Page 41 of Adonis: The Cost of a Billionaire's Heart
I nodded carefully. “Sure.”
I made sure I left out the fact that before I drifted off to sleep next to her last night, I caught myself wondering what it would be like if things between us weren’t fake. Suppose I came home to her smile and her son’s laughter. To a real family. To that finger-licking good pussy on my face every night. I didn’t need to be convinced of how beautiful our kids would be, andthe thought terrified me more than any nightmare or hostile takeover ever had.
I shifted those thoughts to the back of my mind while glancing down at my phone again, checking a few emails before we arrived at our destination. Fifteen minutes later, the driver was putting the truck in park in front of the Garrick International Headquarters in the heart of the city. I felt the shift in the air as soon as I stepped through the revolving glass door. Much like mine, the lobby of his empire stunned visitors with hanging chandeliers, oversized flat screens, and glossy business magazine covers that just so happened to have Ellis’s mug on the cover.
Simora moved in step beside me, quietly gliding across the marble floor like satin—classy, poised, with the kind of face that made people pause their conversations mid-sentence. She hadn’t uttered one word, yet her presence still broke necks with understated power. Every underpaid intern and overworked assistant within ten feet suddenly became hyper-aware of our presence as if we were royalty. With Simora on my arm, they glanced at me like they’d seen a ghost right off the cover ofForbesholding hands with a supermodel.
The shiny metal elevator dinged, and the doors opened. I jabbed the button to the executive suite on the top floor. We stood in silence as we rose to the top. My thoughts spun at a dangerous rate, calculating and analyzing every aspect of my deal with Ellis until the doors parted.
Ellis stood there, his eyes instantly flicking toward Simora just as everyone else’s had. “Good morning, Simora. You’re looking like a breath of fresh air as always.” He complimented her in a honeyed voice that was too inappropriate for work in my opinion, before kissing the back of her hand.
She smiled—dipping her chin to divert eye contact, signaling a hint of distance. “Good morning, Mr. Garrick. Thank you.It’s good to see you again,” she replied, her tone thick with performance to only my ears.
Throughout the week, she’d managed to master the skill of being kind without welcoming intimacy from other men. It was one of the many things I found attractive about her. And after our night together, there was no mistake. Simora was for me and me only, even if she never let me taste her again.
I stepped forward. “Ease up with all the flattery, Garrick. It’s a joyous day. I wouldn’t want to have to get you touched,” I said jokingly, but still somewhat serious. I had my team of lawyers, strategists, and goons on standby from the boardroom to the boroughs of New York. But I wasn’t depending on any of them to seal the deal or co-write my story. That was all me. The room got dangerously tense for a second before I followed up with a light chuckle. “I’m just joking,” I said, smiling like I’d already won.
Sim laughed nervously while Ellis belted out a hearty chuckle, being the loudest in the room.
“Shall we get down to business?” I suggested, eyes darting toward the glass boardroom to the left.
“We have all day for that. What I’m most interested in is the wedding. You and this beauty have been keeping the media guessing about when it will be.”
I saw through it all—his crisp suit and charming façade—he was fishing for more information than he should’ve. But why? Of all the chess moves I’d expected him to make, I hadn’t expected that one.Fuck.I parted my lips to speak when I heard Simora’s soft, melodic voice answer first.
“We were aiming for late fall,” she answered. “I wanted something intimate with only a handful of our closest family and friends. Maybe somewhere in Rome or Santorini . . . but,” Simora paused mid-sentence before shooting me a playful glint. “Should we tell him?”
I hesitantly dipped my chin, unsure of where she was going but still vibing with her enough to trust her lead. “I don’t know if we sh?—”
“We’re eloping,” she blurted out before I could complete my sentence. “Turns out, I can’t get this one to stop closing deals long enough to pick a date, let alone a venue, so we’re flying out to Vegas next weekend to seal a deal of our own.”
I kept my jaw wired tight, impressed and seconds away from bricking up in front of everybody in that mothafucka. Sim was fierce as a lion and as mentally sharp as a rose’s thorn. That shit turned me on even more than her beauty, which, until that moment, I didn’t think was possible. She’d learned the dance in seven days, something that took even the best leaders in the game months to acquire, some even years.
Ellis’s smile widened at the sound of Simora’s announcement while he bobbed his head, giving off the impression that her announcement had wooed him. But I wasn’t completely sold. I saw the wheels turning behind his smiling eyes and attentive nods. He was still trying to read our energy even after seeing us together most of the week.
Then, he replied.
“Congratulations to both of you! I love, love.”
Simora flashed him a genuine smile. “Thank you. We appreciate it.” After another second of exchanging pleasantries, she squeezed my hand. “I’ll wait outside while you two handle your business.”
Ellis and I exchanged a look, and I nodded in agreement. “I take it you had your lawyers extensively look over everything.”
“Yes. All that’s left to do is sign on the dotted line.”
“Then let’s sign this deal, shall we?”
Simora quietly exited to the waiting area, her three-inch heels delicately clicking against the marble floor. No more words were said between Ellis and me. He gestured toward the all-glassboardroom. We sailed inside, and I took my seat at the head of the long, mahogany brown table. The charming, friendly balance changed as soon as the door closed behind us.
Ellis sauntered over to the minibar tucked away in the far corner and poured two fingers of cognac into two crystal glasses. He slid one down the table toward me before taking his seat at the other end. His smile tightened. So did mine. There were no lawyers around and no minutes being recorded, which meant no outside ears listening in.
“Y’know,” Ellis began, staring at me while swirling the untouched brown liquor in his glass, “there’s something about this moment that’s almost eerie enough to give me chills.”
“Why is that?”
“Did I ever tell you about the first time I met your father in Peru, maybe twelve or fifteen years ago?”
“No. I don’t think I’ve heard this one.”
