Page 35 of Marrying the Billionaire

A house in Brooklyn? Why does he have a house there?

“A red flag like that is just something we usually look for when considering acquiring a company. Not only how the business itself is doing, but what the financial situation is like of the majority owner. If they’re selling it because of money troubles, Dad will lowball them on the price.”

“My dad has never mentioned anything about financial difficulties. But he doesn’t talk to me about any of that stuff.” Doesn’t talk to me at all normally.

“Do you have a trust fund? Has he tried to access that too?”

“No, he never set one up. He-” I pause, something occurring to me. “I think he’s always liked me being reliant on him. He holds it over my head if I need something.” Wow, how has it taken me this long to make that connection?

A flash of pity crosses over his face before it disappears. “Dad would always do the same thing with Gabriel to try and keep him in line. Look how that worked out.”

He leans back in his chair, taking a sip of the drink I brought him.

Right. That’s what I’m supposed to be here for. Not talking about my dad, the least sexy thing in the world.

“You know, if you’re tense from working, I could give you another massage.”

He looks up at me, and I swear the blue of his eyes burns bright for a moment. “Yeah, okay.”

Is it my imagination or did his shoulders just tighten more?

I scoot off the desk and walk behind him, trailing my fingers up his arm, his bicep thick with muscle. I guess it’d have to be if he spends an hour working out every morning, though.

“Would you mind if I used your home gym?” Bishop Plaza has one, but the whole point is to be in there with him.

I lay my hands on his shoulders, squeezing, the slight sound of contentment he makes bringing a smile to my lips.

“Sure.” The heavy muscles of his upper back release as I begin to massage him, enjoying the opportunity to touch him so freely. “I use it from six to seven in the morning.”

Perfect. Now I just have to wake up that early.

My right hand works the tightness out of his neck, his head bending low to aid me.

“Have you had professional training for this?”

“No,” I laugh. “It’s just instinct.”

He groans as I return my attention to his shoulders, my belly dipping pleasantly in response to the deep sound. I’m fairly sure it’s simply reactive on his part, but I can’t help how it affects me.

The feel of him warm under my hands, even through his dress shirt. The breadth of his shoulders, as powerful physically as he is in the boardroom. The musk of his cologne, masculine and sensual.

I sigh, wishing I could hug him from behind, run my palms over his chest, surrender to the hold he has over me.

Does he feel any kind of attraction toward me? That kiss last night seemed to indicate so, but what if that was merely an involuntary response? Not because of me specifically, but something biological, solely because he’s a man and I’m a woman?

And would I really want to know if it was?

I continue massaging his shoulders until my hands ache and have to stop. Maybe I do need professional training. I step out from behind him, flexing my fingers to relieve the pressure. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

His eyes flutter open, seeming to come out of a trance. “Yeah, okay.”

I walk to the door, turning back one last time to catch his gaze on me.

No matter the reason he’s looking at me, I’ll take it.

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