Page 36 of Bestie's Bossy Billionaire Brother
Catherine
Thenextday,Ifind myself preoccupied, trying to focus on coloring with Alice at her play table in the living room. My mind, however, keeps drifting back to last night with Oliver. The air had been charged with an electric current, one that was both thrilling and terrifying. The way our conversation had veered into the realm of the forbidden keeps replaying in my head, making my heart race all over again.
Upstairs, Oliver has been holed up in his office with Fred for their business meeting. It’s been a couple of hours, and occasionally, Oliver’s voice drifts down, tinged with frustration or intensity over whatever they’re discussing. It’s impossible to make out the words, but it’s a stark contrast to the heated, breathless tones that passed between us just last night. I would’ve given in to every desire, but Alice had had a nightmare and was still awake when we got home, adjusting our priorities. The heat between us, however, was burned in my brain.
Every so often, my hand falters, the crayon going astray as I remember the look in Oliver’s eyes, full of desire and something deeper, something that had my entire body thrumming in response. The playful banter, the thinly-veiled innuendos, and the way his hand felt so firm around my waist—all of it swirls in my mind, creating a delicious anticipation that I’m unsure how to quell.
“Alice, do you know why your dad is so angry today?” I pry. I figure she probably knows what this is about, since she frequently eavesdrops on Oliver’s work conversations.
Alice looks up from her drawing and glances toward the stairs. “It’s something to do with his new business deal,” she says.
“Business deal?” I inquire. “You mean the hotel investment?”
She points to me and nods. “That’s the one.”
I lean forward in my chair, resting my chin on my hands. “Do you know what happened?”
Alice shakes her head sadly. “I don’t know everything, but I think the deal fell through,” she answers with a shrug. “Whatever that means.”
“Oh no,” I sigh, remembering how enthused Oliver has been all week about potentially investing in the hotel. “He’s been so determined to get that hotel suddenly.”
Alice nods. “When Daddy sets his eye on something, he doesn’t stop until he gets it.”
I raise a playful brow, which makes Alice laugh. “Is that so?”
I reach for her arms and tickle her, and we laugh together until the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it,” I call out, even though I know Oliver isn’t paying any attention.
I rise, stretching out my arms and legs before I head to the door. When I turn the handle, I’m surprised to find that it’s Erica standing on the other side.
“Hey, what a surprise,” I greet her warmly. “Come in.”
She steps inside, following behind me as I return to the living room.
“Alice, look who it is,” I sing.
As soon as Erica sees Alice, she gives her a smile and a wave.
“Aunt Erica!” Alice jumps up and hugs Erica, then leads her to her play table. “Do you like my unicorn?” she asks, holding up a drawing of a rainbow-maned unicorn.
Erica takes a seat at the table so she can get a better look at the drawing. “It’s lovely, Alice. You’re really talented. Can I keep it?” Erica asks Alice.
“Of course, Aunt Erica,” she replies, handing the drawing to her. “But if you plan to sell it once I’m famous, I get a cut.”
Erica narrows her eyes on Alice. “You truly are your father’s daughter, aren’t you?”
Alice grins, beaming with pride at what she must consider a compliment.
“How are you doing after last night?” Erica asks me, turning the conversation to a more serious topic. “Jason hasn’t tried to bother you again, right?”
I shake my head. “Thankfully, no. I’m still a little irritated that he had the nerve to approach me at the gala. But I’m glad I could speak my mind to him and let him know what I thought about his actions. Plus, it was nice to convince him I moved on before he did.”
Erica groans and rolls her eyes. “I have to admit, even I thought the two of you looked pretty convincing on the dance floor.”
I smile slightly at her comment, a flutter of pride mixed with residual anxiety passing through me. “Yeah, we might have overdone it a bit,” I say, the memory of our bodies moving in sync on the dance floor flashing in my mind. But it’s the aftermath that my thoughts keep circling back to—the stolen kiss in the shadowed corner, away from the prying eyes of the partygoers.
A surge of relief washes over me, knowing that Erica hadn’t seen that part. The kiss wasn’t for show; it was something far more intimate, a moment of raw vulnerability that I wasn’t ready to share with anyone else, let alone face the slew of questions and assumptions that would inevitably follow from Erica had she seen.
