Page 63 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession
“Okay, fine. I’m sorry.” I say. “Still, all it would have taken for you to find out was a short text, ‘I’m on my way,’ or ‘Don’t worry, Bonnie.’ Anything!”
His lips twitch in amusement. “And risk hounding you? I thought it be much nicer to let you stew in your own juices for a few hours.”
“You’re such a jerk.” He’s thoroughly enjoying this.
“Fucking drama queen, you’re welcome,” he says with a full-on smile.
Goodness, it’s been four months, and I’d never seen him smile before. I like it. So much so that it triggers a flurry of delicious flutters deep in my pelvis.
I notice other things, too. Like he’s wearing a t-shirt that displays his ripped biceps and torso that makes me want press myself against him more than anything.
And he’s in a better mood than I deserve. He should be angry, but he’s not. He’s looking at me like he wants to take me in his arms. Or maybe that’s just me projecting onto him.
I want to ask why he didn’t hug me back just now.Best not to push his good mood. I’ve been burned too many times, so I’ve learned to ignore the elephant in the room and pretend the attraction between us isn’t real.
“So, what now?” I ask
“It’s all in their system. Just sit back and wait for your slot is at eight-thirty. If you need anything, ask for Chuck, he’s one of the organizers. Otherwise, I’ll be at the Rivoire.”
“You’re not staying?” I can’t tell if I’m relieved or disappointed.
“Do you need me to?” He cocks an eyebrow in a mock challenge, and I know he’s daring me to admit I need him.
Yes.
“No, of course not. I’ve got it all handled from here.”
His lip twitches. “Great. Try not to fuck anything up. And Bonnie?”
“Yes?”
“Give them hell.”
He turns and leaves. Even his back is sexy.
Jackass.
“Bonnie, you’re like a cat with nine lives!” Grace Martinez, one of my interns, gushes. “I can’t believe a couple of hours ago you didn’t even have the program, and then, bam! You had everyone on their feet with your presentation.”
“Yeah, that was awesome, Bonnie. I learned so much,” Logan, another intern, adds.
It’s almost midnight, and we’re sitting at a bar in L.A. having celebratory drinks.
We’d all been so keyed up in the hours leading to the presentation, and having it turn out really well, the best out of all the programs according to numerous feedbacks, was such a heady rush for everyone that we decided to go and let some steam out.
We return to New York at nine tomorrow on business class, and we’ve been booked for the night into the Rivoire, a five-star hotel. It feels great to be this well looked after, and no snarky voice can make me feel guilty this time. I’ve earned it.
I incline my head almost shyly. “Well, thank you, guys, that’s very kind.”
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel uncomfortable with praise.
Yes, I know my presentation kicked ass and will be driving an insane amount of traffic and interest to Dreadlite. I even had a few companies try to poach me off Acercraft, offering me mouth-watering jobs.
But I’m just so relieved that I didn’t fall flat on my face. And that was because of Ethan and Jordan. But mostly Ethan. I can’t believe he came all the way to L.A. to fix things.
I only wish he'd stayed. I wanted to see his features bursting with pride and admiration. And when those other companies would have come to speak to me, he'd have gotten territorial.
That’s the least he could have done for me.