My Roommate, the Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 3) Page 7

  “Possibly.” I give in, take the hem, and pull the remainder over his head. He groans and tosses it aside, then takes his T-shirt by the back of the neck and tugs that off, too.

  “Sorry,” he apologizes, dropping the damp garment onto the floor and fishing out a fresh one from his bag. “Not hugely attractive, I know, but it gets hot under all that fur.” He brings out a can of deodorant and sprays under his arms, then tugs on the clean top.

  “What?” he asks as he sees me staring.

  “Mnmph,” I reply. I have no idea what that means and hope he thinks I’m speaking French.

  Reduced to unintelligible words by the expanse of muscled body I’ve just witnessed, I watch with wide eyes as he takes off the Dixon pants, exposing his black boxers and an erection that’s showing no signs of going down anytime soon.

  He tugs on his jeans and, keeping his amused gaze on mine, pulls them up and carefully does up the zipper, his amusement growing at the look on my face. “You can’t be all soft and womanly and kissy and then be shocked when you give a guy a hard-on,” he scolds, dropping to his haunches. He grunts and readjusts his jeans, giving me a wry look, before he packs the costume into the bag.

  Muttering under my breath, I turn and go out of the room.

  “Hey,” Bex says, rising from where she’d been sitting looking at her phone as I walk over to her. “Are you okay?”

  “Sorry,” I tell her. “I got a bit overwhelmed.”

  “Easily done. It’s a hard heart that remains untouched in a children’s ward.”

  I nod, deciding not to tell her I think I’m as much affected by the man who I’m sure is currently waiting for his erection to die down, as by the poor children. Does that make me a terrible person?

  “Does it put you off having children?” I ask her. This is just one visit for me, but it sounds as if she deals with sick kids all the time.

  “It does make you think twice,” Bex admits. “But then you can’t spend your life being afraid of all the things that might go wrong, can you?” She eyes me curiously. “Do you want children?”

  I’m conscious of the door opening behind me and Albie coming out. “Um, I’m not sure. Maybe.” I glance at him as he pauses beside me. He looks all ruffled and gorgeous. “Do you want children?” I ask.

  “At least six,” he says. “We’d better get going.”

  “On the baby making or the journey?” Bex’s gaze slides to me as she grins.

  He laughs. “See you later.” He kisses her cheek and takes my hand. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s get you home before you burn the place down with your blushing.”

  Chapter Nine

  Albie

  When we come out of the hospital, the wind whips us so hard Remy nearly falls over, so I grab her hand and we run back to the car. By the time we get in, her cheeks are pink and her hair has been tugged loose from its elastic, and is curling around her face in strands. Mine doesn’t look any different, obviously.

  “I have never known it so windy!” Remy says, removing her elastic, scooping her hair back off her face, and looping the elastic around it to contain it into a messy bun.

  “The cyclone is definitely on its way.” I put the notion of Remy’s hair being messily spread on the pillow out of my mind and try to think about the oncoming storm. “I’ll have to call Leon when we get home and see if he thinks we need to call in at the Ark and batten down the hatches.”

  “Batten down…”

  “It’s a nautical term. It means to secure a ship’s tarpaulins—to prepare for a crisis.”

  “I thought you did not know anything about yachts.”

  “I don’t; it’s a saying.”

  “Oh, I see. I like it. I will add it to my collection.”

  I smile. Remy loves idioms and clichés because she thinks it makes her sound more fluent.

  “You think there might be trouble at the Ark?” she asks as I ease the car out of the hospital drive onto the main road.

  “It’s always best to make sure there aren’t any flowerpots flying around.”

  “Do you get cyclones much in the Northland?”

  “No, no. Hardly at all. But sometimes we catch the tail end of one coming over the Pacific. This one did quite a bit of damage in Fiji, so we have to be prepared. I’m guessing you don’t get many in France?”

  “No.” She doesn’t elaborate and looks out of the window. She doesn’t want to be reminded she’s going back soon.

  “So, now you know my secret weekend job,” I say to change the subject.

  She looks back at me then. “I do. You surprised me. I had guessed it was something to do with children because of the police check, but the hospital took me by surprise. I thought you moonlighted as a clown or something.”

  “Ha! Hal would say you got that right.”

  She smiles. “Bex said you visit a hospital most weekends.”

  “Yeah. Dad and the guys still do it sometimes but they’re in their sixties now, and I think they’ve done enough. It’s only fair someone else takes over.”

  “But Hal and Leon don’t go with you?”

  I slow the car at the traffic lights, speed up again when they go green, and turn onto the State Highway home. “No. It’s not that they’re not interested, but they’re one hundred percent devoted to the Ark. Animals are everything to Hal, and he’s never been any different. Leon’s head is all figures and accounts—he’s a mathematical wizard, and he’s done wonders for the Ark’s financial status.”

  “And you, Albie. What is your magical talent?”

  “Giving amazing orgasms.”

  “Albie!”

  I laugh. “Oh come on. You walked right into that one.”

