Page 3 of Unwrapping the Billionaire

Hurrying down the familiar faded teal hallway with my cellphone fixed to my ear, I can see that most of our employees have already left for the holidays. The place looks stale and vacant, not helped any by the lingering death vibes of a failing business in the air. The Christmas tree in reception has already lost her sparkle.

I skid to a halt outside my office door as the call reconnects.

“Miss Parker?” His secretary sounds brisk and efficient.

Is he fucking her?

Is she one of ‘them’?

Does she say, “Thank you, Mr. Farley,” in that same prissy manner when he’s coming all over her face?

“I have Mr. Jonas Farley on the line for you. I’ll put you straight through—”

“To hell,” I mutter, but she doesn’t comment.

There’s a pause, and then his voice comes on the line. A voice that I know so well… It’s the one that used to whisper secrets and lies to me in that same, slow, mocking drawl, and the one that can still drip like warm honey in between my legs.

“Grace. It’s been a while.”

I can tell he’s enjoying this right away.

“Jonas,” I say, gritting my teeth so hard his name comes out as a hiss.

“To what do I owe this, ah,pleasure?” He delivers his last word to me on a silver tray of derision.

“I think you knowexactlywhy I’m calling.”You’re destroying my father’s legacy, and I’m betting you have a smile on that beautiful face while you’re doing it.

I can just picture him now, sat there in his massive penthouse office: Cool blue eyes that are already bored by my intrusion, black hair mussed up to his usual exacting standards, the hint of a five o’clock shadow on that firm jaw after a long day of butchering companies.

“Ah, let me guess… Parker & Fisk?” He makes it sound like my father’s company is the last thing on his mind, but I know its all bullshit. He’s been waiting for this moment for two years. “What poor decisions you’ve been making, Grace.” He tuts at me patronizingly. “Then again, you always did excel in that area…”

The worst, by far, was falling in love with you.

“Don’t make me beg, Jonas,” I say wearily. “You know how much that company means to me. I have a bailout deal agreed already. I made a couple of calls, and I know you haven’t finalized the sale paperwork yet… Rip it up, and give me a chance to put this right.”

“And why the hell would I do a thing like that?”

Piece of… He reallyisgoing to make me beg.

“Well?” he snaps. “Why should I lose out on making a fuck load of money because of your incompetence? I can make double…treble…selling off Parker & Fisk for what I bought it for.”

“Because you’re one of the richest men in New York,” I say, trying desperately to reason with him. “You’re not doing this for the money—”

“True,” he admits, conveying with one word just how little he thinks of me. “So tell me again, Grace. Why should I throw your precious company a lifeline? And don’t give me anything nauseatingly glib like ‘a shared history’, because you and I both know that went up in flames a long time ago.”

“Because it’s Christmas Eve!” I splutter. He always did have the ability to smash his hand against every single one of my buttons.“Stop being such an asshole!”

There’s a long silence.

Shit.

I rest my forehead against the cool glass of my office door, and wait for him to toss all my hopes and dreams into the same garbage can as he did my heart.

“I see your language hasn’t improved,” he murmurs eventually. “Maybe you should have attended that finishing school in Switzerland your mother was so insistent on. What a waste of an expensive Harvard education you turned out to be.”

“You know what, Jonas?” I say, fighting back the tears. “That’s just the sort of crap I’d have expected to hear coming from your father’s mouth, not yours.”

There’s a low growl on the line as my insult hits home.So hedoesstill feel something underneath all those layers of ice…

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