Billionaire With a Twist Read Online Free PDF Page B

Bartlett!”
    I was brought up short by Hunter’s
deep, honeyed voice. For a second my mind flashed to an alternate
reality where we’d spent the entire evening in bed; there was
something incredibly seductive about the idea of him staying entirely
formal even as our naked bodies intertwined, whispering ‘Miss
Bartlett’ even as his fingers trailed down my back, slid
between my—
    “Miss Bartlett.”
    And suddenly that voice was a lot
closer. I almost choked, and fighting down a blush that could have
started a forest fire, turned to face him: “Yes, Mr. Knox?”
    Oh good, that sounded almost normal.
Barely like I wanted to rip his shirt off at all.
    He frowned slightly, and pulled me to
the side, far enough away from the rest that they couldn’t
overhear us while we talked quietly. In a low voice, he said, “I’m
really sorry that I—well, if I’d known that you were here
for this bid—”
    “No, don’t apologize, I
mean, I should’ve asked your name—” I smoothed my
skirt awkwardly. “I mean, that’s not normally my style,
to just—well.”
    “No, it’s certainly not
mine, either—that is, well, it has been in the past, but I have
always believed in treating women with respect, and you certainly
deserve respect and I wouldn’t want you to believe for a second
that I chose your pitch for anything other than its merit, and—”
    He was starting to sound more flustered
than a preacher in a whorehouse, and I took pity on him.
    “Don’t worry about it, Mr.
Knox. It was a clearly a one-time thing for both of us. I don’t
think it will be an issue. We can be professional and move on, can’t
we?”
    “Of course,” he said after
a pause. “That’s exactly the right course of action.”
Yet somehow he didn’t sound as relieved as I thought he would.
    I looked up at him sharply, about to
ask if professionalism was really what he wanted, but he was already
looking over my shoulder, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Hmmm…what’s
the plural noun for a group of vultures?”
    I turned, following his gaze to the
cluster of Douchebros by the elevator. Chuck was right in among them,
looking exceedingly chummy as they pounded him on the back and
laughed at something he had said.
    “Now there’s some love at
first sight,” I said dryly.
    A laugh startled itself out of Hunter’s
throat, but his eyes stayed worried.
    “Not sure about the kids?”
I joked. “It’s true, if they get Harry’s brains
they’ll all be doomed.”
    Hunter chuckled again, but this time it
seemed more out of politeness. “Chuck…has a certain
tendency to intrigue. I sometimes think he would have been happier
working in the CIA than at a liquor company.”
    “So send the director his
resume,” I said with a grin.
    Why did I want so badly to make this
man laugh? Was it just that I was remembering his easy smile the
night before, the way it had lit up his face and made him look half a
decade younger? Or was it something else—those faint lines at
the corners of his eyes that I hadn’t seen before now, worn by
worry and care, making me want to soothe them away?
    “The truth is…Knox shares
have been falling, and this is my last chance to turn the company
around,” he said, and the way he said those words, his eyes
distant, I wasn’t sure if he knew he had spoken them or if he’d
just thought them so fervently that his lips had to move. “So
if I fail now, the vultures like Chuck move in. I can’t fail.”
    My heart lodged in my throat,
fluttering, and I gripped his hand impulsively.
    “I won’t fail you.”
    He looked at me then, in a way that
none of my colleagues or even my family had ever looked at me before.
He looked at me like he really saw me .
    And then he smiled, a slow grin that
called up moonlight and moonshine and soft, rumpled sheets. “I’ll
hold you to that.”

 

FOUR
     
    “Oh honey, are you sure you want
more of those potatoes? Your figure’s so…robust…already,
darling, and you know what