Page 66 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession

He glares as if he wants to strangle me, then grabs his hair in frustration. Finally, he goes to the phone. Sensing victory, I drop my backpack, sink into a nearby chair, and kick the heels off my achy feet.

I take a quick look around the office, then pad barefoot into the bedroom. I hit all the lights as I explore the penthouse, finding a kitchen, a balcony, and a sprawling bathroom with a freestanding tub, a walk-in rainfall shower, and a panoramic view.Wow.

When I return to the office he’s still on the phone, speaking in clipped tones, and I feel bad for the person on the other line. I see his rising frustration and, finally, resignation.

“I gather that the hotel is fully booked,” I say. He slams the phone down and stalks towards the desk, packing up his things. He’s going to have to leave tonight.

Or beg me. Because I’m not moving an inch.

“Logan would happily scoot over in bed for you, you know,” I inform him, trying and failing not to rub the defeat in his face.

“Who’s Logan?” he snaps.

I tsk. “You don’t even know your staff. Anyway, he’s one of the interns I train, and I must say, he’s quite enamored with you. He’s in room 604. That’s only six floors down, if you run now,you might catch him before he falls asleep,” I say with a straight face.

He’s livid.

“You’re a fucking spoiled brat, you know that?”

“You’ve told me that before. Why didn’t you acknowledge my messages earlier?”

“Is that what this is about?” he snaps.

So he saw them. And chose to ignore me. “Possibly.” I shrug.

“You take petty to a whole new level.”

“Whatever. You don’t look too excited about the Logan option. Are you gonna beg me to let you stay or take your chances with another hotel at 2 a.m.?”

I think he’d like to throttle me. Jesus, Ethan is so fucking hot when he’s angry.

He grabs his laptop and walks out of the study and into the bedroom. He leaves the door ajar, so I see him going towards the bed.

“Where are you going? Exit’s the other way.” I point my thumb over my shoulder.

“I’m going to bed.” He throws his laptop on the bedside table, takes off his glasses and robe, and hits the light.

And then he drops into the enormous bed.

“Hey, you can’t stay here!”

“Good luck dragging me out. You’ll be pleased to know there are three other roomsanda balcony which happens to have a very nice, thin ledge. So, you see, lots of places to crash on.”

Asshole!

“And, if you have any complaints, be sure to put them in the suggestion box under the bathroom sink,” he snarks.

Oh, it’s on.

I angrily grab my backpack and head to the adjoining bathroom. I strip down to my panties and change into my night shorts and ratty t-shirt.

He thinks he can intimidate me inmyhotel room. He’s so getting a bedful of Bonnie tonight. For a second, I wish I’d packed my silk nightwear but immediately kill the thought.

He’s made it crystal clear about fifty thousand times that he doesn’t want you,I scream silently.

But it’d be interesting to see him try and throw himself off the balcony just to avoid me.

I find myself hesitating at the bathroom door long after I’ve changed, trying to summon courage for what I’m about to do. My hesitation surprises me, and I turn and look into the mirror.