Page 5 of Resisting the Billionaire

She nods, clearly entertained, but for some reason, it doesn’t seem to bode well for me. “Did you really think you could convince me to sleep with you after talking to me for not even a minute? That I’d be so hot for you, I’d ditch my friend to go home with you, some random guy, to have sex at your place? Are you actually putting in that little effort and expecting a reward?”

There’s a choked laugh coming from the direction of her friend, and it takes me a second to realize my jaw is dropped. I quickly slam back the rest of my drink, just wanting this god awful day to be over already.

She takes a long draw from her martini, holding eye contact with me, then delicately sets it on the bar. “But seriously, better luck with the next girl. Whoever ends up in your bed tonight after that half-hearted pickup attempt is definitely a keeper.”

She turns to her friend, dismissing me, and all I can do is chuckle to myself at her chastisement. She’s absolutely right. That was a weak attempt by anyone’s standards. I wouldn’t be in the best headspace for anything tonight anyway.

“My apologies, ladies,” I murmur, pulling two twenties out of my wallet and sliding them across the counter to cover my tab and then some. “Next round’s on me. Have a good night.”

I button my suit jacket and exit the bar, not bothering to glance back. I know when to call it quits.

I wander around the city for an hour until my feet ache, the wingtips I’m wearing meant more for the boardroom than trailing aimlessly across Manhattan, then catch a cab to the Upper East Side, not wanting to bother my driver this late.

Tomorrow’s the first day of the rest of my life.

I walkinto the conference room bright and early, fifteen minutes before the meeting is even scheduled to start, thank you very much. I’m resigned to whatever may happen today, and if I’m headed down this path, I might as well meet it head on.

A trim figure in a lavender dress is bent over at the front of the room, pert ass wiggling in the air as she retrieves something from a tote bag at her feet. I take a moment to appreciate it, averting my gaze as she straightens and turns around.

Both of us freeze, staring at each other as recognition hits.

It’s the girl from the bar.

“You,” we say in eerie unison. It would be comical in any other situation, but I don’t need the woman I hit on here in this office.

Those gorgeous hazel eyes narrow on me. “Did you not get the message last night?” she asks, placing the folders she took from her bag on the long, polished table. “Are you harassing me at work?”

I rear back. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here for a meeting.” Wait, did she say she worked here?

“This room is reserved formymeeting. I’ll go talk to Vivian.”

She moves past me, but doesn’t make it far before stumbling to a halt. I hold out an arm to catch her, but she steadies herself on the back of a chair, swiveling toward me slowly. “What meeting are you here for?”

“Wedding planning. Why?”

“I’m the wedding planner.”

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