The Billionaire's Saving Grace: A contemporary romance

by Fiona Miers

  No, waking her wasn't an option.

  What other choice did he now have? He strolled over to his chest of drawers and dropped the towel on the ground. He’d get a good night’s sleep, hopefully, and then tell her to go home in the morning. No point making a scene now.

  He pulled on some cotton boxers and strolled back to the bed, climbing in with a grin tugging up the sides of his lips.

  She sighed softly and his eyes closed, her soft breathing somehow reassuring in the darkness.

  He tapped the bedside lamp and everything fell quiet.

  Chapter Nine.

  A light snoring snuck into Emily’s dreams in the form of a cat, sitting next to her phone breathing like a grandpa.

  That didn't make sense.

  She frowned as she woke, stretching her arms up and groaning as her muscles ached through her legs and ass.

  Her eyes popped open as the sheets moved over her naked breasts. She looked down and grabbed the blankets.

  Why the hell was she naked?

  She twisted to the side and froze, Nathan Johnson’s light snoring form before her.

  The night before came crashing in like a tidal wave.

  Her coming over to his apartment, his offer that had been too good to refuse. The incredible sex that had followed… and…had he left her?

  She looked around.

  Oh crap, I just fell asleep.

  After. We. Had. Amazing. Sex.

  She lay back against the pillows and put a hand to her forehead.

  How the hell was she going to fix this one?

  The snoring had ceased and she slowly turned her head to the side, Nate’s bright blue eyes stared back at her. He looked confused for a moment, then he frowned.

  She spoke first. “Good morning.”

  “Oh. Hey.”

  His throat was thick and husky with the morning as he rolled onto his back and stretched just as she had.

  They were only inches apart and as Emily took her arms out from under the blankets and lay them on top of the coverlet, she could see red finger marks from where he must have held her during her sleep.

  Her bladder began to throb and beg her to stand up and go to the toilet, the pressure making her clench her legs together.

  “Ah, I need to go to the toilet.”

  Nate grinned at her, though his eyes were cold.

  “Ensuite is through there.” He pointed at an open door off the bedroom and she glanced back at him. He couldn't be serious?

  He chuckled again, putting his arms behind his head in a classic show of masculine smugness.

  “What’s wrong with you? It's not like I haven't seen it all before.”

  Heat washed over Emily’s face and prickled her scalp. After everything they’d done last night, why did standing naked before him now feel dirty? She set her jaw and flung back the covers.

  Cold air pierced her warm and naked skin like a thousand needles, yet she was too angry to do anything other than jump up and grab her clothes from the floor.

  What happened between last night and this morning?

  She stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door, her heart banging against her ribs as she breathed hard and fast.

  That bloody wanker! How had she been so stupid as to fall for his charms last night? And what was with the ice treatment this morning?

  Hot, angry tears filled her eyes and she dashed them away with hands that shook.

  What a horrible, stupid mistake.

  Enough.

  She blew out a breath and took another, closing her eyes to calm herself.

  So she'd had her first one-night stand, and it had been with one of her clients. No big deal.

  Yeah, right.

  She dropped her clothes on the white wash basin and turned on the shower. No point rushing back out into a bedroom when Dr. Jekyll was out again.

  She adjusted the temperature to slightly too hot and stepped beneath the scalding spray, washing every inch of her with soap, aiming to rid herself of the night before.

  He hadn’t been inside her without a condom on, luckily. She wasn’t on any type of birth control and hadn’t been aware enough last night to really care at the time. He had, thankfully.

  A sob rose in her throat and she let it free, letting the water wash it away, too. How can something that was so beautiful and felt so good, turn into something so weird and bad?

  Maybe she was overreacting? She had a history of misreading Nate and she could be doing it right now.

  Okay. Pull yourself together.

  She stepped out of the shower, toweled herself dry and put her party clothes back on. It felt cheap but she tried not to judge herself too much.

  This was a first.

  She looked in the mirror and attempted to arrange her hair into a semblance of normality.

  Time to face the music.

  She opened the door again and found him gone.

  “Nathan?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  She walked out of the bedroom and stepped into the pristine apartment, expecting a smile. Anything.

  Instead, there was a man in sports gear taping his hands for boxing, or something like it.

  “Um… Thank you for last night, Nathan.”

  He winked at her in a crude way. “No problem, babe.”

  She stared at him for a moment, waiting for his expression to change or for him to offer her a coffee, a glass of water even.

  But the silence stretched on and he continued to tape his knuckles.

  “I suppose I’ll go then.”

  “Yeah. See you at work, probably.”

  “Yeah. Probably.”

  She grabbed her bag and ran from his apartment, her head spinning and her chest aching. How many personalities did this one guy have?

  ****

  Monday morning was usually one of his favorite moments of the week. Normally, anyway.

  “Good morning, Mr. Johnson.” Martine chirped at him as he slunk past her desk and entered his office. His head throbbed like a motherfucker.

  The door clicked shut just as he got to his chair and dropped into it.

  “What's up your ass this morning?”

