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

Willa

Lie, you stupid ninny.

But I’m tired, and lying takes energy I don’t have at the end of an exhausting month where I’ve had to confront some hard truths about just how alone I am in this world.

“I’m Willa,” I hear myself saying.

I can’t move, I’m frozen in place, terrified that I’m going to get fired for being in a part of the penthouse I shouldn’t be.

“Willa,” Roman says, repeating my name in a low rumble. “That’s a beautiful name. For an incredibly beautiful woman.” His mouth pulls in a rueful smile. “I shouldn’t say that, of course?—”

“It’s okay,” I stammer.

And maybe I should regret interrupting him, or encouraging him—I’m so getting fired—but the way his eyes light up like fire, it’s worth it.

“I found your shoes.” He holds them up, but doesn’t hand them over.

For a second, I think he’s going to say something about that, like he’s holding them hostage so I can’t leave this bathroom.

And I wouldn’t hate that. It might be nice to not have to go back to work.

To put on a wine-soaked bra and serve people for another two hours, just to make fifty bucks that won’t get me out of this hole I’ve fallen into.

“I didn’t want to wear them over the carpet,” I say.

His eyebrows raise.

I don’t need to look down to know that he didn’t take off his shoes.

“That’s thoughtful,” he says.

Just trying not to get fired, I think. But I keep that to myself. That would really be a vibe killer.

“I should get back in there,” I whisper.

Except I don’t want to. I don’t want to work another minute for the catering company from hell, not when my father is just going to gamble my earnings away instead of using them to pay our fucking rent.

He shrugs. “Nothing’s happening just yet, unless you like listening to people lie to each other’s faces.”

“Hate that, actually.”

His gaze slides over my body.

I’ve never had anyone look at me the way he is.

I don’t know that I’ve ever been in the presence of someone quite like him, either. He’s larger than life and radiates magnetic energy that makes me want to step closer and tell him a lot more than just my name.

He’s older than me. Probably older than my dad, now that I’m really looking at him.

He’s huge, too. Easily six-and-a-half-feet tall, with thick, dark hair, long enough that he’s pulled it back, which is unexpected for his age and the suit that he’s wearing.

There’s an edge of a tattoo peeking out from his collar, too.

But I’m guessing he’s the type of man who gets to do things his own way, however he wants at any age.

And he can probably get any woman he wants, too.

Whoa . I don’t like that thought at all .

I decide to test the waters and see how much we have in common. “So are you hiding from the party, too?”

He grins, a white flash of teeth, and lines deepen around his eyes. Laugh lines .

I want to make him laugh. I need to hear him laugh, I realize with a weird, intense jolt.

“I was on my way to the terrace,” he says. “To get some fresh air. Would you like to join me?”

“I—” I glance back at the counter behind me. At my bra, and my phone. At all the problems I don’t want to think about right now. “If you won’t tell anyone?”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He turns and leads the way.

I follow, my heart pounding.

At the door, he sets my shoes down, then holds the oversized sliding glass open for me to step through after I put them back on.

His hand ghosts over the small of my back, and the warmth of his body so close to mine is a sharp contrast to the cool of the night air.

I shiver.

“You’re cold.” He frowns.

“I’m not.”

His gaze slides down my body again. My nipples bead tighter still, making me look like a liar as they push against the thin shirt.

“I’m really not,” I add. “It’s nice out here. I’ve never been outside this high up.”

He gestures at the tall building across the way. “The view from over there is even better.”

I twist around, imagining it. “Oh yeah?”

“Maybe tomorrow night I could show you.”

“Do you work over there?”

His eyebrows go up, then he cocks his head to the left. “Do I?—”

I wait, confused.

He smiles suddenly, then holds out the bottle of champagne. “Drink?”

“Straight from the bottle?”

“What, are we suddenly classy people?”

I laugh out loud. “God, no.”

“That’s what I thought.” He pushes it into my hands.

“I think this stuff costs like, a hundred dollars a bottle,” I whisper.

“Aren’t they handing it out for free in there?”

“Yeah, but?—”

He shrugs. “By the glass or by the bottle, they want us to drink it. Bottoms up.”

