Page 60 of Sexting the Billionaire

She studies me for a moment, water streaming down her face. "But you're still worried about Grant."

"Yes." No point denying it. "He's made destroying me his personal mission for the better part of a decade. And he's exceptionally good at finding leverage."

"And you think I might be leverage." It's not a question.

"I think..." I choose my words carefully. "I think he'd use anyone or anything to get what he wants. And the idea of you being collateral damage in our war troubles me more than it probably should."

Something in her expression softens. "Well, that was almost vulnerable. Should I mark the calendar?"

"Don't push it." But I'm smiling despite myself. "So, are we good?"

She opens the shower door wider. "That depends. Are you coming in, or are you just going to stand there looking pretty?"

I don't need to be asked twice.

The morning arriveswith cruel efficiency, dragging me from sleep to the incessant buzzing of my alarm. Cassie grumbles beside me, burrowing deeper into the pillows, one arm flung possessively across my chest.

"Make it stop," she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

"Some of us have a company to run," I remind her, silencing the alarm before pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"Some of us need coffee before basic motor functions kick in." She cracks one eye open, squinting at the early morning light. "What time is it?"

"Five thirty."

She groans, pulling the pillow over her head. "That's not a time. That's a cruel joke."

"Welcome to the executive lifestyle." I slide out of bed, heading for the shower. "The car will be ready at seven if you want a ride to the office."

Her head emerges from the pillow nest, hair adorably mussed. "Separate arrivals, remember? Professional boundaries."

"Right." I'd almost forgotten our carefully constructed rules in the comfortable domesticity of the morning. "I'll have Henri drop you a block away.”

"Very cloak and dagger. No worries, I’ll just call an Uber.” She stretches like a cat, the sheet slipping to reveal the curves I spent hours exploring last night. "Though I'm not sure it matters at this point. Your executive assistant gives me the distinct impression she knows exactly what we're doing."

"Zara suspects everyone of something," I say, though the observation unsettles me. "It's why she's good at her job."

By six thirty, we've managed to navigate the morning routine with surprising efficiency—showers, coffee, a quick breakfast I insisted on despite Cassie's protests that she "never eats before noon."

"You look like a Creative Director today," I observe as she emerges from the bedroom in a sleek black dress that somehow manages to be both professional and subtly provocative.

"As opposed to?" She raises an eyebrow while gathering her portfolio.

"As opposed to the woman who fell asleep on my chest wearing nothing but my shirt and a smile." I hand her a travel mug of coffee. "Though I personally prefer that version."

"I bet you do." She accepts the coffee with a grateful smile. "This version comes with actual work capability, though."

"A useful feature." I check my watch. "The car will be here in ten minutes."

She nods, suddenly turning more serious. "About Grant... I'll be careful. I promise."

"I know you will." I brush a stray hair from her face, allowing myself this small intimacy before we revert to our professional personas. "Just remember, he doesn't make offers without expecting something in return."

"Unlike you, who expects nothing in return for all this great sex and gourmet coffee?" Her teasing smile is back, lightening the mood.

"Oh, I expect plenty in return," I counter, pulling her against me for one last kiss. "But my motives are far more transparent."

"Are they?" She studies me with an intensity that feels like she's seeing too much. "Sometimes I'm not sure either of us knows what we're really doing here, Roman."

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