Captured by the Billionaire

Captured Part 3

We didn't arrive in Venice until ten PM local time, but that didn't seem to matter where Jake's money was concerned. He assured me that the restaurant he'd booked for us would be open, with a table waiting for us. Having worked in the service industry, I was uneasy about being waited on so late at night; I was sure the staff would prefer to be elsewhere. When I'd voiced my unease, Jake had simply laughed and promised that he'd made sure everyone waiting on us was happy to do so. He didn't say outright that he'd paid them handsomely for the special privilege, but it had been implied. I was torn between flattery and annoyance. It was overwhelming that he'd gone to so much trouble to woo me when he hardly knew me, but I still didn't appreciate his sense of entitlement. He thought he could buy anything he wanted.

"You're upset," he observed, pausing our progress toward the restaurant. We'd been walking along the canal in silence, and I'd barely been able to appreciate the splendor of the city due to my tangled thoughts.

Jake shifted his hold, extricating my arm from his so he could grip my waist in both his big hands. He turned my body into his, and heat flared between my legs when my hips pressed against his hard thighs.

"What's wrong?" he pressed, frowning despite our intimate contact.

I'd expected his lustful, hungry reaction as soon as our bodies touched, but I detected nothing but tense concern in the fine lines that tightened around his eyes.

I sighed, letting go of my irritation. He might be one of the most arrogant, self-assured men I'd ever met, but he seemed genuinely baffled by my discontent with his jaded view of the world. It was as though he'd never even considered how privileged he was until I started pointing out what a charmed life he led. That strange innocence helped me forgive his high-handedness. As did his concern for my happiness and wellbeing.

"This is just a lot," I admitted. "You can buy anything you want."

"Is that a problem?"

"I don't want you to think you can buy me," I said before I could more carefully consider my words.

His frown deepened. "Of course I don't think that. You've made it abundantly clear that my money is a problem for you, and I know you'd prefer if I were penniless. It's not like I asked for this life, but I'm not going to resent it. I'd be a fool to pretend I don't enjoy my lifestyle."

"I wouldn't prefer if you were penniless," I countered, softening the rebuttal to something more apologetic than argumentative. "But I'm used to working hard for the things I want. You've been handed everything on a silver platter. I know it's not your fault, but—"

"You think I don't work hard?" he demanded, releasing me and taking a step back. "You seem to have made a lot of unflattering assumptions about my character. You don't know anything about me."

"I... No, I guess I don't," I allowed. "And maybe I did make some assumptions. I'm sorry for that. I think I'm still having a hard time getting past losing that paycheck for the catering job at your party. I really needed it. But I know now that you didn't mean to get me fired, and I need to forgive you. I do forgive you."

He reached for me, closing the distance between us again to tuck a stray lock of hair back from my cheek. I leaned into his touch without a thought, grateful that the tense moment had passed. I hadn't liked upsetting him, especially when I realized I'd been unfair toward him.

"Thank you for forgiving me," he said. "I really am sorry about getting you fired. I can put in a call to Carly and get your job back."

"No, that's okay," I replied. "It's not like I'm passionate about catering. I just needed that money for my mom."