Page 16 of Just The Way You Aren’t (Last Billionaire Standing #1)

DAMIEN

S omething fruity tickles my nose. I open my eyes slowly, the morning sun shining just barely through the blinds. I would have bought blackout blinds, but I never want to have any reason to oversleep. I have a schedule to keep, after all.

What greets my eyes first is a cloud of red hair. Resting in the middle of it, as though surrounded by a halo, is Willow.

Sweet, beautiful, complicated, disorganized Willow.

We had sex all night long. Now the strawberry—or is it peach?—scent of her permeates the air and my sheets. My whole body wants to wake her up for another round, maybe carry on the rest of the day and through tonight. I could stand to wake up like this again and again with Willow in my bed.

I glance at my phone which is charging beside my bed. It’s a minor miracle I had the presence of mind to go downstairs and retrieve it last night. My alarm is set to go off in another two minutes.

Not wanting to wake Willow, I turn it off.

I sit up in bed and, regretfully, give her hair one last soft touch before getting up.

I need to get to the gym, then to work. It’s Saturday, but this is my routine and I have to make up for all the time I’ve been giving to Silver Hearts.

No matter how tempted I am to stay in bed with her instead.

I hit my home gym for forty-five minutes, then come back to see Willow is still sleeping like a baby.

After the punishing workout I’ve just had, the last thing I should be thinking about is another round of sex, but try telling that to my cock.

Now that it’s had a taste of Willow, all it wants is more.

It’s something I should have been prepared for before bringing her home with me last night, but it’s too late for second thoughts.

I’ve opened the door and now I have to live with the consequences.

Despite my rampant hard-on and the lovely temptation sleeping in my bed, I force myself to head into the shower.

The marble floor is cold when I walk into the bathroom, and I frown and turn up the heat on the heated flooring.

Then I get into the multi-jet, zero-entry shower.

I think about Willow as I soap up and wash my hair.

This whole Silver Hearts thing was meant to boost my image and, by extension, the company’s image.

I was never meant to get romantically involved with the Executive Director, a woman so different from me that we might as well be night and day.

She’d be okay, of course. The woman is liquid sunlight.

I shake my head. Though last night was incredible, deep down, I know there can’t be a repeat.

I don’t want things to get confused. No more confused than they already are, that is.

I let her get under my skin—something few others have done.

And none the way she has. The simple truth is, I like her.

I like being around her. Hell, I even like myself when I’m around her, and that’s foreign territory on its own.

No, I will not do this with Willow again. I can’t bring myself to call last night a mistake, but still, it absolutely, positively, cannot happen again.

Secure in my decision, I walk out of the bathroom in a towel instead of naked as I normally would. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. Luckily, though, she still hasn’t woken up.

I pull on my clothes and am just slipping into a pair of Italian loafers when Willow slowly turns her head and looks at me. As her eyelids lift drowsily, she gives me a sleepy smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Even though I’m on a tight schedule, I smile back and ask, “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Thoroughly ravished.” Her smile melts into a frown when she takes in my attire. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I need to get to the office. I have a lot of work to do today.”

“Oh. All right.” For a second, I think I see disappointment in her eyes. But then she gives me a sunny smile. “I have a lot to do, too.”

I nod crisply and check my Rolex. “Damn. I’m running late.”

Willow sits up without comment. I notice she tucks the sheet under her arms to cover herself from my view.

Is she feeling self-conscious this morning?

God knows, she has no reason to. I’ve never seen a more beautiful body.

Part of me wants to see it again now, despite my efforts to pretend otherwise.

Sometime during the night, she must have gone downstairs to retrieve our clothes.

Her red dress is draped neatly over a chair beside the bed, with her shoes sitting on the floor beneath.

Her panties are on the chair too, but they’re little more than a shredded piece of satin after the rough way I handled them last night.

“Sorry about those,” I say, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the chair. “I’ll be happy to replace them for you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She starts to get up then, swinging her long legs over the side of the mattress without looking at me. She snatches up the dress and hurriedly pulls it on, pausing to inspect it after it’s over her head. “At least the dress is still in one piece.”

