Page 9 of Billionaire Accidental Daddy

I can’t tell if it’s a calculated attempt to look more powerful, or if he just has no idea how casually imposing he is. But from this angle he looks impossibly tall. He also ditched the suit jacket sometime in the past few hours, and now he’s got his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose some very nice forearms.

Not that I’m looking.

I mean, I’m looking at him. But not like that.

He clears his throat and I yank my gaze up to those cynical blue eyes.

“Here’s the reality, Amelia. My dad will want to fire you as soon as he remembers you exist. I give that about...” he checks his watch, “three hours.”

I swallow, and something like sympathy flickers in his eyes.

“Or,” he says meaningfully, “you can do a favor for me. And in exchange, I’ll make sure you keep your job.”

Wait. Is he suggesting what I think he’s suggesting?

The way he saysfavorsounds like something wicked. Like a sin.

I’m not dumb. I’d heard sexual harassment was a problem in big corporate companies like these. But the embarrassing thing is that I’m not feeling particularly harassed.

I’m feeling ... turned on.

I cross my legs, needing to move, get some blood in my brain. I already got in trouble once jumping to conclusions with this man. “A favor like...a work thing?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Cole says, his voice low and gruff. His voice shouldn’t be pleasant, but it is. Like brushing your fingertips over weathered stone.

Either this man smokes or he doesn’t get nearly enough sleep. That’s the only reason I can come up with for that smoky sandpaper voice.

“You’d be doing this favor after hours,” Cole says. “I find I have need of your...talents.”

Ok. Hehasto be suggesting sex. No sane person talks like this unless they’re suggesting sex.

And I’ll turn him down of course, but...my eyes slide up and down his frame, and the truth is, he’s hotter than anyone I’ve been on a date with in alongtime. Hell, he’s hotter than anyone I’ve been ghosted by on a dating app.

It’sjustmy luck that when a guy this hot is into me, he turns out to be a job-threatening dick.

My eyes slide in the general direction of the dick in question, on the grounds that it’s fine since he sexually harassed me first. I don’t fantasize, exactly.

But I ... wonder.

“What are you...” Cole trails off. He snaps his fingers in front of me, and I blush.

“You said after hours favor.”

“What...Jesus! No.” Cole moves behind his mammoth desk and sits down firmly. “Your mind is a terrifying place, Amelia.”

“You said—”

“Imeant, a graphic design favor.” He steeples his fingers and looks at me sternly. “Aworkgraphic design favor. With numbers. And graphs. And absolutely no serial killers or otherwise inappropriate activities.”

“Then why can’t I do it during work hours?” I ask, crossing my arms against the rising tide of embarrassment. I know I sound petulant, but honestly, thisman. He’s incredibly aggravating. Even more so because he didn’t actually do anything wrong.

This time.

Cole glances to the left, and it takes me a second to remember that that’s the general direction of Howard’s office.

Cole clears his throat. “Let’s just say there’s a project I want to develop privately, and I need someone I trust to do the graphics without blabbing to other parties.”

I snort. “You trust me?”

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