Page 68 of The Forbidden Billionaire
It’s Saturday, and she’s been at the office for twelve hours for the past few days. On Thursday, Ashford AgriTech finally agreed to a strategic partnership with the Rutherford Group. They’ve created a new joint division, which is going to be run by Maddie Rutherford, the one proviso that Caesar insisted on. I would have thought he’d have been a hundred percent against any kind of relationship with the Rutherfords, but it sounds as if the fact that Maddie’s having his baby seems to have smoothed things over there.
Since then, things have been kind of mad at the office. Aurelia especially has been flat out dealing with the PR fallout. She’s worked her socks off, and her eyes are beginning to have the same shadows beneath them that mine have.
On top of it all, it’s her birthday today, and her only concession to it so far has been taking five minutes to blow out the candles on a cake her department bought her before returning to work. I’m driving her home now, and her friend Gracie is going to pick her up at seven and take her out with some friends.
Unfortunately, I won’t get to see the fun as Stacy’s on duty. I don’t like leaving Aurelia since the whistle incident, but she’ll start asking questions if I ask to be with her every hour of the day, and even I need some rest from time to time. Still, despite the fact that I won’t be there, I’m determined that she’s going to enjoy herself.
“It’s like having Hitler as a bodyguard,” she complains as I park. “I’m going to tell Ella to put an SS badge on your suit jacket.”
I scowl and turn off the engine. “That’s not even funny.”
“I think it’s hilarious.”
“You would. You like anything that casts me as the bad guy.”
“If the cap fits.”
We’ve been bickering like this for a couple of days. Since the board meeting, she’s been high on adrenaline. I don’t know whether it’s my fear that’s driven my professionalism out of the window, or if it’s lack of sleep that’s sending me slightly crazy, but there’s nothing I can do about it when she’s teasing me. It feels like foreplay, except for the fact that it’s likely to last for several weeks, if not months. I’m going to have such blue balls at the end of this.
We get out and go over to the elevator. “I don’t have anything to wear,” she complains, pressing the button.
“Want me to choose something from your wardrobe for you?” I follow her into the carriage and press the top button, and the doors slide closed.
“I don’t possess a boob tube,” she says. “Or a mini skirt.”
“Anything Lycra?”
“Only my cycling shorts.”
“They’ll do at a push.”
She makes an exasperated sound at the back of her throat. “And what should I wear on my top half? A bikini?”
“Now you’re talking.”
“Jesus. You’re such a bloke.”
“Yes, ma’am. I possess all the appropriate parts.”
“You mean you have a heart of stone and a brain the size of a walnut?”
That makes me laugh. “Something like that.” The doors open at the top floor, and we walk out and down to her door. “Can I use your bathroom?” I ask her.
“Don’t tell me you’re having trouble with your prostate at your age?” She gives me a mischievous look. “Want me to check it out?”
I chuckle as I touch the key card to the door. “It’s nothing to do with my prostate. You’ve kept me so busy, I haven’t had a chance to pee for about eight hours.”
She takes off her high heels with a sigh. “You know where the bathroom is.”
It was wet outside, so I toe my shoes off and leave them by the door. “Yeah, yeah. Wait there.”
“Yes, sir.”
I throw her a wry glance and head off to the main bathroom. I wasn’t joking about not having gone all day. I pee for what feels like five minutes, and almost groan when I finally finish.
“God, that feels better,” I announce when I go out. To my surprise, though, she’s not by the front door. “Aurelia?”
“In here.”
