Page 16 of The Damaged Billionaire

“There are also better ones. Like your client. I bet he would be better to snuggle with than some stray cat,” Saide says with a sly grin.

“Never mix business with pleasure, Saide. Don't you know that?” I ask her with a pointed look. She really is in deep with Jacob, and I hope she finds her way out of it soon. Hearts are going to be shattered, and I already feel anxious about it.

Beep, beep!

“Saved by the bell. My Uber is here. I have to go.” She runs past me, kissing me on the cheek before throwing the folded clothes in her bag, zipping it, and heading out the door.

“See you next week!” she yells before the front door slams, and I get busy cleaning up her mess, while trying to sort through the mess in my head.

* * *

The house is clean. I have showered, shaved, and fake tanned, and now as I’m about to curl up in bed, when my cell phone rings. Grabbing it, Tennyson's name flashes on the screen. It is almost eleven. It’s late. Not an hour that a call would be classed as conversational. I wonder if something has happened.

“Tennyson?” I answer, concerned.

“Hey,” he says simply, his voice sounding normal.

“Everything all right?” I ask as I climb into bed, my body weary, the soft duvet calling my name.

“Fine.” Only one word again, and this time I sense stress.

“What’s going on?” My phone is always open to clients. I offer them my services whenever they need it. Most of the time, late-night calls are due to them being caught doing something they shouldn’t be, and I wonder if that is the case with Tennyson now.

“I had a conference call with my team in Hong Kong tonight and now I can’t sleep,” he murmurs.

“Okay. Was there something in particular that is an issue?”

“Everything,” he huffs, still not giving me much.

“Are you building a new high-rise over there or something?” I ask, changing my questions to be specific to see if he’ll give me more to get to the bottom of his call.

“A new shopping center, right on the water. Biggest in the Southern Hemisphere,” he says, his voice starting to relax.

“Wow, sounds like a big project. Must be stressful?” I can’t imagine managing a project of that size.

“It is delayed. We can’t find good workers, and the building suppliers are having trouble getting us the materials. I also found out today that the company we secured to fit out the internal furnishings is not signed up to the Modern Slavery Code,” he says with a sigh, and I get to the crutch of the issue. I must say, it is a first for me, having a client call me over something like this so late at night, but I am starting to understand that Tennyson is anything but normal.

“Okay, is that a contract you can break? Can you choose someone else who is?” I ask, sinking into my bed. I spent a lot of money on this bed. On the sheets, on the pillows and blankets. I need something every day that feels luxurious, safe, and calming. Somewhere I can turn off from the day, the myriad of bad press, negativity, and pressure. “It is things like this that the media will take and run a story on if Harrison ever runs for presidency. In fact, they could run it now since he is governor, as it will still get clicks." I know Tennyson understands this now; otherwise, he wouldn’t be calling me.

“I’ve got Ben and my legal team on it. This is why I need my regular whiskey nightcap. I can't sleep, and whiskey normally helps, but since you took that away, I am now lying awake, my mind racing.” Even though I feel for him, I roll my eyes. He’s being a bit dramatic with the rules.

“You can have a nightcap, Tennyson. It is more about limiting your drinking when you are out. So you can make smarter decisions in that external environment,” I clarify.

“My decision-making is fine,” he mumbles.

“I beg to differ.” I shake my head to myself. If I wasn’t in control of his life right now, I already know the decisions he’d be making. Most of them blond.

“What are you doing?” he asks, and I imagine him lying awake, staring at the ceiling. The question is innocent enough, but it takes my mind out of work mode and into personal. The flutters in my belly warm me and make me feel slightly giddy. I shouldn’t entertain this, but it is nice of him to ask.

“I just crawled into bed. It's been a long day.”

“Hmmmm. What are you wearing?” he asks smoothly, and my body stiffens.

“Tennyson! Cut it out,” I admonish, but my warning is soft at best. I am already looking down at my sloppy t-shirt and my unflattering bed socks, immediately knowing this is not how men imagine women sleeping. Yet here I am. No wonder I’m single.

“Relax, I’m teasing.” He chuckles, the sound new to my ears, but I feel good for making it happen. “So are you married yet?” he asks jokingly, and I relax a bit more.

“No, Prince Charming hasn’t entered my life in the six months since I saw you last.” Bantering with him is one of my favorite things to do. We bounce well off each other.

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