Bait: Alpha Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (3 page)

Chapter 4

Squeezing my eyes shut for a second, I leaned back in my ergonomically correct chair. It was the only luxury item in my office. If I was going to sit my butt in a chair for twelve hours a day, I needed some level of comfort or my back would launch a peaceful protest.

I stretched the tight muscles of my neck and upper back. Today had started off just about as well as yesterday. As soon as I got to the office this morning, thirty minutes earlier than the day before, I was met by Jasmine. She was her usual grumpy self, asking me to help man the phones today because the receptionist called in sick.

As soon as the words, “I have a law degree,” started to leave my lips, Jasmine disappeared like a thief at dawn. Most of my morning was spent fielding calls while trying to prepare closing documents on the latest real estate deal.

“Ready for our lunch?”

A deep baritone broke through the silence. I jumped in my chair as I squeaked, “You startled me.”

A hint of amusement crossed his face. “Did I catch you napping on the job?” Nolan leaned on my desk, his biceps stretching the arms of the grey dress shirt he wore. The cuffs were folded over a few times. How the hell did he manage to look so sexy even in a cotton button down?

“Um, I was just thinking...” I scrambled for my laptop, keying in a few strokes. “I need to get some more details from finance about that project we’re closing on next week.”

Nolan’s smile grew wider as he looked over my shoulder at the screen. “Ten Ways to Boost Your Resume? Are you thinking of leaving me, Miss de Monaco? No woman has
ever
left me.”

Oh shit. I closed my laptop. “I’m sorry about lunch,” I started, changing the subject. “I’m supposed to stay at my desk, but we can order out?”

“Why?” he inquired and look down to my feet. “I don’t see any chains.”

“Because Jasmine said I had to help man the phones this morning. The receptionist was sick.”

His eyes narrowed. “I see Jasmine strikes again, which makes me very unhappy. I’m going to get a bad business reputation to go with my raunchy personal one.” Nolan stepped around the desk and peered into the hallway, just as a young girl was walking by with an armful of magazines. “We’ll get one of the interns to answer the phones. Which is what she should have done in the first place.”

Interns? We had interns? My blood began to boil. Jasmine could’ve had the interns help with the phones. She didn’t need me to. The bitch.

He grabbed the girl’s attention and told her to head to the reception desk. “What a perfect opportunity for Kassie. She needs more phone experience.”

Well, that settled that. If Jasmine found out that I’d left the office and fired me, at least I wouldn’t need an excuse to quit. I grabbed my purse before he could change his mind. “You’re the boss.”

He gave a killer smile that set my soul on fire. “Yes. I am.”

We settled in at our table at Frank, a hot Italian eatery in the East Village, which overlooked Tompkins Park. It had been written up in all the trendy New York magazines, most of them giving glowing reviews about the delicious fifty-layer lasagna and knotted garlic breadsticks. They were only open during certain hours and getting a table was supposed to be harder than getting into Harvard. And here we were sitting at a prime table in a cozy little corner.

Everywhere I looked, there were carved white Italian marble, majestic columns, quirky colorful artwork splashed on the walls, and red and white checkered linen tablecloths draped over tables with candle-holding Chianti wine bottles dripped with red wax. The waitress fawned over us, setting out ice-cold Pellegrino water and those famous garlic breadsticks. Nolan must have called ahead because the next thing I knew, we had a bottle of Chianti Classico Riserva on the table, and a huge platter of antipasto appetizer.

The heavenly scent of red wine, garlic, basil, and oregano was making my mouth water. I tentatively broke off a piece of breadstick, lifted it to my mouth to take a bite, and had to chew with my mouth firmly closed to keep from moaning in delight. I just happened to look at Nolan, who for a half of second had a look of amusement on his face. “Is it that good?”

I wondered if I’d moaned out loud. I shook my head, my mouth too full of garlic deliciousness to speak.

“I take it you like Italian,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smile.

