The Billionaire's Heart of Gold: A Fairy Tale Retelling Romance (Newport Billionaires Book 4) by Amy DeLuca

Author:Amy DeLuca [DeLuca, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oxford South Press
Published: 2019-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Frumpy Old Lady

What a horse’s behind.

Angelina stared at the array of fine clothing spread out across the king-sized bed in her room. It must have cost a fortune.

Well, Sully was going to get his money back. She wasn’t going to wear a stitch of it. She’d insist he return the whole lot, and if he refused, she’d give the unworn items to charity.

Grabbing one of the empty shopping bags, she began filling it with the beautiful clothes.

Reaching for the red dress, she felt a prick of regret. It was so pretty, and it had felt so good on. She remembered how Sully had reacted to seeing her in it.

She knew he was only trying to be nice, buying her all this stuff. She’d witnessed many examples of his extreme generosity in the past two months. It was part of his nature.

But she couldn’t keep the dress. She couldn’t keep any of it. It was too personal, too intimate to allow him to buy clothing for her.

The lines were already too blurry with her unrelenting attraction to him growing stronger every day.

Besides, she was still furious at him for the things he’d said. A “frumpy old lady?” She had half a mind to open the second-floor window and dump the whole collection of haute couture out on the front drive.

And the thing he’d said about her hair?

The fury intensified, blended with a heaping measure of hurt. The more she thought about the sneering tone of his voice and the challenging look on his stubborn face, the more her blood boiled.

Instead of stuffing more garments into the bag, she dropped it and picked up one of them to examine more closely. The orange bikini.

It was tiny. Really tiny.

She’d told Sully she wouldn’t wear it if her life depended on it, and she’d meant it.

But now it felt like something else depended on it. Her pride. Her self-respect. She wanted to show Mr. Sullivan Reece that he couldn’t bully her, that she wasn’t cowed by him. She wanted to show him how wrong he was.

She wanted to shut that beautiful, infuriating mouth of his.

She’d show him what a “frumpy, old lady” she was. She’d make him sorry he’d ever dared to say such things to her. She was going to make his head spin around.

Hurriedly stripping off the shapeless blouse and shorts ensemble, she yanked the tag off the swimsuit—before she could change her mind—and put it on. Then she turned to look at the full-length mirror on the closet door.

Oh my.

The woman in the reflection looked like someone else. She wasn’t sure who exactly, but not her. This woman looked bold. She looked fun. She looked young and vibrant, not to mention shapely in the way a man like Sullivan Reece might appreciate.

But that wasn’t the point of this exercise, was it?

No. Not at all. She only wanted to make him eat his words and maybe a side of crow to go along with them.

Something was still wrong with this picture though.

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