Page 16 of The Billionaire's Distraction

Tony gave a grunt that could have meant approval or disapproval.With him, it was hard to tell.

But he kept asking questions.

For nearly an hour, he let her talk.About teaching children to read, about what it was like growing up with a single mom, about her old neighborhood, her favorite childhood book.He didn’t offer much in return, only short answers and thoughtful glances.Every time she turned a question back to him—about where he grew up, what he liked to do, why he lived here—he deflected with maddening ease.Changing the subject.Redirecting the spotlight back onto her.

By the time Naomi checked the clock on her phone, she startled.“Oh, goodness!I need to get back,” she said reluctantly, rising to her feet.She gathered their empty cups and the muffin wrapper, feeling the moment slip away.“Thank you for the coffee.And the muffin.And…” she flushed, “I’mstillsorry about the misunderstanding earlier.”

“I’ll walk you back,” he said, rising immediately.He took the collected trash out of her hands, his movements simple and unyielding.

She tried to protest, but he was already moving, and she found herself falling in step beside him.

On the walk back, he resumed his quiet interrogation, tossing her another question about her past jobs.But Naomi stopped, shaking her head with mock sternness.“Nope,” she said, lifting her chin.“I’m not answering any more of your questions.Not untilyouanswer something.Tell me your last name, and then I’ll answer more.”

His dark eyes flicked to hers.“Why do you need my last name?”

“Because I’m going to look you up online,” she shot back, half-teasing, half-serious.“You know just about everything about me.But I still don’t know much of anything about you, other than the fact that you’re definitely not just a security guard.”

He eyed her for a long, quiet moment, his expression unreadable.Then, finally, he said, “I’m not that interesting.”

Naomi groaned and rolled her eyes, about to turn away, about to head into the Peterson home, when he moved.

In an instant, his arm was around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.Her breath caught.His body was iron-hard, heat radiating through the thin layers of their clothes.Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she looked up, startled by the intensity in his eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at meagain?”he asked, his voice low and dangerous—but with the faintest trace of amusement at the edges.

Her lips parted, words tangling on her tongue.“I… think… yes.”

For a long moment, neither moved.His gaze burned into hers, a silent war of wills.She held her breath, every nerve in her body waiting, aching, for what he might do.

But then—he released her.Just like that.The heat vanished, leaving her swaying slightly, desperate and confused.

“Your employer will be home in about twenty minutes with the boys,” he said, stepping back into stoic composure.“Contact me if you have any more issues.”

He turned as if to leave, then stopped.Hesitated.When he glanced back, his mouth curved in the faintest almost-smile.The kind of smile that made her stomach flip.

“And if you make cupcakes again,” he added, “call me.”

And then he was gone.

Naomi stood rooted, staring after him.Call me?What did that mean?Was he warning her not to cause another neighborhood incident?Or… was that his way of saying he liked her cupcakes?

With a sigh, she turned toward the servants’ entrance of the Peterson house, confusion pulsing through her like a second heartbeat.She still didn’t know his last name.She didn’t have his number.And she didn’t know how she was supposed to call him.

She had just finished thinking that when her phone buzzed.Startled, she pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

An unknown number.

Normally, she ignored those—spam, political nonsense, or scam calls.But something in her gut told her not to dismiss this one.

She opened the message.

A slow, unbidden smile spread across her face as she read,

“Here’s my number.Last name is Mancini.Do your worst.Next time we talk, you can tell me what you’ve discovered about me.”

Naomi stared at the text, her thumb hovering over the screen.The revelation hit her like a jolt—Mancini.The name carried weight.Power.Danger.Yet to her, it felt like a secret treasure, handed over freely, as if he’d chosen to trust her with something no one else had earned.

Am I making too much of this?she thought, biting her lip.Probably.Definitely.And yet, another shiver coursed through her as her memory betrayed her—the press of his body against her back in the coffee shop, the heat of his hands on her hips.Her face flamed and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second, wishing she could will the thoughts away.