Page 8 of Tempting the Billionaire (Billionaire Brothers #5)

Emma

I find myself at the end of the day sitting on my couch, staring ahead blankly, the shock of the last twenty-four hours refusing to subside.

When Ezra had called me into his office, I was sure I was about to be fired. After that humiliating display last night—basically throwing myself at him and having him walk out? Not to mention the fact that he’s technically my boss and this is a million different types of inappropriate.

But instead, he’d shocked me even further. By doing just about the hottest thing I could imagine.

And then forbidding me from …

I blush just thinking about it. Holy shit. Shit, shit, shit. I can’t stop thinking about him. About how fucking sexy he was in his office laying down the rules and telling me to obey. About how much I want him to follow through with that promise, about how I can hardly wait to see him again.

My mind wanders back to the way his lips had felt brushing against the sensitive skin of my neck, how deep his voice had sounded in my ear, the way I imagine his fingers would feel on my bare skin.

I can feel a moistness blooming between my legs, and I bite my lip, practically whining in frustration.

Ezra’s rule. His one, stupid rule. And despite the fact that I could lie, somehow I know that he’d see right through it.

I shake my head and force myself to stand, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.

I muddle through the rest of the week in a sort of daze.

Every time the door to the shop rings, I look up, hoping to see Ezra, even though I know full well he typically only comes in on Mondays.

I’m acting like such a ditz that even Rachel notices, asking if everything’s alright with me.

I brush it off, telling her I haven’t slept well, hoping she’ll buy the lie.

But as the days wear on, I find it harder and harder to concentrate. Both from the fact that I’m finding myself increasingly attracted to Ezra, and because of his final rule. The rule that makes him all the more infuriatingly hot.

On Friday, he sends me a text from his private phone with an address.

Ezra: I’ll send a car for you at 8 p.m.

Oh yeah. He probably thinks my car is still “not working.” I’m utterly unable to focus the rest of the day. All I can think about is how badly I want him to fulfill his promise. God, I’m so turned on by the thought of him that maybe even just his touch could send me over the edge.

“You’ve been so off this week,” Rachel says with a laugh when I accidentally drop our new shipment of shopping bags all over the floor.

I laugh nervously. “Yeah, just some personal stuff going on,” I say, hoping she’ll drop it.

Her brows furrow. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

I shrug. “Nothing terrible, I just … need to get it sorted out.”

She nods. “Well, I hope the weekend off will help.”

At five o’clock sharp, I’m out the door, heading back to my apartment as quickly as possible.

I shower and blow-dry my hair, then spend what feels like an eternity going through absolutely every outfit I own and deciding that all of them are terrible.

I want to look sexy, but not too sexy. I want to fit the vibe but not look like I’m trying to hard.

I finally settle on a classic black dress. It falls to about mid-thigh, and it has a v-neck deep enough to be sexy but not so much that it’s slutty. Although I don’t know, maybe slutty is what I should be going for.

By the time I finish doing my hair and makeup, I get a notification that my Uber has arrived.

I grab my purse and slide on some black kitten heels and head out the door.

On the drive over, my stomach is doing summersaults. I’m so dizzy with excitement, anxiety, and lust that I feel my head might explode. When the car pulls up in front of a gorgeous old brownstone in Beacon Hill, I raise an eyebrow in surprise. Is this Ezra’s home?

Although now that I think about it, of course we couldn’t go out to an actual restaurant or bar. He’s still technically married to his wife.

That reminder sends a shockwave through me, and suddenly it all comes back. The reason I’m doing this in the first place. It’s crazy, but I’d almost forgotten the deal I’d made with Justin. I’d been so caught up in Ezra, that my attraction to him had taken center stage .

The driver clears his throat, pulling me from my thoughts. I thank him quickly and get out of the car, walking up to the enormous brownstone and pressing the button outside the door.

Ezra’s voice immediately comes through the speakers. “Come in and take the elevator to the top floor,” he says.

The door buzzes, and I reach for the handle to find it unlocked.

I step inside to find a gorgeously decorated entryway with a small elevator to the right.

I follow Ezra’s instructions and step inside, pressing the button for the top floor.

My nerves tangle in my stomach as the elevator ascends, and then with a ding, it comes to a stop and the doors slide open.

I step out into an open space with a kitchen on one side and couches and lounge chairs on the other. The exposed brick on the walls is a beautiful deep red, with huge bay windows looking out into the street below, with city lights beyond.

