Unwrapped by The Billionaire

by Joanna Nicholson

  “Oh.” He sounded, disappointed. Like I had upset him. Was he upset with me? Oh no. He may have just decided this whole thing was a terrible idea. What am I to do now? How do I make him like me again? I’ve never been good at getting people to like me in the first place.

  His next sentence quelled those fears, yet set a completely new and unique wave of anxiety out. “I’m sorry. I should have thought of this in advance. Of course, you would have your own preferences. I would hate for you to be uncomfortable.”

  My heart swelled. The thing he was worried about was me being unhappy. Oh god. That is the most endearing thing in the entire world. But I had to correct him. His suggestion wasn’t a bad one. It was treating me like a princess in a fairy tale, but… there was one big problem with that. I just wasn’t one. I didn’t have a dress or a fairy godmother to poof one up for me.

  “It’s not that! I just, I don’t have anything nice enough to wear there. And I honestly couldn’t afford to eat somewhere like that.” I had to explain it to him.

  A snort of laughter should make someone sound less attractive, especially when it kind of feels rude in the context. Miraculously, it just made him seem more real to me. That minor flaw, like a chink in his armor that makes him look so beautiful and perfect that he was more Superman than human. I could see more of the humanity beneath his undeniably suave, incredibly handsome demeanor.

  It’s beautiful.

  Shit. I can’t just say that! What do I say?

  “Why are you laughing?” I huffed, hiding how his laughter made my stomach do somersaults.

  “I’m sure no one would worry about what such an intriguing woman is wearing in a restaurant. Your mind so outweighs your outward appearance.” I don’t know if I should be offended or feel flattered. Ugh! He just continued on without missing a beat, “If you are so adamant I can get my tailors to fix up something very quickly if that is your wish. As I chose the venue it is only right that I would pay.” He calmly destroyed each and every one of my arguments.

  “Um… Explain that last part to me.” I hoped he couldn’t hear the rustle of my clothes as I searched through my closet. I’m sure I have one fancy dress in here, somewhere. Then I wouldn’t look so much like a brat.

  “It is only polite. The person who chooses the venue of a date should pay for the entirety of the date. If you wish to choose the venue of our next date, you could pay. Or I could still pay for you. An artist like yourself should want for nothing.” His voice was this sensual purr. It lulled me into a source of calmness.

  If it was possible, I became even more infatuated with him. How he crafted paradises with his words, I may never know. He used his words to craft fantasies in a way that my art, despite my talent, could never hope to catch up to. I wish I could say I wasn’t utterly under his spell, but that would be a lie. I may never escape from the trap his words put me in, but I have no idea if I even want to. If I would ever wish to.

  “I don’t need your tailor. That sounds really nice. I can meet you there. Don’t send a car.” Eureka is walking distance from my apartment complex and honestly, I do not have any wish for him to see my house. For him to know how I live. He would be completely unimpressed. He might be disgusted! “See you at 7!”

  Picture a guy like him, so rich he wore a suit to an art museum, wandering into my modest home. Just the idea alone made me feel ashamed. I am not ashamed of how I live, but I don’t want him to look around my home and find it lacking.

  “Are you sure? It is really no trouble at all and-” His voice was tinged with concern. About the tailor or picking me up, I will never know.

  There’s a good reason I will never know. Loudly interrupting him with a “That sounds great. I’ll see you tomorrow night at 7 sharp. Have a nice night. Bye!” And then I immediately hung up after that last bit of word vomit came out of me.

  Oh god. This is not going to get any easier on me, is it?

  Chapter 3

  Eureka is nice enough that I’m almost embarrassed that I didn’t step out of a Lamborghini to walk into the restaurant. Also, that I’m not wearing heels as those kill me, I was just wearing my nicest flats. “T-Table for two, under the name Damian.” I stuttered to the maître de.

