Page 88 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

He gives me a grim look that makes me glad I’m not Sasha. “I wouldn’t have told anybody about our calls. And please believe that I didnottell her to fire you. It’s the last thing I’d want.”

“Oh.” My pulse races.

“That’s not the kind of man I am,” he adds. “I didn’t even know it was you until this morning.”

Sasha impersonated me?

I think back on our firing conversation, going over the whole strange exchange. “When Sasha fired me, she pumped me for all sorts of information.”

“I figured. She seemed to know a lot.Jackalope, for instance.”

I bite back a smile. “You thought Sasha was Operator Seven.”

“Not for long.” He looks down at me, leaning back on the front door, large and glorious in our humble apartment. He lowers his voice. “She could never be you.”

Heat licks over my skin. “Oh,” I whisper.

“Nobody could be you.”

Nobody could be you.Did he kiss her? Of all my problems, like a crazy woman, I focus on that.

“I invited her to dinner,” he says. “I was already suspicious, but when she told me she didn’t care for dessert, I knew for sure. And then I discovered her favorite musical isGrease.”

“I would’ve expected101 Dalmatians.”

He looks confused. Even confused, he’s gorgeous, maybe more gorgeous, because his guard is down.

I say, “You should’ve known the minute she said yes to dinner.”

“I should’ve known before that—way before that,” he says. “They told me you quit. That you stormed out, saying how much Vossameer sucks.”

“Well, Ididsay that. But I sure didn’t quit.”

“Because you needed the bonus. For Lenny.”

Something in me turns upside down. “How do you know about that?”

“I had a conversation with those guys out there. They’re gone, by the way. The debt is settled.”

“Wait—what? They’re not coming back?”

“No. The debt is handled.”

“Did you…handle it?”

His voice gentles. “Seems I owed you money. You’ll get the rest, too.”

“Thank you,” I say. “Really. Thank you. And, um, the dress—”

“Forget the dress,” he rumbles. “I don’t care about the dress.”

Butterflies flutter madly in my belly. “Oh…okay.”

His gaze is fixed on me, not in an aggressive way, but more like he’s assessing. “That’s not what I care about, Seven. That’s not why I’m here.”

Lust and nervousness swirl inside me. Of course I’m thinking about the whole savage-clothes-ripping thing. Is that why he’s here? That’s who I am on the phone—it’s who we are on the phone. It’s blisteringly hot on the phone, but I never did anything like that in real life.

But that’s what’s between us now. It’s huge between us now. A wild river.

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