“I’m joking.”
“Oh my God, you jackass.” She punched his shoulder hard even as a relieved laugh escaped her. She started to speak, but then he kissed her forehead, and the feather-soft touch of his lips spoke a multitude of words.
I love you...even if...
“Oh, Jaak.” She raised her eyes to his, willing him to see his reflection in her gaze. Oh, how she wished she could give him her eyes so he would know how she and his family saw him.
“You mean so much to so many people, Jaak...” She chose her words carefully, a part of her terrified that she would say too much, and she would end up making him walk away from her again.
But the billionaire only looked at her, quietly, his handsome face unreadable.
“M-more than you think possible, and it won’t ever change so...” She swallowed hard at his continued silence. “Just don’t disappear on us.”
He saw terror flash in her eyes as she spoke, and a sharp pain seized the billionaire’s chest, his heart hearing what she truly wanted to say.
Don’t disappear on me.
He knew she was thinking about how despite loving his family, he had managed to turn his back on them.
He knew she was thinking he could do the same to her, too, eventually.
And he knew there was only one way to make the terror go away.
“Ilse.” Her gaze lifted to his, and he said softly, “Come live with me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Since the billionaire had only lived in hotel suites and rented apartments over the past ten years, he had feared that looking for a house to buy would make him feel suffocated. But just as it was with all things that involved Ilse, the process turned out to be the opposite of what he expected. House hunting turned out to be as easy as it was exciting, with the billionaire feeling a strange desire to finally put some roots down.
Every night, he would find himself watching Ilse sleep, and these were the moments he would allow his greatest fears to crawl into his heart. What if she needed him, and he failed her? Should he leave her before that happened? Should he disappear before he ended up hurting her even more?
But then she would wake up, and he would see in her sleepy brown eyes that he had nothing to worry about.
He could love her. He could need her. He could trust her.
Because Ilse was Ilse, and she was strong enough not to need him.
It only took a week for Ilse and the billionaire to come to an agreement over what would be the perfect house for them: an 18thcentury historic mansion that offered canal views, a fountained garden bordered by tall ivy-covered hedges, and a central location in Mokkum.
On their initial visit, it had been obvious to the billionaire that Ilse had fallen in love with the place at first sight, and when he had murmured huskily in his very best Queen’s English voice, “The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their proprietor—-”
Ilse had spun around to face him, so fast she had almost lost her balance, and the sight of the stars in her eyes had made him laugh.
And then she had breathed, “Pemberley,” and the billionaire laughed harder. She was looking at him like he was a god, something he knew she would probably regret later on, and the thought was both amusing and arousing because there were few things that looked lovelier than an irritated Ilse.
It had him closing the deal on the spot, and after getting rid of the real estate agent, he had Ilse in his arms and he was kissing her hard.
“Mmph!”
Then he had her turn around, her breasts flat against the wall, her skirt up to her waist, her panties falling around her ankles.
“Oh my God—-aaaah!”
Entering her from behind, he had pounded into her while playing with her clit, and when she began to cry out, the erotic sound had spurred him to move faster while rubbing her clit furiously.
The sex had been fast and furious, and afterwards he had whispered wickedly to her, “Let’s christen the rest of the house.”
An outrageous suggestion, but they had actually managed to accomplish it in just one week.
