Page 33 of A Baby For Her Billionaire BFF

I nod, collecting my things. We weave through the tables, stepping back out into the hustle of the city. The sun is high, the air crisp with promise. For now, everything seems right in the world.

Pushing through the revolving door of my building, I’m hit with the blast of air conditioning that’s a little too chilly for the early autumn. Ben nudges me forward as we shuffle into the lobby, his mind already racing back to whatever project he’s got stewing on his desk.

“Hey, say hi to Nora for me.” Ben winks as we split towards our respective elevators, his voice echoing slightly in the marble expanse.

“Sure thing,” I call back, thumbing the button for the eighteenth floor.

The doors slide closed with a soft ding, and my thoughts drift, buoyed by the lunchtime confession and Ben’s easy acceptance. Nora and I, an “us.” It feels good — more than good.

As I step out onto my floor, the hum of productivity greets me, but it’s the sight through my open office door that kicks my heartbeat up a notch — Nora. She’s leaning over my desk, her sleek ponytail swaying as she sifts through a stack of papers. Even in this unremarkable action, there’s an elegance about her that always manages to snag my attention.

“Hey.” A smile breaks across my face as I approach her. “What brings you by?”

She looks up, her lips curving into a grin that packs more heat than the sun. “Just dropping off the Henderson contracts.”

“Ah, right.” My gaze flickers to the documents, but honestly, they could be written in ancient Greek for all the attention I give them. “You didn’t have to bring these over yourself. You could have sent an assistant.”

“Thought I’d stretch my legs.” There’s a glint in her eye, one that says she’s not here solely for logistical convenience.

“Appreciate it.” Closing the distance between us, I appreciate even more — the way her suit jacket hugs her shoulders, how her skirt outlines her hips, and that look she gets when she’s about to?—

We’re careful, mindful of the glass walls and the potential for prying eyes. But I can’t resist stealing a kiss, just one. Our lips meet, and it’s a brief encounter, a whisper of a touch really, but it sends a jolt straight through me.

“Oliver,” she murmurs against my mouth, a warning laced with temptation.

“Sorry,” I breathe, not sorry at all. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Try harder,” she teases, though the flush on her cheeks betrays her stern tone.

“Impossible.”

This time, when she laughs, it’s music to my ears.

“All right, I’ve got to get back.” She steps away, but there’s a promise in her retreat, a subtle invitation extended for later.

“Thanks for the delivery,” I say, watching her go, the sway of her hips a sweet torture.

“Oh. Before I forget.” She lowers her voice. “Are we on for tonight?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I respond, with thoughts of dinner at her place filling me with a warm buzz.

She pauses at the door and blows me a kiss so sly it could pass for a wave. Then she’s gone, leaving me with a lingering warmth and a stupid grin plastered on my face.

I sink into my chair, still riding the high of that stolen moment. The Henderson contracts lay forgotten as I lean back, hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling. On top of the world doesn’t even begin to cover it. I feel like I’ve vaulted straight into the stratosphere.

The buzz of my phone against the desk pulls me from my reverie, a harsh jolt back to reality. I glance at the caller ID — Mom. My stomach tightens, a coiled knot of apprehension.

The last time she called, it was to ask for money. And that was…

When even was that? I speak to my parents so little, I can’t even remember. Six months ago? Eight?

“Hey, Mom,” I answer, trying to keep my voice light, bracing for a lecture about never visiting or some trivial family drama I’ve managed to avoid for years.

“Oliver.” Her voice quakes, a tremor that sets off alarm bells in my head. “It’s your father… he’s…”

She chokes on her words, and I can almost hear her struggling to compose herself over the line.

“Mom, what is it?” I demand, my heart pounding against my ribs, dread creeping up my spine.

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