Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Him saying my name startles me. Because he’s the only person who uses that name and it feels oddly… intimate. “I didn’t realize you required that information,” I snap. “Did you need to know my bank balance at the exact time of penetration? Can you provide a list of credentials I should prepare before my next one-night stand?”
He glares at me like he’s about to toss his laptop aside and challenge me to a wrestling match, but he doesn’t say anything.
“The way you expect me to be so open and honest about everything—which I have been, by the way—yet you’re so private and paranoid? It’s weird. Anyone would think you’re Ben Fort, for goodness’ sake.”
His eyes widen in shock.
I gasp.
The hum of the city fills the silence between us and neither of us moves. Realization trickles into my brain.
“You are him!” I clasp my hand over my mouth. A feeling of being completely right settles in my gut.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he barks, and if looks could kill, I would be six feet under.
Bennett. Ben. That tracks. Rumors say he’s young, and even though he’s an “older man” for me as a lover, he’s technically young as a boss-man billionaire. If he wasn’t in tech, why would he be interested in me doing computer science at university?
“Get out,” he says firmly.
It’s all the confirmation I need that I’ve stumbled across Ben Fort, reclusive billionaire and CEO of Fort Inc. One of the brightest minds of his generation. And the man I always dreamed of having as a boss.
SEVEN
Bennett
I haven’t left my hotel room today. A wiser man would have checked out, gone to stay at the Mandarin Oriental. Gone to stay with Worth in his brownstone. Hired an RV and slept in that, for crying out loud.
But here I am, sitting at the desk in the living area of my suite.
Waiting.
For Efa.
I could have had my team call her yesterday and ask her to sign an NDA, but something about her tells me she’d be more likely to make a fuss if I’d had someone call her than if I left it alone. It was a gamble.
Only time will tell if it will pay off.
A knock at the door sets my pulse off to a gallop. I’ve pressed the light to say that I want my room serviced, but I don’t know who is going to walk through that door.
The lock clicks open and a trill call of “housekeeping” follows. I can’t tell if it’s her and I won’t turn to look. Not yet. I don’t want to appear eager. Or desperate. But that’s exactly how I feel.
“Sir, you had your light on. Would you like us to come back later?” a voice asks.
I turn to find an older woman, her hair up in a bun on the top of her head. I can’t remember if she was the woman with Efa yesterday. “Please go ahead,” I say, and then Efa appears behind her, head down, like she’s trying to avoid my gaze.
I turn back to my computer.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t know how to play this. Should I try to convince her I’m not Ben Fort? I’m not sure she’s convincible. I saw certainty in her eyes when she said the name yesterday.
I keep working, hoping a neat solution will come to me.
As I go through a presentation I’ve been sent, I’m aware there are people in the suite, but I don’t know who’s where and I try to bury myself in my work.
I don’t know how much time passes before someone passes by my desk and my gaze snags on the hem of her skirt, the curve of her leg. I don’t have to trail my gaze up any higher to know it’s Efa. I know those legs. I’ve had my hands—my mouth, my tongue—on those legs.
I continue to stare as she organizes the pillows on the sofa across the room, her back to me. As she moves, I can see the outline of her backside and remember how it felt to slide my hands across it, to press my palm into her skin as I pushed into her from behind.
Fuck. I turn back to my screen and try to concentrate.
But it’s not much use.
I can hear her behind the bar.
I’m aware of her everywhere.
I turn and our eyes meet immediately. I go to speak, but she puts a finger over her mouth and flicks her eyes toward the bathroom in warning. We’re not alone.
As I turn back to my laptop, the older woman emerges and scurries over to Efa. They have a short conversation that’s so quiet, I wouldn’t even know they were talking if I weren’t so tuned in to Efa’s every movement.
Efa nods and the woman tucks something into her pocket before heading out the front door. It closes with a click.