Page 31 of The Damaged Billionaire

“Tennyson,” Geoffery says, his shoulders now stiff, his lips pressed tight. He gives me a silent nod before he retreats and I spin around to face the problem.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You cannot go around this room greeting people like that,” I hiss quietly.

“He is an asshole,” Tennyson mutters, looking down at me. His hand remains, almost like he is staking his claim here in front of everyone. I should move, but I don’t.

“It doesn’t matter if he is or not, you still can’t greet people like that,” I tell him, my heart stammering in my chest.

Tennyson looks at me with thinned eyes. I match his stare, our silent disagreement oblivious to anyone else but us.

“Fine. Sorry,” he mutters, offering me a half-assed apology. “Have you been here long?” His hand around my waist grips me a little tighter, tucking me in to him a little more.

“Not long. I arrived maybe ten minutes ago.” I can’t help but notice my voice is breathier.

“Hmmm, it didn't take him long then,” Tennyson murmurs with a shake of his head as he looks over me. “You look…” His eyes dip, taking in my dress and the slight appearance of my leg as it juts out of the chiffon that runs like water down my body. “Like I need to take you out the back and trail my lips up your leg and bury myself in you for the rest of the night instead.”

Any response gets stuck in my throat for a moment, my mouth parched, his words zinging straight through me. I am starting to see more and more that Tennyson is struggling not being able to get the one thing he wants. Me.

“You are very dapper yourself, Mr. Rothschild. But we are here to work. Remember?” I whisper, my eyes glued to his before we both seem to come to our senses and he slowly relaxes his arm. His grip is no longer possessive but gentlemanly.

“I have been here five minutes, and I already need a drink.” I knew this would be tough.

“Oh, I brought you something,” I say, remembering the small token I have in my bag. I pull it out and pass it to him, the keychain dangling in the light.

“A cupcake?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

“Yes. A cupcake. Put it in your pocket, and when you have the urge to do something you shouldn’t, you grip on to this instead. Kind of like a stress ball.”

“It is hard and glittery,” he murmurs, taking the keychain and putting it into his hand, and I see little shimmers of glitter now coating his palm.

“It is. Something that you can feel in your hand, get your mind off whatever bad idea pops into your head at the time,” I say, smiling as I see him pocket the little keychain.

“Ohh, I have lots of bad ideas. And dirty ones too,” he whispers to me, his eyes searing into mine.

“Tennyson, hi!” a young blond woman almost squeals as she comes up to us, looking stunning with a bright-red smile and sparkling blue eyes. Full of energy and acting like she is a teenager, she lets out a little giggle as she approaches. I look at her and immediately know she is someone who knows Tennyson intimately. I stiffen, but Tennyson’s hand grips around my waist again, keeping me close.

“Hi,” Tennyson says with a nod, not saying her name and not introducing us, so I figure he can’t remember who she is. I am not sure if that makes it better or worse.

“Hello, I am Willow Valentine,” I offer her, and her gaze moves to me, her smile dropping as soon as it leaves Tennyson’s face as she takes in how close we’re standing.

“Hi, Katerina Newcomb.” She introduces herself with words, yet her body language tells me she doesn’t care who I am at all. I would like to say that I am not familiar with the type of woman Katerina is, but that would be a lie. Unfortunately, she isn’t uncommon. Women like her are often surrounding rich businessmen, men who travel and cheat on their wives and usually do something they shouldn’t before they end up calling me. I have come across her type before.

“Newcomb?” Tennyson asks, his eyes looking confused. “Any relation to Geoffrey?”

“He’s my dad, silly. You know that,” she says as she playfully claps her hand onto Tennyson’s chest in a move that confirms they are very familiar with each other. She is too flirty, and I need to leave this conversation before I slap him. Jealousy coils on my insides, and I pinch my palm with my nails and take a breath.

“Oh, how wonderful,” I say with a fake smile, turning to look at Tennyson, who now won’t look me in the eye. Getting into bed with a range of women is one thing. Getting into bed with the daughter of your main business rival is entirely different.

“I need to freshen up. I will leave you both to chat,” I say, gritting my teeth behind my smile.

“Willow…” Tennyson says, grabbing my elbow, his touch burning into my skin.

“I will speak to you later.” I clutch my bag in my hand so tight I’m probably breaking the stitching. Pulling my elbow from his grip, I walk to the bar, following the same trail Beth made earlier. It isn’t until I am ordering a glass of champagne that I feel someone come up beside me.

“Another cute couple. My daughter took a liking to Tennyson the minute they met. Even though she is in Kentucky at our ranch, her trips out here to see me are more frequent now. I thought perhaps she just missed being with her dad, but I soon realized that she comes to see someone else,” Geoffrey says from beside me. The thought of Tennyson with anyone but me makes me feel sick. But I have no claim. I can’t go there, no matter if I want to or not.

“Kids have a way of being sneaky like that,” I offer, trying to shake off my anger at the situation and plaster on a fake smile that I have well practiced. I have no idea what kids are like, really, but if my little sister and Josh have taught me anything, it is that they only tell me the truth when they really need to.

“You have kids?” he asks, and I start to feel the familiar ache in my chest at the question. Since I have been single for a while, it isn’t a question I get asked a lot. I want children. Desperately. My maternal instincts are strong, but who knows if I’ll ever get to put them to use. While chatting to one of Tennyson’s business competitors is not my idea of a good time, I don’t see anyone else I know, so I perch myself against the bar and try not to look Tennyson’s way.

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