in my pocket feels like it’s burning a hole in my pocket, and I found myself nonchalantly fiddling with it the whole time I walked around the store. Heh, heh.

  As I got off my stop I started walking to my apartment building, hurrying to get into my house and begin to make a masterpiece.

  My apartment is nothing special at all I don’t spend much on decorations, except for art pieces that are drying. The air is stale and my furniture is old and barely comfortable. It’s always cold and my fridge is usually empty and the water is never the wrong temperature. But really, I can’t complain, it is my own home. My landlady accepts me being a few days late on rent every week. It really is my home though. All mine. I am independent and I prefer living here than having to lower myself to return to my family. Because I am an adult, I should be able to afford my own life.

  I can afford my own life.

  I mean, I would like to have nicer things. I could have them if I didn’t always spend my money on new art supplies. But I need to make some sacrifices for my art.

  I put my phone on the desk and it taunted me every second that it was out. Call him now, my heart demanded. But I couldn’t just call him immediately. I mean, that would make me look totally desperate. He can’t think I’m desperate. Or that I’m thinking about him and have been since I first saw those piercing sapphires that haunt-

  ART! Let me start on my piece for today. As I set up a new canvas and began to paint, the urge became a persistent itch that it was becoming more and more difficult to resist.

  I closed my eyes and tried to get lost in my art. I painted the canvas with all the grace of one who lives their life by the stroke of the paintbrush. I put all my frustration and need into the piece.

  A stroke of the brush per thought I shouldn’t be thinking of when I have the world at my fingertips. A stroke for the glitter of his eyes. A stroke for his soft lips, another for dreaming of their taste. A stroke for the sight of his chiseled jaw. Two for the way his smirk affected me. Slowly, pouring all my emotions into this masterpiece, the itch didn’t go away. It became bigger and bigger. Until it was completely unbearable.

  I bit my lip hard. I couldn’t just call him. No matter how much I wished to hear his comforting voice. I had to finish this piece. It would be more beautiful than anything else I have ever created.

  When I finally finished, I stepped back and smiled at the piece I created. A swirling galaxy of soft blue and green hues, with stars that glittered. It was just as beautiful as I have ever imagined anything my own hands could create would be.

  I almost screamed as the thoughts just had to assault me. The blue I decided to use is the exact shade of his eyes, the stars seemed to form his face with a constellation. God damn it! What is wrong with me? The vast emptiness of space surrounded the beauty that was Damian- the galaxy. Damian is too beautiful. I can’t just make him my muse. That’s weird!

  Oh, who am I kidding? I, Clarissa Carr, am officially smitten by a man whom I would readily believe I created myself if I really believed it was in my ability to make something so deliciously forbidden. Like my own personal forbidden fruit. Instead of a snake, it was the fruit itself tempting me to take a big bite. There is this intimidating aura around him that warns me away, but that same aura is the very thing which beckons me closer. Like a lighthouse to a ship, it calls me in.

  “Kitty!” I barked into the phone, calling my best friend in the world.

  Her real name is Catherine, but I call her Kitty because she acts like a smug cat all the time. Honestly, she’s got an attitude and the looks to back it up. The brown-eyed, blonde girl is a model. That’s how we met, she was modeling for a life-drawing class.

  “Ugh. Why do you always call me to yell?” Her voice was teasing. She probably knew what I was calling about. She somehow knew everything all the time.

  “So, I met this guy at the museum! He’s really good looking and funny and likes art and he’s rich. I think it might be some kind of a trick. He’s… weird!” I rambled on. “I mean; no one should be that great! It’s wrong.”

  I could practically hear Kitty roll her eyes. “Puh-lease. Nobody would go through that much to trick you.”

  “Thanks,” I replied with biting sarcasm.

  She huffed. “Just ask him out. You’re great and I want us to double date one day. So, ask Damian out and-“

  “How do you know his name or the exact context of what’s going on?” I asked. “I barely told you anything.”

  “That’s for me to know and you to never find out.” She said ominously.

  “You suggested he go to my museum, didn’t you?” I accused. “He works with one of your bosses? Used to date one of your coworkers?”

  “Oh, look at that. Something came up, I got to go!” She hung up a second later and I just groaned.

  I had no idea what it was I wanted to do.

  That aura and memories of his inviting scent and clever mind are what did me in. That is what eventually made me pick up the phone and dial his number. I’m so bad. It literally took three times for my fingers to finally type the right numbers!

  I chewed on my nails as I heard the phone beep.

  All of a sudden, anxiety struck me. I almost hung up the phone as so many conflicting ideas ran through my mind. Enough to make my head spin. What if he wasn’t really interested in me this way? What if this was all some elaborate hoax? What if he was cruel, deep down inside? And… worse still… what if it isn’t? What if he isn’t? What if he is sweet and kind and I cannot help myself from falling hopelessly in love with him? What if I love him and he loves me and my whole comfortable world falls apart?

  I don’t know how to deal with that! I know, I’ll just hang up. I’ll run away and thus, I will never see him again. And then my whole life would go back to the last point when everything made complete sense and-

  The sound of his breathy voice made me freeze, breath caught in my throat as I let out a soft gasp. He picked up. “Hello, Darling.” His voice soothed me and worked me up at the same time. God, it was such a manly sound, yet simultaneously melodic. He sounded like he belonged on Broadway and I know he looks like he belonged in a fashion magazine. All my anxious thoughts ran away and were replaced with completely new anxious thoughts. “I was wondering when you would finally call.”

  I gulped down whatever stuttering, idiotic thing I would reply with. With confidence that I know I don’t actually have, I controlled my voice whilst answering him. “I was busy.” My voice was much cooler than I felt.

  “Of course.” He sounded like he was just humoring me and I wanted to snap at him. He
doesn’t know that I wasn’t busy. He shouldn’t assume I’m such a boring person! I’m cool! “Have you cleared out your schedule?”

  “I was busy!” I couldn’t help myself. I wanted him to see me. Not like some, some, incapable waif! I have dreams and goals and I can accomplish them all on my own. “If you must know I was personally working on an art piece.”

  “I should have known.” His voice was silky. The tone was so sweet, I can just imagine the smarmy grin on his face. (And no, the thought of that wasn’t mouthwatering as I thought about tasting his lips and kissing the expression off of his face.) “Someone as knowledgeable and passionate as you would have her own artistic dreams. Your art must carry such a unique perspective. It must be absolutely beautiful. Are you selling any of them?”

  My face flushed against my whims at the flattery, despite the fact I knew he was probably just trying to get on my good side with his words. I know that intellectually. On the other hand, oh dear, he’s such a flatterer. All the girls would fall to his feet with just his magnificent way with words, regardless of his outer beauty or wealth. It didn’t hurt that he somehow had those as well. It’s completely unfair.

  I actually squeaked out loud.

  “So?” His voice had such a teasing quality to it. He clearly heard my squeak and could just tell how I’m reacting to him. Jerk. “How does dinner sound? Tomorrow night, around 7.”

  “W- Where?” Ugh. Where did all your eloquence go, Clarissa? Usually, you can talk a mile a minute but you can barely even string together a single sentence in this guy’s presence? And he’s not even physically here! Gosh.

  “Eureka.” His voice had this smug quality to it as if he were merely showing off. As if he was playing with me. Is he playing with me?

  Wait. Wait! Eureka?! I gulped immediately at the thought. That restaurant? It was too nice. It had live music and everything! I don’t have money to pay for that place. They don’t pay museum tour guides enough to afford that with a month’s salary. Hell, I think I even lack an outfit nice enough to go there. “I… err… I don’t think…”