Page 437 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

A vein throbs at Edward’s temple.

Mira gulps. "At least, the coffee was decaf."

Summer titters, then turns it into a cough. Someone else—JJ by the sounds of it— chuckles, then manages to stifle it.

Mira’s eyes grow bigger. She hunches her shoulders.

"You’re not saying anything. Why aren’t you saying anything?

Are you pissed-off? Oh god, you’re pissed-off.

I'm sorry, you make me nervous, can you tell? Haha, I also like to answer my own questions when the person I’m talking to stays quiet.

As long as you don’t insist I go to confession and own up my sins to the priest. Oops! "

I wince.

Edward’s shoulders bunch.

Gio trembles at my side, trying not to laugh. I don't dare look at her.

A horrified look comes over Mira’s face.

"I didn’t mean to talk about your past. I was warned not to.

Not that I’m a gossip—okay, maybe a little.

” She holds up her thumb and forefinger.

“And only because gossip is good for you.

It helps to de-stress. You, on the other hand, look like you could use some de-stressing.

I'll bet you keep it all locked up inside.

Which makes you a prime candidate for a coronary.

Not that it's any of my business. Oh my god.

" She closes her eyes. "I’ve done it now, haven’t I? "

Edward stares at her with an expression veering between fascination, disgust and anger.

"Okay, that’s it. I will not speak anymore. I’ll wipe you down, and you can be on your way." She leans forward, brushing her scarf over his crotch again and again, and I'll be honest, at this point, even I'm finding it hard to maintain my signature Stone face.

"You done?" Edward asks through gritted teeth.

"It’s not getting any better, is it?" she asks in a small voice. "No, it’s not. Am I making it worse? Of course, I am." She slowly tips up her chin and meets his gaze. "Can I make it up to you?"

He sets his jaw and looks ready to refuse her, then a cunning look comes into his eyes. In a voice I have to strain to hear, he says to her, "How are you at obeying orders?"

To find out what happens next, read Edward and Mira’s marriage of convenience, forced proximity, one-bed romance here

Read an excerpt

Mira

"Orders?" I blink slowly. "What kind of orders?"

Not the kind you read in your smutty books. Definitely can’t be those kind of orders.

The skin around his eyes tightens. "What are smutty books?" he rumbles. My never-endings spark. Oh my god, that caramel-velvet voice of his brushes up against my skin, and every cell in my body seems to come alive. Also, no, no, no, did I say the S-word aloud?

"I meant, slutty books." I cover my face with my hands. "I said that aloud, as well, didn’t I?"

I peek through the gaps in my fingers in time to see him nod slowly. He doesn’t say a word, though. He merely glares at me like I’m a puzzle to solve, or maybe, an annoyance, or an irritant, or a pest he’d prefer to swat away.

The silence stretches. Our gazes catch. The air between us crackles with awareness. The fine hairs on the back of my neck rise. A heavy feeling pushes down on my chest. I swallow, and my throat feels like it’s lined with sharp glass. What’s happening to me?

"Do you always say what comes into your mind?" he asks in a voice that’s detached but also curious, in the way a scientist might be while observing an animal in the wild.

I frown. "Of course not." I wave a hand in the air, striving for casual. "Only when I’m nervous. Not that I’m nervous now. And do you make me nervous? Of course not."

"Also a liar." He drags his thumb under his lower lip, and my gaze is drawn to his mouth. Gorgeous mouth. Hard mouth. A mean upper lip that hints at the his authoritarian nature. That puffy lower lip that might signify his pursuit of pleasure. A hedonist. A savage. A fiend. He’s all of them.

Does that make him a heartless monster? Or a merciless lover?

One who seeks gratification, but not in an instant way.

This man would wait months…years, if needed.

This man would pursue what he wants with a singular focus.

And oh, to be at the receiving end of that intensity.

What I'm facing now is a tiny insight into how it would be if he were to get fixated on me. I shake my head. Fixated? I don’t want that.

Not at all. I don’t know this man. All I know is the passing reference to him within the circle of my girlfriends, whose husbands he's a friend of. I’ve never seen him with a woman, though.

"I’ve never seen you with a woman." What the—! "Did I say that out loud?” I ask weakly.

His features harden until they could be carved from a diamond-hard material, whatever that's called.

"Oh, shit," Gio says in a soft voice from behind me.

Indeed.

