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TALKING DIRTY WITH THE BILLIONAIRE BOSS
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an excerpt from talking dirty with the billionaire boss
He could have any woman he wanted. But for some reason, he wants me…
I slide the phone back into my jeans, then slowly walk into the café and sit back in my chair.
Mack puts down his mug. “Everything all right?”
“It was you,” I whisper.
He lifts his eyebrows. “Me what?”
“The GoFundMe account met its total this morning. All of it. It was you, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you mean. You literally told me about it five minutes ago.” He lifts his mug in a toast. “Congratulations though, that’s great news.” His eyes gleam over the rim.
It’s true—he couldn’t have known about it. He didn’t have time to look it up on his phone and make a payment.
We study each other for a long moment.
There’s no way he could have done it. And yet he doesn’t look surprised or shocked. He’s not asking who could possibly afford to make a donation like that. He’s not smiling, but he is looking at me with his planetary eyes that shine with a kind of private amusement at my utter bewilderment.
He organized to have the woman’s car mended, and he didn’t even know her. What might he do for someone he desires? A girl he feels guilty about sending away without giving her a chance to explain herself?
I want to help solve the world’s problems, as egotistical and pretentious as that sounds.
I know it was him. I just can’t prove it.
“After everything I’ve done,” I say. “Spying on you, lying to you…”
He turns a spoon around in his fingers, not saying anything, just watching me.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I whisper.
“I know that you could have slept with me last night and got the money yourself, but you didn’t. Look, I’m sure whoever paid it did it for your dad as much as for you. Cancer sucks. Nobody deserves it. And if someone is offering help, they can obviously afford it, so you should just take the money and run.”
Overcome, I put my face in my hands.
“Aw,” he says. I hear his chair scrape on the tiles. He walks around the table to sit in the chair beside mine. And then he pulls me into his arms.
I slide the phone back into my jeans, then slowly walk into the café and sit back in my chair.
Mack puts down his mug. “Everything all right?”
“It was you,” I whisper.
He lifts his eyebrows. “Me what?”
“The GoFundMe account met its total this morning. All of it. It was you, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you mean. You literally told me about it five minutes ago.” He lifts his mug in a toast. “Congratulations though, that’s great news.” His eyes gleam over the rim.
It’s true—he couldn’t have known about it. He didn’t have time to look it up on his phone and make a payment.
We study each other for a long moment.
There’s no way he could have done it. And yet he doesn’t look surprised or shocked. He’s not asking who could possibly afford to make a donation like that. He’s not smiling, but he is looking at me with his planetary eyes that shine with a kind of private amusement at my utter bewilderment.
He organized to have the woman’s car mended, and he didn’t even know her. What might he do for someone he desires? A girl he feels guilty about sending away without giving her a chance to explain herself?
I want to help solve the world’s problems, as egotistical and pretentious as that sounds.
I know it was him. I just can’t prove it.
“After everything I’ve done,” I say. “Spying on you, lying to you…”
He turns a spoon around in his fingers, not saying anything, just watching me.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I whisper.
“I know that you could have slept with me last night and got the money yourself, but you didn’t. Look, I’m sure whoever paid it did it for your dad as much as for you. Cancer sucks. Nobody deserves it. And if someone is offering help, they can obviously afford it, so you should just take the money and run.”
Overcome, I put my face in my hands.
“Aw,” he says. I hear his chair scrape on the tiles. He walks around the table to sit in the chair beside mine. And then he pulls me into his arms.