“I like food.” I shrugged, trying not to let on how much I enjoyed being here with him, eating the melt in your mouth fare. I was getting tired of Ramen noodles every night. “I figured if Jasmine is going to fire me, I might as well enjoy it.”

He looked confused. “Why would she fire you?”

I rolled my eyes. “After the fake marriage fiasco, and now the possible paternity suit, I don’t think she likes me too much. Jasmine and I don’t see eye-to-eye on how to handle legal matters.”

“Well, despite what you’ve heard, I haven’t knocked up anyone.” He leaned in closer. “I didn’t even have sex with that girl.”

“So the suit was filed under false pretenses?” I asked.

“If that means she lied, yes. I hate to disappoint you.”

I must have looked confused or, more likely, dubious because he started to laugh.

“I know I have a playboy reputation, but I can assure you that I had nothing to do with that girl. Do you know how many times I get sued?”

“No.” I blinked, dreading being enlightened. “But I have a feeling I should be brought up to speed since I’m your lawyer.”

“When certain people get wind of how much money you have, they think you owe them something.” Nolan took a sip of his wine. “Why do you think I asked you to lunch?”

“Because of my brilliant mind?” I teased him.

Before he could reply, a cry rang across the room like a child walking into a giant candy store. “Nolan!”

A gorgeous woman draped in Michael Kors glided over to our table. She ignored me, focusing her dazzling blue eyes on Nolan as she ran her well-manicured red nails down the back of his shirt. He stiffened. “You’re looking as handsome as ever. How are you?”

He turned around and greeted the lunch crasher. “I’m well, Georgia.”

He politely introduced us. When he mentioned her full name, I realized that I was staring at pop singer Georgia Malone. Her luxurious red hair floated down her back and her body hugging black dress enveloped every curve of her luscious frame. At lunch. A club dress at lunch. How Kim Kardashian.

I tried to smile and remember my manners, but her green gaze had already dismissed me as inconsequential minutes ago. Everybody who ever watched TMZ or read Perez Hilton’s blog knew that Nolan and Georgia had fucked for about a month. Fucked and
fought
. Probably an equal amount of each.

Apparently, Georgia Malone was a spoiled brat who liked to throw temper tantrums in the middle of fancy restaurants because her soup was too hot or too cold. Then throw expensive items at Nolan’s head. Like candelabras that then required ten stitches and left a scar. Although, I kind of liked the scar. Very Pirates of the Caribbean. But I think the late night stalking and hiding out in his bushes had broken the proverbial camel’s back. At least according to Harvey Levin. Georgia had a bad reputation. I wondered if I should tuck down into the fetal position to prepare for incoming fire.

“Nolan, are you coming to the Winter Ball?” she asked, running her hand across his shoulders in a clear sign of intimacy.

I felt a hint of jealousy. For a split second, I wanted to be the one running my hands over Nolan’s muscular body. When he lifted her hand and let it fall on to the linen tablecloth, I felt unaccountably relieved.

Snap out of it, Charlie. This man is
not
for you. And he never will be.

The Winter Ball was
the
party to attend if you were one of the elite New Yorkers. Elite New Yorkers like Georgia and Nolan. It was a drunken party disguised as a charity event to benefit the homeless of New York City. This year was an important time for Nolan to attend the ball. He was planning on getting funding for the Grant Project and needed to rub elbows with some of the big wigs in town.

“This year they will be displaying some new artwork by Milo. You know he’s my favorite artist. You must come, darling. It would make me so happy.” She lowered her voice, leaning in close to Nolan’s ear. “You know my bedroom is lacking in good artwork. I would love a piece to hang over my headboard. While you pound that massive cock inside me so hard the bed rattles.”

Despite her low tone, I heard every word of her proposal. A piece of garlic bread was stuck in my throat, and I tried hard to cough it up. I grabbed my glass of Pellegrino and took a massive swig as I clamped my eyes closed against the mental image of a naked Nolan having sex with Georgia as her glorious mane of hair floated around her perfect body.

