Page 74 of How to Bang a Billionaire

I blinked. He actually had a point. Caspian wanted me. Within certain limitations, admittedly, but he wanted me. And it wasn’t like I’d be any less interested in being with him if the apartment was no longer on offer. Cards on the table, I was secretly hoping he’d still be into me when it wasn’t.

“Besides”—Nik was once again gazing at the magnificence—“I think I’d sleep with him if he let me stay here. And I’m straight.”

“I think that makes you heteroflexible at the very least.”

He grinned. “No, just mercenary.”

“What about the time—”

Before I could remind him about the enthusiastically received hand job delivered by yours truly, he’d bounced off the sofa. “Can I get the guided tour?”

“Um, sure.”

It didn’t take very long because everything was laid out to look as impressive as possible, which meant most of the rooms flowed together. But Nik gasped and cooed and squee-ed over everything, turned on all the devices, opened all the cupboards, poked and prodded and peered, and rolled around on the guest bed like an excited golden retriever. And, for the first time since I’d moved in, I felt…not at home exactly, but unambiguously happy to be there. It was that naughty holiday feeling you got from staying at a posh hotel, knowing you could flump around in the branded dressing gowns and use the fancy shampoo in the tiny bottles.

“This is the best.” Nik waved his arms and legs in the air. “I wish I hadn’t got onto this research project now. I could have stayed here, leeching off you.”

“No, you couldn’t. Caspian is going to want to, y’know…bone down on me at some point.” Soon, I hoped.

“You could put a sock on the door.”

“Go fuck your own billionaire.”

Grinning, Nik sat up and gave me what he probably thought was a coy glance. “Well, at least show me a good time tonight.”

I’d always been nervy of taking advantage of Caspian’s generosity. Which, in practice, meant living on Coco Pops and pretending not to exist. Honestly, if there’d been a cupboard under the stairs, I’d probably have moved into it. But he’d given me access to a lot of really cool stuff and Nik didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with what I was doing so…maybe…just this once?

“Come on, then,” I said, holding out my hand. “Let’s live the high life.”

I took him down to the pool, which was way less murdery when I wasn’t on my own. And afterward we tried out the sauna, where I got to enjoy the sight of a largely naked and incredibly glisteny Nik. Unfortunately, I think I probably just looked pink and fainty—so I removed joint sauna taking off the list of sexy things I could daydream about doing with Caspian.

I’d never quite been able to wrap my head around the fact that the building had its own spa—but it really did, and they welcomed us lavishly enough that it made me self-conscious. Nik seemed pretty happy, though, as he was whisked off to do this special gentleman treatment thing called a power lift facial that wouldn’t threaten his masculinity. Since I gave no fucks about my masculinity, I had a rose-themed series of massages that left me limp and fragrant from toes to scalp.

“Wow.” Back at the flat, Nik had raided the fridge, poured a glass of the water I hadn’t dared drink, and draped himself over the sofa I usually perched on. “I can’t imagine being able to do this every day.”

“I don’t,” I protested. “Mainly I spend my time failing to be a journalist.”

Nik gave me a look. “I think you have to actually do something to fail at it.”

“You mean I’m failing at failure?”

“You’ve hardly been here five seconds.”

“Yeah, I know.” I heaved out a tragic sigh. “But I was supposed to have applied for internships and I didn’t, so now I’ll have to approach people and pitch stuff and waaaah!”

“Hey,” he started dramatically, “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you approach people and pitch stuff?”

I pouted.

“What? You know you’re a good writer.”

“Maybe at university. But this is the real world now. The stakes are different.”

“Not really. It’s the same pool of people if you think about it.”

Huh. “I guess.”

“Then maybe…write something?”