Filthy Rich: The Billionaire's Baby (A Bad Boy Romance) by Erin Wilder

Author:Erin Wilder [Wilder, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-09-03T18:30:00+00:00

Days melted together and became one: Saturday leaked into Sunday and Monday morning rolled around so fast we barely had time to change the sheets. By the time the sun rose on the suckiest day of the week, his top drawer was empty.

We spent most of the weekend in bed. Huddled together in the wet sheets—wet from sweat and sex and sex-sweat—for hours on end. Louis slinked away to his office when he thought I’d drifted off, and I used those spare few minutes to gossip with Molly through texts.

Louis is so understanding. No pressure or guilt. No baby-talk or puppy-dog eyes to get what he wants.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I reach for my phone and sigh when I notice the time. He’ll be off to work soon, and my shift starts when his day ends.

We talked when we weren’t kissing or licking or fucking. He told me about his family: his loveable but not-fit-to-lead half-brother Jack, his gold-digger-marrying father, and his late mother; she was the artist in the family.

The best thing about Louis—besides the muscles and the clothes and those blue eyes—is that he really listens. Like, really fucking listens. TJ would um-hum and aha and play with his computer through most of our conversations. Louis looks at me—not towards me—and he takes in my words.

He smiled when I told him about my dad and how he thinks I sound ‘all Brooklyn’ now (despite the fact that I’ve never been to Brooklyn). He laughed when I told him about Molly and the things she did to cheer me up after I moved in (we agree that she’s the third coolest person in New York).

But he went cold when I told him about my run-in with the creep from the bar.

‘I’ll take care of it,’ He said.

I believe him.

My eyes moved from my phone to the door when I heard it creak open. Louis stood there, wearing the same suit he wore the first night he showed up at the bar: a deep-navy cotton three-piece, a pearl-white shirt, and a bulky black tie.

“Hope you’re not going to be too late,” I said, as dropped my phone into my floral-print tote-bag.

“Not as late as you,” He said as he pulled at his collar.

“My shift doesn’t start for like eight hours.”

“You don’t work there anymore.”

“What? Did someone say something? Did Denton fire me?”

“No, but I’ve hired you.”

My head spun, and my eyes darted around the room. There was no talk of a new job all weekend. But I did share my ambitions with him. And he is a good listener.

“But I didn’t even apply or interview or anything.”

“Sure you did,” He said with a mischievous smirk, “So get dressed. The car’s outside. You don’t want to be late on your first day.”

I don’t need handouts, and I thought he was above childish games. Thoughts and suspicions fluttered around in my mind.

Was this weekend real? Did he only listen so that he could find a chink in my armor?

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