The Irresistible Billionaire

Chapter 17

Did I pass out? I saw darkness for a second there.

When my eyes fluttered open, I thought I was in hell.

I was lying on a fancy-ass soft bed that probably cost more than my entire education. Daniel was fanning me dramatically with a silver brochure while sipping his iced espresso.

“And she lives,” he announced with a two-syllable enunciated laugh. “For a second there, sweet Cassidy, I thought your post-orgasm shame took you out permanently,” he teased, grinning widely.

“Post—what? Excuse me?” I sat up so fast I almost headbutted him. “I… I fainted because of the sun. Not because of your—your filthy assumptions.”

Daniel let out an amused hum, tossed the brochure, and it landed on the floor before he strolled over to the cabinet where the liquor was stored.

“Where are we?” I asked, clutching my still-throbbing head.

“Fifteen minutes mid-flight,” Johnny answered, and I turned toward him—only to find him lounging on the armrest across from me, wearing that smug, triumphant smirk. “And for the record, Cassy babe, you fainted because your body couldn’t handle the truth.”

I gave him my deadliest glare, pulling my cardigan tighter around me. “The only truth here, 'sir', is that you’re an overconfident narcissist who thinks kissing equals consent. Well, it doesn’t.”

“You didn’t exactly look non-consensual grinding on me like my personal stripper. It was hot, I admit. And I liked it,” he said, voice breathy with excitement.

“That’s just not true,” I objected, even though the twitch in my eye totally called me a liar.

He shrugged a shoulder, slid lower on the seat, spread his legs like a man on a mission, and wiggled his eyebrows at me.

Daniel made a choking sound. “Okay, now 'that' is my cue to leave before I witness your s*x tape live.”

I snapped my head toward him, ready to deny all his dirty conclusions over… whatever the hell this is.

“I’m innocent,” he said in a high-pitched voice, grabbing the bottle of alcohol and heading toward the door. “Just so you know—if you fall for that 'wanker', I’ll be the one to say… all bets go in my pocket.”

I barked out a laugh. “If I ever fall for Johnny, it’d be because he tripped me down a flight of stairs. Literally. Nothing figurative or romantic.”

Daniel glanced at Johnny, who was still lounging like the plane was his damn living room. “But your lips kept finding mine like they’ve got GPS,” Johnny added, blowing me a kiss.

“What the fudge…” I groaned, throwing a pillow over my face.

“Sweet. Just like the movies,” Daniel muttered as he opened the door. “I’d lock the door if I were you. But let’s not make any turbulence, yes? I hate getting airsick,” he added, patting his stomach before shutting the door behind him.

I lowered the pillow and realized… I’m alone. Again. With Johnny.

“So, tell me, Miss Secretary,” he said, his voice low and thick with control. “Are we still strangers?”

“You want an obvious answer? No, we’re not. You’re my boss and I’m your employee.” I scooted to the edge of the bed, away from him, and searched for my shoes. “Aside from being my boss, you’re a walking mistake I keep making—in high definition.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw him move. Walking toward me. Standing right in front of me. His crotch practically level with my face.

He had that sinful glint in his eyes that basically screamed: You’re not getting out of this one, sweetheart.

I lifted my head to meet his gaze.

“Then let’s make it 4K, Cassy babe.”

Does he think I’m gonna let him make me wet my underwear again? Hah! I think not.

I grabbed the nearest pillow and slapped it right into his smug face, snatched my glasses and heels, and bolted out the door like a pack of zombies was coming after my ass.

“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath—only to freeze when I was met with four pairs of eyes. “Uh…”

“He’s not trying to rape you or anything, right?” Franklin—the oldest and surprisingly most normal of these perverted gentlemen—asked with a half-frown, half-something-I-can’t-read expression.

Then came Andrew, the youngest and most annoying. “Holy s**t! Is good ol’ Johnny finally craving the pampering of sweet Cassy?”

“Bored, perhaps,” added the cold, sadistic Eros without even sparing me a glance.

