The Dragon Billionaire's Secret Mate: BBW Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance (2 page)

'In case you want to have it reviewed by your lawyer,' the email had said.

Not that Theresa could afford a lawyer right now. Every cent of money she could spare had gone to Carolyn for her first payment to the Grigorieff brothers. The contract was 5 pages of dense legalese. As far as she could tell, it came down to the fact that if she breathed one word to anyone of anything she saw in the time she'd spend with her mysterious bachelor, or even mentioned his name to anyone, they could sue her for so much money her grandchildren's grandchildren would still be bankrupt. It had only made her more nervous. What on Earth did he want from her that he was so intent on keeping it secret?

But she wasn't going to say no. If she wanted to make sure Carolyn was safe, she needed the money.

She left her car in parking lot downtown, wincing at the price. She could have taken public transport and left the car outside the city, where they didn't gouge an arm and a leg for parking. But if anything went wrong, she might have to get out of here quickly. She felt better with her car nearby.

The office was in an enormous building that seemed to house more than a dozen different companies, so that didn't tell her anything new about who she was going to meet. Office 131 had a discreet plaque on the door. Jackson and Bourne, attorneys at law, it said. She knocked on the door, which unlocked with a buzz.

"Come on in," a man called.

He rose from behind his desk when she entered.

"Ms. McKenzie? It's good to meet you."

If this was her mysterious bachelor, he'd underestimated his age in the ad by a full three decades at the very least. This man was 60 if he was a day.

"Hello," Theresa said cautiously.

"I'm Roald Jackson. Our client has asked me to review the paperwork with you."

Not him, then. Just his lawyer.

"Please, take a seat," Mr. Jackson said. "Can I offer you anything to drink? Soda? Coffee? Some juice, perhaps?"

"Um, just water would be good. Thank you," Theresa said, lowering herself cautiously into a chair. She felt thoroughly out of her depth.

Mr. Jackson set a glass of water down in front of her and then took his place on the opposite side of the table.

"Now, then. Did your counsel suggest any alterations to the contract?"

Her counsel? Jesus. Maybe she should have paid for a lawyer after all. Well, if she was signing away her soul here, so be it. That wasn't the worst she was prepared to do to make sure Carolyn and Joey were safe.

Mr. Jackson went through the contract with her section by section. The legalese didn't get any less dense or impenetrable just because it was being read aloud. Theresa nodded a lot, feeling the smile freeze on her face. Finally, Mr. Jackson came to the end of the contract.

"Well, if you don't have anything else to add, I think this is it. Please initial the passages I've indicated."

Theresa initialed the paragraphs he'd pointed out to her. "Can't you at least tell me his name?" she asked.

"As soon as the contract is signed, Ms. McKenzie, I will be more than happy to do just that," Mr. Jackson said. "But you will understand that security and discretion is paramount to our client."

God, who was this guy? Was she about to sell herself to the Governor of Illinois? She scrawled her name on the last line beneath the contract. Mr. Jackson squinted at it for a moment and then nodded.

"All right then. That seems to be in order. Mr. Samuel Ashbel would like to meet you at the restaurant Arcadia. There's a car waiting to take you there."

Oh God.
Not the Governor of Illinois, then. Just the unofficial Crown Prince. Samuel Ashbel and his brother owned Aurum, the largest tech company in the state and its biggest employer.

Severin Ashbel, Aurum's CEO, was the one she usually saw in the gossip press—him and his stunningly beautiful wife, an heiress, former runway model, and now owner of an extremely successful cosmetics company. There were rumors that Severin Ashbel had had a hand in the outcome of every major election in the state in the last ten years.

Samuel, the younger brother, lived a more quiet life, but he was still a billionaire, and the lack of scandals surrounding him only made him more interesting to the press in some ways. Theresa was pretty sure she'd seen him topping more than one list of most eligible bachelors.

And now he'd picked her, of all people, to be his companion for whatever on earth he planned to be doing during those 10 days? This was insane.

Theresa numbly let Mr. Jackson usher her down to the street, where a sleek black town car was waiting for her. The chauffeur—a chauffeur!—got out and opened the door for her with a smile.

"Wait! My car," Theresa said. If she left it in the garage overnight, never mind for 10 days, she didn't even want to know what the bill would add up to.

"Of course," Mr. Jackson said with a smile. "If you give us the key and let us know what garage you parked it in, Mr. Ashbel's valet service will take care of it."

Theresa handed over the keys. Her hands shook. Another escape route was closed to her. But she'd already decided to do this. She'd signed the paperwork. She wasn't going to back out now.

***

The town car glided through the streets of downtown. Theresa leaned back against the seat, trying to smooth down the skirt of her black dress. The email had told her to wear evening dress, but of course after the long drive her dress was crumpled up beyond repair. She should have brought it along in her bag and found a place to change before the meeting. Too late now.

The
Arcadia
was one of those fine dining palaces that Theresa had only ever seen from the outside before. All the decor was in white except for a glittering silver curtain in the middle of the room.

She was going to end up spilling her wine on that snowy white tablecloth, Theresa just knew it.

The hostess was enthusiastically cheerful, and her wide smile grew even brighter when Theresa mentioned who she was here to meet.

Samuel Ashbel rose from his table to greet her when she approached. Theresa's breath caught. The pictures didn't do him justice. He was the most gorgeous man she'd seen in her life. His perfectly tailored suit hugged a lean, powerful body. The candlelight lent a fiery sheen to his dark hair, which fell in softly tousled strands around his dark, intense eyes.

"Ms. McKenzie? I'm Samuel Ashbel," he said, stretching out his hand.

She took it. His grip was firm but gentle, and his skin was very warm.

