CHAPTER TEN

DREW

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I should cancel. Tell Gemma she doesn’t need to attend the charity event.

I was an idiot to even invite her.

Even more of an idiot to think I could spend the evening with her and keep my hands to myself. Gemma looks at me like she isn’t sure whether she should run like the wind at my visible carnal urges or tear her clothes off.

It’d be fun if she did both...but given that’s a new fantasy just unlocked, I will explore it another day.

Today I nearly kissed her.

At fucking work.

There was nothing romantic about it. Her red lips were inches apart, and my eyes were glued to them while my brain screamed, don’t you fucking dare.

I probably would have had more resilience but after spending all afternoon watching her run her fingers through her silky hair, imagining what the swell of her breasts looks like unwrapped—as if she’s my Christmas gift—and if she swallows, I was feeling a little raw.

Then I found her gazing at my cock.

Not looking at...but gazing upon...hungrily.

I am the first to admit I have a huge ego, but that woman was hungrily staring at my fucking cock.

There should be a medal for men like me who show restraint.

What I shouldn’t be doing is driving toward her apartment building while my mind drifts back to her drinking coffee in my office. How she has a habit of sliding her tongue over the edge of the mug and lapping at her lips like she’s sucking a lollipop.

Who am I kidding?

Like she’s sucking cock.

My cock.

I groan.

“Everything okay, sir?” Jeeves asks, glancing in the rear mirror.

No.

“Yep.” I run my hand over my freshly shaven jaw as the mind movie continues.

Gemma undoes her jacket, revealing a sleeveless vest which nicely showcases her slim arms. A peek of cleavage is visible.

Professional.

Sexy.

Highly fuckable.

Near the end of the meeting, Gemma had tugged up her skirt, stretched out a leg and wiggled her ankle, eager to get rid of her shoes.

How that simple action was able to get me rock hard when girls at the Obsidian Club could sink to their knees with their tits out and not interest me some nights, I have no goddamn idea.

It was exquisite torture—equal parts pleasure and pain.

As the boss, I had the power to kick the men out of the office, lift Gemma in my arms and toss her painful heels across the floor, then lay her out on my desk.

My lips quirk, imagining her reaction.

Well, whatever she did, she’d soon be purring as my face plunged into her wet pussy.

Gemma Ford would be begging me for more.

We pull up outside her apartment building, and I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should let her off the hook.

I don’t give a fuck about the hours.

So what do I want?

You want her. In your arms and on your cock.

Christ. I climb out and head into the building before I change my mind. I won’t be doing any of that while we work—

“Drew,” Gemma calls out.

I do a double take and find her sitting in an armchair in the lobby of her building.

What the hell?

“Why are you waiting down here?” I might not be the marrying type, but my mother raised me to pick a woman up at her door.

“This isn’t a date.” Gemma frowns.

Unimpressed, I bunch my lips and stride over, but as she stands, my mood evaporates and my pants tighten.

Holy fucking hell.

She purposely ignored my instructions to wear black, and I’m glad she did.

A red silk sequined gown hugs her body like a glove. The neckline reveals just enough cleavage to leave a little to the imagination and look stylish. The straps are tiny against her olive skin and will be easy to nudge off when...

No.

Down boy.

The only accessories she wears are a pair of striking red stilettos and a black purse.

No jewelry.

“Wow.” I stop and show her my appreciation. “You look stunning.”

Her eyes lift, cheeks turning pink. “Thank you.”

God, she has no idea.

She’s fucking gorgeous.

I place my hand in the small of Gemma’s back and lead her out the door. I resist patting her bottom as she climbs into the limousine and decide I should be given one of those British knighthoods for the effort.

I’ll email Prince William tomorrow. We met once at a polo event in England. He won’t remember me, but if by chance he did, it’s because I was the drunk idiot asking if I could ride one of the zoomie ponies.

I blame the nine Pimm’s I drank.

Anyway, they’re horses, not ponies, and I’m an idiot according to Sebastian.

Still.

I climb into the limousine, and Jeeves pulls away from the curb into the busy Manhattan traffic.

“What is the charity?” Gemma asks, averting her eyes as much as she can.

It’s cute.

“American Heart Foundation,” I share.

“Do you attend these things often?”

“Occasionally.”

Some I care about more than others, but they’re a necessity in this town. New York society has unwritten rules that nobody can break. Not if you want to succeed.

I grew up wealthy and recently learned Gemma’s parents are both doctors. While not filthy rich, she will know enough to navigate this evening with ease.

