Page 59 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife

"Don't even bring that up. By the way, Wes."

"Yes, Sabrina?"

"I'm not going to be sleeping with you," I say as I stare at him. "Don't think that you're going to have your cake and eat it, too.”

“What does that mean?” he says.

“I mean, I may be living with you, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to be fucking you. Don’t think that this is going to be some sort of kinky way for you to get sex from me every day without...”

“Without what?” he says.

“Without... I don’t know. I’m just letting you know the sexual side of our relationship is done.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding. "If you say so."

"What do you mean, if I say so?" I glare at him. Does he not even want to sleep with me again? Why isn't he putting up a fuss? Why isn't he begging me to change my mind?

"I'm saying, Sabrina, if you really think that you don't ever want to have sex with me again, then that's up to you. I'm not going to force myself on you. I'm not going to make it happen. You've made claims before, but maybe you've had your fill of me. You've used me for a couple of hours of mindless sex. And now..."

"Oh, shut up, Wes."

He bursts out laughing. "My feelings are hurt. How could you speak to me like that?"

"Your feelings are not hurt."

"True. I do have thousands of women calling me, wanting to hook up. Why on earth would I still want you?" He laughs some more.

Chapter Eighteen

Wes

It's 9:00 a.m. on Monday morning, and I've already had 1,362 phone calls, 300 of whom have left voicemails. I have over 5,000 text messages, and I am the most irritated I've been in a really long time.

"Hey, there, Playboy." Miles walks into my office, a wide smile on his face.

"We've got a meeting in 10:00 with the?—"

"Shut it, Miles," I say, glaring at him. “I don’t know why you’re in here, but of course, I know that we have a meeting at 10:00."

"I'm the one who reminded you fifteen minutes ago. Just checking in about the phone calls. How are the women? How does it feel to be the most eligible bachelor in the city?"

“Not funny. I don’t want anyone thinking of me as an eligible bachelor. I’m going to kill you right after I kill Sabrina.”

“So what does Ms. Sabrina Fillmore have to say for herself?” He laughs.

"She said she's sorry, and she didn't mean it," I say, rolling my eyes and jumping up.

"But we both know that that means nothing at this point. I will say she chose a nice photograph of you." He winks at me.

"Shut up. You want to grab a coffee from the break room before we head down to the conference room?" I ask him, and he nods. "I think one of the secretaries brought in donuts, as well, so you're not having a donut."

"Are you telling me I can't have a donut?"

"Miles, we both know you work out far too much and watch your sugar intake. You're not having a donut."

"I will have you know that I love donuts, and I feel like I may have one today," he says, looking me up and down.

"So what are you going to do about this problem? Because I will say, Grandma told me she called you several times and you haven't picked up, nor called her back, and she's quite upset."