Page 145 of Billionaire Temptations

“And sex?” I asked as I ran my finger down his chest.

“Sex can wait, Emerson. The penguins can’t.”

I sighed. I think I had just created aMadagascarmonster. I set my wine glass on the nightstand and rolled over, secretly smiling while I listened to him laugh as he watchedMadagascar 2.

Alex

When we arrived home, I went to my office and did some much-needed work. I had been taking way too much time away from my company, and surprisingly, it didn’t fall apart. As I was sitting at my desk, the reality of Adam coming home this week set in, and suddenly, my mood changed. After a few hours, I went downstairs and saw Emerson doing laps in the pool.

“I’m going to the office for a while. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. I’ll cook us dinner.”

I gave her a nod and drove myself to a bar instead of the office. I just needed to think over a couple of drinks, and I couldn’t do that with Emerson in the house.

“What can I get you, friend?” the bartender named Alan asked.

“Scotch on the rocks. Make it a double.”

“Coming right up.”

He poured the scotch and set the glass down in front of me. I drank it faster than he set it down.

“Another,” I said.

“You okay, man? You slammed that pretty fast.”

“Actually, I’m not okay. The woman I’m in love with will be leaving California soon, and I don’t think there’s a damn thing I can do to stop her.”

“Sorry to hear that. Have you told her that you love her?”

“Not yet, and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. She hates it here. This place holds too many bad memories for her.”

He handed me another glass of scotch. “Maybe you can show her what the good memories used to be. Make her forget about the bad,” he spoke.

“She lost her parents and twin sister in an accident several years ago. She’ll never be able to forget that. Pour me another.” I threw a hundred-dollar bill on the counter.

“Nah. That would be hard to forget. I’m sorry, bro, but there had to be good memories before that.”

I kept drinking and before I knew it, Alan cut me off.

“Did you drive here?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, you aren’t driving home. Can I call someone for you?”

“No.”

“Then I’m calling you a cab.”

“No. Call Phillip. His number is in my phone.” I slid my phone to him.

About a half hour had passed, and as I laid my head down on the bar, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing, Parker?”

Lifting my head, I looked up to see Emerson standing next to me.

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