Sadie and the Bad Boy Billionaire: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (Oakley Island Romcoms Book 3) by Jenny Proctor & Emma St. Clair

Author:Jenny Proctor & Emma St. Clair [Proctor, Jenny & Clair, Emma St.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-08T00:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

Ben

Was what I just did to Sadie cruel? I mean … not comparatively. If we’re talking about actual, legitimate cruelty.

But maybe it wasn’t the wisest or kindest thing ever to confess how long I’ve thought about kissing her and then NOT kiss her. Especially when she clearly wanted me to.

Here’s the thing, though: I can’t say with certainty that if I kissed Sadie for real, she wouldn’t immediately regret it.

She isn’t sure about me yet, even if she felt physically sure in the moment. I don’t doubt she wanted the kiss, wanted me. Which felt really, really good.

But I suspect if I’d kissed her then—poof! Her wanting would be done and then gone. Over. The end. While I’m not opposed to a little instant gratification sometimes, with Sadie, I want more.

I don’t just want a kiss. A fake relationship. A fling on a yacht when she’s hiding out from what sounds more and more like legitimate trouble.

I am a patient man. And I can wait for our kiss to be more.

And if the waiting makes Sadie want me more, well, that’s okay too. There’s something to be said for anticipation and delayed gratification.

It’s anticipation I’m thinking of while getting dressed for dinner. My hair is still shower-damp as I adjust the collar of my shirt. I chose a simple blue button-down, tucked into khaki shorts with a belt. It’s a little nicer than what I typically wear around the boat. But then, with all the added guests, tonight will be something of a dinner party.

Am I also dressing to impress Sadie? I’d be a fool to deny it when literally everything I’ve done the past few days has been geared to impress her. Or more—to just make her like me.

As to whether it’s working or not … ask me in a few days.

I knock on Sadie’s door but there’s no answer. “Sadie?” I call, but after a moment, I decide she must have already gone to dinner.

I head to the dining room alone, hearing laughter and music before I even enter. I’m the last to arrive. Even Danny is here, though he probably shouldn’t be. At times, I treat my staff so much like friends that they—or I—forget their roles.

Danny clearly got wind of which guests we happened to pick up earlier and wanted to meet Ana. He’s currently staring at her like she’s a fantasy come to life, which only makes her preening more insufferable.

I should probably cut the guy some slack. It’s not every day you have the chance to hang out with an actual Brazilian supermodel. Danny wasn’t working for me the last time Ana spent time aboard, so I get it. She’s beautiful—in a purely aesthetic sense. But she doesn’t do anything for me. She didn’t back when she wanted to hook up either. Despite what the tabloids report, I do have some standards. And they include not getting involved with people who have the personality of a honey badger.

Danny doesn’t seem to care about personality, and I watch him practically bend over backward to bring Ana a glass of wine and a bottle of water.

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