  He rolled his eyes at the woman who, if he was completely honest, was one of his best friends.

  “Nothing you haven't seen before, Martine, I'm sure.”

  The blonde woman who oversaw everything behind the scenes of his company stepped forward and ran a keen eye over him.

  “I’m really not in the mood for you this morning.” He looked up at her quickly, then glanced down at the file he’d placed on his desk Friday night before leaving.

  Martine frowned harder, pursing her glossy lips in a way he hadn’t seen for years.

  “I’m calling in my birthday favor.”

  A groan vibrated through his vocal chords before he could properly stop himself.

  No. Anything but that.

  He forced a smile to his lips and leaned back in his chair.

  “Oh, come on. You can have anything you want with that birthday wish. A flight to Paris? A week in Hawaii?”

  “Oh, now I know this is good.” She stepped around the chair opposite him and dropped into it, crossing her skinny legs and raising one eyebrow. “If you’d rather pay thousands of dollars for me to have a holiday than answer a question, then I know what I want.”

  He rolled his eyes heavenward and blew out a nice, long breath. Martine knew him better than anyone in the world and he wished she’d just take the money rather than ask him this one thing.

  “What's your question? You only get one.”

  He stared at her and waited, hoping she’d stuff up the delivery so he could at least hide behind the answer.

  “Nathan. Why are you in such a foul mood? Does it have anything to do with Eleanor’s House anniversary on Saturday night? You better not leave out any details.”

  He sighed and shrugged his shoulders, a strange swirling in his belly heralding a nervousness he rarely felt.

  “I�
��m grumpy because I had a shit night’s sleep last night, and yes, my mood may have been affected by Saturday night.”

  Martine gestured with her hands to go on and he clenched his jaw. He'd answered the question she wanted, but something tugged at him to continue. He trusted Martine more that anyone and he wanted to say it out loud. The confusion about the other night was eating him alive.

  “I went to the anniversary night with Emily. Well, not with her, but…” Martine's eyebrows shot up and he glanced away, not wanting to even discuss the look he was seeing in her eyes.

  “When you say you went, do you mean you took her home with you afterwards? Why would that put you in such a foul mood?”

  He couldn’t answer that.

  “Nathan.” Her tone was strict, hard. A schoolteacher's. “Even when sex is bad, it’s still pretty good. What could she have done to put you in a mood like this?”

  He picked up his pen and tapped it against his desk. “Honestly, Martine, I have no idea. It was good, but then she stayed, and I wanted her gone, but afterwards I just felt crap.”

  “You let her get close to you, then kicked her out?”

  He nodded, letting his eyes lose focus as they stared at the blank computer screen.

  “Nathan Johnson, you’re a pretty smart man. If you can’t work out what’s wrong with that equation, something's malfunctioning in your brain.”

  Nothing wrong here. I just don’t wanna feel like this.

  Nathan swung around in his chair and stared out the window, the noise of his door opening and then clicking shut again echoing in the large room.

  He was alone again. How he liked it. How he was used to it.

  The beautiful city skyline outside his window blurred as his eyes shifted focus and his brain went over his Sunday.

  Emily had jumped in his shower when he’d goaded her into using the ensuite. He’d stayed in bed, his body throbbing with pain as he imagined her beneath the hot water.

  She had the most delicious nipples and pussy. Everything about a woman’s body that could turn him off if they weren’t well appointed, she had in perfect spades.

  The smell of her was... A moan escaped him as his cock had swelled beneath the covers as he lay there in bed.

  But he’d refused his body’s cries for more sex and left her alone. He had only one choice when it came to the testosterone pumping through his bloodstream, and that had been to train.

  He’d hauled himself out of bed and readied himself for boxing.

  She’d entered the kitchen ten minutes later, dressed and pressed and thanked him for a great night with as much warmth as an icicle on a ski slope.

  He had to admit that he probably hadn’t been as cordial as he could have been, either.

  When she’d finally left his apartment, the normal relief he felt when his lovers finally left him alone was missing. Instead, a gaping loneliness settled into his huge home.

  He’d spent his Sunday as he normally did. A bit of work, training, some football and take away.

  Sleep evaded him on any normal night but he’d struggled to get to sleep before 2 a.m. and when he realized it was probably because he’d had close to seven hours sleep the night before, he'd practically keeled over.

  He never slept more than three hours and a lot of the dark hours of the night were filled with torturous nightmares or wide-awake memories that made it impossible to sleep.

  How had he slept so long beside Emily?

  How had she kept the demons away?

  He didn’t sleep beside his lovers often, but no one had ever come close to giving him such peace.

  He’d spent the rest of the night trying to solve the puzzle, finally passing out around 5 a.m.

  Nathan swiveled around in his chair once again and turned on his computer. It was time to get into work.

  ****

  “Emily, there's a phone call on line two for you.”

  Emily blinked and pulled herself away from her computer screen, a phone call? Huh?

  “Who is it?”

  No one called anymore. All of her clients emailed her and the hundreds of emails in her inbox since this morning testified to that.

  “It’s Nathan Johnson.”

