Page 7 of Billionaire's Baby Mistake

“Is everything alright?” I ask while the others filter out of the room. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Yes, I just wanted to ask you some catering questions…” Okay, I can instantly tell that this is an excuse. But that’s the sort of thing she’s more than capable of dealing with all by herself. “I want to know if I need to include gluten free and vegan food because it’ll cost a lot more. I don’t want to upset the accounting team anymore.”

“That’s fine; it’s much better to be safe than sorry. You don’t want to offend guests by not catering to their specific needs.”

“You’re right,” she says and sends me a heart stopping smile, which stirs everything up inside me. God, I hope she sent the pictures. She’s so damn hot. That chignon showing off her neck is incredible, the tight shirt she’s wearing thrills me no end, and the red paint on her lips makes me think some rather naughty things. She has me excited every moment of every day, and I cannot see that changing soon. Usually, I get bored with each woman very quickly, but I can’t ever see that happening with Zaya. “Thank you,” I say in conclusion.

She stands up, revealing the very short skirt, which has my heart racing with joy, and she moves nearer to me. Time seems to stop as she sways those curvy hips. The moment she bends down to pick something up, I’m so mesmerized that I almost forget to check her thighs. I almost fail to see if that undeniable bunny tattoo is there. But then Idosee it, and everything shifts. The axle that my world is resting on is falling apart. All I can think about is her incredible body and her desire to share it with me. I must be the luckiest guy around.

Zaya left those pictures for me, which means she definitely wants me. Now, what am I to do with that information? I know what I want to do, but is that the smart thing? Can I pick her up and throw her across this desk before making hot passionate love to her? Or would that be the worst way to progress things between us? That’s a great way to start a fling, but not something more authentic.

“Are you okay?” Zaya asks with a smirk on her face. She’s testing me, trying to get me to reveal that I’ve seen the pictures, but I won’t. Not until I’ve figured out exactly what I intend to do. “Is there anything I can… help you with?”

“No,” I stand up, smiling. “There’s nothing, and I think you’re doing an outstanding job here. I can see that the gala will be a roaring success.”

She nods slowly as if she isn’t quite sure how to take my reaction, which has me grinning. I want to keep her on her toes because I’m pretty sure that will keep her interested. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

My hangover is long forgotten as I walk back to my office with a grin plastered across my face. It’s as if I’m floating on air, happier than ever, and I don’t want anything to bring me back to earth with a thump. I lock myself inside for a few moments, wanting to get lost in my thoughts. I allow my imagination to run wild as I glance at the image of her fantastic butt once more.

I imagine myself pressing her up against the wall and kissing her with all the passion I’m feeling deep inside. I picture myself tasting her, sending wild pleasure racing through her, getting her to toss her head back in ecstasy. I wonder what it’d be like to bury myself inside of her, to explore that gorgeous body in ways that I can only dream about at the moment. Fuck, I almost want to call her in here right now so we can succumb to temptation and see what the fuss is all about.

Zaya Webber, you are something else, I think happily to myself.And I can’t wait until we take things there, but I need to take things slower for now.

“Mr. Bryson, are you there?” Nina calls through the door, using a sweet tone of voice. “I have some things that I need to discuss with you.”

I slide the pictures back under my desk quickly, not wanting them to be seen by anyone before standing up to unlock the door. I like my little secret with Zaya, especially as we aren’t even discussing it yet. It makes it feel even more exciting.

“Yeah, come in,” I call out halfheartedly, trying to get my head back in business. “What is it, Nina? What can I help you with?”

Zaya

AsIwatchtheroom fill up, my nerves finally subside. This gala might have been challenging to plan in such a short time with so many other thoughts on my mind, but it looks like I’ve done it. Not only have I managed to sort out the catering and decor, with great food and incredible decorations, but the attendance is really high. I have proven myself and helped to raise the company’s profile.

