Page 32 of Triplet Babies for My Billionaire Boss

Not five minutes later, my phone beeped with a text. I opened it.

Keep doing what you’re doing. Take messages and let them know I’m not in the office today. R.

So, he had been with his phone if he could respond this quickly. I had expected to be angry about it. Instead, I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. I felt let down and disappointed. I had hoped he would be better than this, that he would handle it better. Until now, I had put him on some sort of pedestal, seeing him as an Adonis, and I had seen myself as the damsel in distress. Things were changing. I was starting to see another side of him.

Everyone had flaws. I knew that. I hadn’t wanted to see them, of course. I had grown up with Rodney being the unreachable man, the very fabric of my fantasies. It turned out he was just a man. And sometimes, an asshole of a man at that.

I was upset that I hadn’t meant more to him than a text, that he hadn’t even been able to answer my call when I had gone out of my way to speak to him. Maybe he had known I would speak about more than work if he answered, but that wasn’t the point.

What bothered me the most was that I had no idea what his problem was. We had agreed we wouldn’t have sex again. We had agreed we couldn’t keep playing this game. When we had been able to fuck like adults and agree on something like that as adults, why couldn’t we handle everything else as adults?

I was getting seriously angry. The more I thought about it, the fewer reasons I could see for Rodney to be so difficult about this. I had done nothing wrong, nothing more than he had done. I hadn’t fucked alone, after all. But Rodney was acting like I was the problem, and I didn’t appreciate it.

I may have been the one to open my legs in the office on Friday, but Rodney had been the one to take charge. God, had he taken charge. So, he had no right to be like this about it. No more than I would have had the right to be so childish about it.

I struggled to do my work for the rest of the day. I struggled to sound kind and upbeat over the phone, and I struggled to be in the office until it was time to go home when I felt I was only wasting my time doing something that Rodney could easily have set up an answering machine to do. That was all I was now. A glorified answering machine.

When it was finally time to leave, I packed up my things and slung my bag over my shoulder. I switched off the lights and closed up the office. I walked to the elevator alone and waited until the doors opened.

“Hold it,” someone said. A man was jogging toward the elevator. He had light brown hair and brown eyes. “Thanks.”

He stepped into the elevator with me, looking me up and down once before standing next to me. I knew I looked good, but I felt it didn’t matter now. We rode to the lobby in silence, and I was painfully aware of how this man next to me wasn’t Rodney, how strained it was in the elevator compared to how comfortable or sexually charged it always was with Rodney.

Was this how it was going to be now?

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