  “Holt?” At my nod, he gave a slight smile. “Ah yes, your date has been expecting you.” He sent me that way and I was fingering the necklace I decided to wear. I thought my favorite necklace would make me feel good, but a stainless-steel penguin pendant stuck out like a sore thumb amidst a sea of pearl necklaces and diamonds.

  Rich beautiful people have a habit of making even the most confident of women feel utterly inadequate.

  Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself. I didn’t look like a woman, not to my eyes. I saw myself in the mirror before I left, and I just looked like a little girl playing dress up. My cheeks had too much baby fat and my hair was somewhat tamed, but still puffed around my head too much like a lion’s mane for my taste. No matter how much I attempted to straighten it and put it into a nicer hairstyle, it was wild.

  I know he thinks I am beautiful though, and I make myself think about all my best features and not my flaws. I am pretty and intelligent, and my hands are precise enough to create masterpieces. That is more than enough for me.

  With that in mind, I walk to the table with all the grace I could muster. I didn’t wear heels because I didn’t want to trip and look like a klutz, just some fancy flats. I almost regret it now. I would have more confidence if I decided to wear those heels. Guy’s liked short girls though, right? Heh. At least I have that going for me.

  The sight of him nearly made me falter in my steps. His manly scent invaded my nostrils and I barely restrained myself from inhaling more of that aroma as my mouth began to water immediately. My eyes drank in his form. He slicked his hair back for the date and was wearing a different suit. It was midnight blue and clung to his muscular stature beautifully. The tie was attention grabbing, a golden shade of yellow with this elaborate pattern stitched into the fabric.

  It was a work of art in its own right. Just as he is.

  “You look lovelier than ever, Mon Amor.” He purred the endearment. His voice alone could make a girl weak in the knees. I just about melted into a puddle at his beautiful words. I imagine he could make me do anything by just using that manly tone and order me about like –

  No. Down, Clarissa. You have to keep your wits about you. You can’t just… give him what he wants. You know as well as anyone else, that he will stop coming around as soon as he gets what he wants. And then where will you be?

  “You look quite handsome yourself… and your tie is beautiful.” I flirted back as I sat in the chair. It was undeniably comfortable, just like the building itself covered in art with a beautiful singer and violin music playing in the background was undeniably comforting.

  “Oh? And here I thought you were staring at my chest admiring my physique.” There was such a teasing lilt to his tone that I almost began stuttering, feeling my cheeks flush involuntarily. “I was hoping you would like my tie. After all, a masterpiece such as yourself should recognize a work of art when you see one.”

  Pulling my menu up to look at the items was a good way to hide my blush. This man was such a sweet talker, how could a girl even hope to bear it?

  “So,” I replied subtly, trying to change the subject. “Tell me about your work.” Okay, I will admit it, I am almost as subtle as a herd of rampaging rhinos. Sue me.

  He nearly snickered at my clear change of subject. “I run a small trading company. Nothing major.” He sighed. “Honestly, it would be terribly boring for you to sit through my explanation on exactly what I do.”

  “I’m very interested!” I protested, my eyes lighting up with intrigue. “You are an entrepreneur? That’s amazing. Tell me more.”

  He gave me some expression I couldn’t grasp. And then he replied, “I mainly deal with the financial and practical sides of things. It is my prerogative where we sell, where we get the raw materials, and who we have
to turn the raw materials into finished product.”

  “What do you sell exactly?” I asked him, noticing the awkward way he avoided answering,

  “I don’t like to talk much about work on dates.” He told me, and I felt ashamed. I sounded like a gold-digger who wanted nothing more than his money, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. I like Damian, not his wealth.

  “Oh. Well,” I blushed and looked away. I was glad when the waiter came to take our orders.

  I ordered in perfect Italian even though there were Italian and English translations for the menu items. I wanted to impress Damian and make up for my earlier screw-up.

  Biting my lip from squealing at the sound of Damian’s voice speaking fluent Italian was difficult. His voice is even more beautiful when it purrs in that language. It definitely is a romance language.

