Page 32 of Hired For the Billionaire's Secret Son

‘It is,’ Bo told her. ‘I like to think that God was in a particularly good mood when he created this place. It’s exceptionally pretty with its rocky cliffs, mountains and dense forests. It also has really friendly locals and great food.’

Ollie couldn’t wait to see more of the island and was so grateful that she’d get to do it with Bo. She was making memories she’d never forget. ‘Do you come here often?’

‘Not as often as I should, but I did spend a lot of time here when I was a child,’ Bo replied. ‘The house was my grandfather’s and I spent every summer here. I inherited it when he died.’

She was so lucky to get to spend time here, Ollie thought. When Bo had suggested that they drive to Bornholm, she’d immediately agreed, as she always took every opportunity she could to see more of the region in which she was working.

With little Mat in his pram, she had explored Copenhagen’s many tourist attractions. She’d visited its stunning museums, ambled its streets and taken a harbour tour, and Bo had also taken the time to show her the hidden-away gems of the city he called his home. They’d also made trips to Dragor. She’d adored its narrow streets and low houses built in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and had been entranced by its old port. They’d also visited the cultural harbour city of Helsingør and Ollie had explored Kronberg Castle. There was so much of the country to see but she was out of time.

She had just ten days left in Denmark and, every time she thought about getting on a plane and returning home, her stomach filled with acid-covered concrete. But she had to leave, she couldn’t stay.

Stupidly, she’d been living in a fool’s paradise since she’d started sleeping with Bo, pretending that the idyll they’d created would last—her looking after Mat and him going off to work, coming home at night to spend time with his son before turning his attention to loving her. Nothing lasted and Ollie tried to remind herself that she preferred it that way.

She wasn’t convinced.

The truth was that she was a hair’s breadth away from falling in love with Bo, with Mat, with Copenhagen and with this amazing country. Their holiday in Bornholm would be the last bit of concentrated time they’d spend with each other, and three days after they returned to the city she would catch a flight to London.

Staying with Bo was not an option.

Ollie looked down when her phone vibrated. She’d taken a photo of Gundjem shortly after leaving the car and posted it on the Cooper family’s group. Her mum’s reply was a picture of Ollie’s empty but decorated office at Cooper & Co complete with its state-of-the-art computer and a framed copy of her degree on the wall.

Standing there, overlooking Gundjem and watching the fishing boats coming into the harbour, with Bo’s arms around her, Ollie knew with absolute certainty that she didn’t want to join the family firm or to go back to London. She’d thought she could do the job for five years, that it was something she could do with some gritting of her teeth. She now knew she couldn’t. Not now and not at any time in the future.

It wasn’t an office job she was allergic to—if she joined Sabine it would mean she could mostly work remotely. But working with figures and company law in a fast-paced, corporate environment would sap her and make her miserable.

She wanted to be here, with Bo and Mat, living with them, loving them. But, even if they weren’t part of her future, given Bo had made it clear that she couldn’t expect a long-term commitment from him, she still wanted to buy a share in Sabine’s business. She wanted to learn from her as she supplied au pairs and nannies to good families who needed their help and input.

She’d made a promise to her parents, and that was important to her. At the very, very least, she needed to have a sensible, reasonable discussion about how she could fulfil her obligations without selling her soul and drowning in misery.

She knew, standing here on Denmark’s sunshine island, that she couldn’t be a part of Cooper & Co and somehow she and her family would have to come to terms with that. She was going to be without the man she loved—she knew that Bo would not change his mind and ask her to stay—but five years was far too long to spend time not doing what she loved. It was too long to be without the people she loved, but she didn’t have a choice in that. She did with her career.

‘You’re a million miles away,’ Bo said, his mouth close to her ear. She jumped a little and squeezed his forearm. She turned in his arms and tipped her head back to look at him, trying to burn all the details of this moment into her brain. Bo was dressed in a button-down navy-and-white-striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up, blue shorts and boat shoes, his hair blowing in the warm wind. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at her, and she loved the fact that he hadn’t shaved for a day or two. His stubble made him look a little more devil-may-care, a lot more disreputable. More like a sailor than the owner of one of the continent’s premier boat-building yards and an amazing yacht designer.

Over the past few weeks, she’d come to know the man behind the reserved facade he showed the world. He had a dry sense of humour and a fondness for the ridiculous and, now that he was used to it, enjoyed her gentle teasing. He was considerate, occasionally affectionate and, if he sometimes spent far too much time on his drawing boards or on his laptop in a world of his own, she let him be, understanding that he was in his happy place, zoned out on water displacement, bows, masts and drag.

But sometimes he’d look up from working on his laptop, see her sitting on the couch reading or watching a movie and hand her a warm smile, as if to say ‘hey, you’re still here and that’s pretty damn marvellous’. He’d started singing folk songs to Mat after reading to him and, when she’d asked him what he was singing, he’d told her they were songs his grandmother had sung to him when he was a young boy. She was glad that he’d reconnected with music and enjoyed his baritone. It was an improvement on the out-of-tune eighties rock tunes she belted out that caused the neighbourhood cats to flee and Mat to slap his hands over his ears.

Bo lifted his hand and dragged his thumb over her bottom lip. ‘You are so very beautiful, Olivia,’ he murmured, and Ollie saw the sincerity in his eyes. He’d told her she was lovely before, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that such a gorgeous guy thought she was hot.

She just wished he could think of her as something more than a blip on his radar, someone who was worth more than an eight-week affair. But while she could speak to her parents, rearrange her work priorities, change her career and flip things around in her own life, she could not influence his.

She couldn’t make him love her, she couldn’t make him commit. She didn’t have the power to grant him the ability to trust or to take a risk. She was just a girl who was lucky to have shared his life for as long as she had.

But, damn, saying goodbye, leaving, was going to be the mental equivalent of being flayed with a whip.

CHAPTER TWELVE

INFRONTOFthe floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the bleach-white beach and glistening sea, Bo looked down into Ollie’s lovely eyes and lifted his hands to cradle her face. She looked ethereal in the pale light flowing in from the yet-to-set sun. From the moment he’d first seen her just shy of two months ago, he’d visualised making love to her here, in the bedroom of his island home. He’d wanted to see the evening light on her skin, watch her eyes fog over as the water smacked the beach below the house, breathing in the air coming off the sea as he painted his desire on her glorious skin.

Ever so slowly, wanting to take his time, desperate to make a memory, Bo undid the neck-to-hem buttons of her pretty, short sundress, eventually spreading it open to reveal her lacy, mint-green bra and high-cut matching panties. He dragged his finger down the centre of her chest and watched her nipples pebble, hardening in anticipation of how he would make her feel.

Oh, he intended to make her feel...everything.

Lifting his hand, he gripped the clip that held her soft curls against the back of her head and let the heavy mass fall down her back, over her slim shoulders. Ollie lifted her chin and parted her lips, and he knew she wanted him to kiss her. But if he lost himself in her mouth this would be over far too soon. Avoiding her mouth, he dragged his lips over her jaw, before tugging her ear lobe into his mouth. She reached for him, but he shook his head, tipping her head back so that he could look into her deep-brown, glowing eyes.

‘I need to explore you softly, slowly, intensely.’

He saw the tremble in her fingers, the way her skin pebbled in response to his words. He knew he turned her on—he was old enough and experienced enough to have worked that out weeks ago—but he doubted she knew how she affected him. She walked into the room and a barrage of images hit him: how he’d like to take her by that window, on that table. Time after time, his knees weakened and the air in the room seemed to evaporate. The urge to cover her mouth with his, whether they were in company or alone, was always present.

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