Page 43 of Stumped

“I looked you up too,Ms. Thomas,” I say in an effort to change the subject. She’s been really good at listening to me vent and rant about my recovery process, but I don’t want to spend this whole evening talking about myself.

“Oh yeah, what did you find?”

“You’re a wealthy, powerful woman. Maybe even a millionaire?” I reply and she tosses her head back on a laugh. It’s not entirely false. She’s worth more than I make as a Renegade and member of the Indian cricket team combined. She started this company from the ground up and worked her butt off to get investors. Vera’s the kind of badass that would make millionaires weep and I’m all about it.

“I’m nowhere close to being a millionaire and I never want to be. But Iamproud of what I’ve achieved.”

“As you should be, I’ve read all the articles and you’re a powerhouse.”

She blushes, gaze dropping to her lap and I discover another thing I can’t help but love about Vera Thomas—she’s bashful about her success.

Fourteen. All up in my content

Vera

As my eyes open, the first thing I realise is I’m not alone in bed. The arm around my waist tightens, followed by a deep rumble and I smile as last night flashes through my mind.

It had been one ofthosedays where everything was going wrong and the work kept piling up. I could have delegated, but some of it required a gentle touch. The only downside to being the boss is some clients insistIdo all the heavy lifting—everything from overseeing the pitch to tweaking plans according to their feedback. I try not to let this happen too often. But on some days, like yesterday, I end up hunched over my computer late into the evening while ignoring everything else.

So when Elias showed up, I was confused. But having him in my office, in the one place I never let non-family members visit, felt good. Especially since he brought me pizza and wine. I rarely use the couch in my office for casual situations, but it was the perfect excuse. We finished every slice and got halfway through the wine before sleep started to win.

Elias sent Kuriakose off and drove my car home. In an effort to keep me awake for the journey, he talked non-stop, picking up where we left off in my office. I looked my name up once after I started Lucky Shot and there were less than nice things postedby a bunch of idiots I worked with in the past. That was my sign to never do it again.

A few years ago I was featured in a top business magazine and they included my total net worth. Now, that information is available publicly and I hate it. I never know if someone is interested in me for who I am or how much I earn. I’d like to think Elias doesn’t care about that, but I wish he hadn’t looked me up.

To most people being called amillionaireis probably a good thing, but I don’t want the title or anything to do with it. Not only because being a wealthy woman in a male dominated world puts a target on my back, but on account of being perceived a certain way. I didn’t work this hard to get alabelattached to my name.

More than anything, the world’s most famous millionaires are monsters and I don’t want to share that title.

When my grandfather gave me the seed money to start Lucky Shot, he made a request—donate my first paycheck to a charity of my choice and provide annual contributions depending on what my revenue was. My grandfather is long gone, but I haven’t stopped doing what he asked of me. Helping foundations across the country to provide education to young girls and jobs for women will always be important to me.

Hearing Elias praise my successes was flattering. And exhausting. I hoped he didn’t think because I had this fancy job and title I was stillsettlingfor him. Over the years, I’ve heard the standard criticism—too accomplished, too educated, too smart,too much—and knowing they’d never say the same about a man pushed me to keep going. None of my wins fell into my lap; I earned every single one. A steady income and a full bank account is great, but I also genuinely enjoy my work.

After extractingmyself from his iron grip, I work at my dining table. By the time Elias surfaceshourslater, I’ve replied to emails, lurked on a client presentation and finished two proposals. His boxers are low on his hips as he stretches, stumbling slightly as he walks out of the bedroom. I press my lips together to hide my smile at how cute he is all rumpled and still half asleep. He doesn’t see me at first, one hand rubbing his eyes while the other adjusts himself through his underwear. When he’s finally steady, he focuses on me and a smile lights up his face.

“Morning, peaches,” he rasps.

The nickname makes me blush as I nudge the coffee pot towards him. “You might need to make more coffee.”

“Or you could come back to bed with me and give me the jumpstart I need.”

He comes around the table and drops a kiss onto my forehead, down the side of my face before he’s nuzzling into my neck. A giggle escapes me as he breathes against my throat before his mouth is covering mine. I’m very aware we’re breaking all the rules of a friends with benefits arrangement with a sleepover and cute behaviour, but I don’t want it to stop. I like being nuzzled by the man.

“Mmmpeaches,” he whispers, licking along my jaw.

“Go,” I tell him, despite the shiver running through me, “so I can finish work and take you back to bed.”

“Work? Isn’t it a Saturday?

“CEOs never sleep.”

He rolls his eyes and takes the coffee pot to the kitchen where I can hear him making a fresh batch. Even though he’s only been in my apartment once, I like that he feels comfortable enough digging through my cabinets to find everything he needs.

Even though it’s the weekend and I should have switched off the minute I left the office, there’s just so much pending work. Even with the late nights and the exhaustion seeping into my bones, I have to get stuff done. I do believe in the concept ofnothing is urgent, but completing my checklist allows me to ignore everything else for the rest of the weekend.

Elias returns a few minutes later, still adorably mussed up, and sits in the chair beside mine. In the short time we’ve known each other I’ve learned he’s big on physical affection. I’m not. However, when his hand squeezes my bare thigh before his head lands on my shoulder, I find myself leaning into him for more.

“Don’t you get tired of working so much?”

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