Page 37 of Fixer for the Billionaire

Dammit.

He might have gotten that letter grade back with that move.

"Sure." He places his hands in his slacks pockets. "If that's the way you want it."

"I do." I walk towards the door, trying to ignore the tightening in my chest. “Don't forget. We've got the book stop tour on Sunday for Danity."

He clears his throat. “Of course.”

“By the way…” I slow down. “Thanks for the help tonight."

Quentin nods, his chiseled jaw working as he stares. "Anytime, Sanchez. Anytime."

Turning, I exit the office, my "grading" list for Quentin still running through my head.

Two more days down. Nine more to decide if getting closer to Quentin Anderson is the best or worst idea I’ve ever had.

Chapter Fifteen

QUENTIN

In the waning light of the day, my office has a cozy, lived-in feel, with stacks of papers bearing witness to the late nights Carmina and I have been spending here.

Wrapped up in wedding plans and unspoken words hanging between us, I’ve tried to give her space. Respecting her boundaries, as clear as the 'Do Not Disturb' sign imprinted on her forehead, I’ve been patient the last several days.

No moves. No flirts.

Despite the ultimatum hanging between us like a dangling mistletoe, I’m laying off the gas. But I can’t deny the tension is palpable.

So, I've been watching her.

Every evening, she walks in looking more like she’s gone twelve rounds with a pasta dish rather than merely eaten it. My resolve has waned.

The unwashed hair, the spaghetti sauce stains multiplying on her blouses and pencil skirts overnight, the stress evident in the dark circles on her pretty face—they all tug at something deep inside me, something primal and possessive.

I want to wrap my arms around her, pull her close, and tell her everything will be okay. But I can’t.

Not yet.

Even as I walk into our next big event—the author meet-and-greet for Danity Dandridge at the big Seattle bookstore, Elliot Bay Book Company—the smell of freshly brewed coffee and newly printed books hits me.

Texting Carmina for the fourth time in the past two hours, I make my way to the event space in the back, my fist clenching at my side.

My fingers relax a bit when I see Freddie, Carmina's firecracker of a PR specialist. Blonde hair pulled back in a bun, red-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, typing furiously at her laptop.

"Hey Freddie," I greet her with a smile and a nod.

She looks up and grins. "Hey Quentin! Thanks for coming early to set everything up."

"No problem. I know how busy these events can get." I eye the nearby coffee. "Any sign of Carmina yet?"

Freddie shakes her head. "Not yet, but she'll be here soon. And I heard from Danity's team that she's already on her way too."

I nod and take a seat at the table, fiddling with the stack of books in front of me. Between checking my phone for updates from Carmina and chatting with Freddie about the last event, time flies. Freddie’s jokes about me "playing the literary hero again" and "practicing my sultry voice for a Fifty Shades re-do" almost make me forget the time ticking by.

Almost.

Freddie alerts me. "Danity's about to arrive, Quentin. Get ready."

---