Page 33 of The Reluctant Billionaire

Literally.

He’s got this weird gravitas about him I can’t explain. A quiet authority. A way of making people sit up and pay attention. He draws people to him—I’ve noticed we all want to be in his orbit. He’s just a normal guy, doing a normal job, yet it’s not only me who feels it. Gaz hero-worships him. Sylvie and Judy clearly adore him.

And I’ve known from the second I laid eyes on him that he’s someone you don’t forget. Someone special. I suppose the term I’m looking for is Big Dick Energy.

It’s not just his outrageous, ridiculous looks, or his size (generally speaking, not his dick size, though I have my suspicions on that front).

It’shim.

And for a few blissful minutes just now, I got to be the one he focused those icy, mesmerising eyes and that elusive approval on.

I got to be the one who nearly unravelled him. And I would have, if Sylvie hadn’t unwittingly cockblocked us.

I would have climbed that man like a tree.

I allow myself a cat-who-got-the-cream smile, even though I’m the opposite of satisfied. I’m turned on and frustrated, my erogenous zones throbbing and my head spinning with salacious fantasies about how it would have been with him if we hadn’t been interrupted.

My plans for this evening are now to spend serious quality time with my vibrators.

AIDE

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I demand as Gaz breezes into the main hallway.

‘Try and keep me away, my friend,’ he says.

‘You’re injured. Go on, get out.’

He holds up a cartoon-style bandaged finger. ‘It’s amazing, but they say I’ll live.’

‘Ha fucking ha.’ I put down the skirting board I’m mitring so I can give him my full attention. ‘You’re a liability. Can’t have you on a building site when you’re injured, mate. You know that.’

He scoffs. ‘Come on. It’s not a building site—it’s a basic refurb. I’m fine.’

‘A basic refurb where you shot yourself with a nail gun, you incompetent twat.’

He has the grace to look embarrassed about his utter ineptitude.

‘I know. I’m a nob. But I’ve taken two weeks off work, haven’t I? Just give me a paintbrush or something. I can’t sit around at home.’

I sigh. Gaz has indeed taken two weeks’ holiday from driving lorries so he can help out. I know how dear he holds this place—just like we all do. And he can’t do that much damage with a paintbrush.

Can he?

‘Fine.’ I bark. ‘Painting and nothing else. If I see you going anywhere near a single power tool, there’ll be hell to pay.’

‘Got it,’ he says cheerfully. ‘I’ll hang out with the girls. They love my chat.’

Bygirls, I assume he means Carlotta and Judy. I glower at him, but before I can say anything, Carlotta’s upon us.

Speak of the devil.

‘Heyyy!’ she cries, throwing her arms around Gaz, who hugs her tightly and winks at me over her shoulder. ‘You’re back! How’s the finger?’

‘Pretty grim,’ he tells her as he releases her. ‘I actually fainted when they were stitching it up.’

‘You poor thing!’ she coos as I roll my eyes behind her back, because boy will Gaz milk this for all it’s worth. ‘I’m not surprised. How long were you in there for?’

‘Eight hours, all in. Fucking brutal. Judy was a doll. She bought me a couple of Toffee Crisps from the vending machine.’