The Billionaire Affair

by Parker, Ali

  “But understand that if we’d have danced longer, or you’d stayed at the club, this would’ve been an awkward day for both of us.”

  My mouth dried up. All the moisture in my body was flowing south. It was completely unreasonable what my traitorous body was doing to me. At least there were corners of my mind still functioning, barely. “Yeah? How’s that?”

  The corner of his full mouth pulled up into a smirk and a dark brow lifted. “Because you’d have spent the weekend moaning my name.”

  “Hmm… Pretty confident I was interested in your skills, aren’t you? Provided you even have any.”

  He shrugged. “Too bad for you. You’ll never know now. But let’s just say I’m more than ‘pretty confident’ you were interested and one hundred percent certain my ears would still have been ringing from hearing you scream my name all weekend.”

  “I’ve already gone from moaning to screaming have I?” Thank god I had a decent amount of sassiness to fall back on no matter what my situation. I squeezed my thighs together, hoping he didn’t notice the effect he had on me.

  “Moaning, screaming, begging, pleading with a deity for relief. I’m sure we would’ve covered the full range.”

  Good lord. I had to get out of here. Dirty talk was a bit of a weakness for me, and with that mouth… No, I wasn’t going to hang around for him to describe our hypothetical naughty weekend any longer. That wouldn’t end well for me.

  Finally managing to convince my fingers to listen to me, I twisted the doorjamb and pulled it open. “Goodbye, Mr. Williams. I’ll have my answer for you by Monday.”

  Chapter 14

  JEREMIAH

  My office phone lay in its cradle with my mobile right next to it. Both of them rang incessantly, but never with the call I wanted to receive. I sat back in my chair, dragging my palms over my stubble and released a deep breath.

  Outside my vast office windows, time seemed to be progressing normally. Midday sun streamed in, its heat mercifully thwarted by the tint on the windows. The air was already muggy when I arrived at the crack of dawn this morning, by now it had to be so much worse.

  Inside the office though, it felt like time was standing still. Monday felt like an awfully long time to have to wait to hear back from Stephanie about whether or not she wanted to take the job. I really hoped she would call sooner but forty-nine hours after her interview, because apparently I was counting them, and I hadn’t heard a peep from her yet.

  I hated myself for wanting the phone to ring so badly, to hear her voice saying she would take the job. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t glancing at both phones every few minutes to check whether I somehow missed her call.

  I was worse than a teenage girl waiting to hear back about a date or an actor desperate to hear about an audition. Granted, I didn’t actually know how either of those people felt in those situations because I’d never been a teenage girl or an actor, but I was guessing I was worse.

  It was pathetic, but I couldn’t help myself. Hope spread in my chest every time my phone started ringing, only to be doused with each call because it wasn’t from her. It was a vicious cycle—which made me beyond grateful I didn’t feel like this often. Or never had before, actually. I hoped I would never feel it again.

  Neil had her contact details. As did my human resources department, along with her job application forms. With a snap of my fingers, I could have her phone number, address and whatever else I wanted. I had half a mind to just get her details and call her myself. This waiting game wasn’t working for me.

  On the other hand, calling her when she said she would think it through and let us know her decision by Monday was a mistake. I knew it all the way to my bones. She wasn’t the kind of girl I could sweet talk into giving me the answer I wanted today. Which was exactly why I wanted her so damn bad.

  Well, one of the reasons. I shut that thought down immediately.

  No, a phone call or even popping in to see her, which I’d also considered numerous times, would only result in me having to start the interview process all over again. Stephanie definitely wouldn’t put up with that kind of thing.

  As it was, I didn’t think her accepting our offer was a sure thing. And that was a foreign feeling. This particular acceptance wasn’t merely a formality as they often tended to be. Despite the salary we offered, the benefits and the fact that she obviously really wanted the job, between the club and lunch, I’d fucked up. And she called me on it.

  It left me with the feeling that she had integrity, and not the “everything has a price” kind. Real honest-to-god integrity. Combine that with her feisty nature, and she may well turn me down. Again. Fuck.

  Reasoning with myself to just let it go and wait for Monday to come didn’t work, neither did throwing myself into work. We were already starting with the preliminaries on the mall project, and while I was meticulous about every detail, my concentration also suffered every time I had to do something my secretary would usually do for me.

  Because it reminded me of that damn call that wasn’t coming. Of the one girl I wanted to be working with me on this who, unlike every other woman in Manhattan, was making me wait. It was infuriating. And intoxicating.

  “Snap out of it,” I muttered, rolling my chair forward and wiggling my mouse to awaken my computer. Again. I’d repeated the process several times this morning.

  I rubbed my eyes, willing the number of unread emails waiting for my attention to somehow become less. The bold letters sitting in the top left-hand corner of my screen, however, did no such thing. Instead, the complete opposite was happening. The number was stubbornly climbing every time I blinked.

  “Just get it done,” I mumbled as I started clicking on the ones marked as urgent. With both Neil and I having rolled up our sleeves to get started on the acquisition of the mall, things were happening fast.

