BILLIONAIRE: Protected (A Dark Billionaire Romance) Read Online Free
Author: Kristina Royer
backside.
I looked up at Liam in horror as he chuckled and offered me a hand. He seemed so much taller than I had remembered from my place on the floor. He was dressed in a plaid ash grey suit with a pink tie, his endearing smile upon his dimpled face. My cheeks flushed as he pulled me to my feet and I quickly realized he had probably seen up my skirt when I had fallen. Nervously, I looked to the floor and scratched the back of my head.
“Bit of a fall you had there, eh? You aren't hurt, are you?” he asked, both concern and amusement evident in his tone. He put an arm around my shoulders and smiled at me. “Shall we?”
With an anxious swallow, I nodded quietly and followed him into the penthouse. It was decorated in a very minimalist fashion, which was a little surprising. The large living room area had only a black leather sofa and a glass coffee table facing a very simple fireplace. There was not even a television. The kitchen and dining area were one in the same, as three black stools were lazily pushed against the granite island counter. The entire apartment was painted a plain shade of eggshell white and the hardwood floor appeared to be a simple light finish. I had expected it to be much more ostentatious, but it was refreshing to see that it was not. Despite all of his money, he had found comfort in simplicity and that was something that I greatly respected.
“Something wrong?” he asked, lightly touching the small of my back as he looked down at me. “Let me get us some wine while we look everything over.” Brushing by me, he went into the small kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He pulled out a bottle of red wine and poured it as I smoothed my skirt and sat on the leather sofa, still somehow unable to speak.
He sauntered into the living room, offering me a glass. I accepted it and drank nearly half of the glass out of sheer nervousness. I had never found myself to be so awkward at a business meeting. To be fair, I had never been asked to have a business meeting in a handsome, young billionaire's penthouse either.
“I'm sorry for being late,” I murmured in an attempt to start a conversation. “I rang the doorbell a few times but you didn't answer.”
He sat on the sofa beside me and nodded as he took a sip of wine. “No, no, that's my fault. I should have told you that the doorbell doesn't work.
I've talked to maintenance probably eight bloody times,” he replied, tapping on the manila folder in my hand. “So what do we have here?”
I cleared my throat and set it on the coffee table, placing my hand firmly on top of it to give myself a moment to explain why the work it contained was not to the standard that I wished it was. “Before you judge anything, please know that Hoffman gave me the worst marketing team and that this work is not to the standards that I would like to be upheld. It was just short notice and—”
He shushed me and took another sip of wine before furrowing his brow and asking, “Why are you so nervous? This is probably the most relaxed meeting you'll have in your entire career.” He took my hand in his and moved it, smiling at me. His blue eyes twinkled as he opened the folder and added, “Besides, I knew Hoffman wasn't taking the idea seriously. Everything you told me at the meeting said that he was just going to let this thing die off... I just see too much potential to let go to waste.”
He flipped through papers as I beamed at him. “Really?” I asked.
Nodding, he replied, “Really. It's superb, and your model will work much better, I think. Not to mention, having someone like you behind the project will only make it better. I have full confidence in your
I looked up at Liam in horror as he chuckled and offered me a hand. He seemed so much taller than I had remembered from my place on the floor. He was dressed in a plaid ash grey suit with a pink tie, his endearing smile upon his dimpled face. My cheeks flushed as he pulled me to my feet and I quickly realized he had probably seen up my skirt when I had fallen. Nervously, I looked to the floor and scratched the back of my head.
“Bit of a fall you had there, eh? You aren't hurt, are you?” he asked, both concern and amusement evident in his tone. He put an arm around my shoulders and smiled at me. “Shall we?”
With an anxious swallow, I nodded quietly and followed him into the penthouse. It was decorated in a very minimalist fashion, which was a little surprising. The large living room area had only a black leather sofa and a glass coffee table facing a very simple fireplace. There was not even a television. The kitchen and dining area were one in the same, as three black stools were lazily pushed against the granite island counter. The entire apartment was painted a plain shade of eggshell white and the hardwood floor appeared to be a simple light finish. I had expected it to be much more ostentatious, but it was refreshing to see that it was not. Despite all of his money, he had found comfort in simplicity and that was something that I greatly respected.
“Something wrong?” he asked, lightly touching the small of my back as he looked down at me. “Let me get us some wine while we look everything over.” Brushing by me, he went into the small kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He pulled out a bottle of red wine and poured it as I smoothed my skirt and sat on the leather sofa, still somehow unable to speak.
He sauntered into the living room, offering me a glass. I accepted it and drank nearly half of the glass out of sheer nervousness. I had never found myself to be so awkward at a business meeting. To be fair, I had never been asked to have a business meeting in a handsome, young billionaire's penthouse either.
“I'm sorry for being late,” I murmured in an attempt to start a conversation. “I rang the doorbell a few times but you didn't answer.”
He sat on the sofa beside me and nodded as he took a sip of wine. “No, no, that's my fault. I should have told you that the doorbell doesn't work.
I've talked to maintenance probably eight bloody times,” he replied, tapping on the manila folder in my hand. “So what do we have here?”
I cleared my throat and set it on the coffee table, placing my hand firmly on top of it to give myself a moment to explain why the work it contained was not to the standard that I wished it was. “Before you judge anything, please know that Hoffman gave me the worst marketing team and that this work is not to the standards that I would like to be upheld. It was just short notice and—”
He shushed me and took another sip of wine before furrowing his brow and asking, “Why are you so nervous? This is probably the most relaxed meeting you'll have in your entire career.” He took my hand in his and moved it, smiling at me. His blue eyes twinkled as he opened the folder and added, “Besides, I knew Hoffman wasn't taking the idea seriously. Everything you told me at the meeting said that he was just going to let this thing die off... I just see too much potential to let go to waste.”
He flipped through papers as I beamed at him. “Really?” I asked.
Nodding, he replied, “Really. It's superb, and your model will work much better, I think. Not to mention, having someone like you behind the project will only make it better. I have full confidence in your
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