Page 41 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession

“I know you’re at work! I’m here, too, on your floor. I just checked in your office, and you weren’t there.”

“Oh, I’m just…I’ll be right there. What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I wanted to surprise Jordan because he’s going out of town this afternoon and won't be back until Monday.”

“So, you thought you’d pull a nooner at the office. Slutty,” I tease.

“Shut up. We just had lunch,” she defends.

“Yes, well, I hope it was a satisfying one?”

“I…uh, may have eaten a bit too much.” She giggles

“Right. Excuse me while I go throw up my lunch.”

We laugh. “I’ll see you in a bit, babe,” she says before hanging up.

Sabrina and Jordan have one of the craziest schedules, but somehow, they make it a priority to get doses of each other, even if they have to schedule them.

I wonder how that would be, to be completely vulnerable to someone, laid open to their criticism, trusting them to fulfill my needs and have my back.

The thought makes me break out in a cold sweat.

Throwing the paper cup in the trash again reminds me of Ethan and this afternoon, but I push the thought from my mind. I grab a tissue and dab at my moist eyes to catch any running mascara and head out to see Sabrina.

Chapter 11

Bonnie

“Hey, preggers,” I sayas I walk toward my friend. Sabrina looks good, better than she did a few weeks ago. “You look great. I thought being pregnant with twins meant you’d have to be holding a bucket in one hand and hanging on to your giant, achy boobs with the other.”

She laughs. “Well, I did feel that way for the first couple of months. Now, at thirteen weeks, the morning sickness has settled a bit. It's just the constant hunger for food that I have to deal with now.” She lowers her voice to whisper, “And sex.”

I gag. “Geez, Sabrina, I’ve got an appraisal meeting on Monday, you know. How do you expect me to keep a straight face without imagining you two together, especially when the person you’re doing the dirty deed with is my boss.”

“Oh, I have no doubts you’ll work something out,” she says.

I shake my head. “Anyway, what’s up?”

“You up for some pampering and retail therapy this weekend? And it’s on me, we’re not spending a penny of Jordan’s money,” she adds before I can protest.

“Sabrina, you should, it’s your money, too,” I remind her.

“Yeah, I know, but this is you we’re talking about, and you hate billionaires, so…”

“Oh, my God, no, I don’t hate billionaires. I—just, well. It’s nothing to do with Jordan. It’s just a thing I have about money. I don't know what the problem is, I’ll get back to you when I do.”

It’s the Harmonial sect mentality I can’t bleach out of my brain, but I can’t tell her that. She’ll think I’m bonkers.

“It’s worth pointing out, though, that I’ll get myself fully reimbursed with Jordan’s money. With interest. Does that still trigger your ‘thing?’” she asks.

“No, because it’s your money, too,” I answer.

“I’m not even going to break my brain by trying to understand your logic. Bottom line, we’re splurging this weekend,” she asserts.

“Sure. I’m in.”

She changes the subject with my easy agreement. “So, are you settling in okay? Jordan doesn't stop singing your praises, but with how busy he is, I keep asking if he hasn’t just thrown you in the deep end.”

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