Five Dates with the Billionaire - Alyssa J. Montgomery Page 0,49
all! Not only had Mia called a halt to their affair, she’d retreated behind a wall, chatting dizzily about anything and everything ever since the New Yorker had spoken to them. It was obvious she was jittery and unsettled—hyper aware of everything around them and possibly running on adrenalin.
That she was ending their relationship and denying she was in trouble when they’d shared such a deep and intimate connection sent him into a tailspin. He was still losing altitude—as though he’d lost his stomach at thirty thousand feet and was rapidly plummeting towards the earth without a parachute.
It was time to be honest with himself.
This had not been an ordinary affair. His desire for Mia had hit hard and fast but, even before he’d taken her to bed, he’d made an emotional connection with her. He genuinely cared about her.
But how can you believe that when you know so little about her?
Emotion battled logic. The taunting voice in his head was right. What did he know about Mia?
All the initial misgivings he’d had about her flooded back and he turned to her. ‘I want to know what’s going on with you.’ When she remained silent he said, ‘Those glasses you don’t need to wear, the figure you hide, the hair you dye—are you trying to disguise yourself, Mia?’
Her short laugh was forced. ‘Don’t be silly. Why would I do that?’ ‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.’
‘Given the women you’ve dated, I realise it may seem strange to you, but I really don’t like drawing attention to myself.’
‘You certainly didn’t like the American noticing you.’
Her whole body jerked. ‘Leave it, Connor.’
‘I can’t leave it. I genuinely care about you, Mia. Deeply.’
‘I didn’t ask you to care about me.’ She looked away from him, but not before he noticed the slight trembling of her lips and the sudden sheen of moisture in her eyes.
His gut wrenched.
‘Having sex with you was obviously a mistake, Connor. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable and… crushed by you trying to force your way closer.’
Her words rendered him speechless, his brain reeling at how quickly she’d erected barriers between them. Only a few short hours ago he’d been the most relaxed he’d ever been with a woman and everything had seemed so right.
Now she was calling it a mistake and felt crushed by him?
‘We’ve got two more days to go to honour our promise to Violet and make certain she has the operation. But, as of now, we end this and go back to sleeping separately.’ She stood. ‘Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.’
Bloody hell.
No. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.
Every instinct told him she was in trouble and warned him not to take her words at face value. He needed to dig deeper if he was going to help her through whatever it was she faced.
He needed to find out more about Mia.
He needed to find out about Lou Correlli.
Considering Mia wouldn’t provide him with answers, Connor was left with only one option. Watching as Mia wound her way through the lounge and reached the ladies’ bathroom, he got out his phone and made the call.
‘Hey, Connor! I was only thinking of you today.’
‘Really?’ He wasn’t in the mood for small talk and it was a strain to respond casually. ‘You want to be thrashed in another game of tennis?’
Tony chuckled. ‘Actually, I’m arranging a reunion from our Eton class. I sent you an invitation.’
‘Sounds good.’ Tony had always been the lynch-pin that kept the group in contact.
‘What’s up?’
‘This is actually a business call.’
‘Shoot.’
Connor looked again at the women’s bathroom. He suspected Mia would hide there until they were called for their flight. ‘I employ a young woman, Mia Simms, in my London marketing department. I have her file from HR and will email it to you shortly, but I want a background check on her.’
‘No sweat. Anything in particular you’re looking for?’
That was part of the frustration. He had no idea. ‘A general search to make certain she’s above board. Educational qualifications, finances, criminal record, where she lives and …’ he tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair as he tried to sift through all the questions he’d asked that she’d skirted around, ‘her family. Her parents died in a plane crash.’
‘No problem. All that’s easy enough and the parents’ names should be on the passenger manifest. Just send me the flight number or, if you don’t have that, the airline and year of the crash.’