Page 2 of Oops Baby for the Billionaire (Oops Baby #3)

Roman

I built an empire on ruthless real estate deals. No people skills required, just a keen sense of observation. A man on the outside, quietly getting very, very rich.

Hunting, hungering for more, my ambition knowing no limits, I’ve now set my sights on the tech world. But with the acquisition of corporations has come a new challenge—being fucking social.

Not my strength.

Not my interest.

I lasted five minutes at the cocktail reception in my brand-new penthouse on the top of the Techbridge Worldwide’s building.

Mine now .

Of course, the tower across the way is even taller. Thorne International’s headquarters dominates the skyline.

But inside this building, start-ups are born.

I’ve felt a deep pull to acquire this company for months now.

Mine now . Mine, mine, all mine .

Doesn’t mean I want to actually talk to any of the fledgling CEOs inside, though. They need to respect me as their king, not their peer.

I am peerless , and I like it that way.

“This way, Mr. Thorne.” That’s my new assistant. He came with the penthouse. I don’t know his name, and I don’t care to.

I glare at him.

He cowers.

Good.

“I need a bottle of champagne,” I growl.

“Right away.” At least that part he gets right. One appears out of nowhere.

I snatch it from him and nod. “I’ll join the party shortly. Just need some air first.”

For an hour or two. I’ll go to the party to make a short speech before it ends.

I yank my tie loose as I stalk down the hallway toward the primary suite, remembering there’s a private terrace off my new bedroom—not that I’m ever going to sleep in this penthouse.

This part of the apartment should be empty.

It should…

But it’s not.

From deep in the bedroom suite, I hear the fiery snap of a woman’s whispering voice—soft, but clearly furious with someone.

A split-second later, I almost trip over a pair of black slip-on loafers.

Picking them up, I follow the sound to the bathroom, where I find an incredibly beautiful woman leaning back against the vanity, her eyes closed, a phone clutched tightly in her white-knuckled fist.

“What do you mean? I gave you—” She cuts herself off as she catches sight of me.

Dark, glossy waves spill in all directions around a shocked heart-shaped face. She looks like she’s come straight from an office, wearing a white buttoned-down shirt tucked neatly into black dress pants.

A perfectly ordinary outfit, except, as her chest heaves in frustration, I see the lush bounce of unbound tits.

She’s not wearing a bra under her shirt—and, actually, it’s barely done up.

What is she playing at?

I can’t deny how spectacular she looks, though. If she propositions me, it will be a sadness to turn her down.

For the first time in…forever? my hands ache to hold on to warm flesh. Her warm flesh, specifically.

But if she’s here for the party, that means she’s with one of the start-up companies I invest in now.

Off-limits.

My cock doesn’t get the message, unfortunately, as I stare at her, as she stares back, and then remembers that she’s on the phone.

“I can’t do this right now,” she manages to get out in a tight snarl, then she ends the call and gives me a gracious, apologetic—and maybe fearful?—look. “I’m so sorry?—”

“Don’t be,” I say, my voice rough and rasping, holding up the hand that’s wrapped around the bottle of champagne. “I interrupted your privacy, not the other way around. I didn’t think anyone would be in here. I just needed a breather from the party.”

She blinks in surprise.

I know. It’s more words than anyone expected to hear from Roman Thorne tonight.

But I will do anything to keep her here.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” I say, leaning against the door frame. “I’m Roman. And you are?”