The Irish Prince (The Billionaire Dynasties)

by Nelson, Virginia

  “I’ll keep an eye out for the email, but I’ll need the day before we leave off work for packing and preparing to be gone. I’ll bring my laptop, so I can work remote while we’re gone and—”

  “No,” he interrupted. That fire—that teasing sense of something below the calm waters of her gaze—erupted again in her expression. Some perverse part of him longed to frustrate her further, just to see if it would ignite into a full-blown conflagration. But he continued, “You can take the time off work. Consider it paid vacation, but it won’t subtract from the days you have accumulated so far this year. Sound fair?”

  She shrugged, and this close, she nearly brushed his chest with her arm. “Fine.” She put her hand on the door handle and added, “I’m taking a long lunch. I’ll be back later.”

  With that, she left his office and closed the door gently behind her.

  He didn’t know what he’d do without her. She kept so much of his life sane, was an integral part of his company. Yet, for a second, he kind of wished she wasn’t his assistant. How interesting would it be to get to know her as a woman rather than as an employee? She was fascinating.

  Then again, he was probably just seeking a distraction, any distraction, from the situation with Waverley and Margo, so better not to go down that path.

  Better to do what he always did—focus on work. Plan how to best control the situation and make it all go in his favor.

  For some reason, the thrill of finessing a situation escaped him, though. He chalked it up to lack of sleep and went back to his desk to get some things done before Chelsea returned from her lunch.

  Chapter Four

  Chelsea

  The racks of brightly colored clothes should’ve been a distraction, but all Chelsea could think about was the fact that, in a few short hours, she’d be sleeping under the same roof as Aiden Kelley, her boss at Kelley Enterprises.

  And one of the most notorious billionaires in the country, if not the world. The man was sex on legs, yet she was supposed to “consider it a severance vacation”—per his orders—and enjoy a trip with him and his daughter. Life really didn’t get more surreal than what she faced right that second.

  And the worst part? She couldn’t even tell anyone it was happening. If the media got wind of this trip, their every step would be dogged by photographers. Not a big deal for her, but she guessed neither Margo Welles nor Aiden would want pictures of their daughter splattered over the headlines. Especially since Margo had apparently managed to keep the girl pretty hidden for this long… Aiden couldn’t afford for her to become the focus of the paparazzi on his first visit.

  So Chelsea couldn’t say a word. Even if it was killing her and the only thing she wanted to do was spill all of it to her best friend Kimmie. Then she could ask her what she would do, how she would handle it, and maybe get some advice. Any advice, really, at this point would be welcome.

  Kimmie held up a cute flowered tank top. “How about this?”

  Although she loved it, the pattern was too much. She considered herself a simple woman, wearing mostly muted colors, and technically this was a work trip. A weird work trip, and her last, but still…a work trip no less.

  “Nah, stick with more muted stuff.” Chelsea halfheartedly picked up a pair of jeans. It was too bad, really, that she had no clue what sort of clothes to pack. Would he want to go out to nice restaurants in the evening? If so, she would need to pack something more formal…however, the fact that he had his magic kid—just add sperm!—on the trip implied he would not want to risk being recognized by going to any place his peers might be visiting. So probably casual stuff…?

  If he intended for Waverley to get to see the rocks she wanted and be outdoors, she would need casual clothes, appropriate for walking around, but formal enough to show she was the employee and not on vacation herself.

  But did it even matter what she wore? If the media did, for some reason, find out they were on this trip, then it wasn’t likely they’d pay her much mind anyway. There were literally dozens of newspaper and magazine articles she’d saved over the years to send back to her dad, all of which only featured her arm or her leg or some other hardly recognizable portion of her anatomy. Most worked to crop her out of the shot because, at the end of the day, she was nothing more than the help. Invisible, until her employer needed her for something.

  She liked to pretty it up, to consider herself important to him and to the Kelley empire, but realistically, she was the elbow in the background of the picture, not the focus.

