New York Billionaires Series

“Wrong again. But that’s… a close third? No, I revise my list. The lock is number three, kitchen number two.”

“How close it is to mine, then,” I say, and put the final book in place on her shelf. Another moving box empty. She hadn’t had many, and moving her stuff from Pierce’s to the new apartment had only taken half a day.

She returns to the living room, wearing a smile and a striped apron. “Yes,” she says.

“Got it on my third try.”

“It’s close to yours and work.” She reaches up, fitting her arms around my neck, and I find her waist. I love holding her like this.

“Me and work,” I say. “Good to know we get one abbreviated point.”

“You happen to be at both places.”

“I’m a clever man.” I kiss her, a brief brush of the lips that turns lingering and sweet. “Are you happy, kid?”

Her smile is blinding. Something hurts, physically hurts in my chest. I would kill anyone who harmed her -the thought is crystal clear in my head. It doesn’t even bother me.

“I’m happier than I can ever remember being,” she says. “This place is gorgeous… and I know you pulled some strings. Don’t try to hide it from me.”

I look up at the ceiling, pretending to consider. “I promised honesty, right?”

“Carter,” she warns, but there’s laughter in her voice.

“Yes,” I say, “I pulled some strings. But they were minor. The owner of this building is a family friend of Conway’s. I asked if they had any rent-controlled properties.”

“And they just happened to have this one free?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. They were searching for a tenant who would likely stay only for a year or two.”

“And you thought of me?” she says. Her fingers drift up into my hair, nails scraping softly against my scalp. It becomes hard to keep my train of thought.

“Yes,” I say. “Who knows where we’ll be in a year or two?”

“Carter Kingsley,” she murmurs. “Have you been thinking about the future?”

“I’ve been called a visionary in the past, you know. Forward-thinking. Strategic. A brilliant young face in the business industry. A-”

She pulls me across the hardwood floor of her new apartment, toward the couch I’d gotten for her as a moving-in present. It’s a smaller replica of mine, the one she’d complimented often.

We fall down on the soft cushions. I have just enough time to reach out and support myself on an arm before crushing her.

“You think highly of yourself, don’t you?” she teases.

I find the curve of her ear with my lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”

She nods, her legs coming up to grip my hips.

“The most brilliant woman on earth loves me,” I whisper. “So yeah, I think pretty highly of myself. How can I not?”

Audrey laughs and pulls me down for a kiss. It’s sweet, and soft, and I never thought I’d be here. Play this part. Love so openly that it feels like I’m carrying around a wound I never want to heal. She can break me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You have to go soon,” she murmurs a long while later. Her hands are running through my hair, back and forth, the way she likes to do at night.

“Nothing could make me leave this spot,” I say. “Right here is where I want to live and die.”

“On top of me? Your business partners won’t like that.”

“They don’t have to like it.”

“You accepted this invitation a long time ago. All the important people from the paper will be there. Booker, by the way. She even got a babysitter for tonight, just for this event.”

“Yes, but you won’t be there. Come with me,” I tell her. “Be my date. Please.” The desire to be with her in public is overwhelming. Maybe it’s my pride, but I can’t wait for the day she’ll accompany me to these events. They’re boring at best, and yet… I want others to see us together.

I want others to see her with me.

Audrey sighs, her hands tightening in my hair. “I want to. You know I want to.”

“Then do it, kid.”This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

“You know I’ll say no. We have a deal.”

“One year,” I say against her skin. “Yes. I know.”

One more year of me being her boss. Twelve months, fifty-two weeks, and no dating in public. Going on trips out of state, evenings in our apartments, and being nothing to each other at work.

“You wore the red blouse to work yesterday,” I say.

Her fingers still in my hair. “Yes. You noticed?”

“Of course I did. I had to go down to the newsroom, and I couldn’t look at you twice, because no one is allowed to suspect a thing. But I wanted to.”

“You know, I might start wearing sexier outfits to work just to taunt you.”

“You’re the devil.”

“Yes, and you’re stuck with me,” she says, locking her legs around me. “For eternity.”

“Go ahead and torment me.” I find her lips again, and God, I can’t wait until this year is over. For all of the Globe ‘s allure-and there’s plenty, especially as the newspaper has started to slowly increase its subscriber count-I want to stop hiding us.

And I never want her to worry about what her colleagues might say if they find out.

So in a year, I’m going to change jobs. I’d offered to do it sooner, but Audrey had been adamant. It has to be fair to both of us, she’d said, and the Globe needed me too much to step down.

It’s a compromise we both benefit from.

“Go,” she tells me, another ten minutes later.

“I wish I could cancel,” I say, watching her sprawl on the couch. She’s in her pajama shorts, bare legs stretched out, feet on an overturned moving box.