Page 40 of The Forbidden Billionaire
“Copy that,” Stacy replies from the office.
“For fuck’s sake.” Aurelia rolls her eyes. Then something obviously occurs to her, and she looks around the elevator. “Is there a camera in here?”
“No, ma’am. Only in reception and in the corridor outside your apartment.”
“What about… oh my God… in my apartment?”
“No, ma’am?”
“You swear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is it bugged?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You swear?”
“We decided we had no need to watch you toasting Pop Tarts and watching episodes ofThe Bachelorette.”
She gives a short, humorless laugh. “I’m a fucking great cook.”
“If you say so, ma’am.”
The elevator pings and the doors open. She storms out, and I have to run to catch up with her.
“Wait here,” I tell her as we reach her door.
Fuming, she folds her arms and stops, and I let myself in.
I walk quickly through the apartment, switching the lights on as I go. It’s a huge place, but it’s homely, not cold and clinical the way some penthouse apartments are portrayed on TV.
I go down the corridor and into her bedroom. It smells faintly of her perfume. It’s neat and tidy. A pile of books rests on the bedside table—all novels, including one calledFourth Wing. What do they call the genre? Romantasy? It makes me smile to think of her reading about dragons and knights in shining armor.
Opening the door to her walk-in wardrobe, I glance around it. She has a lot of clothes. The hangers are full of dresses, skirts, tops, and jackets. The shelves hold folded trousers, tees, and jumpers. She also has hundreds of pairs of shoes. Such a girly girl.
Jeez, I’m as bad as her stalker. Cross with myself, I go out, close the door, and check the remaining two spare bedrooms. Everywhere is cool and quiet, and eventually I return to the living room and cross to the front door.
“All clear,” I say.
“Are you talking to me or someone else?”
“To you,” I reply, although I had pressed the button at the same time.
I wait for her to march past me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she hesitates. “I’ve decided,” she says. “I’d like you to teach me some self-defense moves.”
My eyebrows lift. “May I ask why you changed your mind?” She just studies her shoes, and I remember that she said Dominic frightened her. “Of course,” I say softly. “We can start on Monday if you like.”
She nods.
“You don’t have to worry,” I tell her firmly. “He’s going to have to come through me now.”
“I want to be able to defend myself. I don’t want you to fight my battles for me.”
I slide my hands into my trouser pockets. “That’s a fair comment.”
She lifts her chin. “I know you went to his office.”