"Umm, sorry? Did I say something wrong? Of course, I did. But why is it wrong? I have no idea. No one has ever seen me with a man before today either, so it’s not odd not to be seen with someone of the opposite sex.

By the same token, it’s allowed for a woman to have friends who are men and a man is allowed to have woman friends.

Besides, you’re no longer a priest, so…" I swallow, for he’s leaned forward on the balls of his feet.

It’s a slight movement, but it brings him close enough for his scent—something spicy, with notes of dark wood— to crash over me.

It’s as if I’ve been bathed in a cloud of aphrodisiacs—oh wait, those are his pheromones!

A-n-d my stupid stomach goes into free fall.

"Sooo, what I’m trying to say is, it doesn’t matter if you have women friends.

Or girlfriends. Or ladyloves, as they called it in the regency era.

I mean, you look stuffy enough to belong in an historical romance.

All you need is a ruffled shirt…" I hum thoughtfully.

"Yep, a white ruffled shirt, which would stand out against your skin and be the perfect foil to your cut-glass cheekbones. Does that mean you’re good-looking?

Of course not. I mean, if you smiled a little more… Now—"

"Smile?" he asks in that dark, dangerous voice, and that swirling sensation in my belly intensifies. My toes curl. Goosebumps pop on my skin.

"Smile," I say in a dazed voice. "You know, when the sides of your mouth curve up because your sense of humor is tickled, or when you feel the urge to show your appreciation of a situation like this.

" I project my most confident, school-picture-day smile.

"Not that either of those have crossed your mind for a decade. "

"How do you know that?" he asks in a curious voice.

"Oh, b-b-b-because your lips have been set in a firm line since I saw you earlier. And there’s this wrinkle between your eyebrows which seems to have been etched in permanently, and then the frown-lines that radiate out from the corners of your eyes, which are, no doubt, because you're old—er,"—I cough—"older and distinguished. Anyway, you have that dark-cloud-brewing-over-your-head look that only adds to your charm. From far away. I mean, it’s understandable you don’t have a girlfriend or any significant woman in your life. You look like you’re angry at the world, and there’s an internal war going on inside, and you’re all scowling and brooding and menacing.

Which is all fine in a smu—I mean, romance novel.

But in real life, no one wants to be around a man who’s an alphahole. "

"Alphahole?" He says the word as if he's trying it on for size, and it fits. Speaking of fits, from the looks of it, he’d need an XL condom, given the size of the resting-package at his crotch. A-n-d, my gaze slides downward. It... it’s bigger than what it was earlier, so the tent under that coffee-stained fabric is… because he’s aroused?

Tiny woofs. I jerk my chin up to find he’s looking at me with a glint in his eyes.

"Was I caught in the act?" When he only raises an eyebrow, I continue, unabated. That's me, I keep digging that hole. "I was. So what?" I tip up my chin. "A man can stare at a woman’s chest, but a woman can’t ogle a man’s package?"

One of my girlfriends—Penny?—gasps, before turning it into a cough.

"Hear, hear,” Gio calls out.

Someone else titters, then the sound cuts off.

I don’t dare look around the room, though.

Can’t take my gaze off those tawny eyes of his.

Burnished gold, glistening copper, hard like topaz gemstones.

They could sear me, look right through me to decipher my secrets.

They could turn soft like melted butter which…

is not me. He’s an unfeeling brute, a vicious beast. The devil incarnate.

The kind of man who’d be all wrong for me.

Besides, I don’t like him. I don’t like the fact I can’t read him. I prefer someone who’s open and honest with his feelings, who can be sensitive to my needs. This man… He’d break me down, then leave me. I’d be better off keeping my distance from him.

"Oh, look at the time." I raise my hand and pretend to gasp at my empty wrist—no, I don’t wear a watch, but so what? It’s the intent behind my gesture that counts, right?

"I need to be someplace else, somewhere urgent. Nice meeting you Mr. Ex-priest who shares his name with the man who’s side I was not on in Twilight. "

I turn to leave, when he drawls, "Team Jacob, are you?"

I pause, then scowl at him over my shoulder. "Is that a problem for you?"

"Is it for you?" he shoots back.

"Of course not."

"Good." He nods with satisfaction. "Remember you asked how you could make things up to me?"

I nod slowly.

“Come work for me.”

My jaw drops. "You’re kidding."

"Am I?” His eyes glint.