by Marian Tee
She glanced at the billionaire, and he had an air of intensely sexual satisfaction about him. That was a good thing...right?
“Jaak?”
“Mm?”
“I feel like I’ve given in too easily.”
Her candidness made his lips twitch, and he mimicked her solemn tone, saying, “Ilse?”
Brown eyes twinkling, she did the same to him, perfectly copying his blasé tone as she murmured her assent. “Mm?”
“You don’t really expect me to answer that truthfully. Do you?”
Her shoulders started to shake, and then she was laughing, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world.
He pulled her tightly against him, and her arms went around his neck. “I forgot to tell you something.” And before she could ask, he said roughly, “I forgot to tell you that you’re the most beautiful girl in the word for me.”
Ilse stilled.
“There are idiots and blind fools in this world that might make you feel and think differently, and when they do, I want you to remember my words.”
That he meant what he said was obvious, but so was the tone of self-loathing that underlined it, and she knew, of course she knew, that he believed he had acted like one of those idiots and blind fools he was talking about—-
And for one shared heartbeat, they remembered.
The billionaire staring at her with contemptuous blue eyes, his voice lashing out at her-—
“That you could even think you do when you’re nothing but a—-”
They both remembered, but the memory hurt him more, and he said hoarsely, “You’re always beautiful in my eyes, babe.”
If she had called him a liar then, she would have a right to, and he wouldn’t blame her.
But instead he felt her hands curl against her chest, almost as if she wanted to hold his words to her heart, and the poison inside of him burned.
“Your courage, your kindness, your purity—-”
“You make me sound like a saint,” she choked.
“Then I guess that makes you my saint,” he said mockingly.
She choked again.
“The world’s most beautiful saint and—-” He bit her ear, and as she shuddered against him, he whispered, “I’m the only one allowed to worship you.”
“Oh, Jaak.” Ilse wished she could be as eloquent as he was, but every time her heart felt close to bursting, the words would cease coming...the way it did now. “You have such a way with words,” she mumbled, “and I’m not sure if I should be happy about it or not.”
The billionaire’s shoulders rocked in silent mirth.
“You know...” Just thinking about what she wanted to say made her trail off in an awkward note, and her voice became muffled as she hid her face against his chest. “You haven’t...you haven’t actually said the words yet.”
“Say what?”
“That.”
Ah. The billionaire kissed the top of her head. I love you.
And she did hear it. She did feel it. But even so—-
She looked up at him in consternation. “Jaak!”
He only responded by licking her ear. I love you.
She tried pulling away from him then, but he only laughed and pulled her right back to him.
“Why won’t you say it?” she demanded.
“Why does it matter if I don’t?” he countered.
“B-because,” she sputtered.
“Do you think my feelings would change simply because I haven’t said them?”
“E-even so—-”
He eyed her shrewdly. “Will you say the words to me?”
Oh! A little of her euphoria faded, and her mouth opened and closed without anything coming out. Could she say the words...even when she wasn’t sure she felt them?
She stammered, “Jaak, I—-”
The frustration in her eyes made him shake his head, and he soothed her with a smile, saying gently, “It’s okay, babe.”
Was it?
“I can wait.”
Could he?
“And when you can say the words—-” He brushed his mouth with hers, whispering against her lips, “I’ll say them, too.”
His mouth pressed hard against Ilse’s.
I love you.
He thought about all the hardships she had survived, thought about how much strength and courage it took to smile every time she was confronted with the past—-
I love her.
And he always would.
Ilse was the only poison his heart would accept, the only woman he knew he would never have to rescue, the only woman who was strong enough to love Jaak back – without needing him.
Chapter Twelve
It was almost eight in the morning by the time Ilse made it to the bakery a block away from Jan’s school, and for one moment she almost thought that the billionaire had gone and left her just because she was a few minutes late. But then she saw a couple of schoolgirls giggling, two office women fidgeting, and when Ilse followed their gazes—-
Found you, Ilse thought.
Where Jaak de Konigh was concerned, admiring females would most likely be involved.
The billionaire was seated alone on the bench, and he looked like he had dozed off with his head bowed and his arms casually locked over his chest. He had an olive-green waxed cotton jacket over a plaid shirt, and a pair of tight denims and boots completed his look.
Stylish and gorgeous as always, Ilse thought crossly, but really her irritation was more because she found him too, too handsome for her own good.
She bought their breakfast from the bakery before crossing the street, but when she stopped in front of him, Ilse was suddenly struck with indecision. Should she wake him or let him sleep a few minutes more?
She fidgeted and paced in front of him, wondering what was the right thing to do.
But a moment later, she realized the decision wasn’t hers to make at all. The billionaire looked up, and the way his blue eyes gleamed up at her told Ilse he had been awake the entire time, had probably been enjoying the way she had agonized over waking him up.
“It’s not funny,” she scolded him sternly. “I was worried—-”
“Morning, babe,” he mocked.
She flushed. “Good morning,” she said belatedly.