He doesn’t have to offer twice. I press my lips to the open neck and take a sip.

It tastes expensive. Tart, dry, bubbly. I don’t know if I’d say it’s good , but it’s nice .

I lick my lips and hand it back. “Cheers.”

He tips it in my direction. “To secrets.”

“To secrets,” I repeat as I watch him take a sip. His throat works, the long, corded muscles jumping as he swallows. It’s hypnotic.

He presses it back into my hands, his fingers brushing mine for a second, giving me a little zing. “So what are your strategies for surviving a party like this?”

“You have to make a game of it.”

His eyebrows lift. “How so?”

“Everyone’s one-upping each other, right? Try to anticipate the lie. Make it outrageous, and then give yourself a point every time someone hits that like a bullseye.”

He chuckles.

It’s low and deep, a rolling wave that feels so, so good when it crashes over me.

“You have experience playing this game?”

“For sure,” I say. “I never belong, so I always have to fake it.”

“Me, too,” he says.

“I find that hard to believe. No offence, but you look like you’re powerful in your own way.”

“Very,” he agrees without hesitation. There’s something about his bald acknowledgement that feels like I’ve been let in on a dark and dangerous secret. “That doesn’t intimidate you?”

“No,” I answer honestly. A faint shiver runs up my spine. But it’s not intimidation. It’s…anticipation. Nerves, yes, but welcome ones.

Whoever he is, he has no power over me. Nothing he can do will change the course of my life. After this secret moment together on this terrace, I’m never going to see this man again.

For the first time in a long time, I have complete and utter freedom.

“Good. I appreciate straightforwardness. Not enough people in this world give me that,” he says. “Not that I let it stop me. But something tells me you know all about that. You’re probably driven to succeed, too, aren’t you? I mean, look at you. Juggling work and life…”

“I try my best. It’s been hard, the last few weeks. I’m re-thinking some things.”

“Because of the merger?”

“What?” I blink. “No. No, it’s a family thing. But you don’t need to worry about that. I’ll figure it out.”

He frowns in concern. “Bad roommate?”

I exhale and shake my head.

“A husband?” Those two words have a harder edge. Less concern, more… Like, if your husband is a shithead, I’ll kill him for you energy.

But I don’t have a husband. I don’t have a boyfriend, or anyone else to take care of me.

Another negative shake. “Sorry, I don’t really want to talk about it. Is that okay?”

“Of course. You set the rules, Willa.”

I take a deep breath and step closer. Close enough that I have to tip my head back to look him in the face.

He’s so tall. And up close, I can see that his dark hair is shot through with silver that glints in the glow from the strings of lights around the terrace. His beard is silvery, too, and it makes me shiver to think of it rasping against my skin.

Which is a very strange thing to think about.

He’s a stranger.

He sets the wine down and takes my hands. His fingers are warm and strong, and I like his touch too much. “If you need money?—”

“Oh God, I couldn’t?—”

“But that’s what I do. I invest in… Well, now I invest in people, I guess. You. I’m supposed to invest in you.”

“I think you’ve got me mistaken for—” I cut myself off. I’m still staring at his beard. At his lush, firm mouth and the flash of white teeth every time he talks.

He definitely thinks I’m someone I’m not.

I take a deep breath. “I really should go.”

“Don’t.” It’s a low, growly command. He leans in and lowers his voice. “Stay. Let me show you how nice it is to watch the city at night. It’s really something. Really very…beautiful.”

But he’s not watching the city. He’s looking at me as if I’m the only thing he can see.

I like this feeling more than I should.

“Show me the city,” I whisper back, hardly believing my own ears. “Because, to be honest, I’d like some company tonight. I won’t have that…”

He looks at my mouth when I trail off.

He frowns.

I don’t want him to ask me to finish that thought. I part my lips, trying to think of what to say to change the subject, and his gaze darkens. All the air around us goes hot as his stare intensifies.

My lips immediately go warm from his attention, a curious heat that swirls inward, pouring into my chest and lower.

“Willa,” he finally manages to say. Just my name. But I hear the concern. I don’t want his concern. I want more of that wicked attention on my mouth.

So I change the subject the only way I can think to. I push up on my toes and I kiss him.