Wife Wanted (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)(105)

 

“Yes, we. I don’t want him to kiss you again without your explicit permission.” She had a faint smile on her face that told me she was mocking me. “And if my plan works out, he will be begging to kiss you every minute.”

 

"What are you planning, Amy? Don’t get me in trouble again.”

 

"I won't get you in trouble, Sara. I promise. But let me do the planning, okay?”

 

I nodded. What choice did I have? Whatever Amy wanted, Amy got!

 

 

 

 

 

NICK

 

Nick sat in his office looking out the window. It had been two weeks since the ball, and he had resisted every urge to call Sara and apologize to her, which was the decent thing to do, but his pride was such that he could not do it. That was one of the things he hated about being rich. Pride! He took so much pride in all he did that apologies were out of character for him. Sometimes he hated himself for that weakness, but most times, it worked to his favor. It worked well when he wanted to get a woman in bed - women loved his shrewdness and arrogance. But that wasn’t going to work on Sara. So far, she had proven to be a tough catch, a different ball game. His pride helped him excel in business since he knew how to keep going even when others quit and gave up. His pride was what kept him hanging onto the last thread of hope for the preservation when the family thought all was lost. He knew a lot about pride, but so did Sara, apparently.

 

He was restless, his mind focused on Sara and that curvy body of hers, his work neglected. He sat there for hours, drinking coffee and nibbling on the orange banana scones his secretary had brought in, his body aching for Sara. He glanced at his phone and saw a missed call from the phone number that was dear to him, Sara’s. She had tried to contact him, but he hadn’t been sure how to respond to her call and had let it got to his voicemail. He knew she was calling to return the necklace, but he didn’t want her to do that just yet. If she kept it, she would have something that linked them.

 

A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. "Yes," he answered absentmindedly. The door opened and his sister walked in. "Hi, Zia," he said, not too excited to see her when he saw the pile of papers in her hands.

 

Zia’s main interests were numbers and business. Nick appreciated her and all she did, but he was in no mood to talk business. He wanted to send her on her way with the least suspicious reason. If she found out what had happened at the ball, she would give him a lesson on how to treat women. Zia had already told him a million times he needed to treat women better, but she knew his inner pride sometimes made it hard for him to distinguish what was right and what was primal.

 

"I have the final numbers," Zia said as she pulled up a chair across the desk from him.

 

"Sure," Nick mumbled.

 

"So, after tallying all our donations and proceeds from the auction, we actually met and exceeded our budget." She was excited, and Nick didn’t want to kill her joy.

 

"Good job, sis. If anyone can do things, you can. Over-achiever!"

 

"Whatever, you know I'm good," Zia said. "And I thought we'd outgrown that teasing."

 

"You mean over-achiever?" he asked, smiling.

 

"Yes, that one," Zia pouted.

 

"Well, little sis, I get to decide when I stop messing with you.”

 

"Whatever, Nick. Anyways, I've been meaning to ask you a question about the night of the ball.” Nick's smile was replaced by a small frown that deepened by the second. "Not trying to meddle with your affairs, but Grandma told me about this girl you were talking to.”

 

"What girl?" Nick asked, pondering whether to tell her how much he really liked Sara. Zia was territorial, and he often wondered what she would do when he got married? Move in with him and his spouse? She’d made it her duty to protect him since they were kids and she had never let go of that responsibility.

 

"Some curvy chick she said she liked. And you know Grandma doesn’t like most of your girlfriends, so I assume this one is good.”

 

"Maybe."

 

"And Diane told me the girl left early."

 

Nick looked at her, the frown deepening even more, creases appearing on his forehead and lips. "Zia, you know better than to discuss my business with the staff."

 

"I wasn't discussing you. Diane felt I should know that one of our guests left unhappy."

 

"One of my guests, not yours."

 

"You know very well what I mean. One of your guests, fine. So you made some lady, your guest, cry and go home. What did you do to her, take her ‘candy?’” She put air quotes around candy.