Page 51 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

Shivers prickle over me. “Not happening,” I say.

A tortured sigh. “Eventually you’re going to say yes. We both know it.”

I shouldn’t love how arrogant he is. “We’ll see, Mr. Drummond.”

“Did you just call me Mr. Drummond?”

Oops.

I swallow. Probably the only people in his life who call him that are his unlucky underlings. “You’ve been demoted from Theo. And if you’re out of line one more time, you’ll be demoted further. To just Drummond.”

“Give me one actually valid reason we can’t meet. You’ve been thinking about me. You pictured me while you got yourself off after our last phone call.”

My body hums pleasantly with the memory. “Ofcourseyou would think that.”

His voice lowers. “I don’t think that, I know it.”

“Okay, I’m officially calling you Drummond now.”

“If I’d been there in person, you’d’ve had a much better time.”

“Right, I forgot. You could do me better than I could do myself.”

“You wouldn’t forget that if you went out with me.”

I picture his stern face. I picture his hands. I imagine him across a candlelit table in his lab coat. He probably doesn’t wear it to fancy restaurants, but in my fantasy, he does. And he leans over and kisses me. And he pulls me into the coatroom and pushes me against the wall and gets me off. Could he actually do me better than I can do myself?

But suddenly I’m picturing Sasha’sI-love-Mr. Drummondface. Followed up by her gloweringyou’re-firedface. Followed by Lenny the Loan Shark’s enforcer’swhere’s-my-money?face. And his gun’sI’m-all-lethal-n-stuffface.

“We’re not going out to dinner,” I say. “It’s just impossible. There are crucial business reasons that prevent it.”

“How about I buy the company and change those crucial business reasons?”

Which means more research. “How about if you try to do that, you’ll never hear from me again?”

“I’ll hear from you again. You’re my wake-up-call girl.”

“You sure I’ll stay your wake-up-call girl? Your company ordered wake-up calls. Watch out, I might switch with operator number five.”

“No, you won’t. You have to call me. You wouldn’t trade with anyone even if you could. You like what I do to you.”

I lie back. “Do go on.”

“You can’t get enough. And you know what else I think?”

I suck in a deep breath, full of the crisp, good scent of my freshly washed pillow. I can see half the Hotel Royale sign. “I know you’re going to tell me.”

“I think you don’t talk to anybody else the way you talk to me. I think I’m the only one.”

I smile. “You so desperately hope.”

He does his disapproving rumble-growl, but I can hear real frustration and desire woven through like delicate threads. There’s something so achingly human about him suddenly. Genuine.

I set the phone against the pillow next to me. “Look, I’m going to be honest here, since that seems to be a thing with you,” I say. “You are the only one I ever talk to like this. I promise. But you have to stop poking at the company. You really do.”

“I’m the only one you talk to like this?”

“That’s right. Okay?”

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