Page 16 of Flirting with My Billionaire Enemy

I get on the elevator ,and just as the doors begin to close, a hand shoots between them. “Wait for me.”

It’s Ariana. She pushes the doors apart like she’s a superhero and steps inside. Her hair is up in her usual bun, and today she’s wearing a sweater that’s showing off a bit more of her figure than normal, something I can’t help but appreciate. Not that I’m staring or anything. I’m not a creeper. But I definitely notice. It’s a nice change from the boxy suits she’s usually hiding her curves under.

And I know she has those curves. I got an eyeful of them at the club the night I met her. It makes me wonder why she was dressed so scantily there and dresses like a nun at the office. It’s almost like she has a hidden wild side. But I can’t think about that because we’re reaching our floor, and I don’t need to be getting all hot and bothered right as the elevator doors are opening. But there’s definitely a part of me that wants to unfasten her bun and watch her luscious, dark hair fall around her shoulders. It really is a terrible shame she wears it up like that. It’s almost like a crime against humanity. Because we should all be allowed to enjoy such beautiful hair.

“So what’s the plan?” She looks over at me.

“Let’s grab those files and we’ll get some help loading them up into your car,” I say.

“You sure you want to drive in my car?” she asks. “I’m sure it’s not as fancy as what you’re used to. I mean, you’re welcome to fly in your helicopter if you want.”

“No, no. It’s no problem. I’m happy to ride with you.”

“I mean, it’s not like my car is broken down or anything. It’s a newer Honda. But it’s just a Honda.”

“Hondas are great cars,” I say.

She looks at me and her mouth quirks to the side. “You’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect? A stuck up pompous jerk?”

Her eyes widen, and I get the impression that was exactly what she’d been expecting. I don’t like it one bit. I have nothing to prove to Ariana, but it bothers me that I’m being labeled as something I’m not. Yes, I grew up around loads and loads of money. Enormous, ridiculous amounts. My family has several private planes, a yacht, and vacation homes around the world. Many luxury cars. Racehorses from a long line of winning horses. She probably doesn’t know about all that, but she clearly seems to have some kind of idea of the lifestyle I lead and how I must have grown up.

But that doesn’t make me stuck up. I’ve fought to keep myself humble and grounded. It’s been a true struggle at times. But that doesn’t mean I’m not trying.

“I—”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry to put you on the spot like that.”

She snapped her jaw shut, her cheeks flushing.

“I’ll grab my assistant and see if he has those files ready for us. I’ll meet you in your office in ten minutes.”

She nods, and we go our separate ways. I glance over my shoulder and watch her retreating figure heading toward her office, her hips swaying as she walks. I have my choice of any woman I want. Why is it that this one is stuck in my head? She’s like a puzzle to me, and I’m a sucker for a challenge.

I can tell she’s into me, but I don’t think she wants to be. There’s an air of conflict about her when she’s around me. I’ve seen her at a distance when she wasn’t aware I was watching. She’s not normally a conflicted person. It’s when I come around that she seems that way.

That kind of behavior only makes me want to win her over even more.

I call my housekeeper and arrange for my luggage to be delivered to Ariana’s vehicle in thirty minutes. After gathering up a few last minute items, I head over to Ariana’s office.

I smack right into something. I look down and see Ariana plastered against my chest. Hey, I could get used to this.

She springs away from me like I’ve burned her. “Oh, excuse me. I was just headed to see you.” Her face is red, and it’s really cute. It’s doing funny things to my insides to see her so flustered like that. A few strands of her hair have escaped her tight bun and I want to cheer for them. She swipes them back, but they only fall back down into her face. She blows on them and then reaches up in defeat and does the most glorious thing. She pulls the elastic from her hair and it tumbles down around her shoulders, glossy and inviting. My fingers itch to reach out and bury my hands in the lusciousness of it.

But I’m a good boy, and I behave myself.

She expertly twists her hair back up into a bun and secures it with an elastic. Such a shame.

“Ready to go?” I ask.

“Yes. I still need to fill up with gas, but we should be good until we get out of the city.”

“I don’t actually make the drive from Atlanta to Blue Mountain often. I usually take a private plane or a helicopter. The traffic is so bad here, I try to avoid it like the plague.”

“Like I said before, you’re more than welcome to fly.”

But where would be the fun in that? If Ariana wants to take her car, I’ll let her. I can’t help but admit that I have another reason for wanting to ride with her, despite my hatred of the Atlanta traffic. I’m drawn to this woman. The longer I’ve been working with her, the more I want to see of her. I want to see what kind of driver she is. What her car’s like. Is she a neat freak or a disorganized mess? There’s so much about her I still don’t know. It doesn’t seem right to let that go on for much longer. I crave the ability to know her better.

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