  “Are you ever going to explain what we’re shopping for? It would be way easier to help you find whatever the hell you’re looking for if I knew what that was.” Kimmie’s lips went tight and white, an outward sign of her annoyance.

  “If I knew what to expect, I’d probably have an easier time telling you what to look for,” Chelsea confessed.

  “So you’re going to…”

  “The Grand Canyon,” Chelsea finished.

  “And you’re going with…”

  “It’s for work,” she answered with a small glare.

  “With your sexy boss?” Kimmie pressed. Her russet eyes looked particularly dark in the florescent light, gleaming like dark jewels in the warm brown of her skin. “You’re going on a spur-of-the-moment trip to the Grand Canyon with the Aiden Kelley.”

  Chelsea shrugged, not wanting to make it seem like a bigger deal than it was. She traveled with Aiden all the time. There was nothing, at least from the outside, which was particularly odd about that. “Yeah, I’m traveling with my boss for work. As one does.”

  “As one does, my ass.” Kimmie snagged a cute little pleated skirt in a lovely slate gray off the rack. “You need this. That said, where are you guys staying?”

  “I don’t know,” she confessed.

  “For how long?”

  “Not sure.” She shifted from foot to foot before grabbing the skirt and a couple of other items and heading for the dressing rooms.

  “Who all is going? Is Lucy going?” Kimmie wasn’t a big Lucy fan.

  “No, from my office, it is just me and Aiden.” She closed the door in Kimmie’s face, hoping she wouldn’t overthink it. “Don’t make a big deal out of nothing. It isn’t what you’re thinking.”

  “How do you know what I’m thinking?” Kimmie asked before letting a garment sail over the door of the dressing room. “Try this on.”

  “This is lingerie.” She looked at the hot pink teddy and rolled her eyes. “Also, this is the same color as the bra I found in my office.”

  “Which proves he likes that color. Try it on, just for giggles.” Kimmie laughed outside the door, and Chelsea opened it to peek at her.

  “I told you not to overthink this.”

  “Honey, you’re the one who overthinks it. That man is fine. You never know what will happen. Two attractive people, one big canyon, quiet misty mornings, late starry nights…” Kimmie grinned and pointed at the lace in Chelsea’s hand. “Skimpy hot pink thongs.”

  “You’re impossible,” Chelsea said, closing the door. She wasn’t going to try the lingerie on.

  But she did hold it up against her chest experimentally, considering her reflection in the dreaded three-way mirror. Kimmie always said that lingerie wasn’t worn for a man; it was worn for yourself. It was worn closest to the skin to remind a woman that she was indeed that—a woman. It was supposed to make you feel good.

  Somehow, she didn’t think that wearing a garment that was way too close in color and general style to what she’d found strewn around her and Aiden’s office would make her feel good about herself or even a little sexy. It would make her feel inadequate. Her boobs wouldn’t fill it out, it would be scratchy, and all in all not her idea of undergarments.

  Not that she could feel sexy with him. He was her boss. At least, for now he was.

  But still…

  Nope, not her thing. She tossed it into the pile and tried on the little skirt. It swung around her legs in a feminine way, and she had the nau
ghty thought that it was long enough to cover her ass nicely.

  If she were feeling sexy, she wasn’t the sexy underwear type. She was more the no underwear—surprise!—kind of gal. There was something infinitely hot about the shocked look a man got on his face when he finally got his hand under her skirt and realized there was no barrier there.

  She couldn’t confess that to Kimmie—although it would probably crack her up and make her slap her on the shoulder before saying something like, “Ya nasty, but I love you.”

  She got back into her clothes, snagged the items she planned to buy, and then tucked the lingerie into the stack of items she didn’t want. She kind of hid it in the pile, not wanting anyone to see that she’d even had it in the dressing room. She wasn’t sure why the idea embarrassed her—especially after she’d decided to buy the skirt she’d imagined wearing without undergarments—but it did.

  “You’re no fun,” Kimmie said, grumbling when she saw the lingerie wasn’t in the keep pile. “You could at least mess with the man’s mind.”

