Famously His Baby: A Billionaire Boss Secret Romance by Reid Roxy

Author:Reid, Roxy [Reid, Roxy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2019-12-14T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

“Oh. This is the one,” Stella says, flopping down in a giant wing-backed leather armchair. She hits the arm of the chair for emphasis. “This. Is. The. One.”

Normally I avoid antique stores like the plague—even less efficient than normal shopping, plus all the furniture is for people way smaller than me—but Stella dragged me to High Point, which is apparently known for its antique shops.

So many antique shops.

But according to Stella, if I buy all my furniture at once in one place, I will look like “one of those douchebags who thinks a catalogue is a home.”

The obvious solution, to not buy a house worth of furniture in one day, does not seem to have occurred to her.

The chair swallows Stella up, so who knows, I might actually fit in it.

I scoop Stella up, and settle us both back into the chair in one fluid movement, with her on my lap.

She laughs and slaps my chest, but she makes no real effort to escape my arms.

“This is an antique! We’ll break the chair!”

“If it can’t hold us both, I don’t want it,” I say nobly, and she gives me a playful shove again. I capture her hands and kiss each wrist, and she softens sweetly in my lap.

I love the way I can make her soften. I love the way I can make her laugh. I don’t know if it’s knowing her for years, or sharing a hometown, or working side by side for weeks, or if it’s just her, just Stella, but it’s never been this easy with a woman.

It’s like I’m in one of those montages from those Home Sweet Home romantic comedies, and everything is suspiciously perfect, until the other shoe drops.

I shake the thought out of my head. There is no other shoe to drop. Stella really is this perfect. This fun.

And that’s all this is. We’re having fun. Discreet fun, so I don’t lose my best friend, and neither of us loses our professional reputations.

And hell, if at the end of it all I’ve got real furniture, and she’s got her dream job and higher standards for the next man she dates, then so much the better.

Of course, the thought of her dating someone else after me makes me want to hit something, but I shove the instinct away.

Don’t go being a caveman, I tell myself.

Unless I want to ask her to stay, I have no business getting jealous of whoever Stella dates next.

Even if it’s some fascinating, artsy rock musician who shares all of her interests and wouldn’t give a fuck about getting his picture in the paper with her.

Or worse, some boring guy in a pink polo shirt who never left home and has no idea how to appreciate a woman like Stella, and who will expect her to host teas and make small talk with his colleagues instead of fucking up his presentations.

I’m getting mad just thinking about it.

“Hey,” Stella waves a hand in front of my face. “We don’t have to get the chair if it makes your face look like that.

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