Read Online The Billionaire Game by Lila Monroe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lila Monroe
Tags: Romance
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idly if he’d broken up
with the latest blonde yet. I did need a pick-me-up, and Asher
apparently wasn’t as big of a jerk as I’d thought. What
would it hurt if I just took one step forward and kissed him? Gripped
those firm shoulders and let him press against me, slid my hand down
those tight trousers to stroke his firm cock, let him pull me into
the shadows and fuck me quick and hard and dirty up against the wall,
biting his shoulders to muffle my screams as I came—
“I wasn’t lying,” he
said abruptly. “When I was talking to your family. I think you
have real talent, and I’d like to have that meeting tomorrow to
discuss investing. If you would.”
My heart soared, and then trembled,
hesitating. Did he really mean it? He seemed sincere, but what if
this was a ploy to get in my pants? And worse, what if I was okay
with that? I had to make sure this meeting was all business, but how
could I manage it when he was so distracting? Even now, I couldn’t
stop my eyes from traveling down his crisp shirt, past his belt,
skimming over his— focus, Katie .
I had to take this seriously. The bank
had already rejected me, my savings account wasn’t going to
keep me going much longer, and Asher really believed in me, or at
least said he did. What did I have to lose by listening to his
proposal? He was just a man, albeit a ridiculously hot one. I could
keep myself, and him, in check.
“Okay,” I said, heart
hammering in anticipation, excitement, and a little bit of terror.
“You’re on. Business meeting tomorrow; you bring your
money, I’ll bring my vision.”
He grinned, a flash of devilish white
teeth in the early evening half-light. “Agreed.”
Going into business with him would mean
having to give up fucking him against a wall, but hey, we all have to
make sacrifices.
SEVEN
What do you wear to the business
meeting that could change your entire life?
If I listened to my gut I’d be
going in battle armor, but unfortunately Macy’s doesn’t
have a chainmail section these days. So I was stuck instead staring
at the entire contents of my dresser dumped out on my bed, trying to
decide: the little black dress, or the purple pantsuit? The floral
blouse with the blue slacks, or the blue blouse with the floral
slacks? Did a tie say ‘I’m professional’ or ‘I’m
trying too hard?’
At this rate, I was going to join a
nudist colony before I managed to decide.
This so wasn’t me. I never
worried about getting dressed up for some guy. But this wasn’t
just some guy, this was some guy who could either make my dream
come true or stomp it into tiny little pieces and flush them down the
toilet, and he could do it with a single word: yes or no.
I finally settled on a pinstriped
skirt-suit with a neckline and hemline both just long enough to be
intriguing without becoming unprofessional. I packed some of my best
lingerie samples in a variety of styles, fabrics, and colors into a
briefcase so that I could have them on hand to illustrate a point if
need be. Hopefully whatever restaurant Asher had chosen was set up so
that we could have a cozy little nook; I didn’t relish the idea
of arranging panties around bowls of linguini for the amusement of
all the staff and other customers.
The doorbell rang, and then rang again.
And again.
I pulled open a window. “Newsflash!”
I yelled down at Asher, still pushing the buzzer in front of my
apartment building. “The world doesn’t end if you have to
wait five seconds for something!”
“But why take the chance?”
he called back up.
I slammed the window back down, and
hustled out of the building.
“You look lovely,” he said,
immediately disarming anything rude I might have said about his
doorbell-pressing practices. Which was probably good; I needed to
keep my mouth in check if I was going to keep from driving away my
one and only interested investor.
“Thanks,” I said. “You’re
not looking so bad yourself.”
He was actually looking good
with the latest blonde yet. I did need a pick-me-up, and Asher
apparently wasn’t as big of a jerk as I’d thought. What
would it hurt if I just took one step forward and kissed him? Gripped
those firm shoulders and let him press against me, slid my hand down
those tight trousers to stroke his firm cock, let him pull me into
the shadows and fuck me quick and hard and dirty up against the wall,
biting his shoulders to muffle my screams as I came—
“I wasn’t lying,” he
said abruptly. “When I was talking to your family. I think you
have real talent, and I’d like to have that meeting tomorrow to
discuss investing. If you would.”
My heart soared, and then trembled,
hesitating. Did he really mean it? He seemed sincere, but what if
this was a ploy to get in my pants? And worse, what if I was okay
with that? I had to make sure this meeting was all business, but how
could I manage it when he was so distracting? Even now, I couldn’t
stop my eyes from traveling down his crisp shirt, past his belt,
skimming over his— focus, Katie .
I had to take this seriously. The bank
had already rejected me, my savings account wasn’t going to
keep me going much longer, and Asher really believed in me, or at
least said he did. What did I have to lose by listening to his
proposal? He was just a man, albeit a ridiculously hot one. I could
keep myself, and him, in check.
“Okay,” I said, heart
hammering in anticipation, excitement, and a little bit of terror.
“You’re on. Business meeting tomorrow; you bring your
money, I’ll bring my vision.”
He grinned, a flash of devilish white
teeth in the early evening half-light. “Agreed.”
Going into business with him would mean
having to give up fucking him against a wall, but hey, we all have to
make sacrifices.
SEVEN
What do you wear to the business
meeting that could change your entire life?
If I listened to my gut I’d be
going in battle armor, but unfortunately Macy’s doesn’t
have a chainmail section these days. So I was stuck instead staring
at the entire contents of my dresser dumped out on my bed, trying to
decide: the little black dress, or the purple pantsuit? The floral
blouse with the blue slacks, or the blue blouse with the floral
slacks? Did a tie say ‘I’m professional’ or ‘I’m
trying too hard?’
At this rate, I was going to join a
nudist colony before I managed to decide.
This so wasn’t me. I never
worried about getting dressed up for some guy. But this wasn’t
just some guy, this was some guy who could either make my dream
come true or stomp it into tiny little pieces and flush them down the
toilet, and he could do it with a single word: yes or no.
I finally settled on a pinstriped
skirt-suit with a neckline and hemline both just long enough to be
intriguing without becoming unprofessional. I packed some of my best
lingerie samples in a variety of styles, fabrics, and colors into a
briefcase so that I could have them on hand to illustrate a point if
need be. Hopefully whatever restaurant Asher had chosen was set up so
that we could have a cozy little nook; I didn’t relish the idea
of arranging panties around bowls of linguini for the amusement of
all the staff and other customers.
The doorbell rang, and then rang again.
And again.
I pulled open a window. “Newsflash!”
I yelled down at Asher, still pushing the buzzer in front of my
apartment building. “The world doesn’t end if you have to
wait five seconds for something!”
“But why take the chance?”
he called back up.
I slammed the window back down, and
hustled out of the building.
“You look lovely,” he said,
immediately disarming anything rude I might have said about his
doorbell-pressing practices. Which was probably good; I needed to
keep my mouth in check if I was going to keep from driving away my
one and only interested investor.
“Thanks,” I said. “You’re
not looking so bad yourself.”
He was actually looking good
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