Page 21 of My Cruel Billionaire

The doors closed, and I cursed. I went to the regular elevator and was in luck. The car awaited me as soon as I pushed the down arrow.

I got on and pushed the ground floor button, hoping I wouldn’t have to make too many stops on the way. Naturally, this meant that I stopped on about every other damn floor so someone else could get on. I was the first one to push the lobby button the second they boarded.

I grew more and more anxious that Michael would make his great escape before I could catch up with him. When the doors opened on the lobby level, I practically exploded out of the car and broke into a jog. Clop-clop-clop went my heels as I raced across the lobby’s polished marble floors.

I burst out of the entrance doors and into a light rain. I paid it no heed as I put my head on a swivel looking for Michael. I spotted him getting into his limo about twenty feet away.

“Oh no you don’t,” I growled. I rushed down the rain-slickened sidewalk. The glaze of rainwater turned the sidewalk into a sort of mirror, reflecting an upside-down version of myself back at me. Both of us raced up to the limo’s back door and flung it open before the car could start moving.

Michael darted his glance toward me as I got into the back seat with him.

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing, Jenna?” he sputtered. “I don’t remember inviting you to ride with me.”

“And I don't remember telling you I was okay with ending the meeting so quickly, not to mention on an abrupt, sour note.”

“I don’t have to get your permission,” he scoffed, kind of half-laughing even though his eyes remained hard. “I actually own one of the companies in this merger, unlike you.”

“And I represent the man who owns the other company in this merger. The bigger, more successful company.”

He snorted.

“If you measure success a certain way, I’m sure Leisure Unlimited does look a lot more successful than NonPoint.”

“Oh, it does a lot more than just look more successful. And what way would you prefer we measure the relative success of our companies? Finances? Profits? Market share? Because on all three of those accounts Leisure Unlimited has NonPoint beat cold.”

Michael grew tight-lipped, because he knew I was right. I continued right on with my diatribe.

“What exactly does NonPoint do better? Other than cornering the market on lame white guys in suits that cost way too much?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. I couldn’t help but focus on his cupid’s bow lips. They were sensual, soft if my memory served me correctly. In that very limo, I’d felt their soft caress all over my body…

It was really hard to think about anything else for a few seconds, but thanks to a herculean expression of willpower I managed it.

Michael grew more angry in his silence, and finally spat out words like vitriolic poison.

“You’re just as incompetent as you were when you used to work for me. I’m glad I fired you or my company would probably be broke now.”

That hurt, a lot, but I knew he was just lashing out at me personally because he couldn’t argue with the points I had made.

“Nice straw man argument,” I said crisply as I unsnapped my leather briefcase. The brass fasteners flipped with a mechanical snick. I opened up the case and took out my laptop.

“What are you doing?” he demanded as I turned it on and opened up a few tabs.

Instead of answering him, I locked gazes with Michael and let a little of my anger and frustration out.

“What is your problem? You’ve been nothing but nasty and dismissive to me ever since we started this merger process. Before even, when we met in Evan’s office.”

“You could have stuck to your guns and not worked with me,” he pointed out. “My problem is a glorified secretary has escaped the steno pool and is now fucking up a billion-dollar deal. My problem is that Evan Jones has gone soft thanks to his being domesticated, and now I have to deal with… you.”

His nostrils flared as he fumed in silence. His words kind of stung, but at the same time I felt the return of that aforementioned sexual tension. It was hard to forget all the times we’d had sex in the back of that very same limo.

A memory sprang to my mind unbidden, one of me bouncing up and down on his lap, screaming my lungs out, hands splayed on the ceiling overhead. I had torn a bit of the headliner with my pinky nail on that occasion.

I couldn’t resist glancing up at that spot. To my surprise, Michael hadn’t had the spot repaired. The hole was still there, a mar on an otherwise pristine interior.

“What are you doing?” he demanded again as I furiously typed on my laptop.

I glared up at him as my lips curled in a sneer.

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