  “Trust me, the last thing Aiden Kelley needs is for me to mess with his mind. He has enough going on without it.”

  Kimmie squinted at her. “There is something else going on. And I’m getting that you can’t tell me whatever it is.”

  “I can’t,” Chelsea agreed.

  “But I don’t need to know it to give you a little advice.”

  Kimmie went silent as Chelsea paid for her purchases and waited for the cashier to bag them up. Once they were back in the main hallway of the mall, though, she directed Chelsea over to a bench. Facing her, she took both her hands in her own.

  “You can’t tell me about whatever it is, but like I said, I have some advice.”

  “Advise away, oh wise one.” Chelsea glanced across the hall and said, “Then I’ll buy you a coffee.”

  “I’ll take you up on that. Okay, I want you to remember one thing on this trip, the most important thing. You are valuable. You deserve love. He’s not better than you; he’s richer than you. At the end of the day, Aiden Kelley is just a person and so, if something happens…”

  Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Nothing is going to happen.” Even if, for just a second, it had felt like something weighted the air between her and Aiden for a moment there.

  Even if part of her was so damn curious about what his lips would feel like against her own.

  “Fine. If nothing happens, then I wasted five minutes of your time. But promise me you’ll remember that. Because I think you’re freaking awesome, and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” Kimmie stared her down until Chelsea misted up a little.

  “Got it. I’m special. And I love you, Kimmie.”

  They hugged and then headed over toward the coffee, but Chelsea didn’t blow off her friend’s words. Instead, she tried to let them soak in, to become part of what she believed about herself.

  Not that it would matter, but still…

  Chapter Five

  Chelsea

  The car wasn’t a car at all. It was clearly an SUV, probably with extra features like security glass and who knew what else. Chelsea wasn’t sure why she expected something else, but the black government-looking vehicle said nothing of the family road trips she remembered from her own childhood and a lot about cold, stuffy, sterile efficiency. Someone had already stowed their bags in the closed roof rack, and a man in a uniform held the door open as he waited for her to jump in the back. “We have a driver?” she asked. Another identical vehicle was parked behind them, full of what she assumed must be security. “And we’re bringing security?”

  She wasn’t sure that she really expected Aiden to answer, but he spoke from too close behind her, jarring her senses and making her startle. “Of course we do. I can’t drive.”

  Glancing at him over her shoulder, she raised one brow. “You can’t drive, but you thought we should drive across country? Do you even know how to road trip?”

  He shrugged, looking ruggedly but boyishly handsome in designer jeans and a white button-down shirt. “I’ve lived in cities my whole life. When I was a kid, I used public transport. When we visited the old country, I rode a bike, walked, or used the damnable buses that never are on time or don’t stop to pick you up. Now? I have a driver. Never had a reason to learn, to be honest. Can you drive?”

  Blinking at him, she tried to process all that. “The old country?”

  With a laugh, he slung an arm across her shoulders. “Ireland, lass. Don’t tell me you’re not familiar with th’ ol’ country.” He shook his head slowly, but the heavy accent on his words made her shiver. She had a thing for accents, most especially Irish ones. He might not know it, but he was really turning her on with that sexy way of talking.

  “I know what Ireland is,” she snapped, as if her being cranky would relieve the attraction his voice caused. “I’ve just never heard you call it that before.”

  “My parents crossed the pond before I was born, but the Irish…that’s in the blood.” He drawled the words, still using the damn accent, and tapped his chest near his heart. She only just barely resisted humping his leg.

  “Whatever,” she practically snarled. She didn’t have a lot of defenses against Aiden’s charms to begin with, but that voice could prove her downfall, which unreasonably annoyed her. “What time is Margo meeting us with Waverley?”

  “We’re picking her up along the way. Hop in,” Aiden invited.

  She got in the car and, in seconds it seemed, the driver managed to navigate the busy city streets and bring them to the door of one of the more posh apartment complexes. Rumor had it that rent in this building was somewhere around twelve thousand a month.

