Page 13 of The Nanny's Bossy Billionaire

I give Zoey a reassuring look. “We are not going to Vegas. I have Lisa tomorrow.”

“All weekend,” she reminds me.

“Vegas, Vegas, Vegas.” Wyatt is still chanting in the hallway, and Lee and Ryan are right behind him.

“Did you miss me?” Vanessa links her hands to mine as we walk out.

“Of course I did,” I say but without meaning what she wants me to mean. I care for Vanessa, but that’s where it ends. I want to be careful not to stomp on her heart, though.

We take the limousine to Olympus, one of my more exclusive nightclubs.

Chapter Six

Xavier

We are on thetop floor of Olympus. Like Empire, it is also on two floors except that it has a wraparound sealed mirrored gallery where the dance floor can be seen from the top but those on the floor would only see mirrors looking up. One section of the VIP lounge is a completely sound-proofed strip club.

Now and then, I catch myself looking down at the dance floor. It’s been a week, and I still pause every time I see a flash of blonde hair. It confuses and annoys the hell out of me.

I never care to see women I hook up with ever again. Certainly not women who disappear on me.Like Brooke Lewis.

I almost got someone to find her in the first couple of days, but I hoped my little obsession would clear up if I gave it a few more. I avoided going to Empire, but my nights were plagued by dreams of her.

When I find myself scanning the dance floor again, it occurs to me again that I have her full name and where she works. I can find out everything about her in less than an hour.

But maybe I shouldn’t.

Perhaps my obsession with this Brooke is a red flag. I’ve never been this interested in someone I’ve already slept with. Even my momentary obsession with Vanessa ended when I slept with her. But Brooke is not out of my system. For the second time tonight, I tell myself I need to get laid. Fast.

I’m pulled out of my musings when everyone lifts their champagne glasses in the air. Lee declares, “To Xavier, the fucker who makes us all look like we are not doing enough.”

Everyone laughs.

“Cheers,” everyone choruses.

“Seriously, congratulations, bro.” Lee is tapping my shoulder.

“Thanks, man.”

In another hour, the celebration is in full swing. The music has been turned up loud and strobe lights are flashing as our party gets rowdier.

I’m not sure where from, but Ryan has somehow injected what looks like twenty or so models, male and female, as well as a few strippers straight into our party, and Wyatt is coordinating what looks like a game of dares. The rest are cheering him on. A beautiful blonde model sits on my lap, feeding me olives as she writhes against me. My hand is high on her thigh, stroking the velvety skin.

Vanessa is in another section making out with some guy, and by the way she’s constantly looking over at me, I hope to God she’s not doing it to make me jealous. I feel sorry for her, knowing it might have something to do with the look she caught on my face earlier tonight. I’m usually not one for sending mixed signals.

The woman on my lap leans over and starts kissing my neck. I grab a handful of her hair and kiss her fully, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. Her hands snake down toward my cock. Which isn’t the least bit hard.

Interesting.

She continues to stroke me eagerly as I kiss a path to her earlobe, all the while thinking she smells wrong. I freeze as the realization hits me like a bucket of ice water.

Smells wrong?

I pull back and look at the girl. My mind supplies everything else that’s wrong in quick succession. Her ass doesn’t fill my hands. Her eyes are not stormy gray. She doesn’t have a birthmark on the side of her mouth. Her lips are not full and pouty.

She doesn’t moan into my mouth when I kiss her.

What the fuck? It’s official, I’m fucked.

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