My gaze lands on Ezra, who stands when he sees me enter. He shoots me a warm smile and approaches, holding out a glass of red wine.

“I know I promised to buy you a drink,” he says, handing me the glass and leaning in to press a soft kiss to my cheek. “But I figured we’d be more comfortable here.”

Somehow his presence seems to put a lot of my nerves to rest, even though the anticipation remains. He inclines his head toward the other side of the room and leads me over to a couch near the window. I sit first, and then he does, his leg brushing against mine.

“How do you like the wine?” he asks after I’ve taken my first sip.

I nod. “It’s good.” I can tell it’s much more expensive than the types of wine I drink. There’s just something about it. “I normally just drink bottom shelf red blends,” I say with a laugh.

He chuckles, taking a sip of his own.

I glance around the room, unable to not notice how well it’s decorated. I think back to his wife. Or ex-wife? What did he say? That they were separated? I wonder if she decorated this place. Or, I suppose, he could have hired an interior designer.

“You like the art?” Ezra asks after a moment of silence, a smirk on his face.

I laugh, feeling embarrassed for my obvious perusal. “Yes, it’s … homey. But in an upscale way.”

He snorts. “Well, thank you.”

“I …” I begin but then think better of it. But Ezra already has an eyebrow raised, prompting me to continue. I sigh. “Your wife,” I reluctantly say.

His smirk leaves, replaced by an understanding grimace. He nods. “Yes. I should probably explain that. ”

“You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable,” I say quickly, but he’s already shaking his head.

“No, you deserve to know,” he insists. He takes a moment to compose himself, taking a sip of wine before placing his glass on the coffee table in front of us. “Diane and I are separated,” he says simply. “So separated, in fact, that she’s currently living with another man.”

My eyes widen in surprise. Holy shit. His wife … left him? For someone else?

“Oh my god,” I say quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

He smiles softly. “It’s okay. She says she’s happier. And I’m … well, I’m managing.”

A long pause stretches between us. Suddenly I wonder whether all of this changes Justin’s plans. If Ezra isn’t with his wife anymore, then being seen with me isn’t much of a scandal at all.

“We haven’t officially announced any kind of separation yet, and I still have yet to file the papers,” he continues.

He shakes his head. “I know how the public perceives me—and Diane and our relationship. News of her cheating on me? She’d be destroyed in the media.

And as hurt as I am … I don’t want to do that to her. ”

My hope from seconds ago slowly vanishes. While Ezra might technically be separated, he’s also still technically married. And doesn’t seem to be ready to change that any time soon.

I nod along. “That makes sense. But I’m sorry that you really get the short end of the stick here.”

He pauses, seemingly lost in thought. Then his gaze raises to mine, pinning me to my seat. “I wouldn’t say it’s all bad,” he finally says.

I can feel my cheeks heating up, and I look away, taking a sip of wine.

“How about you? Any sordid love affairs ending up flames?” he asks with a chuckle.

I shrug. “No cheating scandals. Just an ex-boyfriend who …” I trail off, knowing I can’t tell him the actual truth of my struggles.

That Justin is more than just an awful ex.

That he’s turned into a blackmailer. Someone threatening to leak intimate videos of me, create fucking revenge porn out of our private moments.

Someone who’s actions are forcing me to fuck over people who don’t deserve it.

I feel something wet slide down my cheek, and to my utter horror, I realize I’m crying. I lift a hand to my cheek in shock, wiping the tear away quickly.

“Oh shit, Emma,” Ezra says quickly, reaching for me. “I was joking. I hoped my situation was unique.” He gives a humorless chuckle .

I shake my head, trying to brush it off. “No, no, I’m fine. I just … my recent ex wasn’t very nice to me, that’s all.”

Suddenly Ezra’s arms are wrapping around me, pulling me against his chest. His embrace suddenly makes me want to cry harder, but I resist the urge, holding the tears back as best I can.

“Well, he’s an absolute shithead,” Ezra says, his face muffled against my hair.

I sniffle, nodding against his chest.

We sit like that for a while, Ezra holding me close, rubbing his hand along my back. When we finally pull away, he stares down at me with a furrowed brow, a cross between sadness and concern. “Whatever you went through with him, I’m sorry,” he says.

I shake my head, forcing on a smile. “It’s okay,” I lie. “It’s over now.”