Page 7 of Accidental Theirs (Alpha Billionaire Daddies #6)

Chapter Seven

SEBASTIAN

I’ve been in a shit mood for a few days, ever since that mixer we had with Carter Holdings. The night I saw Olivia Carter for the gorgeous woman she is.

She’d always been just my best friend’s daughter. I’d never thought about bedding her, but now it seems to be all I can think about.

I blame that little skirt she wore to the mixer. Women with legs like that should always show them off, though, so I feel conflicted.

Rosie walks into the office without knocking, which I’ve warned her about no less than twenty times.

I have to admit that Rosie isn’t exactly an intellectual hire—her only previous job was at the local fast-food restaurant near her house. She was twenty-one with perfect measurements and a crop of red hair.

What can I say? I’m a red-blooded American man.

But I’ve never crossed the line with her. Twenty-one is a little too young even for a guy like me, and I don’t date coworkers or subordinates .

She smiles when she walks in, shutting and locking the door behind her, and my eyebrow raises.

I didn’t even know she knew how to use that lock.

“Hey, boss.” She lifts her hip to slide her ass onto the edge of the desk, showing off her thick thighs.

I can’t say it’s not at least somewhat effective, because I look.

But I don’t shiver like when I first saw Olivia’s long thighs. This is just healthy interest that I have no problem pushing down.

“Rosie. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Playing with fire, hopefully.”

She leans over the desk further, arching her back, showing off her assets in any way she can. She’s got all the right assets to show, but maybe she’s just too young because it’s not happening for me.

“You shouldn’t risk your job like that.”

“It wouldn’t be risking my job if you said yes.”

“What makes you think I’ll say yes?”

She shrugs. “I see the way you look at me sometimes.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Rosie. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it? It means you’re attracted to me.”

“Everyone’s attracted to you, Rosie. But I’m an old man.”

“Not that old.” She giggles, but I don’t answer her with a smile.

“It’s time to go home, Rosie.”

“What if I don’t want to?” She reaches across to put a hand on my chest, but I wrap my hand around her wrist to stop her.

I stand, tugging her up with me, and she gasps, stumbling into my chest before I push her away.

“Doesn’t matter what you want, Rosie. Matters what I want, and what I want right now is for you to get out of my office.”

She trembles as I usher her to the door, and I almost feel guilty.

“Y-you’re not going to fire me, are you?”

I shake my head. “Not if you never mention this or do anything like this again.”

I’m not exactly lying. I’m not going to fire her, but I’m going to transfer her to the New York office, and they’re a lot stricter than I am.

She leaves without further protest, and I stand in my office door for a long moment.

Who the fuck am I?

A twenty-one-year-old, busty redhead came in here and practically threw herself at me, and I.... told her no? I’m going to have her transferred?

I shake my head and then my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Shit. It must be later than I thought, because my do not disturb only goes off at seven in the evening.

I answer it without looking.

“Don’t tell me you’re still at the office.”

“I’m always at the office or?—”

“Or between someone’s thighs, I know, I know.” My best friend chuckles good-naturedly. “Thought you might come over for dinner.”

I try to decipher what Richard is saying, knowing him too well.

Richard isn’t the best at communicating. Usually, when he invites me over, he’s having a block of some kind and needs to talk it out. But he won’t say that, because he is a stubborn old man and doesn’t like to ask for help.

“Sounds good. I’ll bring a bottle of wine.”

He snorts. “Bring a six-pack, and we’re talking. ”

I chuckle and hang up the phone, nerves rolling over me and making my shoulders stiffen.

I don’t know why I’m nervous all of a sudden. It’s not like I’m meeting the family of some poor girl I’m dating.

Early after Sophie, I made that mistake a few times, and it never ended well. Parents didn’t like me, especially when I emphasized a casual relationship.

I don’t do anything other than casual, so I just stopped meeting families. Or friends. I stopped going on dates that didn’t start and end in my hotel room or the penthouse.

It got lonely, so I’m glad that Richard invited me over.

Isn’t it kind of weird, though? The timing? What if Olivia called him or something? Told him I flirted with her.

Did I flirt with her? No more than usual.

I swallow hard, slowly locking the office and going to the garage.

It only takes about twenty minutes to get to Richard’s place. It’s a little brownstone close to downtown, close to Carter Holdings. Yvonne had always wanted to be close to the office.

I smile when he opens the door.

It still smells like cherry and vanilla, like Yvonne is still there picking out the candles and air potpourri.

Richard’s pale green eyes, so much like Olivia’s, are warm when he looks at me and even warmer when I hold up a six-pack of his favorite imported beer.

“A man after my own heart.”

“Don’t propose to me, Richard. I don’t want to have to break your heart.”

He snickers and takes a beer from me, popping it open with his keychain bottle opener.

He gives the first one to me and pops open the second one, sipping from it.

I put the rest of the beer in the fridge, noticing there’s still a six-pack in there with four left from the last time we spent time together.