  “I did,” she concedes. Her brown eyes skim over me, heating my blood again, but she pulls the conversation back on track. “I know you are very talented with computers.”

  I shrug. “I do okay.”

  “Albie…” she scolds. “Jules told me you got a special award at university for getting the highest mark anyone has ever got in your finals.”

  “Did she now? Can’t a man have any secrets?”

  She smiles and nudges me with her elbow. “So why did you say at the hotel that you are rethinking your life plan?”

  I think about it while the lush green fields flash by, the flowers flattening and the trees bowing under the heavy winds. “Working with computers was something I sort of fell into. It’s why Dad got into science, because when he’s working with formulae and test tubes he doesn’t have to talk to people, and that’s sort of what happened to me. I did a lot of gaming as a kid and that naturally progressed to studying IT. I just happened to be good at it.”

  “But now you would rather be doing something else?”

  I’ve not talked about this to anyone else, and I’m hesitant to open up now. I still don’t know Remy well enough to know whether she’d go straight home and spread it around the Ark.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” she says, obviously picking up on my wariness. “Not even Jules. I wouldn’t do that, I promise.”

  “Okay,” I say softly, touched by her declaration. “I don’t want the guys thinking I’m unhappy at the Ark, that’s all.”

  “I understand. Are you unhappy?”

  “No. Restless, I suppose. And I’m embarrassed to admit it, but envious of the others.”

  “Hal and Leon?”

  “And Stef, and Fitz. They’ve all found their forte. It’s just… I want to do something bigger. More… important.” I don’t know how to express how I feel, and frustration rises within me.

  “Like what?” Remy asks.

  “Maybe something with kids or young people… I really don’t know.”

  She studies me as I drive, and she’s quiet for long enough that I expect her to change the subject when she speaks again. But she doesn’t. Instead, she says, “You are worried your friends will laugh when you say you want to work with children.”

  I don’t answer, and concentrate on negotiating the round
about before taking the road to the bay.

  “They are your friends,” she continues, “they would not make fun of you, would they?”

  “It’s not just that. I get things wrong all the time. I don’t understand people, and I make stupid mistakes.”

  “Like what?”

  “Which one do I pick?”

  “Tell me something that has gone wrong recently.”

  “Okay… Well, Hal thought it would be a good idea for one of us to pretend to like Nix to make Leon jealous.”

  “Ah, I heard about that.”

  “Yeah. It didn’t end well. The bastard floored me.”

  “Floored?”

  “Gave me a right hook. Damn near knocked me out. I could see it was working and so I pushed him, but I took it too far. Hal was angry with me afterward, and it took Leon three weeks to speak to me again with words of more than one syllable.”

  “Hal should not have asked you to do that.”

  “Yeah, well. All’s well that ends well. That’s Shakespeare, by the way, don’t credit me with that one.”

  She purses her lips in that sexy way that makes her look really French. “It is not your fault.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. The point is that I didn’t know where to stop. I can’t always tell if someone’s angry or irritated or frustrated. The guys know what I’m like, but everyone thinks it’s funny—most of the time they act as if I’m just clueless. It’s what guys do when we know someone well; we mock them. It’s a form of endearment. It’s not meant to be cruel—we all do it, me as well. I tease Leon for being OCD, Stefan because he’s half Viking and ten feet tall, Hal for being like Casanova because he can turn on the charm with people and animals, Fitz for being grumpy and monosyllabic and for having hair like a floor mop. It’s what we do.”

  “But you would not tease Noah for being agoraphobic?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So why should they tease you for being the way you are?”

  “They don’t realize they hurt my feelings, Remy. That’s the whole point. They don’t think I have any.”

  She frowns, obviously trying to understand.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I tell her. “It’s just that I’d like to do something more fulfilling, I suppose, than working with computers, but I’ve obviously got a talent for that, so doesn’t it make sense to use that talent to help if I can?”

  “Do not say what you think other people want to hear, Albie. Not when you are with me. You can say what is in your heart when we are together.”

  I glance at her and smile. “Okay.”

  “Have you thought about working with children like yourself?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With children and young people who have trouble communicating? Who have Asperger’s or Autism?”

  “You mean, like, counselling?”

  “Maybe. Or perhaps you could teach them computer skills. I imagine there must be lots of children who are like you, who prefer to work with computers because it means they do not have to be sociable. It must be difficult for their parents, who are wondering how their children are going to be comfortable in a world where communication is so important. But there are so many jobs in IT now, and you could help them get the right training. Or something.” She looks a little embarrassed. “I am sorry, I am talking too much.”

  “No, it’s okay.”

  “I feel very angry that the others tease you, that is all. You have a huge heart, and you are actually very sensitive. I think maybe I should tell everyone.”

  “Jesus, no, don’t do that.”

  “I am joking, Al-bee.” She gives me an impish smile.

  I return it with a wry look. “You’re not helping.”

  “Aw. Je suis desolée.”

  I shiver. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Speak French.”

  “Why not?”

