Page 98 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

My animal need is for her and her alone.

I have to find a way to make her stay. That’s what I decide as I bury myself in the most perfect pussy on the planet.

Twenty-Eight

Lizzie

Mr. Drummond—Theo—makesa phone call, and a few minutes later, a town car is waiting outside my building. He directs his driver, Derek, to a place called Reena’s, which turns out to be one of those secret East Side restaurant gems that only beautiful, wealthy people seem to know about. It’s airy and bright and everything is local and organic. We sit in a corner booth and order coffees and eggy things.

“This place opens at five in the morning,” I say. “Is this where you go? After you get your obnoxiously early wake-up call?”

“No, I work out.”

“At 4:30? Like it can’t wait until a human hour?”

“Nope,” he says, eyes sparkling.

I’m starting to get that he’s even more of a hard-ass toward himself than he is toward his employees. More extreme, more demanding.

A waiter brings the coffees and a little sugar dish of something brown. “What is this?” I ask. The waiter gives me a long explanation that basically meansnot sugar. “Do you have sugar?”

“I’m sorry, no,” he says.

I thank him and eye the little dish of sugar’s un-fun cousin. “You go to a place that doesn’t serve sugar.”

“Sugar’s bad for you,” Theo says.

“Sugar is part of the circle of life.”

He looks at me like,does not compute.

I settle for coffee with cream. The cream is actually really rich and delicious and probably farm fresh. It almost makes up for the lack of sugar.Almost.

“So,thenyou come here? After your workout?”

“No. This is special for you. But don’t worry, it’s not a relationship.”

I sip my coffee really wanting sugar. I’m thinking about this little basement grocer we passed on our way in here. Two doors up the street. They would have sugar.

“I want you to know, you really can have your job back,” he says. “Or if you don’t want to work at Vossameer, I could help you get a job elsewhere. I have connections…”

“That’s okay. I’m going to find some catering work while I get ready to move. I have a lot of catering friends. To be honest, I was going to quit after my bonus came through.”

“You were using us for the bonus?”

“I earned it,” I say. “My engagement numbers blew away your targets. I set you guys up with a great program. Of course it was an impressive bonus.” I sit back with my coffee. “Far more than I expected.”

“I like my employees satisfied.”

“I like a boss who delivers,” I say, finding his foot under the table. And suddenly I want to fuck again.

“The Instagram strategy. All those reports. Tell me.” He looks serious. “It was yours, wasn’t it? Everything that Sasha took credit for?”

“Not all of it. She did all those whitepapers. Like a demon.”

He looks away, angry. I wouldn’t want to be Sasha.

“Dude, people take credit for underlings’ work at Vossameer all the time. It’s a grim and competitive atmosphere. It’s not good.”

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