Page 117 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

"Which is why I think you’ll be perfect for the role of my new Communications Manager," Cade steps in smoothly.

Abby jerks her chin in his direction. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I need help managing my social media profiles, as well as my PR, and you heard my sister, you’re among the best on her team. So, I’ve decided you can come work for me.”

Abby stiffens. She folds her arms across her chest, mirroring Cade’s earlier body language. "And if I refuse?"

To find out what happens next read Cade and Abby’s story HERE

Want a bonus scene featuring Zara and Hunter and their baby? Click HERE

Read an excerpt from Cade and Abby’s story

Abby

"Oh, hope I’m not interrupting?" I squeeze my fingers around the vase of flowers and peek inside the hospital room.

The woman with the newborn in her arms and the tall handsome man next to her—who happens to be her husband, as well as the leader of the country— glance up at me.

I shuffle my feet, hunch my shoulders, and glance away then back at them.

Why do I have to be so shy? Why can’t I feel half as confident as the dark-haired woman who fixes me with her unblinking gaze?

Don’t flush now, you didn’t do anything wrong.

You’re only here to update them on the new campaign you are working on.

Why can’t I find it in me to be courageous?

To hold my own and face the world head on?

The silence lengthens. My cheeks turn fiery. "I could come back

"You weren’t interrupting." Hunter rises to his feet. "Actually, I’d be reassured if you kept Zara company while I make a few calls." He kisses the woman on her forehead then prowls past me.

"Come on in." Zara, who’s also my boss, gestures to me.

I walk over to the table pushed up against the wall and place my flowers amongst the many bouquets and toys scattered there.

The scent of roses, lilies and other flowers meshes together to form a heady floral perfume that embraces me.

No hint of antiseptic or any of the smells one would associate with a hospital dare intrude here.

After all, Zara is the wife of the Prime Minister, who also happens to be one of the richest men in the country.

"Wow, this room smells like a garden!" I can’t stop the words from escaping.

Gosh, did that make me sound gauche? Hope not.

"All the Seven and the Sovranos, and of course, their wives, sent me flowers and toys for the baby," Zara says in a soft voice.

I turn to face her. Not only because I’ve never heard my boss sound so…

feminine, so womanly, so…gentle. Not that she isn’t all three of those.

It’s just, she’s the woman who recruited me to her company when no one else would give me a chance and for that, I’ll always be grateful. It also means I’m in awe of her.

She’s the hardest working person I know, and definitely the cleverest. If only I had a quarter of her talent and confidence, I’d be so much more successful.

Yeah, I may have a bit of a girl-crush on Zara Chopra Whittington.

Which means I should be tongue-tied in her presence, which would be more in keeping with my character.

Only, I’ve gotten to know Zara well over the last few months.

Besides, my curiosity is riding me hard.

Enough that I can’t stop myself from asking: "You mean the Seven who run the 7A company—"

"And the Sovranos." She nods.

I stare. "The Sovranos. As in, the Italian Mafia?"

"As in the Cosa Nostra."

I widen my gaze. "Aren’t they criminals of sorts?" I whisper.

"Doesn’t everyone have skeletons in their closet?" She raises a shoulder.

The flush which had receded comes back with a vengeance. This time it’s accompanied by the flip-flop of my stomach. My guts churn. Stop feeling guilty, you have nothing to be afraid of. I glance away then back at Zara.

"You’re not good at hiding your thoughts, are you?" She tilts her head.

My cheeks burn, and I lock my fingers together in front of me. "It’s the curse of having such fair skin," I mumble.

"Or a pure mind." She half smiles. "It’s okay to be innocent. In fact, it’s preferable that one retains a core of innocence at heart. Just don’t be naive when it comes to making decisions, okay?"

If she only knew of the decisions I had to make to get here, she wouldn’t think I’m that innocent. Guess I’m a better actress than I gave myself credit for. I bite the inside of my cheek. "Thanks, Zara. I really appreciate you taking me under your wing."

"You’ve more than pulled your weight over the past few months on the campaign. Without your efforts, my husband couldn’t have been elected Prime Minister." She smiles.

I hunch my shoulders. "Th-thank you so much."

"Raise your chin," she orders.

"Eh?"

"Raise your chin, girl, and accept the praise. Own it like a mother—ducking—fitch." She glances down at the still sleeping baby in her arms, then back at me. "Oopsie."

I can’t stop myself from laughing. I move closer, then take in the little bundle in her arms. "He’s sooo small."

