Caught in the Billionaire's Embrace Read Free Page A

each opera once it had concluded. “The first time I saw one performed live,” she continued, not bothering to mention that it was live on PBS, not live on stage, “I was enchanted.”
    She actually would have loved to major in music andmake the study of opera her life’s work. But college had been beyond the means of an average student from her economic stratum, so she’d gone directly to work after graduating from high school, as a gofer in the offices of one of Wall Street’s most noted and respected brokerage houses. And even though she’d worked her way up the corporate ladder to become an executive assistant, Della had never made the time to go for the degree. She’d been supporting herself fairly well on her salary—certainly better than she’d ever imagined she would growing up in the sort of neighborhood she had—and she’d been happy with the way her life was going. At least until that life had shattered into a million pieces, and she’d been left with nothing but Geoffrey, who’d offered her a dubious sort of refuge—and not without a price.
    Almost as if that thought had cued the orchestra, the music swelled, and the lights dimmed. Della couldn’t resist one last look at her companion as the room grew dark, but when she saw him gazing at her—and noted the seat between them still empty—she quickly turned her attention to the stage.
    After that, she fell into the world of Mimi and Rodolfo and their bohemian friends, leaving her own reality behind. So much so, that when the lights came up for intermission, it took Della a moment to return from nineteenth century Paris to twenty-first century Chicago. She blinked a few times and inhaled a deep breath and, before she could stop herself, looked over at her companion—who was looking at her in the same way he had been when the lights had dimmed, almost as if he’d spent the entire first half of the opera watching her instead.
    That strange buzz erupted in her belly again, so shequickly glanced at the crowd. The myriad splendor of the women’s gowns made them look like brightly colored gems amid the gilt of the auditorium, the sparkle of their jewelry only enhancing the image. Della watched many of the ladies link arms with their companions as they left for intermission, and noted how the men bent their heads affectionately toward them as they laughed or chatted.
    For a moment, she felt a keen regret that this night couldn’t last forever. Wouldn’t it be lovely to enjoy evenings like this whenever she wanted, without regard for their cost or the risk of being seen in a place where she shouldn’t be? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a night out at all, never mind one like this. Geoffrey kept her locked away like Rapunzel. She spent her time reading books, watching downloaded movies and staring at the walls that were, for all intents and purposes, her cell. Even if the place Geoffrey had provided lacked bars and held sufficient creature comforts, Della still felt like a prisoner. Hell, she was a prisoner. And she would be until Geoffrey told her she could go.
    But even that thought brought little comfort, because she had no idea where she would go, or what she would do, once Geoffrey decided she was no longer necessary. She would have to start all over again with virtually nothing. The same way she had when she left the old neighborhood behind.
    It was all the more reason to enjoy tonight to the fullest, Della told herself. Who knew what the future held beyond even the next few hours?
    â€œSo what do you think so far?”
    She turned at the sound of the rich, velvety baritone, and her pulse rippled when she saw the smoky look hewas giving her. Truly, she had to get a grip. Not only did the guy show evidence of being a class-A heel, flirting with one woman when he was supposed to be out with another, but he was also way out of Della’s