Page 65 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession

“Bonnie?”

I’m shocked. My eyes haven’t quite adjusted to the darkness, but holy hell, is it… Ethan?

He hits the switch, and the suite is bathed in light.

Oh, my God. Ethan is naked! Well, he’s in boxer briefs. Tight, snowy white and freaking expensive ones, going by the signature on the band. My eyes hungrily drink in the rest of him. I probably should, but I can’t tear my gaze away as he turns to face me.

He’s glorious.

Big, tanned, muscly. Goodness, look at those abs and the delectable V of muscle that points downward to… Sweet Jesus, that’s really large. If he wasn’t already wealthy, he’d make a killing as an underwear model.

Or a porn star.

I swing my eyes back up, red-faced and mortified, expecting to see a smirk on his face from having caught me staring, but instead he’s squinting. Like he can’t see.

He turns, and he appears to be feeling around the desk for his glasses. My heart lurches as he almost knocks his glasses to the floor before catching them at the last second, and then finally puts them on.

“What are you doing here?” he demands.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around his behavior just now.

Can he not see without the glasses?

But he can. He’s taken them off before, lots of times. The last couple of times he took them off, we were in his office.

It was dark both times.

Ethan likes to sit and skulk around in the dark. A lot.

That night in the kitchen, he went back for his glasses… because I put the lights on?

I’m starting to freak out with the conclusions my mind is throwing up. Vampires aren’t real, right?

Right??

“Bonnie, what the fuck are you doing here?”

His sharp growl yanks me back to our current predicament. “Calm down. Geez. What do you think, I’m stalking you? That’s your specialty. This is my room.” I wave my card in the air. “I should be asking you what you’re doing here.”

He snatches a bathrobe off a nearby coat rack and throws it on.

Shame.

“There has to be a mistake. Get another room.”

“Excuse me? I think you’d better recheck your card. I wonder who out of the two of us is more likely to have misread information. Are you sure you shouldn’t be in the other penthouse?” I cock my head, motioning to the one on the opposite end of the hallway.

“Bonnie…” He sighs wearily. “Get out. I don’t have time for your silly games.”

“I don’t know if you can see beyond your nose, but I’m not even joking here.” I fish out a file from my bag. “Room 1212 PB.”

“There’s been a mistake.” He insists.

“Whatever, HR assigned me this place, I’ve been working all day, and I’m exhausted. I’m not getting kicked out at midnight by an unreasonable boss.”

“Bonnie, this is my room, okay?” He looks almost pleadingly at me. “It’s the only room I stay in L.A. Ever. HR made an error.”

I shrug like that’s not my problem.