His to Have: A Billionaire Romance by Piper Hayes Page A

jeans. He tosses the leather bag into my arms.  
    “Let me show you the real city for a night.”  
    “The real city?” I ask.  
    “The one you’ve never seen. Or are you afraid it won’t meet your standards?”  
    I look down at the clothes I had tossed in that morning and say, “I’ll let Eduardo be the judge of whether or not it’s good enough.” Eduardo shrugs. Blake laughs. It must be a hundred and ten degrees in the kitchen, and I’m starting to sweat. Eduardo’s brow is beaded with sweat. Blake looks like he’s cool as can be.
    “Come on, Ed,” he says. “We’re on a schedule here.”
    Eduardo steps beside me, crosses his arms and scowls at Blake. He’s clearing enjoying the hell out of himself.
    “Ok. I’m taking her to meet Alex.”  
    “Woah,” Eduardo says. “He’s not playing around.”  
    “Who’s Alex?” I ask.  
    “The worst bartender in New York,” Eduardo says with a smile.  
    “I’m going to tell her you said that.”
    “Fat chance in Hell.”
    “Did you call the cab?” Blake asks.  
    Eduardo nods.  
    This has been a set up from the start. I look down at the leather bag. “I guess I’m changing then. What do I do with the dress?”
    “Leave it.”  
    In the back office, I slip out of the heels and out of the dress. I pull on the jeans and flats. When I come back out, Blake’s waiting by the back door. In the alley behind the building, a cab waits with an open door. I look at Blake to see if he’s serious and then I follow him. It’s my second cab ride this week. My second cab ride in years. This one is better than the first. With Blake’s arm around me, I lean back and breath in the night air. The moon is rising on the other side of the river, and I have a feeling that this night will be unlike any I’ve ever experienced.  
    “Why all the trouble of going to the restaurant?” I ask.
    “You have a tail,” Blake says. “While your father doesn’t command nearly the fortune or power he once did, he’s far from broke. He has money squirreled away all across the globe where the government and his investors can’t touch it, and I’m fairly sure he’s having someone follow you.”
    “And you never thought to mention it to me?”
    “I’m telling you now,” Blake says. “The same guy has been outside my building more than once on days you were over. The doorman took note. I referred the whole thing to Damien. He said it all checks out but that you and I should be careful. This is me taking care.”
    “I know that man,” I say. “He was a friend of mine.”
    “Then I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Blake says. After a long pause, he adds, “So you seemed to like the beer we had last night.
    “I liked everything about last night,” I tell him.  
    The cab speeds over the Williamsburg Bridge, and soon we’re far from any part of the city I’ve ever been to. Blake pulls out a wad of cash, hands it to the driver and tells him to pull over at the next corner. “We’re here,” he says. We walk a block and he brings me up to what looks like an abandoned building. Or it would if the windows weren’t lit up and four or five guys in caps weren’t leaning against the brick exterior. I can hear music from inside, but I can’t tell what kind.
    “Get ready,” he says. The doorman nods to him and opens the door and soon we’re headed down a long hallway, it’s half dark and I can hear clapping and stomping and what sounds like fiddle music. Irish music. We’re at an Irish bar, and from the looks of it, most of the clientele are actually from Ireland. A small band is playing on a   corner stage, and the crowd is hooting and hollering along with them. Blake leads me through the dense thicket of patrons.  
    A beautiful woman with dirty blonde hair and freckles looks at us from behind the bar. She puts down the pint she’s pouring and stares with ice-blue eyes. She’s beautiful. “Alex,” Blake calls.  
    “That’s Alex?” I ask.