Page 9 of Ezra the Billionaire

She thanked me for dealing with that asshole at the store with an innocent peck to my cheek, then my dick pushed for more. All evening, I’d battled the raging erection straining against my thigh as Lauren fit in perfectly with my family, and the moment she gave me an opening—outside Griffen and Gramps’s home for fuck’s sake—I stole more than a peck from her very sweet and very kissable lips.

The Caldwell Clan had a field day with that one. Teasing me mercilessly the second I reentered the house.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She's technically an employee—even though she refused to sign a contract and earn a paycheck, relabeling it as a goodwill gesture after our initialcoffee to the headmeet-cute.

And she's definitely a lodge guest.

Both of those things mean it’d be out of bounds to pursue her further, and I always stay within the bounds of propriety for business and my personal life. They never mix.

“Did you see that Jean emailed the first batch of images?” Kennedy pops through my office doorway the next morning.

“He did?” I click around on my computer and open the attached folder of raw photos. “Come take a look; I've got it open now.”

She rounds my desk to hover over my shoulder as I scroll through the files of Jennifer Q and Lauren, and the more I see, the angrier I get.

“What the fuck?”

“Is that all of them?” The concern in Kennedy's voice matches my frustration. Clearly, we noticed the same problem.

“Yeah, that's the entire folder.”

A folder full of images that almost seem malicious in intent because Lauren is relegated to the background in every single one. The angles and lighting are off, and while her natural beauty prevents the photos from being totally unusable, it doesn't take an expert to see how Jean spent effort bringing out the best in Jennifer while ignoring Lauren.

Grabbing the phone receiver, I press ‘1’ for my assistant. “Could you find Jean Marcelle and bring him to my office, please?”

Kennedy waits until I hang up before asking, “What are you going to do?” She sits in one of the chairs across from my desk and crosses her legs.

“I'm going to find out why he's wasting our time and money and insulting Lauren at the same time. Depending on his answer, I might fire him.”

“Sounds reasonable. Especially since he completely ignored the brief. We specifically wanted Lauren highlighted due to her current celebrity status.”

“Instead, we got the Jean and Jennifer show. I knew we should have hired Kent Moreland.” Kent is a world renowned photographer who moved to Suitor’s Crossing a few years ago. He's worked with us in the past, so I know I can trust his work.

“Sorry…” Kennedy squirms in her seat. “This is my fault. I pushed for Jean, and look what happened.”

“It's not on you. I vetted him as well. You think I'd hire someone without checking their portfolio? His previous work is good.”

“With models like Jennifer Q.”

Surprised by my sister’s insinuation, I start, “Lauren may not be a professional but—”

“That's not what I'm referring to. Do you remember when I was obsessed with watchingProject Runwayreruns?”

I groan and lean back in my chair. “How could I forget? You made ‘make it work’ your catchphrase for a year.”

She smiles and shrugs. “Yeah, well, most of those designers failed at the challenges where they had to work with real women. They either had no clue what to do with someone over a size zero or outright sneered at fitting plus-sized clients. Maybe Jean is one of those.”

“Are you serious?” Lauren is gorgeous, no matter her size, though as far as I’m concerned her lush curves are a delicious bonus. “He's definitely getting fired.”

“I don't know for sure that’s what’s going on,” she huffs with a roll of her eyes. “It's just a possibility. And I know you like Lauren, but try to keep your cool when he gets here.”

“I don't like Lauren, at least, not in the way you're suggesting.”

“Oh? Did I imagine you kissing her after yesterday's dinner?”

Avoiding eye contact, I stare at the door, waiting for Jean Marcelle’s arrival. “You shouldn’t be spying.”

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