Read Online Shopping for a Billionaire 3 by Julia Kent - Free Book Online Page A

there’re so m u ch more to come.
    Joel says a bunch of numbers and phrases again, then suddenly we’re hovering a few feet above the ground on a tiny island, a tall building brightly lit right next to us. The flight itself was fast, so fast we must be on one of the Boston H arbor islands. I can’t tell which one. The tall, lit building is a lighthouse, the old kind. The lighthouse’s beacon face s out to sea and a small golf cart is parked next to the structure .
    “Powering down,” Joel explains. I sit in place, the copter’s vibrations making my skin tingle. I’m parched, and just as the last snick sound from the blades’ rotation makes its final sigh, my stomach growls louder than a zombie bear that stumbled across a bunch of fresh rac c oon brains.
    “ Hungry?”  
    “Starving.”
    Declan has a satisfied look on his face, as if he’s hiding something he’s quite proud of. “Good. You’ll like what’s coming next.”
    As long as it’s me , I think. He gives me a look that says he’s read my mind.
    I’m about as graceful as a three-legged elephant with arthritis as I climb out of the helicopter, managing somehow to step on Declan’s foot and elbow him in the abs as he helps me down. Joel gives us a thumbs-up and walks away as Declan takes my elbow and escorts me to a smal l door at the base of the lighthouse.
    “I assume we’re still in the United States?” I ask. “ B ecause I left my passport at home.”
    “ Glad to hear you have one,” he says as he opens the tattered wood door, the paint worn down, the old dark oak underneath poking through under white paint as faded as old bones left out in the sun for too many summers. A narrow set of stairs, all made of concrete from a time when I imagine puritans hand-mixed it, curls up to the sky in a dizzying spiral. I inhale the scent of sea salt and centuries.  
    His words warm me, though. Where could we go? Where would he take me? Not that it matters, as long as I’m with him. He hinted about New Zealand last week, but I thought he’d been joking.  
    I guess not. My neck hurts from staring straight up, the lighthouse’s peak blocked by a ceiling.
    “What is this place?” I ask. I can see the stairs curve up at the top and stop.
    “I wanted to take you somewhere you’ve never been. Finding a restaurant that a mystery shopper has never eaten in or evaluated is a daunting task. But I think I’ve risen to the occasion.” His hand on the small of my back pushes gently so that I go inside, my shoes scraping against old stone.
    T he main door clicks shut and echoes up, the sound carrying to the heavens.
    “I think you’ve succeeded,” I whisper. My voice reverberates. I shiver involuntarily, and Declan’s arm is around me instantly, pulling me to his warmth.
    “You scared?” He’s amused.
    “No,” I protest. “It’s just a little cold. And dark.” Flickering gas lamps dot the path upwards, like something out of a G othic novel. Declan clearly has a t h ing for these sorts of places. The walls remind me of a mausoleum without the names and dates etched in the front-facing stones.
    “Don’t worry,” he says, pulling back and gesturing for me to go first up the stairs. “The manacles on the torture chamber are lined with a nice, thick sherpa fleece.”

Chapter S even
    I halt so fast his front slams into my ass. I can feel exactly how he’s risen to the occasion.  
    “Huh?”
    “That was a joke.”
    I turn and face him. His lips are twitching around a poorly contained look of amusement.
    “Look here, buddy,” I say, poking my finger against his perfect chest. “This isn’t like one of those books where the billionaire steals the poor, underpaid intern away from her horrible life and they discover a mutually beneficial BDSM lifestyle, m’kay?”
    He pretends to be crestfallen. “Oh. Okay. Then I’ll just call Joel and we’ll take you home.” He reaches into his back pocket for his phone and fake dials. I can see he’s