Page 53 of The Billionaire's Redemption

“Sometimes I just need you to agree with me,” I complain.

“Sure. I’ll do it next time. This time I’m telling you you’re wrong, and you need to give him a chance. Men like Ethan don’t come along every day.”

Another sigh escapes me. “You don’t get it, Sarah.”

“I do.” Her voice gentles with understanding. “Everybody in your life has let you down. I get it. Ethan was one of those people. Look, Nat, fine, don’t fall into his bed. But forgive him. We all make mistakes. He took you to meet his family. A man who was trying to play around with you would never do that. Also, you’re a smart woman. Just consider his behavior. Has hegiven any indication that he’s trying to play you? He was in his car outside the apartment for hours that night.”

Confusion washes over me. “What are you talking about?”

Sarah hisses through her teeth. “That night he overheard the message from your mother, he stayed outside. He was worried about you. I had to go out and tell him to go home. It took me a lot of effort to get him moving. He didn’t stick around because he wanted to bump uglies with you.”

Scrunching my face in distaste, I protest, “Do you really have to put it like that?”

“I call ‘em as I see ‘em.” I hear the oven timer go off in the background, and she adds, “Look, I have to get going. I have a guest over.”

Sitting up fully in bed, my interest piques. “You have a what over?”

“A guest.” Some more clanging and shuffling sounds.

“A guy?”

“Yes.”

“Last night’s date?”

“If you must know, I got stood up by that jerk, and this one isn’t sleeping in my bed. He’s on the couch. Long story. I’ll tell you when I see you. Now I gotta go kiss his ass before he sues me for ruining his car.”

“His what? Sarah? Hello?”

She’s already ended the call, and I gaze at the phone with bewilderment. What has she gotten herself into this time?

There’s a sharp knock on the door, and I clamber out of bed, yawning as the morning air hits my skin. My hair is tied in two braids—a convenience for sleeping—and I have two of those cold eye gel patches under my eyes that my flatmate insists we wear to hide our dark circles.

When there’s another impatient knock, I call out, “I’m coming. Wait.”

I’m wearing only a thin tank top and a pair of panties as Ipad toward the door. Looking around for a robe to cover myself with, I can’t see one anywhere. I consider heading to the bathroom to get a bathrobe, but the third persistent knock has me growling in annoyance. It must be housekeeping. I had planned to go for a run early in the morning, so I asked the front desk to send them up around that time. Sure I overslept, but why are they knocking?! Don’t they have a key?

Rubbing my eyes sleepily, I open the door slightly. “Sorry, can you come b?—”

The door is pushed open with surprising force, and Ethan walks in like he owns the place. “We have a problem...”

Gaping at him in shock, I sputter, “What the hell?!”

He turns around to face me, about to say something, when his amber eyes finally take in my appearance. His eyebrows shoot up so high they might disappear into his hairline. Finally, he says, “That’s an interesting look.”

“Oh, my god!” I snarl, heat flooding my cheeks. “Get out!”

He’s laughing now as I try to push him toward the door, the rich sound filling the room. “What? I think it looks cute.”

“Get out, and let me change!” It’s frustratingly hard to push him when he digs his heels in. Turning around, he places his hands on my bare shoulders and propels me toward the bedroom. “Sorry. We don’t have the time. Get changed. I have to talk to you.”

When he uses that commanding tone, I know there’s no way he’s leaving.

“Fine! But don’t turn around!” I snap, shooting him a warning glare.

As I rush to the bedroom, my face burns with embarrassment. He saw me like this, all disheveled and?—

Throwing on my clothes with hurried movements, I mutter to myself, “Why do you care what he thinks about you? Let him look. I can’t be presentable all the time!”