New York Billionaires Series

“Declan?”

“My deskmate,” she says. “You spoke to him, remember? He notices everything.”

“Right.” I vaguely recall a lanky man in glasses. There had been a lot of names that day.

“It’s a carrot cake muffin,” she says, and she looks so proud of herself that I kiss her again.

“I did. It’s your favorite type.” She looks over her shoulder at the closed office door, her cheeks rosy with excitement. “Gosh, I feel like I’m doing something I shouldn’t.”

I lean against my desk. She fits in between my legs, her hands resting on my chest. “A crime against humanity,” I say. “Visiting the man you’re dating.”

“Who’s also my boss,” she reminds me, smiling.

Second by second with her in my arms, tension leaks out of me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Just sending a text wasn’t enough.” She rises up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine in a quick kiss. “Can I ask about your bad mood, too, or will that set it off?”

I rest my head atop hers. “You noticed?”

“Yes,” she says, “but you made a valiant effort to hide it.”

“You just helped a lot.”

“Mhm. I’m glad.” But Audrey doesn’t leave it at that. She leans back, her hair lightly tousled from my touch, and meets my gaze. There’s kind curiosity there. “Did Wesley upset you?”

I snort. “No. He’s as meek as a lamb.”

She frowns. “He is?”

“Yes. No, it’s not him. Or the Globe at all.”

“Then what? Do you not-so-secretly hate your birthday?”

“No.” I run a finger over her jaw and find the edge of her bottom lip. She’s soft, but deceptively so. There’s strength beneath it. “My dad sent me a text.”

“It’s the first time we’ve had contact in years.”

Her mouth parts beneath my finger. “I’m sorry, Carter.”

“Sorry,” I repeat. Perhaps that is something to be sorry about, but I can’t find the emotion. “There’s a good reason we haven’t spoken.”Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Audrey’s hands find the collar of my shirt, fingers curving around the fabric to rest against my skin. “Want to tell me about it?”

The smart answer is no. Especially not here, in my office, and not when I’ve barely leashed the irritation flaring up inside me.

But apparently I’m not smart today.

“He recently got out of prison.”

Audrey’s eyes widen, and there’s such shock on her beautiful face that I gently pull her hands away from my shirt. Grip the edge of my desk instead and put some distance between us.

“In prison?” she says. “You’ve never mentioned him before. Is that why?”

I think of her descriptions of her family. Of dentists and chiropractors and a brother she worries about. Retirement parties and vanilla ice cream. How different my story must seem to her.

“It’s one of the reasons, yes. He’s not a good man,” I say. Audrey says nothing, just looks at me with those big eyes of hers. My teeth grind together. “He travelled a lot for business when I was a kid. Only later did we realize, my mother and I, that he had another family. And that most of his business dealings were illegal.”

“Oh my God,” Audrey says quietly.

I run a hand through my hair. Of all the things I thought I’d be doing today, explaining my father’s sordid past was low on the list. “We haven’t met in almost a decade. Spoken only once, during his time in jail. And now he’s out.”

“Did he wish you a happy birthday?”

I snort. “Yeah. Probably the first step in his master plan of getting back in my good graces.”

“Hmm,” Audrey says. Her eyes are troubled, and there’s more on her tongue, but we’re not going into more detail here. I pull her close and kiss her instead.

“Thanks for the cupcake,” I tell her. “You should head back downstairs before my next meeting.”

Her smile widens. “Right, I should. I’ll have to sneak again.”

“Felt naughty, did you? Coming up to this floor.”

“Wildly so.” She looks over her shoulder toward the door, but it remains closed. “At first I planned a different surprise.”

“Did you?”

She nods and reaches for the neckline of her blouse, tugging it down to reveal the red, lacy detailing of her bra. “It’s a matching set,” she whispers.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Go,” I say.

She laughs and heads to the door. “I’ll see you tonight,” she says. “And happy birthday again.”

The door closes behind her and leaves me alone in the office, but with a gift on my desk. A cupcake. I push back my meeting another five minutes so I can eat the entire thing before they arrive, the memory of her smile and red lace bra burning behind my eyes.

“No,” I say. “Please tell me that’s a joke.”

“It’s not,” Audrey insists. Her hair is a beautiful mess around her head, her eyes glowing. “I went a full ten minutes thinking he was the owner.”

“And you asked him questions like he was, too?”

“Yes! How long have you had this business, sir.” She groans, but she’s grinning. “How will this affect your family, sir?”

I laugh and put my arm beneath my head. There’s no looking away from her stretched out on my bed, naked and laughing. “When did you realize you were talking to the son?”

“Embarrassingly late. He made a remark about college, and I thought that was odd, and then I saw his shoes. They were the kind of sneakers I’ve seen my brother wear. By the time his actual father walked in, the man I’d come there to interview, I’d manoeuvred my way out of the conversation.”

“Very slick,” I say. “But how could you confuse a twenty-one-year-old with a forty-five-year-old?”