  No wonder she wanted more money.

  “I’ll wait in the car,” Chelsea offered.

  “No,” Aiden said quickly. “You should come with me.”

  Chelsea berated herself for agreeing to go on this trip. So she couldn’t really afford to pay a penalty for quitting right now… Surely, there was another way than this? She called herself any number of names while she followed him to the shining doors held open by a uniformed doorman and again while entering the brass and stone decorated elevator. She continued to bash everything from her intelligence to her emotional fortitude as she tried to stay a few feet behind Aiden in the hallway, hoping maybe he’d talk to Margo, get his kid, and forget she was loitering somewhere behind him.

  Instead, when Margo opened the door to her apartment, she waved them both inside. “I sent down her things a little while ago, and I talked to Hugo downstairs. He and your driver are loading them into the car. Why don’t you both come in for a minute? Waverley!” The last was called out in a louder tone, meant to carry past the elegant entryway to her daughter somewhere nearby.

  Margo Wells looked glamorous, even for so early in the day. Her silken red waves fell in careless abandon around the perfect oval of her lovely face, and her lush lips curved into the signature smile which had likely earned her millions over the years. “You must be Chelsea,” she added, stretching a hand toward Chelsea. “Waverley has been talking nonstop about you. It’s great to get a chance to really meet you.”

  Chelsea took Margo’s delicate palm into her own and shook probably too vigorously, but the sheer perfection of the model turned mother made her feel like a ham-fisted ogre. “Pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Wells,” Chelsea managed.

  “Thanks so much for giving me this chance with her,” Aiden said, and Chelsea took his words as an opportunity to back up discreetly. She’d hide behind the potted palm at the door if she could.

  “You made valid points. How could I say no?” The model’s smile never wavered, but her tone seemed arctic cold. She didn’t reach out to shake Aiden’s hand or otherwise indicate she wanted to move any closer to him at all. Her body language was hard to read—open enough to suggest she was being friendly, yet closed off enough to suggest she didn’t want to pretend to be chummy with Aiden.

  But from Chelsea’s perspective, they did m
ake a striking pair. Her vivid hair looked even more radiant next to his dark head. Their heights were close enough that she looked him right in the eye when they spoke, and Chelsea couldn’t help thinking they would still make a fabulous power couple. With her looks and his money, they could do just about anything…

  And wouldn’t that be nice for their kid? If they ended up back together from this whole fiasco, they’d be the most perfect little family and could buy a perfect house and maybe even get a perfect dog.

  She chastised herself again for her bitter thoughts, but it was a damn good and timely reminder. No matter how sexy the accent might be, no matter how attractive her boss was, no matter how much he might seem like her friend sometimes…he wasn’t. He was her boss, and people like them lived very different lives than anything Chelsea could hope for or dream about.

  Then again, that she had to remind herself at all was probably a sign she should not go on this trip with him.

  Waverley skidded to a sliding stop on the smooth, polished floor. Her socks were mismatched, her hair neatly braided, and her nose was scrunched as she looked up at her dad. “You could still back out. You know that, right?”

  “Why would I want to back out?” asked Aiden, but he looked a little green around the gills, even to Chelsea.

  “Last chance, Daddy wannabe,” the child reiterated.

  “Knock it off, Waverley,” scolded her mother, and Chelsea smiled for real.

  They might be richer than she could comprehend, but at the end of the day…they were people. In an awkward situation.

  And maybe she could help. Which was why she was here. “He’s not backing down, kiddo. Your father is a stubborn man.”

  “And a control freak,” added Margo. “Which means you’re likely trouncing all over his schedule. Get your shoes on. Did you remember to pack your cell phone charger?”

  Chelsea resisted snickering. When she was Waverley’s age, she was thrilled to get a travel version of Connect Four. But the child got her shoes on, and in moments, they were loaded back into the sterile black SUV. Chelsea opted to sit in the front with the driver, leaving the back to Aiden and his child.