Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(107)

He reached for his phone and answered it. “Hello?”

I absently listened to his side of the conversation while dusting, planning on finishing this and getting out of here.

“Yes? No,” he said. “Are you sure? Is that why…?”

He sounded confused, lost. I wanted… dammit! Despite my frustration with him, I wanted to go over to him and see if he was alright. Look at him, smile, become lost staring into his brilliant blue eyes, reaching a hand up to touch the hint of stubble growing on his cheek.

“Yes,” he said to the person on the other end of the phone. “Yes, I’ll talk with her. We’ve discussed this before. Thank you.”

He hung up the phone and went to sit on his chaise. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples with his fingers and frowned.

I don’t know why, and I shouldn’t have done it, but I went over to him and put my hands on his shoulders. Instantly, his eyes snapped open and he looked up at me.

“I need a massage,” he said.

“I can if you’d like?” I offered, my voice meek. I wanted to impress him, but I didn’t know why. He was a jerk, and not worthy of my time. A man with money? Ha! Who cared. I had… knowledge of Charles Dickens.

“That wasn’t a question,” he stated firmly. “It was an order.”

I tensed up, wanted to grind my fingers into his shoulders and squeeze as hard as I could, but I didn’t. Instead, I gave him a light massage, erring on the side of softness, until he ordered me to do it harder. Oh, really? I intended to annoy him, to make him angry, but when I dug my fingers into his shoulder muscles, he only let out a content sigh and relaxed into the chaise.

Honestly? What an asshole.

“My wife is infertile,” he said, nonchalantly.

“I’m sorry to hear that?” I replied. What do you say to someone when they tell you that? And, as unlikely as it was, I would have rather heard him say he was divorcing her. Was that a mean thought to think? Yes, but, then maybe…

“We’ve talked about this possibility. Adoption is one choice. It’s admirable and respectable, but I’d rather not, and she doesn’t want to, either. I’d like the child to be at least a part of me, genetically.”

Something, I heard some strange inflection in his voice that made me think about what he’d just said. “What about her?” I asked.

He laughed. “She’s not interested in children at all. I imagine this will be a boon to her, not being able to conceive naturally. She’s fine with the idea of it, but the process bothers her. If she could, she’d rather have someone else carry the child to term so she didn’t have to.”

“It’s possible,” I said, shrugging. My massage grew lighter as our conversation unfolded and my fingers eased away the kinks in his shoulder. “There’s egg donations, and you could have one fertilized with… with your…” I couldn’t bring myself to say “his seed” despite the fact I was currently standing behind him without any clothes on. It felt too… dirty? I don’t know.

“True,” he said, scrunching up his brow, contemplating the idea. After a few seconds, he said, “I don’t know your name. You’re the temp they hired for the day, correct?”

“Yes.” I gulped. The way he said it, the way the words just came out, indifferent, made the whole situation worse. He didn’t even know my name and yet he’d tossed me on his table like it was nothing? Done all of that to me, and… No, I shouldn’t think about that. “Jessika Fevrier.”

“Fevrier?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s French.” I spelled it out for him, since this was a common confusion and I’d learned to do it unthinking. “Pronounced Fev-ree-ay.” The fact that the cleaning manager had screwed it up earlier still frustrated me.

“Yes,” he said. “French for February.”

I frowned, but he didn’t notice. It did mean that, but he didn’t have to make it sound so ordinary and uninteresting.

“A pleasure meeting you, Jessika.” He reached over his head and held out his hand for me to shake. Awkwardly, I took his hand in mine and shook it lightly. That seemed to satisfy him.

Moving from the chaise, standing, he looked me in the eyes. I hadn’t noticed before, our initial meeting not really being a great comparison for heights, but he was a good deal taller than me. Not towering over me like a giant, but when he stood next to me and looked down at me I felt smaller. Smaller but… safe? Protected? Odd, since he’d been so angry before, but he had a certain guardian type of air about him, too.