Page 57 of Undercover Billionaire

I rolled out of bed, padded over, and opened the door without bothering to knock. I could be as rude as him, if I chose.

He wasn’t facing the wall this time, and his eyes were closed as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair.

I scooted past and into the toilet.

He noticed me as I made my way to the sink. “Morning, Sugarbear.”

Nobody was around, so he didn’t need the nickname. I started brushing my teeth, with occasional glances in the mirror.

He hadn’t turned around, and I was getting the full view this morning—the powerful pecs, the washboard abs, and everything else he’d hidden behind his hands before. He’d be sinfully delectable if it weren’t for the awful personality.

Well, maybe not awful, but annoying at least.

I looked down at the sink and concentrated on scouring away the aftereffects of last night’s wine with my brush. I bit down on the brush and pulled the Advil bottle from the drawer, laying two on the counter.

“Not talking to me this morning?” he asked.

I spit and rinsed before answering. “You don’t answer when I talk to you.” I popped the Advil and swallowed with a handful of water.

“I had work to do. And you’re not my type.”

I turned around and leaned against the counter, challenging him to stay facing me.

“What does that mean?” What the hell did being his type have to do with talking out his problem with Dennis? Or with my family?

“I know your type.”

“And what type is that, Mr. Agent Man? Boobs too small and brain too big?”

He laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with your boobs, Sugarbear.”

Once again he was trying to avoid a direct answer.

“What is your type then?”

“Forget it. You’re a nice girl. I’ll be out in a minute, and you can have the shower.”

“I don’t want the shower; I want an answer.”

He shook his head. “You can’t handle the answer.”

“Try me.”

“Okay. You’re an accountant—”

“Auditor,” I corrected.

He waited several seconds. “There. You’re doing it already. You can’t stand to sit and listen to somebody’s complete thought without arguing.”

I lolled my head back and forth. “Go ahead.” I was guilty of interrupting him, but he’d been wrong.

“You’ve lived a privileged, Benson life.”

I almost interrupted him, but held back. His family was rich too.

“Everything’s been handed to you on a platter. You’ve never had to work for anything, or had anything unfairly denied you, or taken from you.”

There was a grudge hidden somewhere behind his words.

---