Page 8 of Interview with the Billionaire

“When was this? And what happened?”

“About two years before we met at Evelyn’s party.”

“Met again, you mean.”

He thought of the way she’d looked the first time he’d seen her. A reluctant pageant princess with something more interesting to offer than an empty hope for world peace. “Yes,” he said. “Met again.”

“So this was back in your fucking, not dating period.”

“Nice to know my wife pays attention.”

“And has an excellent memory. Especially when the topic intrigues me.”

“Are you saying I intrigue you?”

“You always have,” she said, then raised a brow. “And quit flirting and tell me. Evelyn’s going to call back soon.”

He chuckled. He wasn’t happy about the woman sitting downstairs, but the banter with his wife had definitely improved his mood. “Fair enough.” He moved to sit on the foot of the bed, and Nikki sat beside him. “We went out. We enjoyed each other.”

“You romped between the sheets.”

“Such a way with words. But yes.”

“And how exactly is she’s different from all the other women who’ve shared your bed?”

“I didn’t think she was. She certainly wasn’t the woman who had been on my mind since I’d been one of the judges in a certain Texas beauty pageant.”

A slow grin danced on her mouth. “Buttering me up?”

“Just being honest. The truth is that she wasn’t different. We had sex. Not vanilla, but nothing particularly over-the-top. We went to restaurants. Bars. A few clubs. I took her to a few functions where a date was expected. It was fine. Not exceptional, but fine. And neither of had expectations.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“I was. Later I came to the realization that her expectations had nothing to do with me and everything to do with my bank account. And once it became clear that I didn’t intend open the purse-strings for more than the cost of a few gifts and meals, she devised her own path.”

“Ahhh.” She stretched out on the bed, propping herself up so that she could look at him as he shifted to face her.” Elaborate, please.”

“She started to publish and sell articles about me. About our sex life. As graphic as she could get away with, and not even entirely accurate.

As soon as I realized—and Evelyn drew my attention immediately—I cut all ties with her. She continued to publish, with even more exaggeration, and suggested that our break-up was the kind of clusterfuck that entailed flying dishes and keyed cars.”

Nikki had propped herself up, and now she was looking at him with wide, disgusted eyes. “Did you bury the bitch?”

He smiled; god, but he loved her. “I didn’t. I denied her allegations when directly asked and otherwise ignored them. I think that pissed her off more.”

“I bet it did.” She frowned. “But Evelyn said she’s legit. She wouldn’t have hooked you up with some sort National Enquirer type rag. And a legit magazine wouldn’t have hired her if she’s writing trashy tabloid stuff.”

“True enough.” He glanced at the phone. If Evelyn was really calling back in five, they should be hearing soon.

As if the thought had conjured her, the phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and pushed the button to connect the call simultaneously. “Tell me.”

“The magazine doesn’t have an alternate reporter. Not one who can file the story in time. We can pull it, Damien. It’s your call. But I’m going to advise against it. Maggie Bridge has a solid reputation, and her editor is fine with giving you final approval of the article after I suggested that you’d had some issues with her coverage under her previous pen name.”

“I see,” he said as Nikki reached for his hand. “So they were aware of the Lena Spicer by-line?”

“She owned up to it when she applied for the job. Said she didn’t want to do the tabloid trash. She also said that she knew she crossed the line with her articles about the two of you. That’s one of the reasons for the new name. She wanted a bridge between the old Lena and the new Maggie.”

“Is that so?”