Page 32 of The Billionaire's Most Unexpected Triplets

“That was interesting.” Owen takes a sip of his coffee.

I turn to look at him, having completely forgotten he was here.

“Yeah, she’s always a bit of a handful,” I say, trying to play it off.

Owen smirks. “I could tell. Although I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind being on the receiving end of that anger.”

My irritation is instantaneous — and nearly impossible to hide. “Dating coworkers is frowned upon.”

“Come on.” He chuckles. “Tell me, honestly, that you’ve never done that? You haven’t gone out with even one person at this company?”

I hesitate. Telling him about my night with Leah would be admitting a great weakness. Though I trust Owen, there would be no point in telling him about what I did.

“Let’s just focus on the project, okay?” I say instead. “We have a lot to get done today.”

Owen laughs, nearly spewing coffee all over my desk. “No problem, boss, though I’m pretty sure you forgot we were even going to meet this morning.”

He’s got me there, but it’s yet another fumble I won’t be disclosing. I didn’t get to where I am in life by sharing my feelings and stories.

I open the spreadsheet Owen sent me. “Okay, let’s get through this. I have a marketing meeting in forty-five minutes.”

Owen grins. “Will Leah be there?”

“Very funny.”

No. Leah won’t be there, and it’s probably best that she isn’t. The woman, while talented and smart, is proving to be quite a handful.

But that unwanted part of me wishes she were there. Wishes she were in my bed. In my life.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge all thoughts of Leah. There’s no point in daydreaming about her.

We had a thing once, but it can never, ever happen again. No matter how badly I might want it.

CHAPTER12

LEAH

Even before opening my eyes, I feel sick.

Really sick.

The nausea rises in my chest, and I roll over on my side, groaning. My alarm clock blares, and I fumble for it, desperate to make the grating noise stop.

I have to get dressed. Have to get to work. And yet I feel like I can’t do any of that. All I want to do is lay in bed and sleep.

But I can’t. I know it’s just one day, but I don’t trust Jack to run GourmetGlobal for even an hour without me. He’s already doing everything he can to push me out without directly firing me.

Even though I feel like shit, I trudge to the bathroom. Maybe a shower will make me feel better.

I don’t make it to the shower, though. A few seconds later and I’m vomiting into the toilet.

After a few good heaves, I stand up and look at myself in the mirror. I look exhausted, with heavy bags under my eyes and my hair all over the place.

And I feel like I could use about five more hours of sleep.

There’s no way around it. I’ll have to call in sick to work. Obviously, I have a flu or something.

Disappointed, I trudge back to my room and unhook my phone from its charger, then call GourmetGlobal’s front desk.

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