Page 3 of The Billionaire's Beauty

2

Griffin

I’m sofocused on my knee-jerk need to follow Bellamy and explore my new attraction to her that the rest of the crowd—hell, universe—drops from view. Until Ryker clamps a heavy hand on my wrist and stops me. Much to my annoyance.

“What?” I snarl, yanking free and keeping one eye on Bellamy as she sits at the new table with her back to me. The last thing I want is for her to slip away when I’m not looking while I waste time with this clown.

My brother gapes up at me as though I’ve started sprouting toes for eyebrows. “I know that look. What’s gotten into you?”

The urgency in his quiet voice pierces my haze of lust. I take a deep breath. Remind myself that I’m not a stallion on the scent of a mare in heat.

“Nothing,” I say, checking my cuffs and smoothing my hair because my fidgety hands need something to do. “We done?”

“Listen. Don’t do anything stupid. Bellamy’s the best assistant you’ve ever had. Not to mention the fact that we don’t need to be sued for sexual harassment. So let it go. There are other fish in the sea.”

“Have you seen a fish like that one lately?” I say without hesitation, in the clearest sign yet that I’ve lost my mind.

“Read my lips, lover boy.” He gives me a hard and unblinking stare. “Don’t. Do. It. Find another way to mess up your life that doesn’t involve our company.”

He’s right, I decide, deflating as I realize the full extent of my idiocy. I hate him for it, but he’s right. With a curt nod and a final glare lobbed in his direction, I head off to join Bellamy. She watches me sit with a pleasant smile, from all appearances blithely unaware of the bombshells she keeps detonating inside my head tonight.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep,” I say, my mood now curdled like milk that’s been left in the sun all day. So I can’t have Bellamy. Can’t stare at the enticing spot where her dress dips low in front, revealing her plump breasts. Even though it’s right in front of my face. Fine. At least I can get a little work done before I let her go to resume her regularly scheduled birthday events. “Let’s get started. I’m thinking we need to—”

“Hang on. You’re not going to buy me a drink?”

“—get started on the— What?”

“A drink,” she says, putting a hard emphasis on the K at the end. “It’s the least you can do. Since you’re ruining my birthday and all.”

“I’m happy to get you a drink,” I say, signaling for the server. “But I want the record to reflect that I gave you a birthday bonus this morning. That counts for something.”

“It does count for something. It counts for this dress. And the shoes. Which I snuck out and got on my lunch break.”

“Ah,” I say, focusing all my energy on hoisting my gaze back up to her face every time it wants to dip lower. The effort is going to cause me to break out in a sweat in a moment. “Nice. What’ll you have?”

“Champagne,” she says as the server arrives at the table. “Order the good stuff.”

“The good stuff?” I say on a choked laugh.

She shrugs those kissable shoulders. “It’s my birthday. I should get some of what I want on my birthday. That’s a rule.”

I might be imagining things again, but I’d swear there’s a silky note in her voice now. And a disquieting gleam of something in her steady gaze as she watches me across the table.

“Besides,” she adds. “I’m worth it.”

I can only imagine. If her performance in the bedroom is anything like her performance at the office, she’s hella worth it.

I somehow manage to rip my attention away from her, focus on the server for two seconds and order a bottle. Their nicest bottle, by the way. When the man walks off, my curiosity reverts to Bellamy and gets the best of me.

There was a lot of subtext in what she just said. A follow-up question seems appropriate.

“Some of what you want?” I ask her.

She hesitates. I live and die in that hesitation.

“I’d be surprised if I got everything I wanted.” She smiles, but it’s rueful. Something about it causes an ache in my chest. “Probably only people like you get everything they want.”

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