Page 8 of Triplet Babies for My Billionaire Boss

Danielle agreed, and I closed myself in my office. Everything I had thought about in the elevator was pushed to the background. I had to focus on work now. I sat down and waited for the call to come through.

When my phone rang, I pushed talk and put it on speaker.

“Mr. Chen, how are you?” I asked.

Lu Chen was a software developer in Hong Kong, and I was interested in collaborating with him. He was one of the best in the business.

“I am well,” Chen said. “I have had a look at the designs you sent me. Very impressive.”

“I’m glad you think so,” I said. “I was hoping we could work together.”

We discussed how we would collaborate, how profits and marketing might work. This was the part of my business I enjoyed the most–talking to masterminds around the globe. Lu Chen was one of the first international contacts I had made, and if we were able to collaborate, it would mean so much for Berry Software.

The conversation went well, the language barrier notwithstanding. By the time I put down the phone, it was past noon, and I was starving. I looked at Danielle. She sat at her desk, bent over a file, lost in concentration. God, she was hot.

I walked to the door and opened it.

“It’s quite late,” I said. “The call took longer than I expected. Do you want to go to lunch with me?”

Danielle looked up and smiled, nodding.

“Yeah, sounds good,” she said. “I have a bunch of messages for you that came through while you were on the call.”

She held up a little notepad.

“I’ll deal with that later. Come on, there’s a small Italian place close by that we can go to.”

Danielle joined me, and we left the building, walking down the sidewalk.

Antonio’s was a small Italian restaurant, squashed between a laundromat and a bakery as if it was being squeezed out of existence. The moment we stepped through the doors, we were transported to another world. It was what I liked so much about the restaurant. Italian music floated from invisible speakers, and vines grew against one wall with a vineyard painted behind it to give the feel of Tuscany.

We sat down at a two-seater table by the window.

“This place is so nice,” Danielle said.

“It’s one of my favorites,” I said. “I like the atmosphere.”

“Oh, a romantic,” Danielle said, grinning.

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know if it’s romantic. I think it’s about escaping. You know, something exotic, different than usual.”

I looked Danielle right in the eyes when I said it, my voice getting deeper. She blushed, realizing that I wasn’t talking about the restaurant anymore.

“What are you going to eat?” I asked, changing the topic abruptly.

Danielle looked at the menu, a little flustered. “Pasta,” she said. “Fettuccini Alfredo.”

I blinked at her. No salad? Somehow, that made her even hotter.

After we ordered, I leaned my elbows on the table and looked at Danielle. Her attention was somewhere outside.

“How are you so comfortable with everything I’m throwing at you?” I asked.

Danielle looked at me. Her green eyes twinkled, and a smile played on her lips. “Well, if you’re good you’re good.” Her blush was the only thing that stopped her from appearing arrogant.

“Well, I’m impressed.”

“If you’re impressed by that, you should see what else I’m good at,” she said.

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