  “Tell me about your hobbies.” He ordered gently, before taking a sip of his wine. I did the same. The wine was sweet but for the life of me, I didn’t know what it was. All I know is that it wasn’t one of the cheap ones and Damian seemed to like it.

  “My hobbies? Well, I usually paint. Sometimes I like to create animations of TV show characters I like and post them to my blog.” Wouldn’t it be nice to sound less like a geek for once? “I go bowling with my friends every other Friday.”

  He smiled warmly at me. “Well, I have a lot of hobbies. I paint on occasion, nothing as amazing as your own art, I’m sure. Singing and playing the piano is always fun, I go free running with a few pals of mine. If I’m being totally honest, usually I watch TV or engage in Force Combat.”

  “Force Combat?” I questioned, brow furrowing. “Isn’t that a sport for…?” I trailed off unsure.

  “Werebears?” He finished for me.

  When I nodded, my jaw dropping, he just smiled at me softly.

  “I am a werebear. That’s why I’m so interested in you. Well, not entirely. I can smell the artistic flair and the beauty of your very soul. It clings to you like a perfume. That was what made me give you a second glance. But your brilliance and your kindness are what drew me into you. And like a moth to a flame, I am entrapped by your essence.” His voice was so intense and passionate.

  I shivered and looked away from him for a minute. Is he really a werebear? Does he really have all those traits?

  An Alpha nature? Check.

  A well-defined physique and an attractive body? Check.

  An impulsive attitude? A quick attachment to those they consider worthy of their time? Double check.

  Irresistibility? Of course, that’s a check.

  How did it take me until now to piece such an obvious puzzle together! Just one whiff of him should do the trick if I was paying the slightest bit of attention. He even smells irresistible.

  “When did you first realize your first love is art?” He asked me, clearly wanting to change the subject from what so clearly has made me upset in the first place. And I don’t even know how to communicate to him that it isn’t so much him that I’m upset with, but myself.

  With a smile, I decided to just let him change the subject. “Well, I fell in love with it as a kid, I’ve always loved doodling and creating art pieces. When I was in my teens I had this art teacher who was brilliant and taught me so much, and I fell in love with Art all over again.”

  “Cute.” He commented. He was leaning his head on his hand and giving me this adoring look.

  “What made you want to go into… err… your line of work?” I asked tentatively, not wanting to push him too hard.

  “Honestly? I’ve never had a lifelong passion. I worked odd-jobs while doing everything to find something fulfilling. Finding I was rather adept at this training business was the real clincher.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t some life changing realization of a greater purpose or a lifelong passion for me. Just work.”

  “That’s… really sad. You’ve never had a moment where you just saw exactly what you wanted to do. What you wanted to be. Had everything fall into place?” It is really sad. He, of all people, deserves that.

  He chuckled. “Only a special person has a moment of clarity like that. Tell me yours.” He looked at me with such adoration. I couldn’t help but tell him everything. Every single word. If he wanted to know, then it wouldn’t hurt to let him know.

  “I was out camping with my family. I never liked camping. Bugs, sticky bug repellent, no electronics. I’m just not that kind of girl. But while I was staring up at the sky, I had an epiphany. I wanted to make my mark, like Hercules having his constellation put in the sky. But unlike Hercules, I wanted it through my art. I wanted to be able to tell a story, create a masterpiece that shows the entire world who I am through the stroke of a brush.”

  “Maybe you should be a poet.” He looked at me with such adoration.

  I was glad when food came. He got some large steak cooked rare. I ordered some kind of pasta. It had a white sauce and I wasn’t paying enough attention to the meal. I was eating robotically as I listened to him, transfixed.

  It wasn’t even his words that I was listening to. The way his hands moved wildly to enunciate his point, the way his expressions rapidly shifted from one to another as his voice told some story. The different tones his voice took. He was a born storyteller.

