The Billionaire's Secret Read Online Free PDF

the setting was cozy and intimate all at the same time.
    “I love it,” she whispered as the maitre d’ approached them.
    “I knew you would,” he said. “You struck me as a sucker for candlelight.”
    “What’s not to like about candlelight?” she asked. In fact, she wished there was a way to incorporate it into her bakery, but there was the whole fire code thing to consider…and the fact that she was only open during the day.
    Evan spoke French to the maitre d’, and it was the first time she’d heard him speak the language. He seemed sexier now, all of a sudden, as if the exotic words had changed him into a magician.
    She’d studied French in boarding school. To piss off her parents in their never-ending war to package her into a perfect upper-crust daughter, she’d purposely tanked most of her exams at school. But she’d secretly loved French. While her language skills were rusty, she hoped to polish them up a bit now that she was in Paris.
    “Your accent sounds marvelous,” she said after they were seated.
    Their waiter appeared and spoke to them in French. She caught a few of the words, but was too tired to focus her brain on translating. Maybe tomorrow, once she was rested.
    “What would you like to drink?” Evan asked her. “Champagne to start? Or wine?”
    “Champagne sounds decadent.”
    He rolled his eyes playfully and grinned. “Pink or white?”
    She leaned forward. “Pink, seriously?”
    “Everywhere you go, people will give you the choice of pink or white.”
    “Then pink,” she said and smiled at their waiter, who gave her a flirtatious grin.
    Evan ordered and then arranged his napkin in his lap. “I see how this is going to go. All the men in Paris are going to fall in love with you.”
    And what about you? she almost asked. Their kiss had told her plenty about how much he wanted her. But love? Don’t get ahead of yourself, she reminded herself. You’re only here for ten days.
    “So long as everyone’s nice to me, we won’t have a problem,” she told him, setting her napkin in her lap and reaching for the menu.
    When she saw the prices, she almost winced. She’d known things in Paris were going to be pricey, but this…
    “Do I need to remove your menu and tell you what’s available so you won’t see the prices?” Evan asked in an aggrieved tone.
    He was staring at her when she lowered her menu. “Evan—”
    “I told you I’m totally fine on the money side, Margie,” he said.
    He had told her that, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it meant. Unless he’d found a new job in the past two weeks, he was unemployed. Perhaps he’d saved enough that he didn’t feel the pressure to have a constant job. She knew some artists did that—they would work long enough to save up some money in the bank and then take time off to create until they needed to replenish their reserves.
    “Evan, that’s really nice of you, but I still want to contribute my share,” she said.
    He frowned. “Please let me spoil you a little while you’re here. I don’t…have company much. It would mean a lot to me if we could end this struggle right now so we can enjoy all Paris has to offer.”
    Again, she caught a hint of loneliness in his voice. She found herself wondering, not for the first time, what had brought him to Paris and where his family was. Where his friend, Chase, lived. Like where his money came from, his whole background was a mystery to her.
    Then she reminded herself of what she did know. He supported her dreams, and while his perfectionism had sometimes frustrated her, she appreciated the effort he’d poured into painting her bakery in tune with her vision. He was sweet and thoughtful and so smart she wondered how all his knowledge fit into his beautiful head. He invented weird things out of adding machines and could program a computer chip. And then there was the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing worth gazing at in the whole world. She wasn’t sure