  Within an hour, there were more than twenty documents queued for my signature. Most of them were menial, but a couple required the scrutiny of the legal team before I could sign them. I shelved those still to be signed and added a reminder to myself to discuss them with legal.

  The entire process took at least double the time it used to take me when Jannie was still around.

  Where the hell was a secretary when you needed her? Frustrated, I glanced at my phones again. Deathly silence met my glare.

  Then, as if bending under the sheer pressure of my will, my mobile started ringing. I grabbed for it, trying not to feel disappointed when I saw Shawn’s smiling face looking up at me from the screen. Shaking my head, I ordered myself to let it fucking go.

  I slid my thumb across my screen and pressed the phone to my ear determined to actually let it go this time. “What’s going on, man?”

  “Lucky’s has a pizza and beer night going on later, we’re going. Don’t even try to give me any shitty excuses about work. Seven good for you?”

  “I would never give a shitty excuse. I don’t even know what a shitty excuse is. Mine are always excellent.”

  Shawn chuckled. In the background, I could hear someone call for him followed by a flurry of activity. “Whatever you say, but for the record, you’ve come up with some doozies in your time. Would love to give you some examples, but I’ve gotta go. Work calls my name. See you at seven?”

  “See you then.” I gave him my answer without hesitation. The argument about the merits of my excuses could come later.

  We ended the call, and I leaned back in my chair, grateful for the distraction. A chilled night out with the guys was exactly what I needed. Whatever hateful obsession I developed about waiting for Stephanie’s call, they would pull me out of it.

  Resolute to actually start getting stuff done, I turned back to my work. It was just before seven by the time I surfaced again. Contrary to how my day started, it ended up having been moderately productive. I was getting better at wading through the corporate jargon and surprised myself when I realized a lot of what I had to do was starting to come naturally.

  As much as t
his wasn’t my world, I was learning how to navigate it, and it felt good. I still felt mostly like a fraud, but I was a Williams, and business was in my blood. In my case, it was simply buried beneath many layers of wanting to drink, party and fuck instead.

  After I shut down for the day, I freed my neck from the confines of my tie and left both it and the jacket in my car. Much better.

  Lucky’s was a dive bar across town. It wasn’t a place frequented by any of the socialites or business partners I tried to avoid when relaxing and for that, I loved it. Plus, the drinks were cheap, and the food was fried and good. Much more my speed than the cafés, bistros and fancy restaurants uptown, downtown and around town I spent so much time in.

  Shawn and Bart were already seated when I walked in, but Tanner wasn’t anywhere to be seen yet. I glanced down at my watch, an oversized timepiece that had belonged to my grandfather and was ostentatious, but I never took it off anyway.

  “Only twenty minutes late,” I remarked, sliding into the booth next to Bart. “Which means I’m in under the wire and Tanner gets the food.”

  Shawn grinned and slid the pitcher of beer across the scuffed wooden table to me, along with a glass that still had small droplets of water on it from a recent wash. “I love that rule. Helps keep your tardy asses from making me wait four hours every night.”

  “Tardy?” Bart echoed in mock disbelief, staring at Shawn over the thick rims of his glasses. “I’m never late. In fact, I came up with the ‘half an hour leeway or you buy’ rule.”

  Shawn lifted his shoulders and shot Bart a ‘what can you do’ look. “Hey, I’m just saying I got here first tonight.”

  “Tonight,” Bart insisted, reaching for the pitcher when I was done and refilling his drink.

  Lucky’s was a typical darkened, low-ceilinged bar that still smelled faintly of tobacco and probably hadn’t been redecorated since it opened. Somewhere along the nineteen thirties, if I had to guess.

  The booths were covered in thick, red fabric with cigarette burns and stuffing peeking through them and along the stapled edges. The only hints of the age we were in were the flat screens mounted above the bar, the register and the sound system playing classic rock music.

  Tanner dropped into the seat next to Shawn and reached for the pitcher immediately. “Are we arguing about the rules again?”

  “No, we’re arguing about whose watch kept time better today.” I looked between Bart and Shawn. “Apparently, it was Shawn’s.”

  Tanner rolled his eyes and downed half a glass of beer, wiped his mouth with his forearm and grinned. “Well done, Shawn. You win… nothing. We’ve never been more proud.”

  “I win free pizza,” Shawn corrected with a smug smile. If I’d heard this exact argument once, I’d heard it a thousand times.

  It was the same one we’d been having since high school. Shawn and Bart were sticklers for punctuality, while Tanner and I tended to see set times more as guidelines. It was the cause of many detention sessions for us, and of course of having to bribe Bart and Shawn for notes and class information.

  Professionally, we were both on point with being on time. It wasn’t like one of Tanner’s games or my meetings could start without us, but in our personal lives, it was just part of who we were.

  The easy banter with the boys, and being able to be myself, was something I appreciated now more than ever. These weren’t the rich, high-class snobs I spent time with at work or while out with contacts or investors. They were my high school friends. With them, I could relax and get back to myself.

  Tanner’s voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me back to the present where they were getting caught up with the events of the week. “What’s new with you, Jer? How’s that project coming?”

  “It’s starting to take shape,” I told them, sipping my beer as I filled them in. “It would’ve been going a lot faster if I had a secretary.”

