Donovan muttered, “Lucky dog.”
Chapter Ten
If America ever had royalty, they’d surely come to Lake Minnetonka to vacation. Massive million-dollar houses lined the shoreline but they looked like weekend cabins compared to Donovan’s monstrosity of a house. Three stories high, great walls of windows with breath-taking views of the lake, towers and spiraling stairs and a gorgeous pool with fountains and waterfalls that boggled the mind.
“I thought you said lake house. Not lake castle.”
“The castle is about two hundred and fifty years older.” He parked in front of the house and a fucking maid came out to open her door. At least she supposed that’s who the woman was. She was dressed in very smart black trousers, a crisp white polo, and had long, sleek black hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail. She didn’t bat an eye when Hank jumped out as soon as the door cracked.
“Lilly Harrison, this is Annette Sullivan. She runs the property here and makes sure the boat’s ready to take out at a moment’s notice. She’s the only reason I’m actually able to enjoy these little vacations because I know everything will be ready. Annette, this is Lilly Harrison and her very smelly and hairy dog, Hank.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Morgan,” Annette said. “I try to make your visits as smooth as possible and it’s always sad to wave goodbye. How do you do, Miss Harrison?” She sealed the deal for Lilly when she went down on her knee to love on the dog. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask. And you, Hank, will have a wonderful time swimming around in the lake.”
Donovan groaned. “So he can shed on the seats and spray dirty water all over my car on Sunday when it’s time to go back to the city.”
“I kept him in the floor by my feet all the way.” Guilt churned Lilly’s stomach, making her voice ring defensively. Donovan had been a good sport about her dog so far, but it was obviously something he only put up with for her. “I couldn’t leave him at home all weekend alone, and Marie couldn’t take him today. She has to work.”
He surprised her by taking her hand and pulling her into his embrace right there in front of his employee. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just teasing you.”
“No, you’re right. Your stuff’s too nice and he’s going to make messes. I’m going to make messes.”
He pressed his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Like what you did to my bed last night?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I don’t care if he chews a hole in the Jag’s leather seats or poops in the Jacuzzi.”
Suddenly, she wanted to cry. The tears were in her throat, a rising, scalding flood. It was just too much to take in. The crazy expensive car, the massive house, the servants, the fucking designer clothes he’d bought for her. One pair of shorts cost more than her car payment. And then for him to be so sweet. How dare he be sweet and kind when he was supposed to be Mr. Douchebag?
Horrified, she pressed her face against his chest, hiding her face until she had control again.
“What’s wrong? Lilly?”
“Nothing.” She forced her head up and smiled for him. “Just an attack of nerves.”
Eyes narrowed, he lowered his voice to the mean snarl that must send Miss Wruthers into a tizzy. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Miss Harrison.”
“Don’t you dare make me curse in front of Annette, Mr. Morgan. She’ll think I’m a trash-talking street urchin and kick me out of your ridiculous mansion before lunch, and I’m starving.”
Annette made a sound suspiciously like a chuckle smothered beneath her hand. “Don’t worry about the bags, Mr. Morgan. I’ll have Trevor bring them up for you. And lunch is ready and waiting, Miss Harrison.”
Donovan tucked her hand around his arm and led her up the sweeping marble staircase to the front door. “Well you do curse like a sailor and I ought to know. My grandfather and father were both ship captains, so I grew up on a boatload of foul-mouthed fishermen and dock workers.”
“Glad to know I’ve succeeded in my aspirations to join such hallowed company.” Lilly tried not to gawk around like the waitstaff at Dmitri’s when he’d pulled up in the oversized limo, but she’d never seen anything like it. If this was his “vacation house” he used for weekend escapes, she couldn’t imagine how over the top the “swanky” Paris apartment would be. Her stomach rolled hard enough she wasn’t even sure she could eat, and that was a sad, sad state of affairs.
What are you doing here, Lil? You’re so out of your league with Mr. Moneybags that no amount of “Yes, Mistress” can possibly make up for the difference.
