Page 295 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

“Okay,” she says, nodding. “When do you go?”

I look at my watch. “I’ve got two tickets for an eight o’clock flight,” he says.

“Two tickets, huh?” she asks, her face starting to go flush. “It’s probably none of my business, but who’s the second ticket for?”

“It’s for you, if you want it,” I answer. “I know you have responsibilities around here, even with still being off work, but I’d love it if you’d come. It’s going to be a business trip, so there’s going to be a lot of time where you’re on your own, but I’m sure we could figure out something for you to do in Manhattan. What do you say?”

“Tomorrow morning?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“I’ll have to talk to Naomi and make sure she’s up for taking care of Max and Sammie by herself a few more days,” she says. “I should probably see if I can get ahold of Troy, too. I haven’t heard anything from him yet, but I can’t imagine it’ll be too much longer before it’s time for me to go back to work.”

We finish our dinner and Grace makes her phone calls. As for me, the stress is finally being swallowed by the exhaustion, and I’m lying on the couch, just trying to keep my eyes open.

“Looks like I’m ready to go,” she says. “You want a drink?”

“Sure,” I answer, sitting up again. “There are some single-serve shots in the minibar, or we can have something brought up.”

“Minibar,” she says. Leaning forward to open the minibar, she doesn’t bend her knees, causing the bottom of her robe to come up just enough to give me a partial glimpse of her pussy while she’s picking out drinks for the night.

She takes her time deciding. I don’t complain.

“Oh, did I tell you?” I ask. “We finally got the last of the walls up down in the conference room.”

“Yeah?” she asks, standing up straight again and walking toward me. “Ever fooled around in your office?”

“The one downstairs?” I ask. “No.”

Grace unceremoniously drops three of the bottles she grabbed from the minibar on my lap, saying, “But all the other ones, yes?” She opens one of the bottles she didn’t drop and drinks it down.

“No,” I tell her. “I’ve never fooled around in any of my offices.”

“Where are you from, originally, anyway?” she asks. “When I’ve heard the story of Stingray’s ascension in the press, it always starts with you meeting your college roommate.”

I can feel the blood rushing to my face. “We moved around a lot when I was growing up,” I tell her.

“Anywhere in particular?” she asks.

“I don’t know, it was hard to put down any real roots until after I was out of high school,” he says.

“One of your parents was in the military?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I answer. I realize I’m being more than a little vague here, but she’s not ready for the whole story. Okay, that’s a copout: I’m not prepared totellthe whole thing.

Grace looks over at the clock and says, “Well, if we’re going to trash your office, we should probably continue this conversation downstairs, huh?”

I shrug and get up, and together we leave the room.

We’re walking down the hall, occasionally passing one of my employees, though fortunately, everyone we come across seems content with a smile and a wave.

We get to the office, and I tell Grace, “We’re going to have to be quiet if we don’t want any company.”

“Oh, you know I can’t promise that,” she says.

I chuckle, and we enter the room.

Once inside, Grace stops to survey the area. “Huh,” she says.

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