Page 213 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 7

“Yes!” I screamed into the phone and somehow managed to spill some of my smoothie onto my shirt now too. Now everyone really was staring at me.

“That’s wonderful,” Bee said. “We’re so excited to have you. I’ll see you at 9 am next Wednesday morning.”

“It’s a date.”Oh my fucking God, what did I just say?!Did I just ask my married new female boss out on a date?Why? Really…why?

Bee laughed. “See you Wednesday, Ash.”

I squealed when she hung up. At least, I hoped she’d hung up. Because I really didn’t want to break my new boss’ eardrum. “I got a new job!” I yelled to the sassy barista.

“Cool,” he said.

How was he not excited for me? Oh, he didn’t know why else I was so happy. “And I’m officially divorced!” This was the best day of my life!

“Shocker.”

Rude.I needed to start going to a different smoothie place. If only there was another one so close to my stalker’s residence and my spin class… But alas, there wasn’t. So I was stuck with this rude boy.

“We’re closing,” the barista said. “So you need to leave.”

Shit.I looked down at my phone. It was almost 8 o’clock. I was going to be late! I ran out of the smoothie shop and sprinted as fast as I could. My best friend always made fun of me for wearing sneakers…but in this case, they came in handy.

I realized about halfway to my stalker’s apartment building that I had smoothie stains all over my shirt and pants. I started blotting at them as I ran, somehow spilling more of the pungentsmoothie everywhere. Did buckwheat have some kind of weird magical attraction to clothing?

I skidded to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk when I saw someone come out of my stalker’s building. He lived in One57. It was the most prestigious apartment building in the city. I couldn’t even fathom what someone did for a living to afford a place in there. But I didn’t have time to daydream about his profession today. Because it wasn’t my stalker that had just walked out onto the sidewalk.

No.

No, no, no.

Matthew. Freaking. Caldwell. The man whose penis I’d set on fire.

I couldn’t face him. I’d seen him once after the flaming pants incident and I’d jumped into a lake to avoid him. It hadn’t worked. I’d wished I’d drowned.

I ducked into an alleyway before he could spot me. There was an open dumpster calling to me. It was overflowing with bags of trash. It would be the perfect place to hide. But I was deathly afraid of germs. It was like at the top of my list of greatest fears. Right under being late. This was what I got for being late for my stalker’s stalking.God. What do I do?

I started fanning myself because I was breaking out in a sweat. There wasn’t really a choice here.Screw my life.The dumpster was the only option. I was just about to fling myself into it whenI thought I should probably at least check to see if Matt was coming this way.

I peered around the corner toward One57. And…Matt was nowhere to be seen. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. He must have been going the opposite direction. Or maybe I’d just imagined him. I often dreamt of running into him again and having to hurl myself into oncoming traffic.Phew.Today really was my lucky day!

I debated emerging from my hiding spot. On Tuesdays and Thursdays at exactly 8 o’clock, I always sat on the bench across the street from One57. For my stalker’s optimal viewing pleasure. But today I had stains all over myself. And I was sure my face was flushed from running and almost having to dumpster dive. So it was probably better to keep hiding. This was why I always brought binoculars with me. Just in case.

They weren’t creepy stalker binoculars. Because I wasn’t a stalker. He was. These were like fancy opera watching binoculars. Or ones you’d use to watch the Kentucky Derby. I wasn’t doing anything weird. I pulled them out just in time.

My stalker emerged from One57. God, he was so handsome.

I audibly sighed. The only reason I put up with his stalkery tendencies was because he was gorgeous. His expensive tailored suit stretched perfectly across his broad shoulders. His jaw looked like it had been chiseled by a sculptor. What I would do to lick it…

And his smile.God.He smiled down at his driver, a little man in a butler’s uniform that always seemed to be bowing andscurrying about. Honestly it was hard not to laugh at his driver in his little costume. But my stalker didn’t laugh at him. I liked that he treated his employees like the humans they were. He was kind and warm and compassionate. I assumed.

But it was his confidence that really made him intriguing. His suits were always colorful. Today the fabric was crimson with black polka dots. The sides of his head were shaved, with the top kept long and pulled into a man bun.Who the hell is confident enough to dress like that?God knows I wasn't. And I think that was why I was so attracted to him. Er…I mean, that’s why I didn’t report him to the cops for being a stalker. Because he dressed, walked, and probably talked with so much confidence.

I had no idea what his name was. Even though I assumed he knew mine. I didn’t even know what he did for a living. But if he lived in One57, he was definitely filthy rich. Was he a powerful CEO? No, a CEO wouldn't dress the way he did, or have a man bun. He was unique. Danger oozed off of him. Maybe he was in the mafia. Or maybe he was the owner of a club. It was easy to picture him sitting in the VIP section, a cigar in his mouth and each arm draped around a beautiful model.Ew, no.Scratch the models. I amended my vision to include a few bouncers keeping the hordes of club girls away from him. Except me. If I were there, we'd lock eyes, and he'd tell the bouncers to let me approach.

I watched as his eyes darted toward the bench I usually sat on.

He scowled.

Oh my God, he scowled!He was sad that I wasn’t there.He really is stalking me!I’ll be honest, for a few months there, I’d been a little worried I was the stalker.