Those Three Words: A Single Dad, Billionaire Boss Romance(82)

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbles, turning and walking back toward my desk. “What—which part did you want to go back over?” She fumbles with the iPad a little as she tries to refocus her attention to the task at hand.

I roll my eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. I’m moody and demanding; I know it and she knows and so does everyone else. I didn’t become a billionaire by wasting my time and catering to people’s feelings.

“Or you can be childish about it and throw a tantrum?” She cocks her eyebrow and juts her hip out. She may be daydreaming, but she’s quick to snap back to reality and give me a touch of attitude. She’s the only one that can call me on my bullshit.

“You know I don’t like wasting time, Wren,” I say in my calmest voice, plastering on the cheesiest grin I can muster.

“Oh, calm down, Theo. It was two minutes and I’m pretty sure you’re wasting time right now with this petty lecture. Anyway,” she says dramatically as she places the iPad on the desk in front of me.

I grip the end of the armrest tightly, my knuckles turning white. Petty lecture? I want to tell her that I’ll bend her over and teach her a real lesson while turning her plump cheeks a bright shade of pink.

“As you can see here, I’ve made notes where I want you to double-check and let me know if you want anything added or deleted. The facts and figures have been triple-checked and it’s ready to go to publication.”

I lean forward, looking over the notes and trying my damndest not to inhale her scent. What is that? Gardenia? It smells florally with a hint of spice. She bends down a little farther to drag her finger across the screen.

“This part right here is the only section I assume you’ll actually care about so just look it over and let me know if I can submit it.”

I glance to my right briefly; it’s the perfect view right down her blouse to her glorious tits, but I pull my eyes away just as quickly. I know it doesn’t make sense that I feel guilty sometimes and sometimes I don’t. It’s lunacy what this woman does to me, but it feels like no matter how hard I try to fight my attraction to her, the more she infiltrates my every thought.

“Looks excellent as always. I don’t require any changes.” I look back up at her and she’s staring off into space again, nibbling on the edge of her thumb.

“Wren?”

“Perfect! I’ll get this published right now.” She scoops up the iPad and starts for my office door.

“What’s going on, Wren?” She likes to think she knows me more than I know her, but it’s not the case. I can read her like a book and I know when something is off.

I see her shoulders fall a little as she stops, spinning around to face me with a big smile on her face.

“Nothing. Just didn’t sleep well is all. Plus, ya know… Penn.”

I see her face drop at the mention of her ex’s name, and I feel my own hands ball into fists. The guy is a piece of fucking work. Grade A douchebag and frankly I never understood what she saw in him. I know, cliché to say when I’m lusting after her but I’m not a dick. I want Wren to be truly happy.

“Didn’t you break up with him months ago?” I know exactly how long it’s been—seven months—but I don’t lead on that I do. “He still causing problems?”

She bites her bottom lip, something she does when she’s full of shit.

“Not problems, no. He’s just having a hard time letting go of things.” I want to roll my eyes again but I refrain.

“Seriously? Tell the baby to move the fuck on already.”

“We’re not all robots without feelings, Theo. Some people take time to heal, especially after four years of dating.”

Ouch. That stings a little but she’s not wrong. Somewhere in my forty-plus years of life, my feelings and heart went out the window.

“Want me to… help him get over it?” I’m not sure what I’m insinuating with my offer, maybe just have a talk with him and tell him to grow the fuck up and move on with his pathetic excuse of a life. My blood pressure is rising; it’s time to calm down.

“No! Trust me, you getting involved would only make it ten times worse. I got it; don’t worry about it.”

I’m about to ask her what that’s supposed to mean when my assistant, Cheryl, walks into the office with a stack of folders.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but you need to look over these contracts before your lawyer gets here for your meeting in”—she looks at her watch—“seventeen minutes.”

Cheryl is a helluva guard dog when it comes to my schedule, something I’m extremely grateful for. She peers over her half-moon glasses that are permanently perched on the end of her nose as if to tell me to get a move on.

“Thank you, Cheryl. I’ll get right on it.” I turn to Wren who is already moving back toward the exit. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” I tell her. She just shakes her head and waves a hand in the air as she makes her way toward the elevators. I’m tempted to linger a little on her round hips as they swish back and forth, but I’m well aware of Cheryl’s presence.

I grab the stack of contracts and open the first one to look it over, but Cheryl is still standing in my office, a knowing look on her face.

“Just say whatever it is you’re thinking, Cheryl; I know that face.”