“Will Hank stay close or do you need to bring him inside with you?” Donovan paused in the entry, oblivious to the grandeur he lived with every single day.
The thought of her dog puking on the priceless Persian rug after the car ride—which inevitably made him sick—made her want to vomit herself. Fighting down her rising panic, she tried not to automatically start adding up dollar signs in her head for every single item in the room she or her dog might destroy. “If we put his bed on the front steps, he’ll come lie down once he’s explored.”
Donovan didn’t even have to give an order to Annette; the efficient woman was already heading back out to instruct the young man unloading their bags from the car. A double staircase flanked the open great room with floor to ceiling windows of breath-taking lake views. Massive stones stacked together on another wall to make one of the most unique fireplaces she’d ever seen in her life. Yet the enormous white sectional still managed to dominate the room.
Yes, white. God. I don’t even dare sit on it.
The next room was just as opulent with a dining table for at least twenty guests and enough silver on display to pay off her mortgage. She almost wilted with relief when he didn’t stop, but kept right on through the room to the kitchen.
“Sit,” he pointed at the high granite-tiled bar while he passed into the main room. It was a sign of her nerves that she did so without telling him exactly where he could go. Her whole apartment could fit inside this kitchen with room to spare, but its old-world stone and wood features made it feel homier than the cold whites and marbles of the rest of the house.
A man about the same age as Donovan dressed in the ubiquitous white chef’s jacket greeted him like a long lost brother, pounding him on the back. “Thank you for inviting me, Donovan.”
“Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“The pleasure is entirely mine. This is your lovely lady?”
“Yes.” Donovan turned to her and his eyes burned with a possessive glint that both thrilled and terrified her. “This is my Lilly.”
It’s too soon for this. I’ve only known him a few days. So we had some terrific sex last night. A powerful scene. He’s just feeling the endorphins of a really good fuck. That’s all.
“Lilly, this is my old friend, Ricardo D’Almeida, French-trained chef and winner of three Michelin stars.”
Ricardo took her hand and kissed it like Donovan had on their first date. “When Donovan told me you’re a lady who loves to eat, I couldn’t refuse his generous request to come cook for you.”
It took her a minute to wrap her mind around it. “A Michelin star chef…and you’re here just to cook for us? For the weekend?”
“Donovan and I go way back. Without him, my first restaurant would have closed long ago. It certainly wouldn’t have become such a phenomenon, nor would we now own five more restaurants across the country. If your palette is as fine as he says, and you find satisfaction with my food, then your praise will shine brighter than any Michelin star.”
She could only stare at him and hope her mouth wasn’t hanging open. Donovan sat on the barstool beside her and drew her against his side. “It’s Ricardo’s fault I’ve invested so heavily in restaurants. My only regret is that he lives so far away. I can’t just stop by and eat at his restaurant like you do at Dmitri’s.”
Her anxiety wrenched up another notch. Sure, she loved Dmitri’s food and she k
new it was good. But she didn’t have Michelin star “fine dining” level of taste. “Where is it?”
“New York City. We’ll have to go there to celebrate once the windows are done. We can hit Rockefeller Center, Broadway, whatever you want to do.”
She smiled but her face was stiff and the tips of her fingers were icy. “I’ve never been to New York.” Or Paris, or L.A, or Rome, or any of the other places he has a fucking house, let alone tours for business.
Ricardo returned to his pots, chatting over his shoulder about all the wonderful things to do in New York and how he and his partner would wine and dine them every single night, while she fought not to leap up and run for the door. The only thing keeping her seated was Donovan’s arm around her back and the delicious smells rolling from the stove. She couldn’t tell what the chef had made but it smelled divine.
Donovan reached over and wrapped his free hand around her fingers in her lap. She refused to turn and meet his gaze, but she sensed him watching her out of the corner of her eye.
“I bought this place furnished last year. I’ve been meaning to replace the gaudy furnishings but I haven’t had time. When I’m here, I spend my time on the boat. It’s the private dock I coveted. Not the house.”
