Borrowed Billionaire #3 Return to Mr. Thorne Read Online Free PDF

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    I said, “Is my party a gentleman?”
    She laughed. “Don't you know who you're meeting?”
    I felt shameful and slutty, but I asked anyway. “Does he have black hair or silver hair?”
    She raised her eyebrows and gave me a cheeky look. “Black. Wavy. Green-brown eyes. Strong jaw and brow line, a real man's man.”
    “That's my lover,” I said, smiling. “He likes to play games, so he made me think I might be meeting one of his business colleagues here tonight.”
    “Oh, no,” she said. “It's just the two of you, and you're in a private room.”
    “Private room?”
    Some other people walked in the door, talking excitedly.
    The girl beckoned me closer to her and said, “Officially, it's a room that isn't on the building plans. It doesn't exist. But if it did exist, people could do anything they wanted in there. And you have it booked for the entire evening.”
    I fanned one hand over my blushing face. “Of course,” I said.
    She then handed me a tablet from the stack on her little podium, and showed me how to use my finger to scroll through the menu. “Just click the things you want, and the order goes in to the kitchen.”
    “Wow,” I said, admiring the technology. Those tablets weren't cheap, and the restaurant had a pile of them, instead of menus. The prices weren't visible on my screen, which meant I didn't want to know what the things cost! Thank goodness I wasn't picking up the tab for this one, or my entire week's earnings from admiring and organizing Mrs. Chong's precious ceramics would be completely wiped out.

    The hostess led me through a dark corridor, and then through a velvet curtain. I blinked several times, but still couldn't see anything.
    I said to the hostess, whispering, “Is this safe? Don't you need to have the EXIT signs illuminated? Like for fire safety?”
    My friend Jacob, the fireman, would have been horrified to see how dark the restaurant was. Just horrified! It was a shame I couldn't tell him about it, but part of our arrangement as casual friends and occasional lovers was we didn't talk about other people. We kept things safe between us, of course, because Jacob had a lot of other lovers besides me. I didn't mention the condom when I was recalling our last tryst, but we did use one. (And then, another one.) I used condoms a lot, but I omit the detail from my stories and from my memory, because it's just hotter that way.
    Speaking of safety, the hostess assured me that there were lighting systems in place, in case of emergency, and that I was quite safe. “You're in good hands,” she said, and then she opened a door, by the sound of it, and ushered me into a room. I could tell by the change in sound—the disappearance of other diners talking and utensils scraping plates—that we were in the private room.
    She said, “Your server will knock before entering with your food, and it won't be long.”
    And then the door closed.
    I flailed my arms out to make sure she was actually gone, and not just standing there for a laugh.
    I said, “Hello?”
    A deep voice came back, “Hello.”
    My knees shook, just like the girl's knees in my fantasy. Had I been projecting my own fears onto the version of Suzanne in the fantasy scenario? I'd never been afraid of a man before, not like this.
    “You're late,” he said, his tone somewhere between consternation and amusement.
    “You're lucky I came at all.” I edged my way around the room, hands out, feeling for my chair. The room wasn't large, by the feel of it. It was bigger than a closet, but I could nearly touch both walls with my hands outstretched.
    He chuckled. My hands landed on something warm and woolen, his shoulder. A warm hand came up to cover my hands, holding me in place. His touch gave off sparks.
    He said, “At last, I get to touch you again. I thought your voice would be enough, but I've been craving your touch.”
    I pulled my hands away. This time, I found my chair and got myself seated. The chair was