HOLDEN (Billionaire Bastards, Book Three) by Ivy Carter

Author:Ivy Carter [Carter, Ivy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Favor Ford Publishing
Published: 2017-10-04T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Holden’s eyes shimmer in the soft candlelight of the pizza joint. True it’s not as fancy as many of the restaurants we’ve been to, but somehow, Holden has made it the most romantic place on earth.

Candles and flowers surround our table, the only one occupied in the entire place. I checked the hours on the way in, and it should be open to the public. Clearly Holden has paid for our privacy, and I can’t help but be touched.

Nor can I stop dreaming about What if?

“How is your dissertation going?”

“My wh—?” I catch myself before totally blowing my cover, annoyed I’ve allowed my thoughts to stray so far. The assignment is unfinished with a deadline looming, but I’ve got more than enough information to write the paper. I’m procrastinating. “Ha. Sorry, I got distracted by the chef flipping his pizza dough…”

Holden follows my gaze, and I wonder if my explanation sounds even half as fake to him as it does to me. Damn it. I need to come clean before I really fuck up.

“It’s definitely an art,” he says. “Now…” He reaches across the table to cover my hand with his. “How is your assignment going? I feel like I haven’t given you much to go on.”

I swallow my guilt. “You’ve been wonderful.”

In more ways than I can express.

He catches on to the double meaning and gives me a wolfish grin. The dimple on his right cheek deepens. “Would it help if I allowed two questions tonight?”

I’ve actually lost count of how many we’re at, perhaps in denial that this agreement is fast coming to an end. What will happen when the last question is posed? Will we go our separate ways, this pseudo-relationship reduced to nothing more than a memory?

Perhaps the deeper issue is that I no longer know what to ask. I’m worried about triggering a mood swing, or an emotional response that I won’t be able to handle. Or, maybe most disconcerting, tipping him off to my real motive. I’ve almost done that once already.

“What exactly are you looking for with this paper?” Holden asks.

There is no suspicion in his voice, just genuine interest. And yet, I interpret it as doubt. “It’s a bit of a roving target.”

He pauses while the server brings us our pizza. It’s a giant pie, oozing with cheese, and topped with every vegetable I can imagine, even broccoli, which seems strangely exotic.

“No sardines tonight, Mr. Quinn?” the waiter says, with a small smile. Holden shakes his head, matching the grin, and my heart feels warm at the obviously personal exchange between them. Our server nods. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Two more beers,” Holden says, and then to me, “Unless you’d prefer wine?”

I shake my head. “I can’t imagine pairing pizza with anything but beer.”

The server disappears and Holden scoops a slice off the tray and puts it on my plate. “Thank you for avoiding gross fish toppings,” I say, smiling. It’s cute how he pays attention to my food preferences, never making me feel weird or silly for having them.

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