“I didn’t get an invite this year,” Nolan said, scooting his chair closer to the table in an attempt at evasion. Like he didn’t want to be close to her. Like he was over her. His head snapped up at my loud, oh-my-god-I’m-choking-to-death cough. “Are you okay, Charlie?”

“Charlie?” Georgia’s eyes finally landed back on me with censure. “What kind of a name is that? Are you a man, Charlie? She kind of looks like one, Nolan.”

Nolan’s face scrunched up in a grimace as he glanced between the two of us. I suppose my business suit, serviceable heels and pantyhose, courtesy of Jasmine the Jujitsu Dragon didn’t bring out my best features, but I’d been called attractive with my long black hair and bright blue eyes. And I had a woman’s curves. Breasts and hips that were hard to cover up even in my Anne Klein.

Nolan chose to ignore her offensive comments. With class. In spite of myself, I was starting to really like him. There seemed to be more to Nolan Banks than met the eye. Or the tabloid. Taking a sip of water, I finally swallowed the offending chunk of bread and answered Nolan. “Yeah, thanks.”

Georgia froze, obviously thrown off her game by the existence of another person who had gotten Nolan’s sole attention. And respect. She recovered quickly, giving off a giggle. “Oh, you’re quite the joker. Of course, you got an invite.”

“I’ll be there,” Nolan said dryly. “As a matter of fact, Charlie will be accompanying me this year.”

It was my turn to be stunned. This time, I gagged on the Pellegrino; chilled water dripping down my chin. “Huh?”

Georgia’s face froze for a split second before giving a laugh so fake that even the waitress walking by gave her a disapproving look. The pop singer looked me up and down like a piece of meat. That had turned brown and rancid. “If you say so.”

“So, I’ll see you there then, Georgia,” Nolan said as he speared a bite of salad. She opened her mouth as if to give a parting shot, but snapped it shut and spun away to return to her table.

The waitress brought over our lunch dishes. Lasagna, stuffed cheese manicotti, seared salmon with lemon and capers, and a rosemary chicken served with mashed potatoes and gravy. It was enough food to feed twelve people.

“Dig in,” Nolan said as the waitress gave us clean plates to divvy up the entrees.

“So, what was that about?” I asked, stabbing a piece of salmon and putting it on my plate. I also added a chunk of lasagna, oozing with cheese and spinach, and a scoop of mashed potatoes. I hadn’t eaten this well since my roommate splurged on my birthday and took me to a Thai place, where we feasted on Peking duck.

“That was my ex-girlfriend from hell,” Nolan answered. “I haven’t seen her since we broke up. I take that back. I’ve
seen
her. It was just outside my house and she was no longer welcome. Wrecked my favorite Azalea.”

“I meant about the Winter Ball,” I clarified before taking a huge bite of the creamy, rich potatoes and picturing the perfect Georgia Malone in Nolan’s foliage.

Nolan’s eyes brightened as he answered, “I need a date. You want to work on the Grant Project. The ball benefits that project. What’s there to be confused about?”

“There’s no confusion. As long as you understand it’s not a date. I’m your employee. You own the company and never the twain shall meet.”

“Never?” Nolan asked, the corner of his mouth lifting. “That’s a strong word choice. I’ve found it’s best
never
to speak in absolutes.”

“I’m not planning on kissing you after the night is over.” I set my fork down.

Where in the hell had that come from?

“What a relief,” he said before taking a huge sip of his wine. Nolan peered at me over the rim of his glass, his eyes sparkling with merriment. “You’re not planning on kissing me after the night is over or you’re
never
planning on kissing me?”

I wanted to go to the Winter Ball. It was every girl’s dream to dress up like a princess and attend a ball with a handsome man on her arm, right? But if I was going to continue to work for Nolan Banks on the Grant Project, I couldn’t let any personal feelings develop. Not even the tiniest crush. An affair with my boss would end up badly. I refused to be like Georgia Malone. Or the last female attorney who had to be dragged screaming from the building.

“I’m not the type of person who dates her boss, that’s all.” I took a sip of my wine. With all this rich food and wine, I would need a nap when I got back to the office.