The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake(24)

Greer flinched. Her mother had done porn once she'd broken up with Stijn. It had not turned out well.

Marta clucked. "I didn't mean it like that, baby girl. I'm just running  my mouth. Go sit, eat." She put her hands on Greer's shoulders and  turned her back toward the table. "I just like to worry over everyone  under my roof."

As Greer sat down and dutifully took a bite out of a third tart, Marta  placed cake pans in the oven. She wasn't wrong, though, Greer thought.  One of those girls was going to marry her father and the other two would  . . . what? End up the laughingstock of the Internet? Hide away until  the furor went down? Start a life in porn like her mother did?         

     



 

None of the options sounded like good ones to her. Maybe Marta was right to worry.

***

Asher: Morning, you there?

Greer: I was just about to start our daily wedding meeting. The triplets are here. Where are you?

Asher: That's what I'm texting about. There was a work emergency & I had to fly back.

Greer: To NYC?

Asher: I'm afraid so. I'm hoping to be back in Vegas by the weekend.

Greer: But what about our deal?

Asher: Guess we'll have to skip a few days in kissing week. Or should we extend our deal by a few days?

Greer: No! We said we would be done by the wedding and we need to stick to that.

Asher: You're in charge. We'll just skip some of the kissing lessons. I thought we did okay. What did you think?

Greer: Gotta go. When will you be back?

Asher: Friday or so. Maybe Saturday. So . . . kissing? Scale of one to ten?

Greer: I'm not rating you!

Asher: I'm going to take that as at least an 8 then. Maybe 8.5

Greer: Shouldn't you be working?

Asher: Shouldn't you?

Greer: I am warning you, I'm texting if something comes up that needs a Stijn decision.

Asher: Fair enough. I do need to go though. Meeting. Later.

Asher smiled down at his phone, then tossed it aside onto the empty  spot in the hotel bed next to him. She didn't rate him, but she didn't  disagree with his 8.5 or higher. That was a good sign. He'd noticed that  when Greer got nervous, she tended to try to change the subject. He was  learning all the little tells she had. Or rather, he was remembering  them anew.

He relaxed and stared up at the ceiling. Now, what to do for the next  three days? He hadn't flown back to NYC like he'd told her. That was a  lie. It was just that, after she'd staggered out of his room last night,  he'd realized that he was moving too fast. He'd been hoping for the  kissing to last several days. After last night's heated make-out  session? He'd have been lucky to go a week without bending her over the  couch and nailing her.

The days away would give him a break. It'd give her time to think, too.  He wanted to give her space. This little plan of his wasn't about  crowding her-it was about making her realize that she still wanted him  after all. And if that meant he'd have to forego a few nights of  kissing?

He'd just have to masturbate a hell of a lot to make up for it.

Or work. He supposed he could do that. He grabbed his laptop off his  nightstand and logged into his email. Even though he'd recently hired a  new CEO that was good at taking things off of his plate, he still needed  to check in now and then.

And then he'd masturbate to thoughts of Greer.

***

Gretchen: So I'm thinking about wedding flowers. You busy?

Greer: Not too busy. What's up?

Gretchen: Are roses for the wedding too cliche?

Greer: Not at all.

Gretchen: Oh, good. Because you know Hunter has a thing for roses. It would just make things pretty special for us.

Greer: Not a problem, we could do some nice arrangements.

Gretchen: Okay, so I was thinking of one particular rose.

Greer: Hey, so what do you think it means when you make out with a guy and he leaves town the next day?

Gretchen: The rose "Blue Girl" has a special meaning for us, so I was thinking that one.

Gretchen: Wait, wait.

Gretchen: BACK THE FUCK UP.

Gretchen: Did you just say you made out with a guy and then he left town?

Greer: Is that bad?

Gretchen: Pretty sure it ain't good! So who did you make out with? And are we talking like, fourth base or first base?

Greer: First! Jeez Gretchen!

Gretchen: Don't get all huffy with me, missy! You're the one that's knocked up.

Greer: Good point.

Gretchen: You gonna tell me who it was?

Greer: Asher, duh.

