The Billionaire: Forbidden Sex Love

“Well, that was the easiest unpacking I’ve ever done in my life,” Monica said, flopping down next to me on the couch that had just been delivered.

I slowly turned my face toward her. “But for some reason, I’m as exhausted as my credit card.”

She laughed. “That bill isn’t going to be pretty.”

It wasn’t, but we now had new living room furniture and a kitchen table, lamps, and bedroom sets-things we’d sold in Miami to start completely fresh. And with the steady salary I was earning, I would eventually be able to pay it off.

Not my father.

Me.

Just because I came from money didn’t mean I took advantage of it.

“I know we’re here-that drive took a century and was the longest thing ever-but I still can’t believe we’re here, here,” I said.

A large window was across from me, showing a skyline that I hadn’t studied in a long time. My dream was to always work for my father, but I hadn’t thought he was going to hire me so soon. I got the impression he wanted me to have some experience first. But as I had driven him to the private airport after my graduation weekend, he’d offered me the job after some heavy begging. And even though I missed our friends in Florida, I was ready to start this next phase of my life.

“I can’t either,” she finally whispered. “I saw Manhattan. I saw thick, billowy clouds of steam coming up from the ground and chewy, hot bagels smothered in veggie cream cheese, and those incredible boho-chic boutiques in SoHo. I didn’t see LA.”

I leaned against her shoulder. “Are you disappointed?”

“No, babe, this is so much better.”

I sighed, kicking my feet onto our new coffee table. “How about I order us a boat of sushi and we open a bottle of wine and put on Housewives of any city?”

“I love you.”

I giggled. “I thought you’d dig that plan.”

“It’s perfect.”

And it was.

But what would be even better was if I heard from Jenner. He lived so close; I could be at his house in eight minutes if I hit every green light.

I wouldn’t do that.

I wasn’t going to call him either.

I was going to make him reach out to me.

“I feel like this is our last moment of freedom,” Monica said. “Come Monday, you’re all business, traveling to Utah soon and deep into the trenches of your new job. I have three interviews lined up for next week. We’re working girls now, baby.”

“We’re so old.”

She snorted. “Right?” She rested her fuzzy pink socks next to mine. “Speaking of old … now that we’re here, what’s your plan? I mean, you haven’t said his name in, like, a day.” She put her hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Very funny.”

“Except I’m serious, Jo.”

I reached for my phone and pulled up the shot that Monica had taken this afternoon when we first arrived. We were on our balcony, the sun shining directly on me, capturing my smile just perfectly.

I showed her the photo and said, “That’s getting posted in the morning.”

“And you’re sure he checks your Instagram?”

I laughed. “Oh, I’m more than positive.”

The timing of his texts told me he’d set up notifications.

Her brows rose, telling me she wasn’t convinced. “So, your plan is to post a pic and just wait?”

“Sometimes, you have to show them what they want, Mon.”

She was quiet for a few seconds, processing what I’d said, and finally replied, “Okay, okay, I can buy that.” She leaned up on her elbows. “What comes next?”

“That’s when I have to get a little creative and give him what he wants.”

“Which is?”

I smiled. “Me.”

JENNER

“T

he client is requesting that you fly to Miami tomorrow,” my assistant said as I held the phone up to my ear, looking out the backseat window of my SUV.

Miami.

I felt movement in my chest as I took a breath, and I knew it wasn’t just from the air that was filling it. “Tomorrow, Val?” I inquired. “Is it possible to accommodate that request?”

“Well, you’re booked solid for the next ten days with barely even an opening for lunch. I suppose I could move things around, like I’ve done in the past, but it won’t be pretty.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Miami didn’t hold the same significance as it had the last several months.

That was because she wasn’t there.

She was here.

And I still hadn’t fucking seen her.

All I’d seen were pictures.

One of what I assumed to be the balcony outside her apartment, a high-rise I was quite familiar with-I’d helped my client build it.

Another one on the beach in Malibu.

A dinner at Nobu.

She was leaving breadcrumbs, and I was gobbling up every goddamn one.

“Fit them in when you can, but don’t move anything around,” I told her and hung up, keeping the phone in my hand to check the emails that had recently come in.

I felt the SUV come to a stop just as my driver said, “We’re here, Mr. Dalton. I’ll be parked along the side of the building until you’re ready to leave.”

I glanced out the opposite window, the twenty-story corporate office for Spade Hotels directly outside. “Thank you, Steven.” He went to get out to open my door, and I added, “There’s too much traffic today. I’ve got it.”

I climbed out, holding my briefcase, and walked into the lobby. “Jenner Dalton here to see Walter Spade,” I told the receptionist.

“Good to see you, Mr. Dalton,” she replied. “You can head on up.”

I went to the bank of elevators, waiting for one of the four to arrive. Once one did, I walked inside and hit the button for the top floor.

The door was almost closed when I heard, “Can you hold the elevator, please?”

I stuck my hand in the doorway, stopping it from shutting, and just as it began to slide open, my jaw practically fucking dropped as Jo stepped through the entrance.

“Thanks for holding it,” she said, her breath hitching the moment our eyes connected and she realized it was me inside.

My dick instantly hardened. My hands were grasping air, so I didn’t reach for her.

She halted a few steps in, almost teetering on her sky-high red heels. “Jenner … hi.” Her voice was almost like a gasp.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. She worked here now; of course she would be in the building.