Page 7 of Tempting the Billionaire
She smiles at me, pushing a lock of her long, ginger hair behind her ear. “Are you busy?” she asks.
I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “Not overly, no.”
She comes closer. She rounds the desk, catching a glimpse of the designs on my computer and looking closer. “Oh wow,” she breathes. “Those are beautiful.”
She leans forward, and I’m suddenly very aware of the low-cut top she’s wearing, how it gaps, the perfect round tops of her breasts on full display. I find my breath quickening, my eyes glued to her cleavage. Damn what I wouldn’t do to see more of her.
I clear my throat, horrified at my inappropriate thoughts, pulling my gaze away from her. “Yeah,they’re uh …” I stammer. “Jason, our designer—have you met him yet? He came up with these.”
She shakes her head without straightening up, the movement making her breasts jiggle slightly.
Fuck.
“Do you ever design anything?” she asks. She finally straightens up—thank god or I might end up humiliating myself by actually drooling over her. But to my further surprise, she spins around and takes a casual seat on my desk, planting herself barely a foot away from me. The movement has her skirt sliding up, revealing her knee and the bottom of her thigh.
And as if a moth drawn to a flame, my gaze is pinned there.
Jesus, am I this horny and starved for attention that I can’t keep my eyes off my new sales associate? She is about one of the prettiest women I’ve ever encountered though. That gorgeous red hair, that cute smile, that figure that has me imagining dirty, dirty things.
“I don’t design as much anymore, but yes,” I answer, my voice feeling husky.
“Ooh, I’d love to see your designs,” she says.
At first, I want to suggest going out to the floor where she can see an array of rings I’d designed a few years back, but to my absolute horror, I can feel the proof of my arousal in my pants. There’s no way inhell I can stand up now. Instead, I reach for a nearby Bishop Jewelers catalogue on my desk, thumbing through the pages until I find one with a display of engagement rings I’d designed somewhat recently. I flip the catalog around so she can see. “These are mine,” I state simply.
Her eyes widen as she gingerly takes the catalog from me. “Wow,” she breathes. “These are … gorgeous.”
I can feel myself flushing ever so slightly. Jesus Christ. What’s wrong with me? Since when did I blush at compliments? Since when did the presence of a pretty, young woman get me so riled up? Is it her? Or am I just sad and lonely as fuck?
“I also recently designed a ring for my cousin, Alec. He’s proposing to his girlfriend soon.” I pull up a photo of the ring I’d taken before shipping it off to him. A single radiant pink-diamond solitaire on white gold.
Emma’s eyes widen at the picture, and she glances between it and the catalogue in her hands.
“You’re really talented,” she says genuinely, handing the catalog back to me. “I can see how the company has done so well.”
“Thank you,” I say, both shocked at and trying to hide how much her compliment means to me.
“Emma!” Rachel calls from the floor. “Can you come help me with some inventory?”
Emma stands quickly. “Yes, coming!” she calls, striding toward the door. She shoots me a soft smile over her shoulder that does alarmingly reactive things to my body.
God, what is it with this girl? What is it about her that I find so alluring?
I shake my head, trying to get the images of her breasts and legs out of my head so I can focus back on work.
Chapter 5
Emma
It’s Friday night, and like every night this week, I get home to my apartment, toss my purse on the couch, and immediately curl up in bed. My stomach is in a constant state of knots. I’ve barely eaten all week. A mixture of emotions wash through me—rage, humiliation, denial, despair.
Because I truly can’t think of any way out of this. I have to do what Justin wants. I have to.
There’s no way I could live through those videos being leaked online. The humiliation would kill me.
So here I am, shamelesslyflirtingwith my boss at every opportunity. Humiliation burns through me at thethought of it. Of how I’d handled myself this week. Practically throwing myself at Ezra.
The buzzing of my phone catches my attention, and I grab it to see that Justin is calling me. The pit in my stomach grows. I want nothing more than to throw my phone at the wall, but I’m worried about what he might do if I don’t answer.
