Wife Wanted (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)(122)

 

“I know,” he said, “but I don’t want to risk you running off on a sore toe. I need to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

 

“Why should it matter to you what happens to my toe?” I frowned. “Can you please put me down?”

 

“What do you think, Sara? That I would put you down and let you hurt yourself more? No, not happening. Why do you think I care what happens to you?”

 

I knew the answer to his question: he liked me a lot, but that didn’t discount the fact that his ex had hunted him down to his private jet. If she knew all that information about him, wasn’t she a potential threat to me? I decided to remain silent.

 

“I’m sorry you had to see Olivia being Olivia. She is my ex. She cheated on me, and it’s been over for years. She just likes to cause trouble occasionally. I will put her back in her place once and for all, I promise,” he said, his eyes pleading with me.

 

I believed him, but I didn’t want to make this easy for him. If he truly wanted us to have a chance at a relationship, then Olivia had to truly be an ex.

 

“Can you forgive what you saw?” I looked at him, his eyes tender. I could never hold anything against him. “Please?” he begged. “It will never happen again.”

 

I knew Nick hardly begged, but in the space of the few days I had known him, he’d had to say please more times than he had all his life. I nodded. Yes, I could probably forgive him for everything.

 

Olivia walked up to us, and she didn’t look too happy. In the moment Nick and I shared, I had forgotten she was there.

 

“Will you look at that? Nick, forever a gentleman,” Olivia said, her voice filled with disdain.

 

“Hello,” I muttered to her. I didn’t really want to speak to her, but it would be just plain rude to walk by her, no, rather, be carried by her billionaire ex-boyfriend past her, and not say a word. Nick ignored her comment and continued to his private jet. David had noticed the dilemma and rushed from the car.

 

“May I help you, sir?” he asked, referring to helping him carry me.

 

“No, I can manage,” Nick said, frowning. Of course, he could manage. Mr. Rich had so many muscles I probably weighed nothing to him.

 

“Yes, sir,” David said as he moved to the side. “Should I get the luggage?”

 

“Yes. Thank you,” Nick answered. He had reached his jet, which was open and waiting for him. His pilot, a tall, lanky man, greeted him and asked him if he could help. Nick again rejected his offer but when he attempted to carry me up the stairs of the plane, it quickly dawned on him that it was dangerous, so he set me down.

 

“Can you walk?” he asked gently.

 

“I didn’t break anything. Of course I can walk.”

 

Nick still held my hand, supporting my weight. “Take it slow. One step at a time.”

 

I wanted to giggle at the ridiculousness of his behavior; he was treating me like a child. As I put weight on my foot, I realized he was right. “Ouch,” I gasped as I felt as sharp pain rip through my toe.

 

“Take it easy,” he said gently.

 

I nodded and took another step, more gently. It didn’t hurt as much. I took a couple more steps and soon I was in the plane.

 

“Nice.” The words escaped my mouth involuntarily, my hurting toe forgotten. Nice was actually an understatement for the sight before me – posh, cream leather reclining chairs, dark brown, soft carpet, cherry wood trimmings, marble, crystal, chandeliers, flat screen TVs – the jet looked like a five-star hotel lounge.

 

“Thanks,” Nick said. “Now let’s look at your toe. Sit here.” He led me to a couch and sat next to me. “Are you comfortable?” I nodded. “Good. Lay back and let me see your toe,” he said as he helped me lie back. He took off the sandal and placed my foot on his knee. “Doesn’t look too bad.”

 

“You’re kidding me, Nick.” Olivia had followed us into the plane. “Shouldn’t one of your chauffeurs take her home or to the hospital or wherever. What the fuck are you doing?”

 

“Taking care of my woman,” Nick told her, the look on his face serious. “Do you have a problem with that?”

 

Olivia didn’t immediately respond, but the look on her face said it all. She was so mad at Nick and at me, she would have punched us if she could have. I looked at Nick, the phrase ‘my woman’ swimming in my head. I was his woman!

 

“Well, good luck to you. And here’s a keepsake for you, you asshole!” she yelled as she yanked a necklace off her neck, threw it at Nick, and walked off the plane.