Even if the pristine white sofa and antique Persian rug weren’t his, per se, that still didn’t mean…
“It’s just stuff, Lilly. I don’t care about any of it. All I care about is you. So if you’re uncomfortable here, we’ll pack up and go home. We can stay at your place and eat at Dmitri’s every single night.”
She tightened her fingers on his and checked to make sure Ricardo was still busy at the stove. “Don’t make me your whore, Donovan. I won’t stand for it.”
He inhaled sharply, squeezing her hand so tightly she winced. “Why would you say that?”
“All this wealth, the clothes, the fucking five-star chef—”
“Three star,” Ricardo sang from over the stove. “They don’t offer five Michelin stars, but thank you anyway.”
“That’s two,” Donovan growled. “And I don’t mean stars.”
“Donovan—”
“No. Hear me out. Ricky, plug your ears.”
“Aye aye, Donnie,” and he started humming off key.
Even though tears burned her eyes, her lips twitched at the thought of someone calling proud, stiff Donovan Morgan such an immature-sounding name.
“Last night, you did something for me no one has been able to give me in all of my thirty-nine years. How sad is that? I’m getting ready to turn forty and I’ve never been completely whole and satisfied until last night. You did that for me. You took care of me. Yet if I try to take care of you, I’m buying you off? Let me do things for you no one else has ever done. If that means making sure you stay off the road for the safety of all Twin City drivers, then it’s the least I can do. If that means waking your sleepy, grouchy ass up at 6:00 a.m. so I can bribe you with stellar food, then I’m going to send a jet after the finest chef I know. Let alone eagerly taking over if you will just lie back and let me.”
Closing her eyes, she clung to his hand for dear life. “I don’t feel in control here. I’m out of my league with Mr. Moneybags.”
“Then I’ll have to work harder at being Mr. Douchebag. You didn’t have any hesitation taking him down a notch of two. Thanks to you, I can also be lover boy and sexy beast, but only if you brought the crop you promised me.”
She drew a deep, shaking breath and held it for a count of five, then slowly let it out. If I apply too much force to the glass, it always shatters. I’m no different, no matter how tough I think I am. I don’t have to grip everything in my life so tightly.
Ricardo set two large shallow bowls before them. “For lunch today we have bacon and smoked Gouda risotto with delicate green peas, hot flaky croissants fresh from the oven, and a sweet, crisp Italian moscato.”
She looked down at the bowl and just breathed in the delicious creamy goodness. He returned with a basket of croissants, drizzled with honey.
“Not fair,” she whispered hoarsely, unable to look away from the sticky, flaky pillow waiting to dissolve in her mouth.
“Your options are simple.” Despite his brisk all-business voice, Donovan picked up his spoon and winked at his friend. “We can, of course, stay here and have a wonderful weekend stuffing ourselves silly with Ricardo’s decadent creations. Or we can walk away together and go home to my condo. The cleaning crew might be done ripping the cherry-stained carpet out and they’re supposed to deliver a new bed later today.”
Ricardo let out a soft whistle and left to get the wine bottle.
“Or I can drop you off at your very safe and boring townhome and never see you again.”
She shot Donovan a fierce look and picked up her own spoon. Staring down at the risotto, she tried not to drool. “I’m not done with you yet, Mr. Moneybags.”
“Then how about every time I try to buy you something, you increase the count. Make me extremely penitent later.” He lowered his voice, letting his desire roughen his words. “And I’ve got so much money, Miss Harrison, your arm’s going to wear out before you can make me sorry I blew it all on you.”
“Hardly.” The first bite was going to be the best. Closing her eyes, she slipped the bite into her mouth and just held the creaminess on her tongue to savor every delicious element. Salty bacon. Smoky cheese. The firm chewiness of the rice. She swallowed and couldn’t hold back the soft moan of pleasure. “I think I need a cigarette.”
Ricardo grinned. “That good?”
“Don’t tell Dmitri I’m cheating on him.”
“I saved the best for later.”
Lilly swallowed another heavenly bite and reached for the wine. “Better than this?”
