Page 25 of Billionaire Babysitter

I’m not sure why that thought comes with a pang of disappointment. I guess I’ve got used to being important to him, even if he can’t see it. For so long, taking care of his every wish has been my sole purpose in life, and moving on is a double-edged blade. I’m excited to see who I’ll be next. I don’t know who I am without him.

“Don’t let me make you miss another dinner if it’s important to you,” he says, and the lump in my throat grows.

“It is. I won’t. Thank you.”

The wine must be going to my head, or maybe it’s the candles and conversation, but the way he’s looking at me right now — it’s almost like he can’t look away. That flusters me, making my heart and stomach leap into a tangled knot. It’s like he’s reallyseeing me as a person for the first time and he’s liking what he sees.

I’m not the kind of girl who gets involved with the boss. That’s messy. I don’t like messy. And I don’t like him.

Except, here in the candlelight that’s dancing over his face, sharing a meal and some real adult time, feeling like he really cares about me… it does make me tingle all over, like his eyes hold a static charge that’s building and building the more he looks at me.

If he could only be like thisalways. If he could only be gentle and sensitive and generous as a listener, and I let myself, I could find him attractive. I think Iwouldfind him attractive — he does have a handsome face after all, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. If he smiled more often, I can imagine it suiting him.

Finally, I’ve eaten my fill, and tiredness washes over me. I sigh deeply, my eyes heavy. I want to lie down. “I think it’s bedtime,” I say, pushing myself to my feet. All my bones feel weary and bed is calling me.

Lucas stands up too. “You’ve had a long day.”

“Yes,” I say. He crosses around the table to take my plate, and as I pass it to him, our fingers brush. My heart leaps into my mouth. “I have.”

He looks down at me, and where I’ve always found his height intimidating, now I’m finding his shadow comforting, like I want him to wrap himself around me.

Why is my heart beating so hard? What did he put in this wine?

Our eyes lock, and it feels like each of us is waiting for the other to break, to flinch or else lean in. I don’t know how else to understand this situation, but it’s surreal. It can’t be true. Lucas Adler doesn’t want me for anything more than I am to him — his personal assistant.

“Good night, then,” I say softly, taking a step back. It feels like all the air rushes back into the room as he moves away too.

“Good night, Sophie. Sleep well.”

I give him a small smile, and it takes all my strength to turn and walk slowly instead of fleeing. Once I’m safe in my room, I fling myself onto the bed and stare at the ceiling, replaying everything that happened tonight, trying to unpick it and figure out what all those feelings I just felt were. There’s no way I can be attracted to him. There’s no way he can want me.

Is there?

CHAPTER 16

LUCAS

Although it’s not natural for me, many years of early business meetings have trained me to be a morning person. The trick to it, I’ve discovered, is to set the alarm at the latest possible time so you’ll only just have time for the morning tasks you’ve got to do if you get up right then. I like to have a shower and read the news before I leave, so that means my alarm is usually set for half six or seven. Enough time to make it into the office by eight a.m. while not having to rush my personal tasks.

If I get up on time, anyway. Some days, it’s a struggle. Some days, after a late night, I let myself skip the shower.

But today, my alarm was set for six a.m. Not a time I particularly want to get up on a Friday morning, especially when I’m working from home. I like to start late on a Friday anyway, and if I don’t have to show my face, emails can easily wait until nine a.m. But dinner last night was way more successful than I was expecting, so I’ve decided to keep the momentum up by making Sophie breakfast.

Of course, the complications to this are that I don’t eat breakfast, and my cooking skills are still mediocre at best. But I’ve never let things like that stop me before. It’s all a matter of confidence.

And last night was good.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say that she felt the chemistry too. I definitely felt a spark, and I’m not convinced it was all my imagination. There was something there. I might not have much time for it or interest in it, but I know the way to romance is through a good meal. And the Chinese place I ordered from is the best Chinese place I know in the city.

I assume she went to an interview, because she was dressed in her smart pantsuit when she got back, emerald green with a pale blouse that brings out the green of her eyes. It makes her strikingly beautiful, elevates her from pretty into stunning. And when she does her hair like that, curled and voluminous, it frames her face in such a way that makes you want to look and not turn away. It gives her a sharpness, gives her the appearance of all the intelligence I know is lying beneath.

Damn. The more I think about it, the more I realize I really am falling for Sophie. I don’t know if this is worrying or not. Is it wrong to fall for the person you know best in the world? Is it worse when you’ve spent years treating her like she’s disposable?

God, I’m such an ass.

Anyway, that’s why I’m making breakfast. I can’t atone for everything overnight, but I can try. I can start paving the way. If I can just convince her that she likes being here, she won’t leave. And if she doesn’t leave, I won’t lose. Losing her is something I’m just not prepared to do.

This is the biggest wakeup call I’ve ever had in my life, and all my success has come from knowing which calls are important. I have to change to keep her. I have to keep her to keep succeeding.

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