Page 8 of Falling For The Billionaire Rockstar

I let out a labored breath. “On the phone, you sounded like you couldn’t spare an extra second to provide me with the correct details for this meeting. I’ve made the effort to get here, and now you have time to play dumb?”

His eyes furrowed, and he reeled back as if I had just recited a Greek poem. “Look, I have never spoken to you a day in my life. You’ve been talking to my secretary, though I don’t understand how you could mistake our voices.”

Realization hit me—I had been speaking to his secretary all this time. That explained a lot, particularly why his voice had an effect on me, making me want to grab his neck and place my lips on his, savoring that sexy voice.

Olivia!

I returned my focus to his confused gaze. “Well, your secretary should’ve filled you in already, so why are we still here talking?”

His gaze darkened, his smile vanishing completely. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Give me the documents.”

“I can’t fucking hand them over to you in the waiting area of a goddamn airport!”

It finally dawned on me why he’d been acting like he didn’t understand what we were talking about, and I felt stupid. What we were doing was sensitive. Risky, as his secretary had called it. It would be dangerous for him to give it to me in such an open area. Our little interaction had already drawn enough attention to us.

Scanning the room, I spotted an executive lounge at the far end. It was perfect for our transaction. I looked back at him, who was now glaring angrily at his phone. He noticed I was looking at him, and he held my gaze.

“Fine then, follow me,” I declared, grabbing my suitcase and starting to walk past him. After taking a few steps, I felt his fingers grab my forearm, the cold touch digging into my skin.

I snapped my head back and glared at him, but he was already glaring at me.

“Now, just who the fuck do you think you are?” he sneered.

“What?”

He effortlessly tugged my arm, and the strength of his powerful arms lifted me off my feet, pulling me toward him as if I were a piece of cloth.

His glare was intense, and his face was only inches from mine. Despite the confusion and fear welling up in me, I dared to hold his gaze.

“I will not tolerate your disrespect. How dare you act so rudely and ask me tofollowyou?” he asserted.

As my haze cleared, I realized my situation. I stood captive to a man I had paid almost a fortune to run a job for me, and now this same man was demanding respect.

Was it because of my gender? It seemed like the only plausible reason.

My palm met his face faster than I could stop it.

Chapter four

CHANGE OF PLANS

Alexander Steele

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. The pilot has turned on the ‘fasten your seat belt’ sign. Please ensure that your seat belts are securely fastened and all electronic devices are turned off as we prepare to land. On behalf of the entire cabin crew, I’d like to welcome you to New York City, and I hope you enjoy your stay.”

I walked into the waiting lobby of the airport. It was scanty as most of the passengers were still waiting to collect their luggage. I peered down at my watch and smiled when I realized I still had some time.

My eyes locked on an empty row of seats at the far end of the room, and I made my way toward it while I pulled out my phone from my pocket. I turned off airplane mode, and it chimed continuously as messages started flooding in. I patiently waiteduntil they were all received before opening the one I thought was most relevant.

Layla:The meeting is in an hour. I’ve already messaged your contact person to meet you in five minutes. Please go through the attached file from my previous email. Good luck again, sir!

I chuckled at the message. She knew I wouldn’t have bothered to open the message till I got to the airport. Taking my seat, I located the email and then opened the attached file.

To my surprise, it was a picture of my contact person’s ID card. Although the image was blurry and her features were barely discernible, I could make out her jet-black hair and slender appearance.

Glancing at the name, I noted that she was Russian. I smiled at this. Layla knew about my fear of Russian women, stemming from a movie we had watched during an office movie night. She had gone out of her way to find the one Russian girl in New York just to help me stay focused.

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