  Except him of course. Her stomach dropped away so fast she gasped out loud. She’d ignored the email from Martine on Monday and the email from him on Tuesday.

  She’d emailed Martine back this morning to say she’d be in on Friday for a few hours, but she knew it wasn’t enough. If they didn’t reprimand her at the very least for her lack of focus on them, she’d be very surprised.

  Her gaze flickered down to the flashing light on line two.

  Shit.

  She reached out and picked up the phone, pressing the button that would connect Nathan with her once again.

  She forced chirpiness into her voice that she was not feeling.

  “Hello, Emily speaking.”

  “Hello, Emily.”

  A shiver coursed through her body, making her literally shake. His tones were like pure silk, rich and expensive.

  “Mr. Johnson, how can I help you?”

  She picked up a pen and began tapping it against the desk, a distraction to her eyes as she tried to force the heat from her cheeks. Four days ago she’d been naked and beneath the man with whom she was speaking, and she wasn’t quite sure how to react.

  “You can come into the office today and finish the contract you started last week.”

  His tone was harsh and it brought with it a good dose of cold reality. She straightened in her chair and the warmth in her cheeks leeched from her face.

  “I’m sorry but my schedule is booked up today, Mr. Johnson. I could reschedule some things tomorrow if it’s urgent.”

  She waited, the terse breathing on the end of the line making her bite her lip. He could fire her, but then she’d be relieved. So what was she worried about?

  “Fine. Schedule a time with Martine and we’ll see you then.”

  The line went dead and she looked down at the receiver. She wasn’t quite sure what had just happened.

  Carefully placing the handset back into its cradle, she attempted to ignore the whirl of puzzle pieces flying around in her head. She’d tried so hard during the week not to over-analyze what had happened on the weekend, putting it down to a momentary lapse of judgement that had resulted in some pretty spectacular sex.

  Of course, she’d expected nothing less from a man like him—worldly, charming and very experienced. But his brush-off after the fact had seemed harsh and over the top.

  He’d treated her like a classic one-night-stand piece of trash on Sunday morning, not that she’d ever experienced it before, but it didn’t take a genius to work out the routine. After that, she’d expected him to keep their contact to a minimum, not contact her twice in a few days.

  He wanted her back in his workspace again. But why?

  She couldn’t have judged him wrongly again, could she?

  She shook her head and got back into work mode. There was only one way to find out.

  ****

  “Martine, coffee please.”

  Nathan kept his head down and didn’t stop drawing, knowing that his executive assistant didn’t necessarily like fetching his coffee, but she’d do it if asked politely.

  A minute or two later a steaming mug was placed down on the desk in front of him.

  “Thank you.”

  He didn’t look up, just kept his eyes on his work and ignored the clawing ache in his legs.

  Emily was here and he wanted to see her. But he wouldn’t. He absolutely refused to. She was only one of the solicitors working for his company and although Saturday night had been good—fucking hot, actually—he didn’t want to repeat it.

  Of course, you do! Don’t fucking lie to yourself.

  A knock sounded on his door and he jumped. Emily stuck her head around the door.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Johnson, but I have one question to ask you.”

  Oh, damn.
This isn’t going to be as easy as I thought.

  “Please come in.” He waved to her and grabbed his mug, taking a slurp of dark, rich coffee. Heat spread through his belly, that familiar buzz of caffeine travelling through his body.

  He sighed as he placed it down again, his eyes devouring the woman in front of him. She was dressed very starkly today. Black shirt, black skirt, hair tied back into a low bun.

  Was she trying to look ugly? Because she severely underestimated his memory if she was trying to turn him off. He knew how smooth her skin was beneath that outfit, how perfectly curved her ass and hips were. Nothing would ever disguise that from him again.

  Emily stood before him and held a file across her chest like a life vest.

  “There is something in this file that doesn’t make sense. One of the new contracts seems to have slipped in some excessive extra fees, and I wanted to make sure you agreed to them before I sent them off for you to sign.”

  “Pardon? Show me.”

  Emily slid the file across the desk, the section she was speaking about marked with sticky notes and question marks.

  “I’ve been over a lot of your past contracts to get a feel for what’s normal for your business, and this seems excessive.”

  Excessive is right!

  He’d never seen so many hidden fees in one place before. She’d just saved him a small fortune.

  “It’s highway robbery is what it is! You did a brilliant job of picking this up, Emily. Thank you. I’ll sort it out from here.”

  He smiled at her and placed the file next to the phone. He’d do more than sort that one out. He’d never work with that construction company again.

  Emily gave him a nod and began to back away. His belly clenched and his breath caught in his throat.

  No. Stop!

  “Emily, we should talk about Saturday night.”

  “No.” She practically fired the word at him, then shook her head and stared at the ground, red highlighting her high cheekbones.

  “I mean about Eleanor’s House. I believe I may have over-reacted to what you said to everyone.”

  She stopped backing away and glanced up, her eyes bright and wary.

  Something twisted deep in his chest. He swallowed hard.

  “No, I was wrong to push you, Nate. I know I was. Whatever happened, I take responsibility for.”