Page 15 of My Boss is a Billionaire

Liam

Icheck the time. Again. It’s eight o’clock.

Before I kissed Harper goodnight hours ago, in a sleepy haze, I mumbled my request. I asked her to meet me here at seven like she did the previous night, but she didn’t show up tonight. I yanked open the door at seven sharp, expecting to find her standing there, only to find an empty hallway.

She crept away in the dark again early this morning. I set the alarm to catch her before she escaped, but she tricked me. She must have crawled out of bed not long after I crashed, exhausted, fulfilled, and needing a restorative nap before I took her again.

Her body is like a drug to mine. I can’t get enough.

I’ve kept watch out the window. It’s a small town, so it’s a small hotel, only six floors, and I’m on the third, overlooking the parking lot and main entrance. There’s been no sight of her.

I could have gone to the paper today, and I’m sure I would have found her there, but details for my other project in town took priority. I still have commitments. I have a presentation to prepare for the town council, and unlike with other jobs, I planned to deliver the proposal this time. Harper may think she knows me. She does not agree with my tactics—or her perception of them—but I do good things. I have a clean conscious.

I order burgers and fries from room service, grab the remote for the television, and flick through the channels while I wait. For our dinner. For Harper.

By nine o’clock, I wonder if she got tied up with an important project at work. I could inquire. I own the paper.

By midnight, I’d eaten half her fries and taken a few bites of the burger I ordered for her. Funny, I have no idea if she even likes burgers. She could be a vegetarian or a vegan, for all I know.

I know nothing about her.

Except that I want her.

And she’s not coming.

Passing a hand through my hair, I sigh, a pang of regret settling in my stomach. I fight the idea that’s working hard to worm itself into my brain—the notion that I got emotionally involved. I don’t do that. I never do that. I’ve enjoyed my time with her, that’s all. I have a plan. I will follow through.

Sure, I wanted her. She wanted me. We both got what we wanted.

I guess it’s time to move on.

I gather my things and pack my bag.

With that done, and grappling with a heavy heart, a feeling I’m not accustomed to, I reach for my phone and tap out a message to my assistant. But the woman has a scary sixth sense, and she calls me before I can finish and hit Send.

“What are you doing up so late, Nancy?”

“At my age, I nap in the afternoon, so I can stay up a little later at night, sir. What can I do for you?”

Nancy is twenty years my senior and can run my business without me. She’s also a crack shot—don’t ask—and can probably drink me under the table. She’s been working with me for years, and I can’t imagine running my company without her.

“I’d like you to have the plane ready to go by six a.m. please. I want to be back in the office by mid-morning.”

“So soon, Liam? Are you sure?” My business trips are never lengthy, so that she’s asking tells me she knows this one has been different. But the kicker is that she called me Liam. Even though I’ve asked her to call me by my given name, she insists on keeping a level of professionalism in the office.

“Yes. There’s nothing for me here,” I reply. “And can you please ask Simon to clear his calendar for ten? I need to prepare him for the Springdale council meeting.”

“I thought you planned to handle that one yourself?”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

She pauses, and I hear her sigh. “Very well. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Thank you, Nancy.” I end the call and take one last glimpse around the room. One would think I’m making sure I’ve left nothing behind. In truth, I’m thinking about all the places in this room I fucked Harper. The bed, the chair, the shower, the wall.

I let the memories wash over me. Then, I grab the handle of my carry-on, pick up my briefcase from the bed, and leave the room.

The door slams closed behind me, and the oddest sensation overwhelms me—like I’ve left something behind. I stop to pat down my pockets, ensuring I have my wallet and phone. I reach the elevator and head out the front door to my waiting limo.

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