He pulled her down, taking her by surprise, and she fell into the space beside him. “I thought you were cute—-”
Ilse stiffened. “I’m not cute!”
“You were,” he assured her. “Your obvious concern for me was very, very cute—-”
She tried getting up at that, and he laughed, saying, “Do you see? Very cute—-”
Ilse growled, but this only had the billionaire laughing harder.
“I am NOT cu—-” But the rest of her words disappeared in his kiss.
She tried to keep still and stay silent, but this only made the billionaire kiss her more deeply, and when she felt him fisting her hair, in broad daylight, and with so many shocked eyes glued to them, the thrilling, forbidden pleasure of it tore a whimper out of her—-
The billionaire’s lips gentled, and when he finally pulled away, Ilse wasn’t at all surprised to see the sly smile on his handsome face.
Jackass, Ilse thought even as she fought to get her bearings back.
A certifiable jackass, with his stupid habit of kissing her until his passion eviscerated her senses.
A world-class jackass, because his only goal was to have her making sounds like she was auditioning for a porn film.
But he was her jackass, and she really, really liked that it was so. This was her most mortifying secret, and Ilse had long vowed to take the secret with her to the grave.
And so when the billionaire glanced at her, she only had three words to say.
“I hate you.”
But his blue eyes only gleamed. I love you.
Argh. That was another annoying thing about Jaak de Konigh. He loved her, but he had yet to say the words.
“I hate you,” she said again, mor
e feelingly this time. She tried using her free hand to push him off, conscious of the way they were still drawing attention. This was a particularly busy street in the city, and then there were still those schoolgirls across the street. “Jaak, I’m serious. Stop—-” He started nuzzling the side of her neck, and Ilse’s voice trailed off.
Making out in broad daylight, she thought weakly. When had she become so shameless in her personal life?
It was utterly unlike her, but even so—-
Her toes could only curl hard when the billionaire nipped the tender skin of her neck. “J-Jaak...” Even as the breathless note in her voice made her want to cringe, Ilse knew from experience that would always be how she’d sound whenever the billionaire did these thoroughly wicked things to her body.
His mouth moved to her ear, whispering, “You smell so damn good, babe.”
Ilse’s lips pursed determinedly. Oh no, he wouldn’t. He was not getting a second whimper out of her, no matter what!
The billionaire smiled at Ilse’s silence, knowing exactly what she was thinking. Silly darling. His tongue traced the curve of her ear, and he saw her lips pucker more tightly. How could she not know that she had no chance...absolutely no chance against the sexual chemistry burning between them?
“I’m addicted to the scent of your skin.”
His oh-so-cultured Queen’s English washed over her, threatening her defenses.
“If I had to choose a single word to describe it—-”
Don’t you dare succumb, Ilse!
“It would be...ambrosial.”
The too-sexy word caressed her ear, and Ilse forgot all about her good intentions, the tiniest whimper slipping past her lips.
Ambrosial!
Ambrosial!
She knew what it meant, but it was her first time to hear someone actually use the word, and goodness, it was just so—-
The billionaire’s shoulders started to shake.
She pulled back suspiciously, and the smirk playing on his lips confirmed it.
Oh! He had done it again!
“Horrible man,” she snarled. Utterly horrible, with the way he took advantage of his amazingly hot English vocabulary to get to her. “You are unbelievably cocky,” she accused.
“You wouldn’t like me any other way,” the billionaire answered easily. Ignoring the way she glared at him, he glanced at the paper bag in her hands, asking, “What did you get us?”
Ilse started, her fingers tightening around the paper bag. Earlier, she had thought that it wouldn’t be bad if she bought her usual choice for him. But in hindsight, she began to regret her choice.
He’s a billionaire, Ilse. Do you really expect him to—-
But the billionaire had already taken the paper bag, and ignoring her gasp of protest, he drew out its contents, paper boxes containing a rather plain-looking wheat loaf sandwich for each of them.
Ilse tried not to fret as she watched him open one of the boxes.
“Smells good,” he murmured after taking a whiff.
Accepting her sandwich, she muttered self-consciously, “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
He gave her an odd look. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”
“You’re a billionaire. You’re probably unused to this kind of fare—-”
Jaak said very gently, “Ilse.”
She stopped speaking.
“The first two years after I left home, I barely had enough money to eat three meals a day, and I worked eighteen hours a day. All the spare cash I had was invested in stocks. So this sandwich that you bought with your hard-earned money?” He lifted it up for emphasis, saying simply, “I know better than to take it for granted.”
Everything the billionaire said was true, and though it was a story guaranteed to make one wipe away a tear or two, it only had Ilse...grunting.
He laughed. “You don’t have to hide it.” Setting his sandwich aside temporarily, he spread his arms wide open, murmuring wickedly, “Come on, babe.”
Ilse glared at him.
“You know you want to.”
One, two, three seconds passed, but the billionaire waited patiently.
On the tenth second, Ilse succumbed, and she moved towards him.
