Page 33 of The Reluctant Billionaire

I don’t even know the guy, I think as I meander dreamily down the chaos of Ladbroke Grove, side-stepping hoards of kids in uniform who I assume just got out of school. And yet, being the sole focus of his attention after just a few days of being fascinated by him, horribly attracted to him, was like nothing I can describe.

I suspect anyone who knows me would say I like the limelight, that I’m an attention whore, but this wasn’t like that. I didn’t crave Aide’s attention to make a point or give myself a cheap thrill. I didn’t think I had the remotest shot at getting any of his attention, to be honest, except in the form of the begrudging desire and overt disapproval he’s been dishing out all week.

But just now was more… special than that. It felt like a distinct privilege to be there, alone with him in his arms. His hands and mouth on me, his dick hard for me, and that look of rapture and hunger on me that was so intoxicating it could have brought me to my knees.

Literally.

He’s got this weird gravitas about him I can’t explain. A quiet authority. A way of making people sit up and pay attention. He draws people to him—I’ve noticed we all want to be in his orbit. He’s just a normal guy, doing a normal job, yet it’s not only me who feels it. Gaz hero-worships him. Sylvie and Judy clearly adore him.

And I’ve known from the second I laid eyes on him that he’s someone you don’t forget. Someone special. I suppose the term I’m looking for is Big Dick Energy.

It’s not just his outrageous, ridiculous looks, or his size (generally speaking, not his dick size, though I have my suspicions on that front).

It’shim.

And for a few blissful minutes just now, I got to be the one he focused those icy, mesmerising eyes and that elusive approval on.

I got to be the one who nearly unravelled him. And I would have, if Sylvie hadn’t unwittingly cockblocked us.

I would have climbed that man like a tree.

I allow myself a cat-who-got-the-cream smile, even though I’m the opposite of satisfied. I’m turned on and frustrated, my erogenous zones throbbing and my head spinning with salacious fantasies about how it would have been with him if we hadn’t been interrupted.

My plans for this evening are now to spend serious quality time with my vibrators.

* * *

AIDE

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I demand as Gaz breezes into the main hallway.

‘Try and keep me away, my friend,’ he says.

‘You’re injured. Go on, get out.’

He holds up a cartoon-style bandaged finger. ‘It’s amazing, but they say I’ll live.’

‘Ha fucking ha.’ I put down the skirting board I’m mitring so I can give him my full attention. ‘You’re a liability. Can’t have you on a building site when you’re injured, mate. You know that.’

He scoffs. ‘Come on. It’s not a building site—it’s a basic refurb. I’m fine.’

‘A basic refurb where you shot yourself with a nail gun, you incompetent twat.’

He has the grace to look embarrassed about his utter ineptitude.

‘I know. I’m a nob. But I’ve taken two weeks off work, haven’t I? Just give me a paintbrush or something. I can’t sit around at home.’

I sigh. Gaz has indeed taken two weeks’ holiday from driving lorries so he can help out. I know how dear he holds this place—just like we all do. And he can’t do that much damage with a paintbrush.

Can he?

‘Fine.’ I bark. ‘Painting and nothing else. If I see you going anywhere near a single power tool, there’ll be hell to pay.’

‘Got it,’ he says cheerfully. ‘I’ll hang out with the girls. They love my chat.’

Bygirls, I assume he means Carlotta and Judy. I glower at him, but before I can say anything, Carlotta’s upon us.

Speak of the devil.

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