I can’t wait for Alex to get here and see it. I want him to know that I am worthwhile and can be good at this job, especially with the trouble I’ve been having with Ryan recently. He and his stupid budget complaints, honestly, what a nightmare. I’m proving him wrong for sure!

I can’t wait for Alex to see me, either. I hope he enjoys my long black, figure-hugging dress and it’ll turn him on. Ever since I sent him those pictures, he’s been giving me lingering looks, and I can’t wait to see where that will lead. I’m excited about getting into his office for several reasons now. I know why I’m here and what I’m doing, but the more I spend time with Alex, the more I want to know what he’s like in bed… it’s so intriguing. I want to know what his playboy reputation is all about.

I nervously sip my fourth glass of champagne, glancing around to see if he’s here yet when another powerful thought strikes me. Dad should be here. He helped start this company, providing the boost they needed to become recognize, and he was rudely pushed out. Dad is a lovely man who would do anything for anyone, so this is even worse. Even if Peter didn’t want him back, for whatever petty reason, Alex could have overturned that decision when he died.

It's hard for me to recall at times, but these people are the enemy.

I pull out my phone, ready to text Dad to tell him that the gala is up and running, but before I get the opportunity, I’m interrupted by Alex making a grand entrance…because healwayshas to make a grand entrance. He strides through the door, waving at everyone in such an overdramatic gesture that I can’t help but laugh and roll my eyes. He seems to have a way of drawing people in, which makes you not want to hate him… well, except for me, but that’s because I have a powerful reason. Deep down I’ll always hate him.

He jumps up on the stage and starts making a speech in his funny, charismatic way. I knew this gala was for some announcement in the pharmaceutical field, but I never bothered to ask what. I probably should have, but it didn’t seem necessary. However, as I listen to Alex telling everyone that he has created new drugs that could reverse the effects of cancer, a wave of intense anger builds inside me. This isn’thisannouncement to be made, and this isn’t his drug; I’m sure of it. I’m pretty sure this is the outcome of the research Dad had started, as outlined in the documents he wants me to retrieve from the safe. I don’t like to hear anyone else taking credit for it. That isn’t right.

Before I even realize what is happening, I’m gripping the glass between my fingers so tightly that it almost breaks. So this isitnow, the reinforcement that I need to take this asshole down and do what I came to do. I’m more than prepared to take this one step further.

I watch everyone clapping happily, lapping at every word coming from his stupid mouth, and I want to crush him even more. For some reason, I have the intense desire not only to strip this company away from him, ruining the future that his dickhead father handed to him on a platter, but also to break his heart. I want him to fall for me properly, and I want to destroy his interest. After all, he’s already torn my heart from my chest by upsetting dad.

Ultimately, I’m forced to walk outside for a few seconds to get some air. While out there, I scramble around in my bag and find a lone cigarette rolling around in there. I’m not a smoker; it isn’t something I do daily, but I always have one with me, just in case. It’s a terrible habit that I got into in college when stressed, and now it’s become a comfort blanket that I can’t seem to survive without. I haven’t touched a cigarette in over a year now, but having one with me always makes me feel better.

I light up and inhale the painfully hot smoke, coughing lightly for a second while willing my stress levels to drop. I want my pulse rate to calm down, the anger to cool, and rationality to set back in. I don’t want to end up doing something just because I’m pissed off.

“You know they’re bad for you, right?” I hear his bemused voice calling out behind me, winding me up even more. I can’t even get a second to myself, which is seriously irritating.

Never mind. It’s time to plaster the fake smile back on my face and act like everything is incredible. “Oh, I know,” I announce as I address him. “It’s just been one hell of a week.” I drop the cigarette to the ground and stub it out with my toe, wasting it entirely. “But it’s all been worth it seeing what a success it is.”

“You did an amazing job,” he tells me earnestly, moving nearer to me. “Everyone has been saying so, and they don’t even know that you did it within a week. It’s incredible… all the phone calls, the advertising, the arrangements…I don’t want you to feel like it’s all gone unnoticed because it hasn’t.”

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