  “What happened to Jannie?” Bart asked.

  “The old man gave her the boot,” Shawn told him, signaling the waitress for another pitcher of beer when he picked ours up to realize it was nearly empty. “Caught her trying to help out with more than work-related tasks.”

  “Not one of my finest moments,” I admitted. “Remind me never to give in to retreat temptation again.”

  “Ahh, retreat sex,” Shawn said reminiscently. “It never ends well, but damn it’s good in the moment.”

  I nodded my agreement. “True that, but it always comes back to bite you in the ass.”

  “That’s why I stick to fans and cheerleaders,” Tanner said, then frowned and shrugged. “Come to think of it, it’s kind of the same with the cheerleaders.”

  “Fucking where you work then, in general, is a bad idea,” Bart concluded. “All agreed?”

  Beer sloshed over the sides of our glasses as we smashed them together over the center of the table and voiced our agreement. Shawn chugged his beer, and the empty glass made a dull sound when he set it down hard on the table, sliding his dark eyes to mine.

  “If Jannie’s gone, you should probably get a straight guy or an old, married woman to replace her. MJ can hook you up, I’m sure she’s got contacts.”

  “If she does, she didn’t offer any of them up for the job.” The waitress delivered our next pitcher and lingered, trying to capture our attention by leaning over the table to slowly wipe up the spilled beer with her cleavage in all our faces, but no one took the bait.

  Another rule at Lucky’s and places like it. We didn’t come here to score. We came to hang out. Occasionally, one of us got sidetracked, but we mostly stuck to our guns on that one. I peered around her tits—admittedly not before sneaking a peek at what didn’t appear to be a bad set—and focused my attention on the guys.

  “The interviews were fucking miserable. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit they came up with.”

  The waitress straightened up, hovering until Bart smiled and told her we didn’t need anything else right away. With a huff we ignored, she took off, and Bart snapped his gaze to mine. “Did you manage to find someone?”

  My mind flashed on Stephanie, recalling the hitch in her breath when I leaned closer to her after her interview and the way her soft hips felt under my palms when we were dancing. “We did, but she’s playing hard to get.”

  “Imagine that.” Tanner laughed, his eyes wide. “A woman playing hard to get with you. It must be driving you nuts.”

  “It’s not.”

  My denial didn’t mean a thing to these guys though. They saw right through me.

  I refilled my beer and smirked, holding up both hands and motioning with my pointer and middle fingers for them to bring it, challenging them. “Do your worst.”

  And so the teasing started. I didn’t let it get to me, reveling instead in being able to be this carefree and relaxed in any aspect of my life nowadays. Besides, I dished out my fair share of quips and comments, I could take getting it back for once.

  Chapter 15

  STEPHANIE

  “Same shit, different day huh?” Tim remarked as he breezed past me into the store, briefly pausing to cast an eye over the display I was setting up at the entrance. “Looks good though, Steph. I like it.”

  I stepped back, narrowing my eyes as I surveyed my handiwork. “Me too. Do you think it needs more height? I think it needs more height.”

  Tim chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re the queen of the display. I would just have put the books in piles on the table. I’m useless at displays, I bow down to your expertise.”

  “Oh, I know,” I deadpanned, twirling out of his reach when he reached out and pretended that he was going to shove me. “I was here the day before opening weekend for the last installment of… what was it again? Oh yeah, no one would remember because you couldn’t even see the title of the book.”

  Tim laughed and scrunched up his face, sticking his tongue out at me. “At least I made the display, someone had to do it.”

  “You unpacked the boxes,” Jenny piped up from th
e bakery section, looking up while busily wiping down the counter. “There’s a difference between unpacking boxes and setting up a display.”

  Tim threw his hands up in defeat, trying and failing to hide his smile. “Enough of you two ganging up on me. I’ll never do another display for as long as I live now, which means you two have just been awarded lifelong display duty.”

  “Pass,” Jenny said quickly, chuckling. “I’m already on lifelong pastry duty, I don’t need display duty too.”

  “I’ll take it,” I told Tim, putting on my best game show contestant enthusiasm.

  He formed a gun with his fingers and pretended to fire it off. “Sold! To the lady in black.”

  Jenny and I both looked down, both wearing black clothes. We started laughing just as Tim huffed a deep breath. “I can never win with you two.”

  “But we love you,” I sing-songed as he ducked into his office. He shot me a grin over his shoulder and shook his head like he was disappointed in both of us. I knew better though, he enjoyed our joking around as much as I did.

  “Got any big plans for the weekend?” Jenny asked, stacking the pastries from that morning on top of the display case to make way for the fresh ones. The Friday afternoon after-work crowd loved to spoil themselves with a fresh pastry when they came in.

  I shook my head, squinting at the display I was busy with and tilting my head from side to side as I contemplated what was missing on it. Something was definitely missing. “No big plans, other than doing as little as humanly possible. There’s a fun run around Governor’s Island tomorrow Tiana and I were thinking of checking out, though god only knows what’s fun about running.”

  “Amen sister,” Jenny agreed enthusiastically. “The only time I run is when something is chasing me, and it seems really, really dangerous.”