“His specialty is French pastries,” Donovan said with a wicked grin. “Although I hear he’s created a magnificent dessert he calls the Big Apple Chocolate Silk Pie.”
“Fuck.”
“That’s three, Lilly.”
Chapter Eleven
When she first saw Donovan’s pride and joy, Lilly had shot him a glare and dragged him in close to whisper, “Four.”
I can’t wait to show her the jet, then.
After cruising around the lake for a while, she slowly started to relax. It was a beautiful day, hardly a cloud in the sky, and though water traffic was heavy, Beverly was big enough they dwarfed most of the other boats. He kept the speed slow and gentle, a seductive cruise along the shoreline. She liked to people watch, so he gave her plenty of time to see the party boats and all the beautiful people enjoying their homes and pools along the shore.
She fisted a yawn, so he decided to pull into his favorite little cove for some peace and quiet. The water was calm, giving the boat just a little rock. With big trees overhead to offer a little shade, it was the perfect place to simply lie back and enjoy the sun without getting completely fried. He’d been outside enough not to worry, but she was pale and fair. The last thing he wanted was for her to have a miserable sunburn the rest of the weekend.
“Okay, okay, this is rather nice, even though this ‘boat’ is more like an ocean liner.”
“Would you like to go on an ocean liner some day?” He took her hand and led her up to the highest deck. With a thick, soft pad, lots of pillows, and a built-in cooler close by, it was his favorite spot on the boat.
“Don’t tell me—you have an ocean liner too?”
Casually, he stripped his shirt off and tossed it on the bench lining the side of the deck. “Several. My family started in boats. In fact, Beverly was my father’s, named for my mother. When he passed, I inherited it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He gave her a warm smile and stretched out on his back. “Don’t be—it was years ago. Beverly sat in dock for a long time, waiting on me to get my head out of my ass. My father and I had a rocky relationship when I was growing up, and I didn’t take his death well. Do you want to change into a suit?”
“I’m good for n
ow.” Lilly stretched out beside him, leaning on her elbow so she could see his face. “Why did you have a rocky relationship with your father?”
“When I was growing up, he was gone all the time. He and Grandpa were out on the fishing boats. Grandpa Saebo, my mother’s father, was a Norwegian crab fisherman. Dad joined him soon after he married Mom and they were gone all the time. He used to say if the boat isn’t out to sea, we’re not making money. Then they bought another boat, so Dad had even more reason to be gone. They chased the various seasons, hitting crab, cod, whatever they could. The few weeks Dad came home weren’t enough to make up for the months he was gone. I resented him for leaving us alone, all the work Mom had to do.”
“Did you have any siblings?”
“No, it was just me and Mom, and sometimes Dad, and even rarer, Grandpa. By the time I was fourteen, we were doing well enough they both could have retired, but they chose not to. I resented that even more. So when Mom passed away from breast cancer…”
Lilly leaned down and gave him a soft, gentle kiss. “I’m so sorry. That couldn’t have been easy. How old were you?”
“Fifteen. I lived with my aunt during the school year, but then started joining them on the boat for the summer. I worked in the trenches just like any other greenhorn. I did the shittiest jobs on the boat and learned what hard work really meant. I was still angry and my father wasn’t ‘Dad’. He was Captain. I gave him hell every chance I got, and he gave it back and then some. I hated him, I hated the boat, and I swore as soon as I was eighteen I wasn’t ever stepping foot on a boat again. I sure wasn’t going to take over the family business.”
“What happened?”
“He told me when I was eighteen I could do whatever the hell I wanted. I thought he was joking, but when I told him I’d won a scholarship to go to college, he took a week off the boat and helped me move across country and get settled. After Grandpa passed, I felt even guiltier for not joining them on the boats, but he insisted I return to college. He wasn’t the kind of man who ever said a lot. We didn’t sit down and have a heart-to-heart talk or anything like that, but I finally realized all those years on the boats had been his way of showing his love for us. He’d grown up poor and he never wanted that for us, even if it meant he had to be gone doing one of the most dangerous jobs on the planet.
The Billionaire Submissive (Billionaires in Bondage) Page 11