Page 156 of The Billionaire's Baby
"Shit, this was a bad idea, calling you all here," I grumble. "Clearly, you have no constructive advice to offer."
"I do." Damian jerks his chin. "You need to talk this through with her."
"Hmm." I lean forward on the balls of my feet. "What do you think, Father?" I turn to Edward, "Should I speak with her?"
He drums his fingers on his thigh. "Loathe as I am to say this, you don’t have a choice." He tilts his head. "The question is, will she hear you out long enough to have a conversation with you?"
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After that little huddle, the guys had taken off and I had drunk myself to sleep and woken up with a hangover which still knocks behind my eyes. Bloody hell. Gone are the days when I could drink an entire bottle of the hard stuff and bounce out of bed with a spring in my step. Time… It always catches up.
And apparently, so do my sins… It has to be the reason I am skulking up the sidewalk, ensuring I’m not too close to Karina.
She’d left her apartment, taken her car to King’s Road and parked. Now, she’s going in and out of shops, the number of bags she’s carrying in her hands multiplying with each outlet she visits. Is she shopping for Christmas already? More likely, a wedding—her wedding. Fuck, what the hell am I thinking? She walks out of yet another shop, turns and the handbag under her arm slips from her grasp.
Only when my feet hit the ground do I realize that I am moving. I reach her, snatch up the bag from the pavement.
I hold it out to her, and she stares at me, oversized sunglasses perched on her nose. Her gorgeous hair flows around her shoulders. And in her knee-length dress, she resembles a celebrity, all grace and poise.
She glances down at my hand, then back up at my face.
I raise the bag, move it closer to her, so she has no choice but to accept it.
"Thank you," she murmurs.
"You’re welcome." I tilt my head.
Bloody hell, so this is what we’ve been reduced to—polite conversation?
She pivots and begins to slide up the street, her gait haughty, back straight, and that beautiful butt of hers wiggling in sultry promise with every step she takes in those fuck-me stilettos. Why do women dress up to go shopping, and in the most uncomfortable shoes ever? Don’t most people shop online nowadays? Apparently, not her… Nope, Sparks always has that old world, don’t-touch-me air about her, which is what had made me want to mess her up, right from the very start.
She pauses in front of a café, then walks inside. I follow.
The hostess leads her to a table by the window.
I step toward her, when the hostess stops me. "Good evening, Sir. Would you like a table?"
I glance past her at Karina. "I’m with her," I say.
The hostess looks between us, steps aside. I prowl over to Karina, then sink down onto the seat opposite her.
She stares at me through her oversized sunglasses. My fingers tingle to reach over and pluck them off her nose, but I resist. Instead, I reach for the bottle of water on the table and tip it into her glass.
"Drink," I mutter, "you need to stay hydrated."
"And you’re supposed to stay away from me." She picks up the glass and raises it to her mouth. Her lips purse around the rim as she takes a sip. My cock instantly twitches. What the hell is wrong with me? I set my jaw, glare down at her. She swallows, then lowers the glass back to the table.
"And you and I both know you don’t want that, Sparks."
She stiffens, then folds her hands in her lap. "What I want is moot right now."
"And why is that?"
"Your actions so far have convinced me you are not the one for me."
"And you know that’s not true."