  He could be explaining the phone book to me and I would still swear it was the most riveting thing on the planet. And by how little I was paying attention to the actual story he was trying to tell, he may as well have been.

  When we finished eating, he offered me dessert. I protested vehemently. I would love dessert, but I was chubby and I didn’t like how people looked at me when I ate dessert. He probably would just think I have no self-control when it comes to dessert too!

  The fact that it’s true doesn’t matter. It only matters if he believes it to be.

  “Alright, then. Next time.” He gave me a warm smile, which faltered after a moment of me staring at him wide eyed. Does he want there to be a next time? But I was so awkward and weird. So not what any sane guy would want! “Err… if there is a next time. Would you like there to be?”

  “Yes!” I practically screamed, before looking down at my lap in embarrassment as I felt the glare of other people. I am at a high-end establishment, after all. “Err…”

  He walked over to my chair, took my hand. “Until we next meet, Mon Cherie.” He purred, brushing his soft pink lips across my knuckles.

  I squeaked and stuttered at the sensation, but he has already straightened up. “I will call you as soon as possible.” He told me. “I cannot wait to bask in your presence once again.”

  He was too charming. I couldn’t help myself from grabbing his chin and pulling him down to my height so I can press my lips to his in a passionate kiss.

  A fireworks show went off behind my eyelids as my eyes clenched shut. He had stubble on his face, and his soft lips felt perfect against mine. He tasted like wine and white chocolate, and I just couldn’t get enough of it.

  I needed more. But no. Control yourself.

  I pulled away from him, holding back a smirk at the dazed look in his eyes before I sent him a playful wink. “I’ll call you later, hot stuff.” I flirtatiously promised him, sending a playful wink in his direction before leaving quickly before my bravado wore off and I flipped out once again.

  When can I see him again and repeat that action though? I could drool just thinking about the feel of his lips on my own. Thinking about where else I could feel that mouth just- Behave Clarissa!

  Chapter 4

  He never replied to my texts during times when normal people had lunch breaks, or at night until past three in the morning. Werebears are nocturnal, but it’s strange because he clearly is awake during the day.

  That’s one of the many things I’ve learned about him over the past three weeks of nonstop texts, phone calls, and video chats. That, I know never to mention out loud. It makes me sound like some kind of stalker.

  I also learned that he grew up with an absentee father and a mother
who would rather focus on her daughter than the bastard son of a werebear who knocked her up and never called again. He loved the color purple because it reminded him of the sky at twilight. He thought my art was amazing. (He was actually being genuine when he said this. I can tell. His lip twitches ever so lightly on the left side when he was fibbing.) His favorite genres of TV shows are fantasy and sci-fi because he finds them fascinating.

  He never believed in soul mates until the first time he looked into my eyes. All of a sudden, everything fell into place. As if I was the lone constant in the universe and everything else grounded him the second he was able to put me into perspective.

  That’s why I agreed when he told me he wanted our next date to be at his penthouse. I can’t say no to him and he seemed to worship the ground I walked on. I did, however, tell several of my friends where I was going and I told him that that’s what I did.

  Love-struck, I may be but stupid, I am not!

  He didn’t even seem offended when I told him I did so. He seemed, almost pleased. As if he didn’t expect me to be that intelligent. I would have been offended if I didn’t know he was right. There are many girls who would just concede to anything. Anything if it gets the attention of a rich guy who thought the world of her.

  I guess I am too, as I’m walking up the steps of his apartment complex. He had a penthouse suite in the nicest apartment building in the city. My house just looks like such a cheap motel compared to this building.

  Wearing a frilly cocktail dress felt like a good idea as I walked in the building. I looked like I belonged here, nobody could even tell how much money I made or the kind of person I am with all the make-up caked onto my face, and I felt beautiful.

  When I got to his suite I gasped. It was beautiful enough to almost inspire tears just from the visuals I was presented with alone. My art pieces were on the wall, so he must have been actually buying my pieces! Oh dear.