She scoffs, "He didn’t feel that small when I pushed him out of my va—a—ah—ina. You know what I mean?"

"Jesus, that’s too much information," a deep voice rumbles.

The hair on the nape of my neck rises. I know who that is. I know that sinful baritone belongs to a man whose soul is as dark as his voice. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.

It’s as if I have no control over my body anymore.

As if I’m the puppet and he’s the puppeteer to whom I’ve handed over control.

I pivot and take in the man lounging in the doorway.

Dark hair that’s cut short at the sides and long on top.

Square jaw, blue eyes so bright they seem to draw every inch of light in the room.

High cheekbones, the makings of a five-o-clock shadow on his chin, even though it’s not even noon.

He straightens and his shoulders fill the doorway.

Then he prowls toward me, and the rest of the room recedes.

Wide chest, sculpted enough that the grey Henley he’s wearing stretches across his pecs.

His waist is narrow, his powerful thighs straining the worn jeans he’s wearing.

His gaze locks with mine, and as always, it’s as if he’s reached into my mind and learned every dirty fantasy I’ve harbored about him all these years.

For a second, those blue eyes flare with cold fire.

Then, just as suddenly, he wipes all expression from his face.

He looks away, and my muscles sag. It’s as if I’ve been released from a tractor beam.

He glances toward his sister and his features form into an uncomfortable expression.

"You’re perfectly aware of how the birthing process takes place," Zara scolds him.

"Yes, but so far, births and anything to do with them have only been a concept. Just like the fact that you are a mother now is something I’m still getting my head around," he drawls.

He walks over to stand on the side of the bed opposite me. Which leaves the entire expanse of the bed between us, thank god. His fingers are looped around one pink and one blue balloon, which say, ‘baby boy’ and ‘baby girl,’ respectively.

"Was covering all my bases, since you kept us guessing until the last moment," he explains, then glances down at the baby in her arms. "Wow, you really are a mom."

"And you’re an uncle."

Cade’s face lights up. He thrusts out his chest, pulls back his shoulders and folds his arms across his chest. "I can’t wait to teach him how to play cricket."

"Would you like to hold him first?" Zara asks.

Cade looks alarmed. "Me?" There’s so much panic in his voice that I have to press my lips together to stop myself from snorting out loud.

"Yes, you." Zara tilts her head.

"Umm. He’s too fragile, maybe when he’s a little older?" Cade takes a step back to punctuate his words. The balloons flutter above him. "I guess I should tie these…somewhere?" He crosses the room to a chair pushed up by the window and ties them to its back.

"Oh, now I realize what’s wrong. The pink balloon says baby boy," I exclaim.

"I’m aware." Cade spins around, then walks back to take his place on the opposite side of the bed, this time, putting more distance between the bed and himself. Not that I’m complaining. The farther away from me he is, the better.

"Shouldn’t it… I mean… Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

" I chew on my lower lip, and his gaze lowers to my mouth. His nostrils flare and he looks annoyed. With me? With himself, maybe? He raises his gaze to mine, and my breath catches. There are sparks of something I can only define as... Lust? Nah, not possible, he doesn’t find me attractive, does he?

Zara clears her throat, and Cade seems to snap out of his reverie.

"Who am I here to visit, hmm?" he drawls

I frown. "You’re coming to visit Zara."

"Who is…?"

"Your sister?" I offer.

"And?"

"Uh, she’s very much a feminist, a strong woman, ah—" I tip up my chin. "I get it now. You were making a statement that you knew she’d approve of."

"You’re smarter than you look." He smirks.

I firm my lips. "And you’re not as dumb as you look, either."

His gaze widens. "Dumb? Did you just call me dumb?"

"You know what they say" —I thrust out a hip— "when you have a good-looking face, chances are, there’s nothing between the ears."

Cade’s jaw hangs open, then he chuckles. "Very good."

"You talk as if you didn’t think I could hold my own in a conversation," I scoff.

"Oh, I’m sure you can." He raises his shoulder. "If not, my sister wouldn’t have hired you."

"I took her on because Abby showed a lot of potential. In fact—" Zara turns to me. "I see something of me in you."

A warmth suffuses my chest. "You do?"

She nods. "You have the same hunger, the need to prove yourself. That thirst for success that pushes you to try harder, to go that extra mile—"

"Which is why I think you’ll be perfect for the role of my new Communications Manager," Cade steps in smoothly.