Gretchen: I . . . thought you hated each other.

Greer: I'm experimenting in hate fucks?

Gretchen: I AM SO CALLING YOU. Also, Blue Girl roses. Remember that.

Greer's phone rang a moment later, followed by an incomprehensible  stream of squealing and babbling from Gretchen's side. She held the  phone away from her ear for a moment, waiting for her friend to calm  down.         

     



 

"Well?" Gretchen prompted after a moment of silence.

"Well what? What do you want to know?"

"Why is it you hate the guy and are oven-ing his bun but you're  hate-fucking him? There's a disconnect somewhere around here that I am  just not getting."

Greer sighed. "I still hate him. And it's part of a deal we made. I  fool around with him this month and he gives up all parental rights to  the baby."

There was a long pause on the other end.

"Hello?" Greer said into the receiver. "You still there?"

"My brain just temporarily short-circuited at the thought of Asher  giving up all rights to his own kid. Why the hell would he do that?"

"Because he doesn't want to be a dad?"

"Oh please. Like anyone wakes up in the morning and thinks, wow, I'd  really like to change someone's shitty diapers for the next eighteen  years!"

"Diapers for eighteen years?"

"Slight exaggeration, but you know what I mean. No one's ever ready to  be a parent, but when there's a baby on the way, you sack up and take  care of things." A wistful note entered her voice. "I'm just shocked  Asher's bailing out."

"It was my idea." And she was not going to feel guilty about it, damn it.

"You don't even want child support?"

"Why would I? I have millions of my own."

"Yes, but he has billions. And think of how miserable you could make him! Doesn't the fun of misery count for something?"

Greer smiled. "I don't want my baby to be used as a tool to make  someone else miserable." She'd had firsthand experience in that, thank  you very much. "I just want him or her to be surrounded by love."

"Aww, that's really cute and all, but I think all this goo-goo diaper  talk is drifting away from the real reason for this call . . . which is  you telling me all about why you and Asher are hate-fucking. Now hold on  and let me get some popcorn, because I have a feeling this shit is  gonna be good."

***

It turned out that Asher's lie came back to bite him in the ass. The  pretense of being pulled away for work turned out to be very real when  one of his overseas offices had a security breach and another employee's  laptop was stolen, containing client information for hundreds of small  businesses. It was a bit of a nightmare and his new CEO's first  opportunity to right the ship, and important enough that Asher himself  wanted to be there to ensure things were running smoothly.

Okay, he was still struggling with being hands-off. But he was getting  better all the time. Nevertheless, he wanted to be there for this  particular situation and chartered a private jet back to NYC, then spent  the next three days closeted in meetings to discuss contingency plans,  future disaster scenarios, and security breach statements.

He missed the engagement party he was supposed to be present for. And  while he didn't give two shits about toasting Stijn or his three  potential brides, he'd wanted to see Greer in a hopefully slinky dress  and spend more time with her. He really wanted to spend more time  practicing kissing.

Wasn't it just his luck that reality decided to intrude on his bubble?

Asher was returning back to his apartment when his phone buzzed with an incoming text.

Greer: I can't figure you out.

He waited impatiently in the elevator while it crawled up forty floors.  He wanted to text Greer back immediately, but it felt too personal to  do it in an elevator crowded with people. Hell, even one person would be  too many. Probably because he got a lot of inappropriate hard-ons when  talking to Greer. He raced to his apartment, shut the door, and then  flung off his suit jacket and expensive Italian loafers. He took his  phone into his bedroom, relaxed on the bed, and then typed out a  response to her.

Asher: Because I'm mysterious and alluring?

Greer: Because you took all the trouble to set up this whole  "practicing kissing" thing and now you're not showing up for any of the  lessons. Are you avoiding me?         

     



 

Fuck. Did she really think he was avoiding her? His entire body craved  being near her. She was in his dreams at night, and the image he saw  when he stroked his cock in the shower every morning. Avoiding her? If  she was in the same room as him, he'd have been all over her.

He wouldn't text that, though. He'd call her instead. If nothing else, so he could hear her voice.