Page 3 of The Tycoon's Pet

"Hell, no," I say, scrunching up my face. "He's famously engaged to this stunning raven-haired woman; I think her name is Jenna? Never gonna happen.”

Bonnie bursts into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand as she tries to contain herself. “Okay, maybe not the CEO, but you get my point!”

“No,” I said, shaking my head as I joined in her laughter. “I don't even want to imagine it!”

Chapter One

Paul

She’s fast asleep on my couch when I get home, her silky red hair spilling over the armrest like a fiery waterfall. I pause for a moment, just watching her, the rise and fall of her chest in a steady rhythm, and the way her features soften in sleep. She looks so peaceful that I can't help but stare. I can feel the stress of the day melting away just by the sight of her. She has a way of calming the storm in my soul. My Butterfly.

I grab a blanket from the arm of a couch nearby and gently drape it over her, careful not to wake her. She stirs in her sleep and then curls deeper into herself. My heart clenches at how tired she looks. She must have overworked herself doing things for me as usual. As much as I appreciate her effort, I wish she'd cut herself some slack and just relax. I'd be happy just to come home and share a glass of wine with her, talking about the day's events and listening to her soft, soothing voice.

As I head upstairs, I make a mental note to give her a raise. She does so much for me and, even though I pay her well, I’m still not giving her enough in return.

In my bedroom, I pause to look at the fresh clothes that Kayla laid out on the bed for me and a wave of gratitude washes over me. She thinks of everything, anticipating my needs before I even realize them myself. It’s these small, thoughtful gestures that make her so indispensable in my life.

I make my way to the bathroom and after a quick shower, I change into the clothes she laid out and make my way downstairs. Kayla sits up as I approach, blinking sleepily and rubbing her eyes. She looks up at me, a soft smile spreading across her freckled face.

“Hey,” she says, her voice groggy from sleep. “You're back late.”

I smile back, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Yeah, late meeting with the sales team.”

She nods and as she stretches, the blanket falls from her shoulders. The sight of the delicate curve of her neck stirs something inside of me; something dark and primitive… It feels familiar yet too strange to fully grasp. I push the thought aside, focusing instead on the moment at hand.

"You must be tired," she continues, her brows deepening in a worried frown as her deep brown eyes search my face. "I made mashed potatoes and chicken for dinner, want me to set the table for you?"

“No, don’t worry about it. Want to join me?” I ask, sitting beside her on the couch. I just need to be near her right now.

“I'll have to take a rain check, Paul,” she says, smiling apologetically. “I promised Bonnie I'd watch an episode of Desperate Housewives with her tonight, so maybe next time.”

Ignoring the pang of disappointment in my chest, I nod with a small smile. “Alright, next time then, but I'm holding you to that promise. Let me drive you home, at least.”

She laughs, her red hair falling back as she chortles. “If you insist.”

I pat her arm, “I most certainly do, Butterfly.” At that, I can see the slightest blush on her cheeks, which immediately makes me heat up.

We chat comfortably on the short ride to her apartment. As we pull up, I have to admit, I am sad to see her go.

“We're here,” I say, turning to look at her with a small smile.

“Thanks for bringing me home,” she says softly, returning my smile. “Drive safely on your way back.”

She unbuckles her seatbelt and reaches for the door handle, but I quickly place my hand on hers to stop her.

“Hey, Kayla?”

“Huh?”

I hesitate, clearing my throat awkwardly. I don’t know exactly how to phrase how glad I am that she’s still in my life, that she still looks after me every day. I want to show my appreciation and how much she means to me.

"I just want to say…" I’m interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing. It’s the sales director, probably calling with an issue that went unresolved in our earlier meeting. Regretfully, I think I have to answer or risk further disaster.

I glance at the screen and back up at Kayla with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I have to take this call."

“That's fine, thanks for driving me home, Paul.” And with that, she gently pulls her hand out from under mine, opens the door and slips out of the car. I watch her go as I answer the call, a feeling of unease settling in the pit of my stomach.

Maybe it’s for the best we didn’t have time to talk further. I need to keep our boundaries.

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