Page 42 of A Baby For Her Billionaire BFF

Breakfast finds its way to our plates, and we sit at her small kitchen table, knees touching. We eat in companionable silence, interrupted by brief exchanges and shared smiles. The coffee is strong and helps clear the last remnants of sleep from my mind. I drink in the details of her apartment — the way the morning light spills through the window, the fresh flowers on the windowsill, the printed photos of her family on the fridge. This is Nora — thoughtful, deliberate, beautiful in her attention to detail.

Eventually, dishes clatter as we clean up together, movements synchronized, a dance we’re both learning the steps to. It’s time for the world outside to reclaim us, but for now, this bubble of serenity cocoons us from the demands of the day ahead.

We head down to the car, and I feel a sense of pride as Nora slides into the passenger seat next to me. The drive to work is filled with the hum of the city waking up, but inside our little bubble, it’s just us. I glance at Nora, catching her watching the buildings pass by, a softness in her gaze.

“Thinking about the day ahead?” I probe, knowing how her mind works, always ticking through the next challenge, the next argument.

“Actually.” She turns to me, her eyes alight with something like mischief. “I was thinking about how everyone at your office will react. You know, when we come in together. Are you sure that’s what you want to do? We can walk in separately.”

“Let them react,” I say, more confidently than I feel.

But really, what does it matter? My company, my rules — or lack thereof. I’ve always believed corporate policies shouldn’t dictate people’s private lives, and I don’t forbid my employees from dating each other. Why should I hide when I’ve got no reason to?

“Oliver, you’re grinning like the Cheshire Cat,” she teases.

She’s right. I am. It’s liberating, not having to conceal the truth about us, especially when that truth feels as essential as breathing.

“Can you blame me?” I ask, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “I’m with the woman who’s making every day seem like the best one ever.”

She squeezes back, and in that small gesture, I find all the reassurance I need. Yes, today is good. And tomorrow? Well, it might just be better.

Downtown, the revolving doors of my building whisk Nora and me from the crisp Chicago morning into the bustling lobby, alive with the hum of industry. The air is thick with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and ambition, and I drink it in.

“Morning, Mr. Wolfe.” The security guard nods with a knowing smile as we pass.

I return the gesture, the grin on my face irrepressible. “Morning, Jerry.”

I squeeze Nora’s hand briefly before letting go. Professionalism still has its place, but I’m looking forward to the moment when we can touch again and not be boxed in by the four walls of work.

As we make our way to the elevators, I sense the shift around us. It’s subtle — a pause in conversation here, a quick double-take there — but unmistakable. They’re watching us and have probably been anticipating our arrival since word got out about us leaving town at the same time. But rather than the unease I might have expected, there’s a buoyancy in my step. Let them look. Let them see.

“Seems like you’ve caused quite the stir,” Nora murmurs, her voice laced with amusement.

“Us,” I correct gently, pressing the call button. “We’ve caused quite the stir.”

The elevator dings its arrival, and we step inside, joining a couple of colleagues who are doing their best not to stare. I lean back against the wall, content to simply exist in this shared space with her. When the doors slide shut, it’s as though we’re sealed off from the world, if only for the duration of the ride.

Nora smiles at me when the others in the elevator aren’t looking, and it’s like the sun breaking through clouds after a stormy day. We reach our floor, and as the doors open, I hold her back for a moment, the others filtering out ahead of us.

“Tonight,” I whisper against her lips, the words barely audible even to my own ears. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Me too,” she whispers back, and there’s a hint of reluctance as she pulls away, stepping back into the role of Nora the lawyer.

With a final, lingering look, she turns to leave, heading toward her own battles of the day. And I watch her go, feeling like the luckiest man on earth to have her in my corner, in my life, in my heart. And tonight, she’ll be in my home once again, where I’ll have the chance to tell her everything — how she’s become my dream, my balance, my everything. Just not yet. Not until the time is right.

Turning to my own domain, the quiet hum of the office greets me like an old friend. My footsteps are soft on the plush carpet as I head towards the sprawling desk that has become my command center. There’s something different about it today — maybe it’s the light diffused through the floor-to-ceiling windows, or perhaps it’s just the residual glow from Nora’s presence.

I’ve barely settled into my leather chair when the phone rings, shattering the calm of the morning. It’s a New York number, one I don’t recognize, but intuition nudges me to answer. I swipe at the screen, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Oliver Wolfe.”

“Mr. Wolfe, it’s Greg Dalton from Dalton Realty,” comes the crisp reply, and my pulse quickens. “I believe you’ll be interested to know that the Riverfront property is finally on the market.”

My breath catches. That piece of land has been the white whale of my portfolio, the elusive prize I’ve circled around for years. Situated along New York’s Hudson River, it’s the perfect canvas for luxury living spaces — spaces I’ve envisioned down to the last brick and granite countertop.

“Greg, you have my full attention,” I say, my voice steady despite the excitement thrumming beneath my skin. “What’s the asking price?”

There’s a brief pause as he relays the numbers — a hefty sum, but nothing unexpected for prime New York real estate with a river view. I lean back, fingers tapping against the surface of my desk. It’s a gamble, undoubtedly. Everyone is champing at the bit, trying to get this building. Securing this property would mean long hours, late nights, probably a good deal of wining and dining the current owner, and less time for… everything else.

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