Page 8 of Just The Way You Aren’t (Last Billionaire Standing #1)

I move another pile of files from my chair and clear some more space between us so we’re not looking over papers trying to see each other. “There’s a system,” I inform him.

“Clearly.”

I can’t believe I’ve been thinking about this grouch all day. I put on my best megawatt smile. “So, I was thinking…”

Before I can go on, Damien pulls an iPad out of a case he brought with him.

He lays it on the desktop between us, turning it to face me.

“The Plaza Hotel has agreed to donate a ballroom for the fundraising event,” he says, showing me the e-mail confirming the arrangement.

“I’ve also taken the liberty of finding a caterer who is also an ‘influencer’ and is interested in catering the event for just the cost of food as long as they get to post pictures on their Instagram and TikTok.

And Facebook. And God only knows what else.

I told her she would need individual people’s permission to post their photos, but she says she’ll bring her own general release forms.”

My mouth drops open. Damien solved my biggest problems without spending a dime, just as I’d challenged him to do. “I… I…”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you,’” he prompts me.

I close my mouth and nod. “Yes.” I smile at him. “Thank you, Mr. Langley. And... thank you as well for the van. Zippy is just perfect in every way. I mean, Bessie was still chugging along, and we would have made it work, but... Zippy is a dream.”

“Zippy?” he echoes, giving me an incredulous stare. He presses his lips together. “You don’t have to thank me. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was a big deal to us, Mr. Langley,” I point out.

He seems uncomfortable with my gratitude. “I think you should just call me Damien. We’re going to be working together a lot up until this fundraiser.”

“True. All right, then you have to call me Willow,” I tell him.

“Willow.” A soft, slight smile crosses his lips.

I try not to blush at the sound of my name rolling off his lips. “So,” I say jovially, poking at the iPad. “What else do you have in there? Nuclear launch codes?”

He laughs and it’s genuine. His real smile makes my heart pound. “Hardly,” he replies. “I have a few more ideas about the fundraiser, if you want to look them over. They’re in the folder marked Silver Hearts Fundraiser.”

“I suppose printing it out would have overwhelmed Alfred,” I tease him.

His brow furrows. “Alfred?”

“Your assistant,” I respond, confused. “Right?”

Damien bursts out into more hearty guffaws. “One, Rhonda would have killed me if I asked her to print out everything in that folder. There’d be twice as much paper in here than you already have. And two, Alfred is most definitely not my assistant.”

I think I may spontaneously combust. His smile is so sexy. “Well, um, Alfred, you said…”

“He’s a member of my board of directors. And I hate him with the fire of a thousand suns.” He sighs, his mouth turning back down into its usual grimace. “He’s made it his mission on Earth to fuck with my life. Er, excuse my French.”

“Is he the one who was supposed to tell you not to wear a suit your first day here?” I ask, suspicious.

“Good guess. I’m sure he would have loved it if the press had been there that day to see me dressed completely inappropriately for the occasion.” He scowls. “Asshole.”

“Pardon your French,” I tease.

Damien cracks a smile. “Yes.”

We spend the next forty-five minutes poring over pictures and party favors, silverware and a slideshow about Silver Hearts. Though we argue every now and then, he still maintains his smile. In fact, he seems to smile more when we argue.

Suddenly, he looks down at the iPad, then at his Apple Watch, as though either one is going to give him different information. “I’m sorry. Our hour is up.”

“Our hour is up?” I repeat.

“Yes. I scheduled an hour for this meeting, and it’s up. But I’ll be back for the next planning session,” he informs me, standing.

I stand as well. “Yes, well, I’m sure—I mean, I know—I have very important things to do as well.”

We both head for the door at the same time and smash into each other when we both try to pass through at the same time.

“Oh dear,” I murmur. Then I look up into those captivating green eyes and for a moment I’m unable to move. Unable to do anything but stare into his gaze as if I’ve lost all good sense. “Oh, my.”

Damien stares back, unmoving, too. We’re so close, his breath fans my face. “Oh my is right. ”

I stop breathing altogether as the air between us thickens. His head lowers and my lips tingle. Oh my god. Is he going to kiss me? I’m all but sure he’s going to. I lick my lips, an involuntary response to the way his sinful mouth inches closer and closer.

Then he abruptly pulls away. “Well, goodnight, Ms. Harper. Er, Willow. I’ll see you again, soon.”

He swiftly slides past me, then hurries out of the office without looking back.

I stare after him, my senses still swamped by desire. For Damien Langley—easily the most aggravatingly uptight man I’ve ever met.

What the hell just happened?