  “It makes me…” I inhale, then blow out a long breath.

  I glance over at her. Her lips have curved up a little.

  “I still cannot believe you turned me down,” she says. “I put myself on a silver dish for you!”

  “I think you mean a silver platter, and you’re not quite using it right—it means receiving a gift you haven’t really earned.”

  “I am using it exactly right. I laid myself bare.” She gestures down herself with a hand, indicating the stripping away of all her clothes.

  “Remy. Stop flirting.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you. We’re not having a one-night stand.”

  “You are a spoilsport. I just come to terms with the idea of casual sex and pluck up the courage to ask you and you say no! Mon Dieu.”

  I chuckle. “I thought you’d be pleased that one night isn’t enough for me.”

  “I do not have any longer than that.”

  “Well, for a start you have a little over two weeks.”

  “You would like to have sex with me for two weeks?”

  “Jesus.” I feel faint at the thought.

  “You do not want to?”

  “Sweetheart, I would give my left arm to have sex with you for two minutes, let alone two weeks. Not that it would only take me two minutes…”

  “Then why—”

  “Two weeks won’t be enough.”

  “Je ne comprends pas.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That is what I said. I do not understand.”

  “Oh. Remy, it’s abundantly clear to me that if I have sex with you, I’m going to want to have it again. And again.” Her eyes widen. “But it’s not just that. I’m going to want more than sex.”

  She frowns. “I do not—”

  “Do you want me to be honest?”

  She shrugs. “In for a penny, in for a dollar?”

  “In for a pound.”

  “You use dollars out here.”

  “Yes but… never mind.” I sigh. “I told you at the hotel, I’m crazy about you. I think about you all the time. And if I get your clothes off and discover what that silky underwear looks like wrapped around your delightful French body, it’s going to take me about two seconds to fall in love with you, and I think that’s a vast overestimation.”

  I glance across at her. Her warm brown eyes are full of smiles.

  “Are you trying to break my heart?” I ask her.

  “Aw, Al-bear. Of course not. I do not want you to break mine either.”

  “Then don’t go,” I tell her.

  She stares at me. “I have to go. I have my ticket.”

  “I’ll reimburse you. Stay here with me. In New Zealand.”

  “I… I cannot. My working visa is only for twelve months.”

  “Then get another.”

  “I cannot. You can only get one for a year.”

  “Then marry me. That’ll let you stay.”

  “Good grief.” She throws up her hands. “Now I know you are joking with me.”

  I meet her gaze and hold it for as long as I can without crashing the car before I go back to looking at the road.

  She continues to study me. “You were joking, weren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Albie!”

  “What?”

  “It would not work—you have to have known someone for two years to get residency through marriage.”

  “We’ll work something out. Leon’s got contacts at the Ministry.”

  “Mon Dieu. We cannot get married.”

  “Why?”

  “I am a Catholic, for a start.”

  “I’ll become one,” I tell her. “I’ll go to church. I’ll read the Bible and everything.”

  “It is not that easy.”

  “I don’t care. When we get married in church the very angels will come out to serenade us.”

  “Goodness.”

  “We’ll honeymoon in the South Island, in a cabin in the mountains, where we can make love all day without being disturbed.”

&
nbsp; She starts laughing. “You have a nut loose.”

  “It’s a screw loose, Remy. And yeah, I’m mad about you, if that’s what you mean.”

  She doesn’t reply, but I can see my teasing has pleased her. She likes that I like her, that I want to be with her, even if it’s an impossible situation.

  “You are a very sexy man, Albie King,” she says eventually.

  “Thank you.”

  “And I know you are going to be amazing in the sack.”

  That makes me laugh. “I do my best.”

  “But I do not know that I am ready to marry you just yet. I have only kissed you once.”

  “Twice.”

  “Okay, twice. But that does not mean I am ready to be your ball and chain.”

  I smile. “Fair enough.”

  “We could start with one night, though,” she says.

  I give a long sigh. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about it. Having sex with Remy isn’t going to change anything.

  I’m already head over heels in love with her.

  And now I’m even talking like her and living in cliché land. There’s no hope for me at all.

  Chapter Ten

  Remy

  By the time we get to the turnoff for Paihia, the wind is tearing leaves from the palm trees on the side of the road, and at one point Albie has to break suddenly to avoid a large plastic box that has been blown out of someone’s garden. He pulls over to retrieve the box so nobody else has an accident. While he picks it up, I check the Met service on my phone and see that the tail of the cyclone is sweeping down over the Far North, with the worst due to hit in three or four hours, just as the sun sets.

  I tell him when he gets back in, his hair even more ruffled than usual. “It sounds like it is going to be quite a storm,” I comment.

  “I’ll drop you off and then I’m going up to the Ark,” he says.

  “No, I will come with you,” I insist. “I can help stack chairs and look after the animals. I do not like the idea of them being frightened by the bad weather.”

  “Okay. It’s at times like this I wonder whether Noah regrets building the Ark on top of the headland. It’s a bit exposed to the elements.”