His arms closed around her.
She hugged him more tightly.
“I know, babe.” And he did.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I hate you.” And she did. She hated that he seemed to know her so well while she knew him so little. She hated how he surprised her every day, hated the way he made her wonder what an incredible man like him was doing with someone like her.
When she suddenly shoved him away, the billionaire released her, a grin tugging at his lips at the way she started fussing with the rest of their takeout. She handed him a cup of coffee, mumbling, “It’s flat black.”
“Thank you.” Just the way he wanted it, he thought, but of course Ilse would rather die than say something so nice to him. His amusement deepened as he watched Ilse concentrate on making her coffee like her life depended on it, taking her own sweet time as she added cream and sugar.
As she started stirring, he asked wickedly, “Are you, by any chance...”
Ilse started to raise her cup to her lips.
“Feeling shy?”
Ilse choked on her coffee, and he laughed.
“Stop teasing me!”
“I honestly cannot help it. You’re all too easy to tease, babe.”
She started grumbling about too-cocky billionaires, and the billionaire contentedly leaned against the bench, letting her sweet voice lull his senses. It was the sound of normalcy, and after a decade of living without direction, he craved the sound like it was a drug he was addicted to.
He bit into his sandwich, and she stopped speaking, staring at him. Knowing that she was probably fretting inside her mind, he said honestly, “It’s good.”
She visibly relaxed, and he managed to suppress his smile as he took a sip of his coffee. His beautiful Ilse might be in denial of her feelings for him, but unfortunately for her, everything she did gave her away.
When they were done, he walked her to his car and drove her to work, the ride spent in pleasurable contemplative silence. It was just the two of them, and though she secretly liked it this way, it did make her wonder, and she turned to the billionaire, saying, “Jaak?” When he glanced at her, she asked, “Why do you seem so different from other billionaires?”
“Different how?”
“Well, you don’t have bodyguards...”
“They’re around,” he answered offhandedly. “But they all work undercover.”
“Oh.” This was another new discovery about the billionaire, and she wondered if there would ever be a day he’d cease to surprise her.
Probably not, Ilse thought, and she liked it that way, too.
“What about the paparazzi?”
The billionaire snorted. “They know better than to piss me off.” At her bemused look, he said rather wryly, “I suppose it’s what you said. I’m not like other billionaires.”
“Oh?”
“I used to beat up anyone stupid enough to get in my face.”
Her eyes went wide, and she said again, “Oh.” She had a hard time reconciling the billionaire’s words with how he was now, and she shook her head. “You don’t look like someone who beat people up.”
“Well, I did.” The billionaire’s tone was light. “I’m a lot of things most people don’t expect me to be.” Ilse didn’t speak after that, and the billionaire wondered grimly if she was thinking about all the other secrets that he was carrying inside of him.
A moment later, and he had his answer. Ilse’s small, soft hand slipped under his on the gearstick, and the gesture of acceptance wasn’t lost on him.
Every secret, she would wait for it, and she wouldn’t ever hold it against him.
Chapter Thirteen
It was already nine in the evening by the time Jaak returned to Glory Hall, and a quick scan of the place sh
owed that Ilse was the only one around. She had her legs tucked under her, elbows on the table, and looked too engrossed with whatever she was watching on her laptop to notice his presence.
Walking stealthily behind her, he caught a glimpse of what she was watching—-
A woman wearing a skimpy police uniform, her surgically enhanced breasts about to pop out of it any moment, was licking the barrel of her fake gun like it was a cock.
A bark of laughter escaped him, and the sound had Ilse slamming the laptop shut.
Turning around, she caught sight of his gleaming blue eyes, and she fought against the urge to blush. Over the years, she had worked hard to adopt a brazen attitude towards all things sexual, but every time she was with the billionaire, he just had this way about him that made her feel like an untutored schoolgirl.
“If you have any questions next time,” the billionaire said solemnly, “just come to me.”
“Because you’re an expert?”
“Have I not proven that in the past three weeks?” His fingers slowly trailed down her body as he spoke, and Ilse’s body trembled in reaction.
Oh God.
The way he was looking at her now—-
His fingers released her first button loose, and the popping sound made her start.
“Jaak!” But she was half-laughing, and she didn’t even think of protesting as he scooped her off her seat, and her heart only hammered against her chest when he propped her on the desk, her legs dangling off its edge.
He stepped between them, murmuring, “I missed you.”
“Me, too.” Her voice was gruff, but the way she wrapped her arms around him belied it.
“Dare I ask how many porn films you’ve watched for, err, review?”
She scowled.
“I mean it, you know. Any time you need lessons, demonstrations, hands-on practice—-”
“Shut up.” But she was smiling, and she was hugging him ever so tightly.
“I simply don’t do false modesty,” he demurred. “I’ve tried everything—-” He stopped when he saw something flicker in her eyes. “Ilse?”
“Yup?”
“I have a feeling you want to say something,” he murmured.