Page 23 of Playboy Billionaire's Fake Marriage

“You don’t even know what the man wants to talk to you about.” Bonnie chides gently.

“I’m pretty sure it has something to do with sex.”

“Oh God I hope it does,” Bonnie rubs her hands together in glee. I’m about to respond when she puts her hand up to stop me. “I know you don’t want a relationship. Ryan doesn’t seem to want one either. So what’s the problem with him giving you a little sex therapy while you smooth out the kinks in your life?”

Speaking of kinks... My mind serves me a vivid picture of Ryan aroused and sprawled on that couch, but this time it’s with whips and gags in his hands.

I shake my head in a bid to dispel the heated thoughts, but Bonnie already sees my flushed face.

“Wait, Stella,” Bonnie suddenly goes serious. “Are you worried you might fall for him?”

“Don’t make me laugh,” I scoff. “Lightning doesn’t strike twice. And it’s already struck you.”

“Exactly. So what harm could there be in hearing him out? And if you don’t like it, you can simply say no.”

But isn’t that the problem though? I haven’t yet seen anything about Ryan I don’t like. And I’m terrible at saying no, especially when he goes all alpha on me.

Chapter Eight

Ryan

The buzzing in the pit of my belly escalates with every minute this two-hour-long meeting draws closer to a satisfying close.

My excitement is not so much to do with finally getting the elusive Aqua Balance Inc. to collaborate with us. It’s due to the fact that right after this meeting, I’ll be seeing Stella. Finally. She’s probably already on her way up.

I suppress the urge to glance at my watch. Instead, I look around the sleek conference room as our lawyers discuss liabilities and contract specifics with the AquaBalance lead reps.

This month alone, I’ve closed deals with three large clients and still have a few more lined up. The ocean liner model I insisted we build last year seems to be massively paying off now. It couldn’t be happening at a better time, laying to rest any lingering doubts about my capability to take on the CEO role. Doubts raised by my cousin and fiercest rival, Don Fairchild, and his minions.

The edge of my vision catches a muted notification that moves across the screen of my phone.

I’m here.

Fuck. My heart pounds, and suddenly the hardest thing I’ve ever done is remain seated. My fingers start drumming on the oak desk, and I quickly clench them into fists to avoid drawing any attention.

Get it together, Ryan. You’re jittery like someone desperate for their next fix. Your clients might start suspecting you’re into drugs.

The connection between the shipping industry and the illicit drug trade is well-known, and a few Fairchilds have dipped their hands into these murky waters.

I let my lawyers answer the reps’ questions until at last, they face me with satisfied smiles. I bring the meeting to a quick close and watch as they pile out, barely able to wait until the last one leaves.

The moment our guests are gone, I spring out of my chair and leave the rest of the team to debrief without me. “I’m afraid I need to run, guys.” I address my head of finance, who also happens to be my older cousin, “Roman, meet me at lunch tomorrow with an update will you?”

“Certainly, boss.” He replies.

“Awesome.” I stride out, tearing off my tie as I take the elevator to my office on the top floor. I think of the ten-carat diamond sitting in the top drawer, feeling like a clown. Why did I think the size of the diamond mattered? I’m convinced she’ll refuse.

Then where would that leave me?

I have a month until my thirty-first birthday, and I move to Seattle as acting CEO in two weeks, provided that my marriage is imminent. Fucking company policy feels like a noose tightening around my neck.

I enter my expansive office reception, spotting her immediately. She’s standing by the panoramic windows, sipping on a glass of water but she turns as soon as I enter the room. Need slams into me, and I tell myself it’s because of the way she left me the last time I saw her. Hard and throbbing for her.

Ada Patson, my receptionist intercepts me, her seasoned gaze flitting from Stella to me as she almost reluctantly informs me. “Mr. Fairchild, Mr. D. was just here—”

“What did he want?” I bark, impatient to get to Stella and not at all in the mood for the crafty bastard. Don Reuben-Fairchild is not only my cousin and rival, he’s also next in line for CEO should I fail in my duty to marry in the next four weeks.

“He asked to see you before you leave today. What time should I tell him to come back?” She shoots Stella another slightly puzzled look. I’ve never had a woman visit me in all the years she has worked for me. And while Stella is dressed for a business meeting, Ada knows this is personal.

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