It’s good to see that, especially at this time of the year.

Yvonne passed away this month a few years ago, and usually, booze was in short supply at the Carter household around this time.

I’m proud of him, but then again, he’s got Olivia to worry about, and he’s always kept it together for her.

Which is among the many, many reasons that I shouldn’t have flirted with his daughter the other night. I’m disgusted with myself for even thinking about her.

I’m not going to think about her. Not for one more minute.

“How’s Olivia doing with the merger?”

I wince at the sound of her name, swallowing a big bite of the lamb chops his chef had prepared for us.

“You’d really have to ask Damien.” I pause to take a sip of my beer. “He works a lot more closely with her.”

“Maybe, but he’s close-mouthed.”

“Are you calling me a gossip?”

“If the shoe fits.”

I snort out a laugh. “All right. Well, I talked to her the other night at the mixer. She seemed a bit nervous but otherwise fine.”

“It’s not like she’d let it show.” He’s practically talking to himself at this point, and I realize why he invited me over.

He’s worried about her.

“Richard, she’s going to be okay. She’s a grown woman, and she’s been running Carter Holdings ever since before Yvonne passed.”

“I know, but Yvonne had such a hand in it...” He sighs. “I’m afraid she’s in over her head.”

“Are you referring to the financial documents Damien provided?” I know that in most cases, everything comes back to money. Especially for billionaires like us.

He looks at me shrewdly from over the beer bottle in front of him. “I can’t lie, that’s part of it. I can’t imagine that she knows how much stock Titan will hold once the merger is over.”

“Sixty-four percent is as low as we could go. And that’s the family and friends’ price, Rich. Seriously.”

He sighs. “I know. Yvonne was never particularly careful about her investments, and especially not toward the end of her life. But Carter Holdings is still a profitable business.”

“No doubt. Even with the merger at sixty-four percent, Carter Holdings stands to inherit billions from our financial department.”

“It’s a good deal.” His voice is firm, as if trying to convince himself.

I nod, standing strong. “It’s a good deal.”

Richard draws in a sharp breath. “And Olivia will understand.”

“She will. I’m sure she already knows.”

I’m honestly not sure at all that she does, or she would have slapped me as soon as she looked at me. I can only hope that Damien is mitigating that from his side.

Having known Yvonne Carter very well, I have to say I’m more than a little afraid of her daughter’s wrath.

Richard nods and finishes eating, going through a respectable two beers during dinner but not overdoing it.

I’m only finishing my first one because I plan on driving home.

“How have you been?” I look at him seriously, and he shrugs.

“You know. Some days are better than others.”

“And Olivia? ”

“Same, I think. She calls me, sometimes, late at night. Asks questions she already knew about her mother.”

I nod, dread settling over me.

Talking about Yvonne brings up a lot for Richard and for me, so I clear my throat, changing the subject.

“What are your profits this year from your restaurant?”

He grins. The subject of Carter’s, the burger joint, always makes him smile, and I know he’ll go on a tangent, but that’s better than talking about loss.

He goes on and on about profit margins and their new menu, and I’m listening, but I’m also thinking about a cold beer in my own penthouse.

I get it soon enough, saying my goodbyes to Richard and his chef, who’s on her way home as I leave.

I crack open a canned, domestic beer that I’ve been saving in my fridge for just this occasion—having nothing to do until work tomorrow.

I drink expensive cocktails and imported beer when I’m out and about. I have an image to uphold. But in my personal life, I’m just a regular guy.

There’s just something about a shitty beer and a hot dog, you know?

Growing up in New York City affected me in some way, I guess. You can take the boy out of the city but not the city out of the boy, and all that.

I stretch on my bed and a financial podcast drones through my speakers. I relax, even though it’s work related.

But I’m barely listening, my eyes half-lidded as the beer I’m drinking floods my system.

I lick my lips, rolling my hips up. I’m only wearing a pair of gray sweats, hair slicked back from a shower.

The first thing I try to imagine is Rosie’s thick thighs on my desk. I saw one earlier today, so it shouldn’t be too hard to conjure up .

But it’s a different pair of long thighs, slimmer, shapelier, that flood behind my eyelids.

Olivia.

In that short little skirt of hers.

If she’d bent over, I bet I could have seen the edge of her panties.

My hips jolt up involuntarily, and I groan low in my chest.

What’s the harm? It’s just a fantasy. We’re both adults, and it’s not really happening.

I just have a pretty good imagination.

I close my eyes and see her pale green ones looking back at me. Looking up at me, because she’s on her knees, leaning forward as she opens her mouth, showing me her pink tongue.

“Olivia.” I’m not sure if I say it out loud or not, but my own moans pitch up as my balls draw up.

I spill all over my hand and stomach and then groan, throwing a forearm over my eyes.

It could have been literally anyone but Olivia. Anyone but my best friend’s daughter.

I am a dirty old man.