Billionaire Is Allergic To All Women But Fell For Runaway Bride Hiding In His Bathroom

And now? Now I’m working as a maid in a billionaire’s mansion. She shrugged. I dreams don’t really factor in anymore.

Zach studied her for a long moment. I have connections in the music industry. He said matterof factly.

Producers, label executives. If you want to pursue singing, I can make introductions. Novi’s heart skipped.

You would do that? You helped me tonight more than anything has in 14 years.

He turned back to the railing. Consider it repayment. Novi stared at his profile, the strong jaw, the dreads falling over his shoulder.

Actually, she said softly. If you really want to sleep, I could sing more somewhere more comfortable.

He turned. What do you mean? My mother always fell asleep best when she was lying down.

Maybe if you were in your bed actually trying to sleep while I sang. She trailed off suddenly embarrassed.

What am I doing? I’m inviting myself to his bedroom. He’s going to think I’m fine.

She blinked. What? Fine. He pushed off the railing. Follow me. No’s mouth fell open when they entered Zach’s bedroom.

If she thought the guest room was impressive, Zach’s master bedroom was on another level entirely.

It was massive, easily the size of her entire childhood apartment. Dark wood floors, floor to-seeiling windows overlooking the gardens, a fireplace that could roast a small elephant.

The color scheme was all deep grays and blacks, masculine and minimal with artwork that looked like it cost more than the average person’s salary.

But the bed, the bed, it was enormous. A California king at least, maybe bigger, with charcoal sheets and a headboard that stretched nearly to the ceiling.

It looked like something a king would sleep in. Or a god. Like you can sit there, Zach said, gesturing to an armchair near the bed.

Novi nodded, trying to act like she wasn’t mentally cataloging every detail of this room to replay later.

His bedroom. I’m in his bedroom. This is fine. This is completely fine. Zach crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, still fully clothed.

He looked uncomfortable. Not with her presence, but with the vulnerability of what he was about to do.

You don’t have to do this, he said. I want to. The words came out before she could stop them.

His eyes met hers. Something passed between them. Something neither of them could name. Okay, he said quietly.

He lay back against the pillows, his dreads spreading around his head like a dark halo.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then closed his eyes. Novi settled into the armchair.

If it was more comfortable than most beds she’d slept in, she took a breath and she sang.

This time she sang softer, more intimate songs meant for quiet rooms and tired hearts.

She sang about rivers and mountains and finding your way home. She sang about stars that guided lost travelers.

She sang about love that waited, patient and eternal. And as she sang, she watched Zach’s face transform.

The tension melted from his features. His breathing deepened. The furrow between his brows, that permanent line of worry, smoothed out until he looked almost peaceful.

So young. He’s beautiful, she thought. So beautiful when he’s not trying to keep everyone at arms length.

She sang for nearly an hour, one song flowing into the next, her voice growing softer and softer until it was barely a whisper.

At some point, she realized his breathing had become deep and even. He was asleep, actually asleep.