I walk over to help with the zipper, my knuckles brushing the small of her back as I zip it up. “You looked beautiful in this last night, Willow. You look just as lovely in it now.”

She turns to face me then, her hazel eyes studying me. There’s a question in them, but she doesn’t seem to have the courage to ask it. “I had a nice time last night. Thanks for being my fake date for the gala.”

There was nothing fake about it as far as I’m concerned, but for some reason I keep my comment to myself. Instead, I smile. “It was my pleasure.”

It seems like ten minutes pass before she responds. When she does, her voice sounds too bright. “Okay, then, I guess I should get out of your way so you can go to work.”

She steps away from me and slides her feet into the high-heeled sandals, hastily buckling the straps before I can offer to help.

Her ankles wobble as she stands, and she pitches into me.

I try to steady her, but then she teeters the other direction and it’s all I can do to hastily wrap my arms around her waist to stop her from landing on the floor.

“Fuck the heels.” She moves out of my loose embrace and lets out a short, frustrated sounding sigh. “I’ll just go barefoot.”

I watch her rip the shoes off her feet, feeling like a first- class asshole.

I don’t know how to act with her today, or what might be the right thing to say.

All I know is the rising panic I feel in my chest when I think about how much she’s affected me in the short time I’ve known her.

She’s a distraction I can’t afford to have, especially with Alfred Rothchild gunning for my head with the board.

I awkwardly clear my throat. “Would you like a ride back to your apartment?” I ask, suddenly worried about how she’s going to get home.

She turns her head and eyes me warily. “I’d love one. But won’t that make you late for work?”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. I’ll just have Heinrich drive you.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial my chauffer’s number.

Willow blinks at me.

“He’s my personal driver.”

“I know,” she says.

Heinrich answers the phone and I turn away from her to speak to him. “Heinrich. I need you to give my… friend a ride back to her apartment as soon as possible from my house. It’s a bit of a sketchy area but I trust you’ll make sure she gets in safely. Please see her to her door. Thank you.”

I turn back to Willow. “All set. Heinrich should be here shortly.”

“How considerate of you, Damien. Thank you for calling me a ride.” She stares at me with anything but gratitude. “To be fair, I don’t live in a sketchy area. My building is full of hard-working people who genuinely care about and respect each other.”

Why does that feel like an insult directed at me? “Well, I suppose I should walk you downstairs. Heinrich should be here any moment. ”

Her smile is tight. “I think I can find my own way out.”

I wonder if I should kiss her goodbye, but decide against it. I need to manage expectations. Instead, I hold out my hand. “Thank you for a very pleasant evening.”

Willow stares at my hand without taking it. “I need to go now.”

I nod, letting my hand fall back down at my side. “All right. I’ll see you at our next meeting, then.”

“Sure. Goodbye, Damien.”

The moment I close the door behind me, I’m pissed off.

And I don’t know why. I’m not sure what I was expecting.

This morning could have been really awkward.

Instead, all things considered, it went fairly well, I think.

Willow respected my schedule and didn’t get clingy. We both behaved like adults, after all.

So, why am I so goddamned tempted to fly down the stairs after her and drag her back to my bed for the entire day?

Because the woman has addled my brain, that’s why.

If I need any more reason to convince myself that last night can’t ever happen again, this is it. My focus should be on my business, not bedding the adorable—not to mention impossibly sweet and kind—young woman whose innate sunshine would only dim and fade away in my world.

I finish dressing for work, swearing when I open my cufflink drawer and find that my housekeeper has reorganized my things—again.

It takes me an extra three minutes to locate the pair I want and put them on.

When I pass Eliza in the hallway on my way out, I scowl.

Willow’s exit couldn’t have happened a moment too soon, now that my household staff had arrived for the day.

They’re discreet enough, but I prefer to keep my personal life personal .

“Eliza,” I snap, my grumpiness spilling out, “for the umpteenth time, stop reorganizing my things.”

She stiffens and arches an overly plucked and graying eyebrow. “When you put them in the right place, I will stop organizing them.”

I groan. I don’t have time for this. “We’ll talk later.”