Page 5 of Tempting the Billionaire (Billionaire Brothers #5)

Emma

It’s Friday night, and like every night this week, I get home to my apartment, toss my purse on the couch, and immediately curl up in bed. My stomach is in a constant state of knots. I’ve barely eaten all week. A mixture of emotions wash through me—rage, humiliation, denial, despair.

Because I truly can’t think of any way out of this. I have to do what Justin wants. I have to.

There’s no way I could live through those videos being leaked online. The humiliation would kill me.

So here I am, shamelessly flirting with my boss at every opportunity. Humiliation burns through me at the thought of it. Of how I’d handled myself this week. Practically throwing myself at Ezra.

The buzzing of my phone catches my attention, and I grab it to see that Justin is calling me. The pit in my stomach grows. I want nothing more than to throw my phone at the wall, but I’m worried about what he might do if I don’t answer.

So I do.

“What?”

“How’s it going?” he asks simply.

“I’m working on it,” I reply.

“Any progress?”

“It’s going to take time, okay? Back off.”

There’s a long pause. “Just don’t let it take too long,” Justin finally responds.

“I’m trying as hard as I can, okay? You just need to be patient.”

He sighs through the phone. “Fine.” With that, he hangs up.

I throw my phone angrily to the end of my bed, feeling another rush of tears coming on. You’d think I’d have cried out all the water in my body this week.

Continued doubts seep into my brain about whether or not I can actually pull this off.

I think back to the handful of interactions I’d had with Ezra this week.

Sure, he seems attracted to me—that’s not hard to gauge.

But to cheat on his wife? Would he really consider that?

The idea of being a homewrecker makes me feel sick.

But the idea of those videos of me being out there for the whole world to see makes me sicker.

After Justin sends me a screenshot of the video he plans to leak—every feature of my face and body humiliatingly on display, I’m spurred into action, and I come into the shop Monday morning with a plan.

My stomach is in knots. So much so that I purposefully didn’t bring a lunch, knowing there’s no way I’ll be able to keep it down. Both from the dread and self-loathing and from the actual plan I’m trying to enact.

“You okay?” Rachel asks me a few hours into the day.

I force a smile onto my face. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well last night. A little out of it,” I lie, making a mental note to try and conceal my nerves better.

But when Ezra comes into the shop in the early afternoon, it only makes my anxieties worse. I shoot him what I hope is a flirtatious smile over the counter, and he grins back, sweeping past me and into the back room where his office is.

My plan can’t start until the end of the day, so I spend the rest of the afternoon keeping my head down and working.

When six o’clock rolls around, I turn to Rachel. “I can finish up the bookkeeping if you want to head out,” I offer.

Her face lights up. “You sure?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ve seen you do it enough times that I can probably handle it. Besides, Ezra’s in the back if I need help.”

“Great, thanks,” she says, grabbing her purse from the back room. “See you tomorrow.” She waves and is out the door.

I glance over my shoulder. When Ezra comes into the shop, he usually arrives in the early afternoon and stays—well, I’m not exactly sure how late he stays. All I know is that he’s always still here when the sales associates leave.

I turn off the sign and lock the door, heading to the computer behind the reception area to fill out the day’s logs—recording sales and making sure all the cash is arranged as it should be. It only takes me a few minutes, but I stick around later, my nerves rising by the second .

I glance at the clock. 6:30. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

Every bone in my body is screaming no, that I should absolutely not go through with my plan.

But I can’t help but think about that screenshot Justin sent me, the echoes of my moans when he’d played the video in my apartment.

I imagine it all over Facebook, Instagram—my friends and family seeing it.

I imagine it on revenge porn sites—plastered there until the ends of eternity.

Fuck.

I have to do this.

I force my legs to do my bidding, moving into the back room and softly knocking on the door to Ezra’s office.

“Come in,” his deep voice calls.

I turn the knob, stepping into the room. “Hi,” I say quietly.

“Emma.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’d assumed you and Rachel would be gone by now.”

“Yeah …” I bite my lip. “Um, actually … my car’s having issues. And the Uber rates are insane this time of day.” I make an apologetic face. “Is there any way you’d be able to give me a ride home?”

Surprise flashes across his face, then understanding. “Oh. Yes, of course.” He glances back at his computer momentarily. “I was just about done here anyway. Let me just finish up this email. ”

I stand awkwardly in the doorway while he types away. I try to internally calm my nerves, reminding myself that I’m supposed to be sexy right now, that I need to appear calm, confident, alluring.

Ezra snaps his laptop shut and stands, shooting me a smile. “Are you ready to go?” he asks, putting his laptop into his briefcase.

I nod, clutching my purse to my side.

“Great.” He grabs his keys from the desk and then moves to leave the room. I’m still standing in the doorway, and I force myself not to move, meaning he has to brush past me in order to get out. His arm grazes my shoulder, and I smell the scent of his cologne. Something like sandalwood.

I follow him out into the shop where he walks over to the wall and flicks off a few lights, leaving us in slight darkness.

His gaze catches mine for a moment, and it’s almost as if time stands still, my breath frozen in my throat—nothing matters except for the glint in his eyes, the tension in the air around us.

But he quickly breaks that spell and stalks across the room toward the front door. I hurry after him. We step out into the cool autumn evening. The sun is just about to set as we walk down Newbury Street.

“I love the sunsets here,” I say quietly, walking beside him .

