Page 46 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife

14

"Well, maybe I don't need your money. Wait, wait, I said maybe!”

— Friends. Episode, directed by James Burrows

Summer

Something buzzes next to my ear, and I crack my eyes open. Where am I? The large windows let in sunlight. The sun beams light on the wooden floors. My fingers catch on the soft fabric of the futon. I take in my surroundings. Oh! I'm stretched out on a bed. And it’s not a normal sized one. The massive bed seems to stretch from one side of the room to the other.

Of course, I'm in Sinclair Sterling's house, in his guest bedroom.

The buzzing sounds again. I spring up to sitting position, and reach for my phone that's plugged in on the side-table next to the bed.

"Hello?" I clear my throat.

"Ms. West?"

"Who is this?" I frown.

"It's Alia from 7A Investments, this is your wake-up call."

"Wake up call?" I blink.

"Yes. Ms. West. Mr. Sterling wanted me to call you to make sure you make it to the office on time for the meeting at nine."

"Meeting?" Was I supposed to meet him? Bet he set it up without giving me notice. Would be just like the alphahole to pull a stunt like this on me.

"Wha.... what time is it?"

"It's 8.15 am."

"8.15?" I scramble towards the edge of the bed.

"Good day Ms. West." The line goes dead.

I glance around the room trying to get my bearings. After that conversation with Sinclair when I’d told him that I had returned to him because I needed his money... He had shown me to my bedroom and I’d crawled into bed and fallen asleep. A-n-d, I hadn't charged my phone.

Which means.... he must have done it.

How the hell had he managed to access my password protected phone. Like that isn't stalkerish at all? I hunch my shoulders.

And he was here in my room while I was asleep? Did he watch me sleep? Goosebumps pop on my skin.

I should be creeped out by it... except... hmm... what had he thought of as he watched me? Had it aroused him? Had that beautiful bulge between the corded muscles of his thighs engorged further?

My thighs clench; my nipples pebble. The hell is wrong with me? I hate the man, remember? I don't find him attractive, I don't. Except I do. The meaner he is to me... the more I want to slap him and simultaneously snog him. Lick him all over his sculpted pecs too, while I am it. Jeez!

And he's not impervious to me either. Not the way he'd eaten me up with his eyes last night, gah!

There's something between us, some strange unspoken chemistry, that hums and flows and seems to take up all of the air in the room when we are together.

It's the reason I should have run from him when I’d had the chance. But I hadn’t. I couldn’t.

I need what he is offering too much. It isn’t only my life at stake, and he is aware of how desperate I am. It’s why he lured me in, trapped me… The worst thing is, every step of the way he’s pretended to give me a choice.

Choice, hah! The kind where you point a gun at a girl when she is poised at the edge of the cliff and say, choose now. Lean back and fall to your death, or come forward and I’ll decide when that death will come for you. That’s what he is going to be, my untimely fall from grace. And I am going along with it willingly. For now.

I survey the room and spot folded clothes on the chair next to the bed. There's a note on top of them.