Page 63 of The Billionaire's Redemption

“I see,” I say slowly, my mind racing through possibilities. “If he comes around again, tell him to contact me directly on my personal line.”

After ending the call, I stare at the phone with growing suspicion. Roland has been dropping by unannounced far too frequently lately, and his interest in Natalie is becoming increasingly obvious. When I first introduced them, his eyes lingered on her in a way that set my teeth on edge. Does he somehow know her from before? But if that were the case, she would have recognized him immediately.

Or is his interest in her motivated by something else entirely?

My jaw tightens with possessive anger. Roland has never been married, doesn’t date, and has shown no interest in women for as long as I’ve known him. My father tried repeatedly to set him up with eligible women over the years, but Roland always politely declined. If he’s suddenly developed a romantic interest in Natalie, we’re going to have a serious problem. She’s far too young for him, and more importantly, she belongs to me.

I’m definitely going to have a very direct conversation with Natalie after we return to New York. She needs to stay far away from him, for her own protection. I never paid attention to what kind of women might catch my father’s friend’s interest, but suddenly I have an urgent need to find out everything about his personal life. It doesn’t matter how much money he’s invested in my companies—if he even thinks about pursuing Natalie, I’ll destroy him completely.

The very thought of Roland’s hands on Natalie has me in a decidedly grim mood by the time we reach the hotel.

After dropping my things in my room and checking my phone for messages from my sister, I head directly to Natalie’ssuite. Before I can even knock, the door swings open, and I come face-to-face with Megan, who has a wide grin on her face and a cocktail glass in her hand.

“Oh no!” She dramatically slaps her hand over her mouth, giggling. “He’s back!”

“Who?” I hear another familiar voice, noticeably slurred, and Natalie appears from behind the door, brandishing a bottle of red wine like a weapon. She gives me a lopsided smile. “Uh-oh. I think we’ve been caught red-handed.”

“You’re drunk.” I look from her to my sister with growing disbelief. “You got her drunk?”

“Correction.” Megan lifts a finger that wavers unsteadily in the air. She frowns, trying to make it stay still. “Your girlfriend got me drunk.”

“Hear that, Ethan?” Natalie ducks under Megan’s arm with surprising grace for someone who’s clearly had too much to drink, giving me a shit-eating grin before leaning up to kiss me squarely on the mouth. “I’m your girlfriend.”

My eyes soften at the genuinely happy look in her bright eyes. She’s completely and utterly out of it, but there’s something endearing about her uninhibited state.

When she stumbles slightly, I wrap my arm around her waist to steady her against my chest. “Why did you get drunk? I was planning to take you out to dinner.”

“Take me out to dinner?” she laughs with musical delight. “But dinner just arrived.”

I glance over the top of her head at the table, which now sports two conspicuously empty wine bottles. “Where is it?”

She stabs a playful finger into my chest with surprising accuracy. “You.”

I blink in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“You can go now, Megan. I need some quality time with your devastatingly handsome brother.”

Snickering like a teenager, Megan takes the wine bottle fromher and begins walking toward the door with exaggerated dignity.

“Wait.” I reach into my pocket and hand her my room card. “Go rest in my room. Don’t you dare go wandering around the hotel drunk like this.”

She lifts the card in front of her face as if examining a precious artifact. “Oh. Can I order room service?”

“Go absolutely crazy,” I suggest before I’m pulled into the room by my tie, and Natalie closes the door with a decisive click.

Her eyes are sparkling with mischief and something darker, more intense. “So where have you been hiding all afternoon?”

Her hands are pressed against my chest, and she has me pinned against the door with surprising strength for someone her size.

“Natalie, let me get you some coffee and food.”

“No.” Her forehead scrunches adorably. “I want you.”

Her hands reach boldly for my pants, and before I can fully process what’s happening, she’s unzipping them. I reach out to stop her, but she bats my hands away with surprising authority. “Shoo. I’m busy here.”

“Natalie. This is not a good idea. You’re drunk.” It’s remarkably difficult to sound reasonable when her hand is fishing in my pants for my cock, which is already hardening at the very sight of her acting so aggressively seductive. “How much did you actually drink?”

“Enough,” she hums with satisfaction before gracefully dropping to her knees.