Page 45 of The Damaged Billionaire

“More than you would believe,” he says on a sigh, like it is painful, so I drop the conversation and look back at Tennyson. He dazzles in the bright studio lights, his face lit up in a smile, charming the pants off the interviewer and no doubt all the viewers at home who will tune in to see this segment when it airs in a few weeks.

We both stand in silence, watching on, admiring how well Tennyson is doing. He is providing great points, doing some deep discussion on the business environment, contributing to some really insightful conversation. Touching base on the expansion plans in Asia, yet not giving anything away. He is articulate, precise, and sits confidently, giving an air of authority I think people will be surprised by when they watch him. He is a natural, at both the interview and the business knowledge. By the end of it, I think even his brother is impressed.

“How did I do?” Tennyson asks, walking up to us once his segment is done, but looking straight at me.

“Perfect,” I say with a smile as he stops next to me, and the familiar feeling of his hand wrapping around my waist warms my insides. He pulls me to his side, not afraid to let his brother know exactly how close we are. Ben looks at both of us and stills. I should have already spoken to Harrison and Beth about this, but I have been so caught up in my feelings around what is happening it completely fell off my radar. My palms start to sweat as I wait for his reaction.

“Shit,” Ben says, and we both look at him as his eyes flick between Tennyson and me.

“So this is a thing? I mean, a few weeks ago on the golf course, I knew it could be, but… shit.” My eyebrows rise, and I look at Tennyson in question. We haven’t talked about what we are or what is happening. We both, however, have come to the conclusion that we enjoy each other, like spending time together, and both need to succeed at this job together so that's what we will do.

“Golf course?” I ask, wondering what Ben is talking about.

“I knew weeks ago, this was happening, but it just took you a little longer to figure it out, Cupcake,” he quips, giving me a wink before looking back at his brother. I ease my shoulders a little, knowing that Tennyson has already prepared them so it won’t come as such a shock.

“There a problem?” he asks, and I am not sure if he means with me or something else.

“Maybe. Who is Katerina Newcomb?” Ben asks as the three of us huddle in the dark corner of the studio while the crew packs up around us. I feel Tennyson stiffen slightly, and Ben’s looking at me, unsure. I remain impartial, even though inside, I am flaming. Jealousy coils in my stomach, my memory flashing back to when I met her at that business dinner. Pretty, beautiful actually. Confident, clearly not hesitant in going after what she wanted after she came straight up to Tennyson and acted like she was his. I would imagine his dismissal of her hurt, or at least hurt her ego.

“An old acquaintance,” Tennyson says, leaving it at that.

“Well, she is calling my office, trying to get to you. Know anything about that?” he asks again.

“Shit,” Tennyson says, running his hand through his hair, but his other hand on my waist remains, keeping me close.

“She has been calling my office as well, but I get Melody to field the calls,'' he admits.

“She has been sending messages across social media as well,” I add, and Tennyson looks at me, confused.

“Why?” he asks, looking at Ben and me.

“Money. They always want money, Tenn,” Ben says, again breathing out his words like they are painful. Like he knows from experience. “Just talk to her, see what she wants, and then we can deal with it. Call me later once you do,” he adds, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking it. “I’ve got to run. Looking good up there, brother.” He smiles and slaps Tennyson's arm in what can only be described as brotherly love.

“Thanks, Benny Boy,” Tennyson says, his smile small, but there just the same.

We watch Ben walk away, and I turn around, standing in front of Tennyson and looking up to gauge his expression. My mind is racing, stomach churning, and my skin prickles as my spider-senses ricochet off the charts. Something doesn’t feel right. Not one bit. I need space. I need to collect my thoughts. I need to get ahead of this, because I have a feeling I’ll need to have all bases covered.

“Don’t worry, Cupcake. We are fine,” Tennyson says, obviously attune to my feelings already. I wish I could take solace in his words, but I don’t.

“I need to go. I have a new client I need to meet with. Call me later?” I ask him, plastering a fake smile on my face, positioning my work front and center where it should be. His jaw tightens, not happy that I am leaving.

“I will,” he says, pulling my body to him, kissing my forehead before I step away, straighten my shoulders, and turn to walk to the exit. I take deep breaths as I head toward the bright lights of the day, maneuvering around the crew, stepping over the cables and dodging the many people who flit around this studio. My steps quicken, the air feeling thinner than it did ten minutes ago, but I push it to the back of my mind. I need to get to this next meeting, then go home and review the interview from today and approve it for the studio. I need to work. I’m married to my job, and I need to remember that.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN - TENNYSON

It’s been a day since I’ve seen Willow, and I hate it. The minutes feel like hours, the hours feel like days. When this change in me occurred, I can’t pinpoint, only to say that I am not the same man I was before New York. There is a line in my life now. Before Willow and after. And I am a much better man after.

The vision of her walking away from me at the studio yesterday is my last memory. I prefer the ones I have of her naked, squirming underneath me, a moaning mess on my cock. My dick’s already getting hard just from thinking about her. But she worked late yesterday, and I had calls with Asia all night. The two of us had little time to chat apart from a quick call when we were both almost asleep within minutes.

“Tennyson, there is a Katerina Newcomb on line one.” Melody’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I still. I didn’t call her yesterday like my brother asked. After he chased me down about it this morning, I decided I wouldn’t, but I would answer if she called again. I will just tell her not to bother calling. I am not interested and not available. I can barely remember her face and have no recollection of her or that one night we spent together. If I hadn't seen her at Harrison’s business dinner weeks ago, I would go as far as to say that I have no idea who she is. The fact that she is the daughter of my nearest competitor is slightly unnerving, but insignificant just the same. Not remembering her is not necessarily something I am proud of, but it is the truth.

“Thanks, Melody,” I say as I pick up the call. “Tennyson Rothschild.” I put on the best senior boss voice I can muster.

“Tennyson, it is Katerina Newcomb,” she says, her voice different from what I remember.

“How can I help you?” I ask, remaining professional.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out, and I wait for something more, but nothing comes.

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