Page 18 of Flirting with my Billionaire Boss

“Hey, it’s okay,” Weston says. “Why don’t we just go out to get some food?”

That perks me right up. “We?”

“Sure. Just the two of us. Unless you want to come along, Martha?”

“No, no,” she says. “You two go and have fun. I’m going to watch my telenovelas with my feet up.”

A dinner alone with Weston? That sounds exciting and scary. I’m afraid of the feelings building up inside me the more I’m around him. “Is it all right if I just go get ready?” I ask.

“Of course. Let me know when you’re finished, and we’ll head out. Wear something nice. I’m in the mood to go someplace fancy.”

“Good, because I probably smell funky from cleaning the bathroom. You’d be sorry real fast if you hadn’t said yes.”

He laughs. “Thanks for the warning. If you need me, I’ll be in my office, finishing up some work.”

I go back into my room and enter the enormous closet. About six outfits are hanging there, the results of a shopping trip that happened the other day. There aren’t many options for shopping in Blue Mountain, so I had to travel a bit to a shopping center.

I choose a red dress that I’d gotten for special occasions with Weston. As his assistant, I’d have to appear at functions with him from time to time. After putting it on and checking my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I brush my long, black hair until it shines and put on some cherry red lipstick. After a couple of spritzes of perfume, I feel satisfied.

I meet up with him in his office. “I hope you’re not afraid of flying,” he says. Then he looks up at me and takes in my appearance. His eyes scan me from head to foot like he’s a starving man seeing a feast before him. “You look nice.”

“You always look nice.”

His brow lifts. “Wow. Okay. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

My gaze falls on his desk, and a vision flashes through my mind of Weston setting me on it and leaning in for a passionate kiss. Whoa. Where did that come from?

He steps closer to me. “Ready to go?”

“What did you mean when you asked if I was afraid of flying?”

“You’ll see. The restaurant I had in mind is a little ways away. Hopefully, you’re not starving right this minute.”

Shaking my head, I say, “I ate a snack around five, so I’m good for a bit.”

Weston puts his hand at the small of my back and guides me from the room. We head to the garage. He opens the door to a car that looks like it drives very fast. I’ve only seen cars like that in the movies. I climb into the front seat. He gets in too and backs out of the garage. Then he hits the gas, and we speed down his driveway, the powerful car propelling forward. I fly back into the seat behind me, and my stomach lurches.

Weston travels to a gated area down the street and swipes a card in front of a sensor. We go through the now-open gate, and he speeds around the bend. A helicopter comes into view with the propeller already spinning.

He turns to me and grins. In his expensive suit and sunglasses, he looks good enough to keep. His dark hair is styled to perfection, and his teeth are perfectly white. “Ever been in a helicopter before?”

I gulp. He’s so beautiful I can barely form words. So I shake my head.

“You’re about to go on an adventure then.” With that, he sweeps from the car, and I follow him to the helipad. He helps me onto the helicopter, my hair flying around me. Once we’re inside, I smooth it down and he hands me a headset. I put it on. We’re able to still talk to each other and protect our hearing at the same time.

My heart skips a beat as the ground grows distant below us. I look over at Weston, and his smile widens. It doesn’t take long before I can see the Atlanta traffic below. We skip over all of it. “Where are we going?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

The helicopter flies toward a skyscraper and lands on top of it. Weston unbuckles his seatbelt. “Welcome to my Atlanta home.”

“You live here?”

“Sometimes. This is where I stay when I have work to do in the city, which is all the time. We’ll get you set up with a bedroom here as well.”

I follow him off the helicopter to the door that leads to the building. He takes me to an elevator, and we go down one floor. The doors open to a gorgeous penthouse with expansive views of the sun setting over the city. “This is my place. I thought I’d show it to you really quick before we head to dinner.”

“It’s nice.” While his home in Blue Mountain is ornate with marble and wood, this place is sleek and modern with chrome and simple, straight lines. The walls are lined with windows overlooking the city below, and it’s huge. A staircase leads to another floor.

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