The Billionaire's Triplets (A Steamy Contemporary Romance Novel) by Mia Caldwell Page A
Authors: Mia Caldwell
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she could find out anything on a personal level…
Don’t get your hopes up, kid.
# # #
Julio was in the middle of rereading a report on logistical issues related to the project when the phone rang. He answered with his head filled with information on duty-free zones and customs regulations. When he heard her voice, it all went out of his head. It was her voice. Lissa.
“I heard you were in town,” she said simply, but he heard a tremble in her voice. “I thought we should meet.”
“Meet? You are going to talk to me finally? Now?” He bounced between eagerness and anger, wanting to see her, to talk to her, and outrage that she dared act so calmly, so matter-of-factly. She sounded as if they’d just had a meeting and she wanted to follow up.
“We have a lot to discuss, but I can’t even begin to address even the basics over the phone.”
“A lot? Like children?” Julio said.
“You’ve heard.”
“No thanks to you.”
“To me?”
“Now you’ve decided you’re ready to tell me about them?” He hated sounding so petty and indignant. It wouldn’t help anything. And it shocked him that on hearing that musical voice again he instantly burned, absolutely ached, to talk to her. What a fool! He should refuse. He should wait for her to apologize, beg his forgiveness. The telephone shook in his hand. He stood in his room, terrified that this abrupt and tenuous connection might slip away. Again.
“I want to sit down with you, just the two of us,” She said.
“Why?”
“We need to talk about the boys, and about business as well.”
“Milan?” Now he understood the timing of her call. “You called me because of Milan?”
“Partly. Mostly I called because I could.”
“What do you mean? You could call me any time you wanted.”
“I understand you met with Tina Peters.”
That surprised him. Tina Peters wasn’t important at all. She certainly had nothing to do with them. “Your disgruntled ex-employee? Yes, I did. I assume all of New York knows that by now.”
“It’s likely.”
“She’s trying to position herself as a player in the Milan deal.”
“I know. She’s courting everyone, it seems. I don’t know if she’s more interested in getting the gig or cutting me out of it.”
Despite himself, Julio laughed. “I’d rate that impossible on either score. She’s a second-hander, as Ayn Rand called them. Her idea of innovation is to hire good people and create a genius sweatshop.”
“Well put and accurate.” Her voice was mellowing.
“Tomorrow? The dinner, I mean?”
“Can we do it tonight?” she asked. He heard a quiver creep back into her voice. Uncertainty. That didn’t seem possible, but then this entire conversation was impossible.
“I suppose. Is it that urgent?”
“No. It took all the courage I could summon to make this call, and I’m afraid that if we don’t talk right away, I’ll lose my nerve and not be able to face you.”
The absolute honesty of the words almost floored him. “Me too.”
“You?” She sounded surprised.
Somehow he felt the need to be honest. “Yes. I’m terrified of being a coward. So how about dinner at my hotel tonight? The food is good.”
“No. You have minions there. This should be private.”
He remembered a restaurant she’d mentioned when they were in Switzerland. She compared it to a place they ate there, saying she thought the New York place was even better. “In Switzerland at dinner, when I raved about the food, you mentioned a place in New York that was better,” he said.
“Yes. I know the place.”
“Do you care to prove your claim?”
The door opened and Willa came in. He held up a hand to keep her from talking.
“I’ll make reservations for seven,” Lissa said.
“I’ll see you there.”
When he hung up, Willa looked at him curiously. “Hot date?”
“I made a dinner engagement.”
“Without consulting me?”
He scowled at her. Since they’d slept together, Willa had grown more
Don’t get your hopes up, kid.
# # #
Julio was in the middle of rereading a report on logistical issues related to the project when the phone rang. He answered with his head filled with information on duty-free zones and customs regulations. When he heard her voice, it all went out of his head. It was her voice. Lissa.
“I heard you were in town,” she said simply, but he heard a tremble in her voice. “I thought we should meet.”
“Meet? You are going to talk to me finally? Now?” He bounced between eagerness and anger, wanting to see her, to talk to her, and outrage that she dared act so calmly, so matter-of-factly. She sounded as if they’d just had a meeting and she wanted to follow up.
“We have a lot to discuss, but I can’t even begin to address even the basics over the phone.”
“A lot? Like children?” Julio said.
“You’ve heard.”
“No thanks to you.”
“To me?”
“Now you’ve decided you’re ready to tell me about them?” He hated sounding so petty and indignant. It wouldn’t help anything. And it shocked him that on hearing that musical voice again he instantly burned, absolutely ached, to talk to her. What a fool! He should refuse. He should wait for her to apologize, beg his forgiveness. The telephone shook in his hand. He stood in his room, terrified that this abrupt and tenuous connection might slip away. Again.
“I want to sit down with you, just the two of us,” She said.
“Why?”
“We need to talk about the boys, and about business as well.”
“Milan?” Now he understood the timing of her call. “You called me because of Milan?”
“Partly. Mostly I called because I could.”
“What do you mean? You could call me any time you wanted.”
“I understand you met with Tina Peters.”
That surprised him. Tina Peters wasn’t important at all. She certainly had nothing to do with them. “Your disgruntled ex-employee? Yes, I did. I assume all of New York knows that by now.”
“It’s likely.”
“She’s trying to position herself as a player in the Milan deal.”
“I know. She’s courting everyone, it seems. I don’t know if she’s more interested in getting the gig or cutting me out of it.”
Despite himself, Julio laughed. “I’d rate that impossible on either score. She’s a second-hander, as Ayn Rand called them. Her idea of innovation is to hire good people and create a genius sweatshop.”
“Well put and accurate.” Her voice was mellowing.
“Tomorrow? The dinner, I mean?”
“Can we do it tonight?” she asked. He heard a quiver creep back into her voice. Uncertainty. That didn’t seem possible, but then this entire conversation was impossible.
“I suppose. Is it that urgent?”
“No. It took all the courage I could summon to make this call, and I’m afraid that if we don’t talk right away, I’ll lose my nerve and not be able to face you.”
The absolute honesty of the words almost floored him. “Me too.”
“You?” She sounded surprised.
Somehow he felt the need to be honest. “Yes. I’m terrified of being a coward. So how about dinner at my hotel tonight? The food is good.”
“No. You have minions there. This should be private.”
He remembered a restaurant she’d mentioned when they were in Switzerland. She compared it to a place they ate there, saying she thought the New York place was even better. “In Switzerland at dinner, when I raved about the food, you mentioned a place in New York that was better,” he said.
“Yes. I know the place.”
“Do you care to prove your claim?”
The door opened and Willa came in. He held up a hand to keep her from talking.
“I’ll make reservations for seven,” Lissa said.
“I’ll see you there.”
When he hung up, Willa looked at him curiously. “Hot date?”
“I made a dinner engagement.”
“Without consulting me?”
He scowled at her. Since they’d slept together, Willa had grown more
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