Those Three Words: A Single Dad, Billionaire Boss Romance(29)

She scrunches up her face like she’s thinking about it and finally says, “Deal!” Then she climbs down and returns her focus to her ponies.





I swirl the last remaining ounces of my bourbon in my tumbler as Warren Dorsey drunkenly tells Mark Powers of Tech Titans his obviously bullshit deep sea fishing story.

“I shit you not, that sucker was damn near fifteen hundred pounds!” he shouts as the other men at the table eat up the story.

Normally I can suffer through work dinners just fine. I understand that it takes a certain level of babysitting and hand-holding in this world to get what you want, but tonight, all I can think about is Margot.

I guess that’s not an entirely new problem for me considering she’s been living rent free in my mind since the moment I met her.

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and I slip it out, seeing a text from her. I slide open the message and see a picture of Eleanor on my screen. Her big toothy grin has a pink paint smudge next to it across her cheek and she’s holding a half-finished picture in her hands.

Margot: Eleanor insisted on sending you a picture of her current masterpiece she’s painting for your office. It’s not done yet.

I smile and send her a message back asking how things are going at home.

“Getting some sexy pictures from a hot date, I hope?” Warren’s words are slurred and his jowly face is glowing red.

“Afraid not. Just a picture of my daughter from my nanny.” I regret mentioning her the moment the words leave my mouth because with a group of disgusting hyenas like these fools, the word nanny instantly solicits unwanted remarks.

“Nanny, huh?” Warren says as he elbows Mark. “She come with privileges?” Both men burst into laughter.

“No. Margot is an extremely smart and talented educator. A music teacher actually and my daughter absolutely adores her.” I shut it down quickly, reminding myself that flying across the table and smashing a glass in Warren’s face isn’t the answer here.

“Margot?” Warren asks with a hook in his brow, his expression morphing into seriousness.

“Yes, Margot,” I repeat, not liking the way he’s asking.

My phone buzzes again and I excuse myself from the table to read the message.

Margot: Things are great. Eleanor’s music comprehension is coming along so well, she is learning to read music already. You might have a prodigy on your hands. :)

Me: All thanks to you.

My stomach flutters, the liquid courage from the two glasses of bourbon I had to make it through dinner coursing through my veins. I’m about to do something stupid, like asking her to send me a picture of her when I see the bubbles appear on the screen to indicate she’s typing. A few seconds later, a picture of her pops up on my screen and I do a double take to check if I actually did send her a text asking for one, but I didn’t.

Margot: Sorry. Eleanor insisted she send a photo of me with my painting as well. Look for it in the art museum soon.

I smile at her self-deprecating joke but I’m lost in her eyes. Her beautiful, big green eyes that are sparkling through the picture. Her hair is swept in a messy bun atop her head, a few strawberry tendrils hanging down, clinging to her neck. Her smile reaches up to the crinkles of her eyes and she too has a slight smudge of light-blue paint on her cheek.

“Fucking adorable,” I mutter to myself as I type out a response.

Me: Now that picture is a masterpiece I’d hang in my office. The art museum can have your painting. ;)

I just sent her a flirty text with a winking smiley face. Who the fuck am I?

I feel my stomach do a small flip as I wait for her response.

Margot: Eleanor misses you. We hope your meeting goes well.

I’m a little annoyed she didn’t respond to my comment; I want to keep the flirty feeling going.

Me: I miss her too and thank you both for the well wishes.

I slide my phone back into my pocket and I’m about to head back to the table when I type out another message.

Me: Do YOU miss me?

I can see the three dancing little dots appear again as she appears to be typing out a response but just as quickly, they disappear. I stand there at the bar, staring at my phone for another minute before heading back to the table to excuse myself.

“Gentlemen, I feel like we had a very successful meeting here tonight. I’ll be in touch in the coming weeks, but I have an early flight and should head back to my hotel.”

The men stand and shake my hand, and I go outside and hail a cab, not in the mood to wait for an Uber. I check my phone a few more times but there’s no response from Margot.

The drive back to the hotel is quick. I pay the fare and decide to give her a call.

“Hello?” Her voice sounds cautious and a bit timid.

“Hello, Miss Silver. I wanted to call and wish Eleanor a good night if I could?”

“Of course, let me put her on.”

“Hi, Daddy. I, uh, I painted a picture for your office, and Miss Margot made one too.”

I smile at the excitement in my little angel’s voice. “I heard, sweetie. I can’t wait to see the finished picture and hang it in my office.”

She tells me in great detail about her day, how much she loves playing the piano, and all the new things Muffin is doing.

“Muffin, say eeyow!” she says a few times and I can hear the cat’s bell jingling on the other end. I also hear Margot giggle as she instructs Eleanor to be careful with the kitten.