Page 17 of Hired For the Billionaire's Secret Son

Ollie sat on the arm of the nearest chair and crossed one slim leg over the other. ‘You don’t strike me as being someone who needs validation. Why this guy? And why do you need to impress him?’

She was so direct, so honest in her questions and pointed in her remarks. He liked her ability to cut through the nonsense and hone in on what was important.

‘He’s just bought a sailing operation that my family has a long association with. He wants to upgrade with some new yachts and I want to design them. Whenever they’ve needed a new direction and technology in the past, a Sørenson has provided it. First, my grandfather, then my father. I want to carry on the tradition.’

‘Ah, the weight of family expectation,’ Ollie murmured. He heard the irritation in her voice and wanted to know how her family annoyed her, wanted to find out more. But, before he could, Ollie spoke again. ‘It sounds like an awesome opportunity. You should go.’

That was the plan. ‘I need a date.’

Ollie raised her eyebrows. ‘Surely you’re big enough and old enough and sophisticated enough to attend a function on your own, Sørenson?’

He narrowed his eyes at her jibe. ‘I said I’d take a date and that’s what I have to do.’

Ollie shrugged, looking unconcerned. ‘Then you’d better find one.’ She shoved her tongue into her cheek. ‘If you tell me where to find it, I’ll fetch your little black book for you. That’s what you older folk use, isn’t it?’

Older folk?

‘I’m thirty-eight years old,’ Bo retorted.

‘You are nearly ten years older than me—that’s practically a generation.’

He caught the amusement in her eyes and knew she was trying to wind him up. He felt laughter bubbling up inside him and shook his head. He’d laughed more, and felt more, since she’d arrived in his life than he had in the past ten years. Somehow she made his house seem lighter, his responsibilities to Mat not quite so petrifying and she made him think he could be a good dad to Mat.

And she was also the solution to his current predicament. Why should he go out of his way to find a date when a gorgeous woman was standing in front of him? ‘Because you made that crack about me being old, you can be my date tonight.’

Ollie held up her hand, her curls shimmying as she shook her head. ‘At a ball? Uh...no.’

‘Uh...yes.’

Yep, he could easily imagine walking into Freja’s incredible Carrera marble hallway with Ollie on his arm, standing at the double-volume doors, waiting for her butler to announce their entrance into the room. She was nothing like the women who normally accompanied him to social events, those cool, haughty blondes who expected the world to stop when they walked into a room. And, if Ollie agreed to go with him, then he wouldn’t have to spend the next hour looking for a date, apologising for the late request and stroking some egos. He was an extremely eligible bachelor, and he’d quickly find someone who’d say yes, but he might have to do a small amount of grovelling first.

He really couldn’t be bothered. Not when the woman he most wanted to take to the ball was standing right in front of him. Yes, he knew it wasn’t a good idea—he was blurring the lines between work and play—but he was tired of downplaying his attraction to Ollie. His hands itched to touch her stunning body and desperately wanted her wide, full mouth under his again. He wanted to hear the hitch in her breath as he pulled her into his body... He didn’t know how he’d found the willpower to stop kissing her the other day. The lower portions of his body were still unimpressed.

But getting involved with Ollie—Mat’s nanny—would be flirting with danger. Or...would it? Maybe she was the perfect person to have a fling with because her time in Copenhagen was limited. She’d told him that she needed to be back in London at the end of the summer. By then, he’d not only feel far more confident in his abilities to take care of Mat, but the initial excitement of a new relationship—fling, affair—would be starting to fade. They wouldn’t have to call it quits because there would always be an end date, a time to stop.

Why hadn’t he thought about this before? ‘So? What do you say?’ he asked Ollie.

Ollie folded her arms across her chest and frowned at him. ‘I’m here to look after Mat, Sørenson, not be your last-minute date. And, even if I wanted to go, who would look after Mat while we were out?’

That was easy. He looked past her to see Greta, who was vacuuming the passage with Mat on her hip. His boy looked as if he was having the time of his life. ‘Hey, Greta?’ he called.

Greta turned and poked her head round the frame of his study door. ‘Is there any chance you could babysit Mat tonight if I can persuade Ollie to come with me to the Møller ball?’

Greta’s eyes widened in surprise, as he’d known they would. The ball raised millions of euros for good causes and the next day the residents of Copenhagen, and the rest of the country, discussed who wore what, and who went with whom. Greta nodded enthusiastically. ‘Of course I will. Ollie, you must go!’

‘I don’t think so,’ Ollie told her.

‘But they have fireworks and entertainment, and the food is cooked by one of the country’s greatest chefs! You will see one of the oldest and grandest houses in the country.’

Ollie, damn her, still didn’t look impressed. ‘Even if I wanted to go, which I’m not sure I do, I don’t have a dress or shoes or anything like that.’

There were some perks to being a billionaire and one of them was having a personal stylist on a retainer. Carla purchased his clothes, put his outfits together and made sure he never made a fashion mistake. Clothes weren’t something he spent a lot of time thinking about. ‘If that wasn’t a problem, would you say yes?’

Ollie looked like a deer caught in the headlights, a little excited and even more terrified. ‘Oh, come on, Bo! There has to be someone else you could ask.’

There were several someones but he didn’t want to take any of them; he wanted Ollie to accompany him to the Møller Ball. He wanted to see the house through her eyes, watch her as she marvelled over the firework display, the fire eaters and the trapeze artists. He was a little blasé and a lot cynical—he’d seen and done it all—but maybe, through her, he’d see things a little differently. He held her eyes and waited for her answer. As he expected, she tried another way to wriggle her way out of it.

‘I can’t ask you to pay for a dress and shoes I will never wear again.’

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