He nods, smiling softly. “Yeah. Something about the way the city glows … it’s always mesmerized me.”

“I’m assuming you grew up here?” I ask.

“Yeah. Beacon Hill area. I grew up coming into the shop and watching my grandfather work on jewelry designs.” He chuckles softly. “So this sunset walk is a very familiar one.”

I look ahead, watching the orange glow as it spreads across the city.

“Are you from here too?” he asks.

“Basically. Grew up in Waltham and moved to the city for school. Then I just stayed.” I leave out the part about the abusive ex-boyfriend and how my last job closed down.

How I’d hoped this would be a fresh new start for me when it’s actually turning into a complete nightmare.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

“How do you like it?” Ezra asks. “The city, I mean.”

I don’t know how to answer. Mainly because so much of Boston has been associated with Justin, with Stoll Jewelers. And now this. Maybe I should have stayed in my tiny hometown. “I love it,” I lie, turning to him with a smile. “I absolutely love it.”

He smiles back at me, and it’s then that I notice a dimple on the right side of his face. Just the right side. So adorably uneven .

We reach his car and, to my surprise, he opens my door for me, gesturing me in. I raise an eyebrow at him. “What a gentleman,” I tease.

He laughs. “What can I say? My mother taught me right.” He closes the door and comes around, climbing into the driver’s seat.

Suddenly inside a car with the man, I can’t help but realize how close of quarters we’re in. We’re barely a foot away from each other. Close enough to … do the things Justin wants from me.

“Want to plug your address into Google Maps?” Ezra asks, handing over his phone.

My fingers brush lightly against his as I take his phone, sending shivers up my spine. I quickly type in my address and hand the phone back.

We drive down the streets of Boston in silence for a few moments, and I start out the window at the passing buildings. I feel like my body is on fire. Like the world is about to implode. Is the tension just on my side, or can he feel it too?

I glance sideways at him. He has both hands on the steering wheel, and he’s looking straight ahead. He seems calm. I stare at the outline of his jaw, how it seems chiseled out of stone. At the gray smattering of hair at his temples.

“So what do you do besides run the most successful jewelry empire on the east coast?” I ask, placing my elbow on the center console and leaning toward him.

A quiet chuckle escapes him. “Not much, really,” he answers, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Oh, come on, there must be something,” I press.

He stares ahead in thought for a moment. “I enjoy reading,” he finally says.

“Reading?” I echo. I’m actually kind of surprised. I never pegged him for the book type. And I never would have guessed that we share a core interest. Especially one as mundane as reading. “What kind of books do you read?”

He glances sideways at me, and the look makes my heart jump in my chest. He’s smiling, smirking, like he doesn’t want to answer. “Dumb things,” he says.

I laugh out loud. “Okay, now you have to tell me more.”

His grin widens, and he shakes his head. “Your average airport read.” He shrugs. “A thriller, a mystery, fantasy. I’ve …” He chuckles again. “I’ve even been known to read a romance from time to time.”

I raise my eyebrows. “A romance reader?” I laugh. “Ezra Bishop, quite possibly the richest man in Boston, spends his time reading trashy romance novels? ”

“Hey, I said nothing about trashy,” he responds with a laugh.

“To be fair, I’m also a romance reader—I just never thought I’d meet a man with the same hobby.”

He smirks. “I love a good story. I can’t help it if sometimes that comes in the form of romance.”

It’s just now that I realize we’re coming up on my apartment building. Ezra turns into the parking lot, pulling up in front of the front door and putting the car in park.

My nerves bundle in my lower stomach. I’d been so engrossed in our conversation that I’d almost forgotten what I’d set out to do. I glance at my apartment building in trepidation.

I turn to Ezra, offering a shy smile. “Thanks for the ride,” I say quietly.

He smiles in return. “Any time.”

“I, uh …” I hesitate, glancing up to meet his eyes.

What I see there is sincerity, possibly even genuine attraction.

I can tell he likes me—at least as a person.

And I know he’s attracted to me. But will he be receptive to what I have to say next?

“Do you want to come up?” I force the question out before I have time to second guess myself.

Surprise flashes across his features, and I immediately feel my stomach drop. Time seems to slow, every second passing as if it were an eternity. He opens his mouth, closes his mouth, opens it again.

“I’m married.” The words echo in the space around us, and humiliation burns through me.

“Oh, I …” I stutter, my mind running a million miles an hour.

Every part of me wants to shut this down, to apologize, to run upstairs to my apartment and forget this ever happened.

Because of course he’s married. I know he’s married.

And what I’m doing is quite possibly the worst thing anyone could do.

And it doesn’t matter that Justin is about to ruin my life with those videos. It doesn’t mean I can just go around and ruin other people’s.

This was a horrible, horrible mistake.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, shaking my head, reaching for the door handle.

“No.” Ezra reaches out to put a hand on my arm, stopping me. His touch sends shivers across my skin. “I know you didn’t know—I haven’t been wearing my ring. I …” He sighs, and I force myself to turn and meet his gaze. “My wife and I are separated. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His words come crashing down on me. Separated. In all honesty, I hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring. I knew he was married because Justin told me so, and I’d been so caught up in everything else, that I’d never even thought to glance at his ring finger .

A silence stretches between us, so long I think it might just go on forever. Finally, Ezra breaks it. “I’ll come in,” he says quietly, his dark eyes meeting mine. “Just for one drink.”