Page 121 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
It’s costing him his father.
Maybe even jeopardizing his control over his own company.
“Christopher, I… I had no idea. I’m so sorry. This is… this is because of me.”
“Don’t be absurd,” he snaps, though his voice lacks its usual conviction. “This isn’t about you. It’s about him. His ego. His inability to accept my defying him. It was always going to come to this.”
“But maybe…” My voice trembles slightly. “Maybe it wouldn’t have, not like this, if I wasn’t involved. If Hammond wasn’t…” I trail off, the next words tasting like ash. “Christopher, maybe… maybe we should cool things off. Just for a while. Until things stabilize. Until your father backs off. I don’t want to be the reason…”
The reason your family implodes.
“Don’t,” he cuts me off, his voice dangerously quiet now. “Don’t even fucking finish that sentence, Lucy.”
“But…”
“No. Absolutely not. That’s non-negotiable.” Before I can argue, he continues, his tone shifting back to cold command. “And given my father’s tactics, his willingness to use surveillance, his general lack of ethical boundaries… I’m assigning part of my security detail to you. Effective immediately. Darius Wade and Rebecca Torres. They’ll be discreet, but they’ll be close. Consider it standard procedure under the circumstances.”
Security? For me? “Is that really necessary?” I ask, bewildered. The idea of having bodyguards shadowing me feels utterly surreal. And reinforces the guilt.
Now I need protection because his father mightbe unstable?
“Knowing my father? Yes, Lucy,” he says grimly. “It’s necessary. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He hangs up before I can react.
Twenty minutes? Bewherein twenty minutes? Here? My office? My heart starts hammering against my ribs. That cold, controlled tone combined with ‘non-negotiable’ and ‘I’ll be there’… it doesn’t sound like he’s coming for a calm discussion.
Sure enough, exactly nineteen minutes later, Carol buzzes me, her voice flustered. “Mr. Blackwell is here, Lucy. He… didn’t wait to be announced.”
The door to my office bursts open before I can even stand up. Christopher fills the doorway, radiating an intensity that sucks the air out of the room. He looks furious. Controlled, yes, but utterly furious. His blue eyes are like chips of ice.
Behind him, in the hallway, I glimpse Elijah and Maya, plus two unfamiliar faces. A muscular man with watchful eyes (Darius?) and a sharp-featured woman scanning the surroundings (Rebecca?). They don’t follow him in. They don’t need to. His presence alone is overwhelming.
He steps inside and shuts the door firmly behind him. The click of the lock echoes in the sudden silence.
Okay. Definitely not here for a calm discussion.My cheeks are probably already flaming red.Fight or flight? Third option: blush furiously and hope he doesn’t notice?
“We need to talk,” he says, his voice dangerously soft as he advances towards my desk.
“About the security detail?” I squeak, trying to sound composed.Total fail.“Christopher, I really don’t think…”
“Not about the security detail,” he cuts me off, stopping directly in front of my desk, looming overme. He places his hands flat on the polished wood, leaning in slightly. Close enough that I can smell that intoxicating cedar and black pepper scent, laced now with something sharper. Anger. Determination. “About this ‘cooling things off’ bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit,” I protest, trying to hold his gaze, trying not to shrink back. “Your father… the board… I don’t want to be the cause of…”
“You arenotthe cause,” he interrupts again, his voice dropping lower, rougher. “You are thereason. The reason I’m finally done playing his games. The reason I’m choosing my own fucking path. And there is no version of that path that doesn’t include you. Are we clear?”
His intensity is terrifying. And exhilarating. And making it very hard to think straight. Or breathe.
“But…” I try again, driven by guilt, maybe by a stupid, subconscious desire to push him away before he gets hurt more because of me. Maybe even testing that icy control, wanting to seesomethingcrack. “Maybe distance would be smarter right now. For both of us. Less ammunition for your father…”
His eyes flash. “Smart?” He pushes off the desk, circling it slowly, deliberately, like a predator stalking its prey.
Me.
I’m the prey.
And okay, part of me is maybe kinda sorta into this.
Especially considering the sudden heat emanating from between my legs...
