Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires)(7)

The idea left my stomach in knots. I'd expected relief, but instead, I wasn't sure how to feel. Holding my temples, I chuckled—a tired, exasperated release. I am so ridiculous. This isn't about you.

Latching onto the idea that S was trying to get in touch with someone else—someone who just happened to work here—gave me a funny feeling. I felt less pressure.

I also felt a gnawing sensation around my heart.

The reality was this; no one would ever go to such lengths for me. Not boring, plain, keeps-to-herself Alexis Willow. I was a nobody, and nobodies slid under the radar.

I'd made sure of that.

S was after someone in my office. His options were bountiful. Laralie was gorgeous and fun, Heather was a blonde from Editing that had our male coworkers swooning. Even Denise, who mostly sat in on meetings and just nodded, like she was important, was worthy of a secret admirer.

Yes, I thought, crossing the room towards the solitary, wide desk that belonged to me. Sometimes a coincidence is just that. Sliding into my chair, I gave a half-spin, working so hard to ease my mood. Smile, I told myself. Cheer up, stop moping. Life was normal—my kind of normal. Boring and dull, but safe.

Safe was what I was looking for.

As I faced the room, settling in to check my email, my eyes caught something glinting. It drew me down, yanked at my center until my stomach was flipping, my mouth dry and electric.

Impossible.

I told my brain this, but it didn't matter.

On my desk sat a single cupcake.

Beneath it was a letter.

Swallowing, I slid the paper into view. The surface was smooth, a single word scrawled, hidden by the sweet treat: Pet.

Blushing, I lifted my head, eyeing the room. Had anyone seen this? No. Laralie would have mentioned it. She was nosy, so if she had said nothing...

Biting my tongue, I worked the envelope open. Inside, the same brand of paper I'd touched several times waited for me. It shone in the overhead lights.

Pet,

If you want this to end, the choice is yours. Throw out my next gift, and I'll bring this to a close.

Enjoy the cupcake.

—S

Shutting my eyes, I hung my chin low. The note was the first real evidence that made something abundantly clear. Something I'd denied again and again and again.

The gifts were meant for me!

Gripping my skirt, I pushed my shoulders into my ears. My muscles were bunching, trying to control the wild rush of heat and nerves that danced inside of me.

S hadn't made any mistakes. Whoever he was, and whoever he thought I was, this... all of this was for me.

I'm Pet.

Snapping my eyes open, I stared at the glimmering cupcake. The 'S' on top looked bigger, heavier than before. This means he knows me. Do I know him?

Dammit. I really did have a secret admirer! But who? Who could it possibly be?

Warily, I peered side to side, expecting to find someone watching me. Even in this busy office, I was essentially ignored.

Caressing the card-stock, I folded it carefully. Next to me the trashcan sat, mouth wide and waiting. Throwing this all away—the letter, the cupcake—would take no effort. Who would know? Who would care?

My hand with the letter dipped low.

He would care.

I hesitated. The cupcake sat there, expectant.

Lifting the dainty, frosted dessert, I took a bite. Vanilla and sugar exploded on my tongue. It was better than any cupcake I'd ever had. Smooth, rich; I came close to rolling my eyes back in my skull.

With one last look at the trashcan, I squeezed the letter. It was proof that this game was being played with me.

With me.

How could I end it, when I'd only just realized I was actually a player?

****

Inside my locker was a single box. The sight of it ramped up my adrenaline. Had I really missed opening these things so much?

No. It was more than that.

For the first time, I knew this gift was for me. That gave the whole experience a new allure. My guilt was gone, the lead in my guts melting into butterflies. What I experienced now was genuine excitement.

Collecting the box, I drove home, trying not to break the speed limit.

It had been over a week since the last gift; the lingerie that I now regretted throwing in my trash. I consoled myself by saying I couldn't have known. This was an esoteric game, I'd never been involved in anything like it.

Casualties were bound to happen.

I had, however, kept the emerald earrings. They'd gone unnoticed in my car's cup-holder. I'd found them minutes ago when I'd set my coffee into the deep indentation, spilling some when it didn't settle right.

Crossing my living room, I dropped my coat and keys on the floor. I wasn't thinking about being tidy. Opening the package was an obsession, an itch that needed to be scratched.

Migrating into my kitchen, I scooted into a chair and placed the box on the round wooden table. Like most of my furniture, it served its purpose, but that was all I could ask of it.

Reaching down, I noticed my hands were quaking. Easy, easy. Laughing nervously, I made tight fists. When I peeled the tape away, my fingers still trembled.

The package split open, a heavy object tumbling onto the table. It was thick as a carrot, but shaped like some odd, swooping curve that tapered on one end, wide and blunt on the other.

Stroking the pliant, magenta surface, I blinked. “What the hell?” There was no one to answer my question. No one but S, perhaps.