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“Does this have anything to do with you laying off a bunch of your top employees?” I ask.
Dimitri’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline, and I let him see my grimace. “I . . . might have read up on you a bit.”
He nods as if he expected that and scratches the back of his head. He looks so resigned, so beaten and broken, that I have the sudden urge to crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around him. “A few months ago, my co-founder tried to recruit enough support within the company to force me to step down as CEO.”
My stomach clenches at his admission, and I wait for him to continue.
“He was a good friend of mine, and it . . . shook me.” A look of regret sweeps over his beautiful face, and he props his elbows on his knees. “I shouldn’t have reacted so . . . intensely. I see now that it was a mistake. It was bad for the company, and the damage was significant. That’s why I went to Denver — to discuss how to regain shareholders’ confidence.” His expression turns sour. “In me.”
“Oh.”
No wonder Dimitri had looked so drained when he’d first returned. The man really did have the weight of the world riding on his shoulders. He’d been betrayed by someone he trusted, and there were still people at his company who thought that he should resign.
Now I understood why he lived alone in this giant house with no staff to run it. He didn’t know whom he could trust.
“Is there . . . anything I can do to help?” I ask.
It’s a ridiculous question, and I know it. I’m just Dimitri’s maid. But my chest aches at seeing his defeat, and in this moment, I just want to comfort him.
“Actually . . .”
My chest flutters with hope and nervous anticipation.
Dimitri grimaces, and I can tell that, whatever it is, he really doesn’t want to ask. “There’s this gala on Saturday,” he says slowly. “A lot of important people are going to be there, and my head of PR really wants me to go.”
“Okay . . .” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. I have no idea where he’s going with this.
He lets out a huff, looking troubled. “I’m supposed to bring . . . a date.”
I lift my eyebrows as the realization hits me, trying very hard not to laugh. Judging by the tortured look on his face, one would think someone asked him to show up buck naked and dance on the tables as the evening’s entertainment.
“A date?” I repeat, a smile twitching at the corners of my mouth.
He nods as though the very word pains him. “My people could arrange something for me, of course, but I’d rather spend the evening with someone who . . . whose company I enjoy.”
My stomach does a funny little twist, and I chew on my bottom lip to keep the grin from spreading across my face. This is getting truly weird.
“I know Saturday is your day off,” he adds quickly. “I’d compensate you for your time, of course . . .” He trails off, and I stare at him. Is he trying to pay me to be his date?
“You’re asking me?”
“I know it’s wildly inappropriate,” he says, shaking his head as though dismissing the idea. “You don’t have to say yes. It won’t affect our working relationship here.”
My chest pinches at those words as heat unfurls in my belly. Dimitri might be a recluse, but he’s also sinfully handsome and a billionaire. I seriously doubt any woman would refuse him if he asked, and yet he’s asking me.
“Would you accompany me to the gala?” he asks, his voice slightly breathless.
This time, I can’t hold back the goofy grin that spreads across my face. Does he always sound so awkward when he asks women on dates? It makes me like him even more. “I would love to go to the gala with you.”
Chapter Eight
Jules
I awake the next morning with a wild giddiness thrumming through my body. My heart is pounding as if I just ran a mile, and I can’t stop smiling.
Dimitri asked me to be his date to the gala. The man who has everything — and could have anyone — asked me to go with him.
Even though I know that he didn’t mean anything romantic by it — and even though his PR people had to twist his arm to get him to attend in the first place — I can’t fight this soaring feeling in my chest or the deep ache in my belly.