"Please, call me Theresa," she said.

"And I'm Samuel. I'm so glad you could make it. I hope the paperwork wasn't too much of a hassle."

"Oh, um, it was fine," Theresa said.

He came around the table to pull out her chair, which no one in her entire life had ever done for her. She'd been pretty sure that kind of chivalrous gesture only happened to European princesses, these days. But then he was a billionaire, and he probably did spend time with nobility.

In her crumpled, badly-fitting dress she felt like Cinderella meeting Prince Charming while dressed in her rags. For the hundredth time, she wondered what had driven him to choose her.

At least so far it didn't seem like he was disappointed with the reality of her, compared to the pictures she'd sent. He was smiling as he sat down. For a moment, his eyes almost seemed to glow with a golden fire. But then Theresa blinked and the illusion was gone. It had been nothing but a reflection of the candlelight, of course.

"Did you find the office okay? How was the drive?" Samuel asked.

"Oh, um, it was fine," Theresa said, because he probably didn't want to hear a long tirade on the evils of Illinois roadwork.

"Would the lady like something to drink?" the waiter asked, approaching with their menus.

"Just a water for now, please," Theresa said distractedly, staring down at the menu. There weren't any prices on it at all, which probably meant this was one of those 'if you have to ask, you can't afford it' kind of situations. Well, presumably Samuel wasn't planning to pay her 50,000 dollars for her company but then stick her with the dinner bill. She scanned the elegant menu page in front of her, trying desperately to find something that actually sounded recognizably like food and also like it might be more or less affordable. Maybe she'd just order an appetizer…

"I'm sorry, I know this place is really pretentious," Samuel said.

Theresa looked up at him, startled.

"The food really is worth it though, I promise," he added with a smile. "If you want a recommendation, the lobster pie is to die for."

Oh, good. She'd been kind of terrified she was accidentally going to order a $200 dish and piss him off. But if he'd recommended it, he couldn't get mad at her for ordering it, right? And she'd never had lobster before.

"Do you want to split the shrimp appetizer?" Samuel asked.

"Sure," Theresa said. It did sound really good, and she figured she couldn't go wrong going along with his suggestions.

"Would you like any wine in particular?"

Okay, and now she was thoroughly out of her depth again. Sometimes her and Carolyn got tipsy on a seven dollar bottle of white wine on Saturday evenings, and that was where her experience with wine started and ended.

"Um," Theresa said. 

"We could just order a bottle of Merlot," Samuel suggested. "They have some really amazing vintages here, but frankly, they're a little bit wasted on me. My brother always tells me I have a simple palate."

"That sounds good," Theresa said gratefully.

They made polite small talk while they waited for their appetizers to arrive, talking about the weather (unusually warm for the end of September) and hockey (which it turned out neither of them cared about at all.)

"Oh, thank God," Samuel said. "I go to so many functions for work, and 90% of that is small talk, and half of that is people wanting to talk to me about the Blackhawks. I could not possibly care less about hockey, and I still have to follow every game, because I never know when I'm going to have to talk about it for an hour and a half just to make some major client happy."

"God, that sounds awful," Theresa said laughing. "What exactly do you do, anyway?"

"I'm head of the company's charitable foundation," Samuel said. "My brother calls it the tax write-off division," he said, with a self-deprecating little laugh. "But it's actually… Our people do really good work. They save a lot of lives." He smiled, his eyes lighting up; it was obvious how much he liked his work.

"Right now I'm focusing on a project that's trying make sure remote villages in the Sudan have access to safe clean water. We're working together with a local team to build wells in the traditional way. It's pretty amazing, actually," Samuel said. He was gesturing animatedly as he talked. Theresa caught herself watching his strong, elegant hands, charmed equally by his enthusiasm and his expressive body language.

"Some of these techniques are hundreds of years old," Samuel continued. "They seem simple, but they work better than anything we could do now with the resources we've got available. We provide the heavy equipment for the actual digging, but the locals are the ones who choose the best spots to make sure the well doesn't run dry and the water stays clean, and we're using traditional methods for the scaffolding and the brickwork… oh God, I'm sorry," Samuel said. "I'm rambling. I'm sorry. I'm just really excited about this right now. I didn't mean to bore you."

"Actually, I thought it was really interesting! Please keep talking," Theresa said.

Samuel's obvious interest in his project was contagious. Theresa had a librarian's love for learning about obscure topics, and Samuel had a talent for explaining and story-telling. By the time the waiter arrived with their appetizers, all their cutlery had been repurposed as an impromptu scaffolding around the vase in the middle of the table, and Samuel was trying to show her how the supports interlaced for better stability.

The waiter cleared his throat.

"Oh. I'm so sorry," Samuel said, looking at the pile of cutlery in the middle of the table. He hastily cleared a space. "Now I've mixed up all your forks, too. Umm, I think this little one here is for the shrimp."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who isn't sure!" Theresa said with a laugh.

"I have no excuse, I'm at fancy dinners all the time," Samuel said. "But honestly, I just start from the outside and then work my way in."

"I thought that was only in Pretty Woman!"

"Nope, that's pretty much how it works."

The shrimp were fantastic, juicy and buttery, with a hint of lemon and garlic. Theresa let out a quiet moan of pleasure at the taste, then caught herself, blushing. But Samuel only smiled.

"See? Told you the food was worth it."

He ate a shrimp himself, closing his eyes in pleasure for a brief moment. He really was almost shockingly good-looking. Theresa looked away before he could catch her staring.

There were ten shrimp on the plate, so she could probably eat four without looking greedy. 

"Will you tell me a little about your job? You're a librarian, right?"