“I’m surprised I haven’t bumped into you at one over the years,” I say, assuming Anthony attended his fair share.

“Maybe we have.” Gemma shrugs.

I snort, and she glares at me.

“I think I would have noticed.”

“Why? In fact, when I think about it, I did once while engaged and then just before I discovered I was pregnant with Zoe. After that, Anthony said he didn’t want me going to any.”

“You let him decide?”

“Yes. That’s what’s married couples do,” she snaps.

“Sounds like a dictatorship to me,” I mutter.

If I was married to a beautiful woman like Gemma, I’d send a check and stay home with her. Not leave her alone with a tummy full of my baby.

Since when do you imagine yourself getting married?

“It wasn’t.” Gemma shoots me another look and tightens her hold on her purse.

Unfortunately, Gemma Ford might not know the truth about her husband, and that makes me want to wrap her in bubble wrap to protect her from all that’s unraveling the more we dig into the Open Leaf finances.

“Well, I hope tonight isn’t too painful for you. Who knows, I might stop being a grouchy CEO for a few hours, so you can enjoy it a little.”

Gemma’s lips twitch.

“I’m not always a monster,” I tease, nudging her arm gently with mine.

“Oh, you are.” Gemma’s smile glistens in her eyes.

I’m a monster in the bedroom, sweetheart. Perhaps you’d like to find out.

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“DREW.” ZANDER WAVES across the crowded ballroom.

I grab two glasses of champagne from the server’s tray and lead Gemma over to where my friends stand.

They’ll want an explanation, but I’m not going to give them one.

I don’t take dates to events. Even if I did, this is highly unusual, given I have just acquired Gemma Ford’s company.

My hand presses against the small of her back almost possessively, and I feel a hum of appreciation inside my chest.

This is why I wanted her here. I’m drawn to the warmth of her body. I crave it. I want more, and not just in a sexual way.

But also, in a sexual way.

“Hi,” Emily, Sebastian’s pregnant wife, steps forward grinning, as if Gemma is going to be her new best friend. This is Emily we are talking about, so she could adopt her by midnight.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Mason kissing Lexi—his former PA—and shake my head. The two of them have no shame about public displays.

Colt is absent. He could be in Australia or the US with the love of his life right now. I’m not sure, as I’ve been distracted by a sexy little widow.

Gemma shakes Emily’s hand. “Gemma Ford, nice to meet you.”

“Call me Em.” Her English accent fills the air. “I’m Sebastian’s wife.”

Gemma glances at me with help in her eyes.

Zander smirks and sips his champagne, enjoying my discomfort. Sebastian lifts a critical brow, expecting me to give the explanation I mentioned earlier.

“Gemma is a business colleague. She’s keeping me company tonight.”

I keep it brief.

They don’t need to know I want to fuck her brains out in the bathrooms but knowing my buddies, they already know. Gemma wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.

I know it.

They know.

Gemma doesn’t.

It needs to stay that way.

“How lovelyyy,” Lexi drawls and shoots me a smirk.

I don’t, but I want to say just because you fucked your boss and landed a billionaire doesn’t mean that’s what’s happening here.

If Gemma’s lucky, after we have completed our business together in a few months, she could get the best orgasm of her life out of me.

She won’t get a ring.

“Zander Sterling.” He holds out his palm, desire painted unashamedly across his face.

I grit my teeth.

The fucker is the most handsome of all of us, and he knows it.

Gemma blushes, and I snap.

“Enough.” I shift my body so no one else can touch her and ignore Zander’s chuckle. “Who’s made the biggest donation tonight?”

“Drew!” Gemma gasps. “Is that appropriate?”

Sebastian laughs. “Ignore him. We’ve known one another since Harvard, and we’re all incredibly competitive.”

“That’s an understatement,” Mason mumbles, then adds between coughs, “Four mil.”

Nice.

Let the games begin.

“Six.” Zander winks at Emily.

Clearly, he wants to die tonight. I make a mental note to top up my donation when I head to the restrooms.

“Ten,” I say loudly.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Make ours twelve.”

Gemma giggles nervously. “My God, you guys. You’ll be broke by the end of the night.”

Everyone goes quiet. Between us we’re worth eleven figures. That’s eleven zeros. No one is going broke. Not tonight and not any other night.

In saying that, we aren’t in the habit of throwing money around for no reason or to be assholes about it.

Tonight’s charity is hosted by Connor Barrett’s wife Mia. They are fellow billionaires raising money for the American Heart Foundation.

I lost my mother to a heart attack not long after Jack died, and so every year, we give a stupid amount to the foundation to show our support.

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