I swallowed hard and slid myself into the farthest corner of the plane. Plan: stay here until this flight is over.

Then the door behind me opened. Johnny stepped out, now in full glam. His eyes scanned the room, locked on Daniel’s, who subtly pointed in my direction using only his eyes.

Well, this is awkward.

One thing I hate about this job? The teasing. The people I can’t stomach. "And" his damn family.

They’re inviting, intimidating, and weirdly good at making me feel like I’m an alien here—without even trying.

“Review this for me,” Johnny said, dropping a folder on the table and taking the seat across from me. He stretched his legs out, asked the pretty stewardess for a drink, and looked like he owned the sky.

“New proposal?” I asked, tying my hair in a low ponytail and adjusting my glasses. I opened the folder and held it high enough to block his stupid, gorgeous face from my view.

“Since I rejected Palma Walks’ proposal, we need a new one. Mom sent me that file—said it might be better,” he replied, groaning like someone was giving him head.

I peeped around the folder and found him already staring at me, swirling his drink, completely unbothered, too comfortable mocking me effortlessly.

He winked.

I scrunched my nose and hid behind the folder again.

“The name was Alma Walker, sir. Not Palma Walks,” I corrected, scanning the paper. “Oliver Kline?”

A man? Well, that’s new.

But why not? It’s someone he can’t f**k. Maybe?

“Heard of him yet?”

I shook my head—not that he could see me.

“Mom said he’s in Shanghai but willing to fly to Manhattan for a meeting. Schedule it.”

“I think we should study his company and background first before locking him in,” I suggested. “Remember Mrs. Walker’s disaster?”

“Do your thing, then.” He leaned back. “Tell me if he’s a green light or red light.”

I got to work instantly. Better than doing nothing. This atmosphere was suffocating, and I felt so unprofessional. I should’ve worn something more… proper according to my vocabulary.

“More like a rainbow light,” I muttered, showing him the laptop screen.

He peeked, uninterested. “That’s fun.”

“I don’t see any red flags, but…” I trailed off.

“But what?” he asked, finally paying attention.

“He’s associated with Archer Cullen,” I said, lifting his glass before his hand could knock it over.

“What?!” he shouted, drawing attention. Even dramatically slamming his hands like I just told him that his hairline gotten higher.

“I think I said it loud and clear, sir.” I handed the glass to the stewardess passing by.

“Why would my mother suggest that clown to me?” he groaned like he's in an opera. “Don’t schedule anything. Don’t contact him. We are never doing business with that Olive Climb!”

“Oliver Kline,” I corrected calmly. “But actually, it’s kind of smart, if you ask me.”

“And 'how' is that?”

“Oliver Kline latches onto anyone juicy. And let’s be honest—you’re juicy, Johnny.”

Considering how many rounds this man can go, I bet he could handle someone’s butt too.

“Just a little taste and he’ll move mountains for you,” I added. “I mean, you like thrill and a kinky night. Why not give him a chance?”

He stared at me like I grew two heads.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“Cassy babe, my c**k belongs to cunts. Not where doo-doo comes out. Try implying that again…” he warned, voice low and serious.

Raspberry. He’s never serious.

I chuckled like nothing happened five minutes ago. “Or what? Spank me?” I snorted. Not his style. He’s more of a skip-foreplay, straight-to-the-cave kinda guy.

He checked his watch. “Landing in thirty minutes. Just enough time for some wine and turbulence,” he smirked. “Ain’t that right, boys?”

He got four different responses. It's like a class full of bored students.

“Would you like another glass, sir?” the stewardess asked, holding up a bottle.

“I’ll have the bottle.” He snatched it and blew her a kiss, then her head and neck turned red.

I almost scoffed. Seriously? In front of me?

“We’ve got something private to discuss, Miss Secretary. Follow me,” he said, heading toward the cabin.

Oh, s**t.

That’s not a command. That’s a trap. An "invitation to heaven". NO!

He stopped and glanced back, seeing my ass is still glued to my seat.

"You know what I hate, right, Cassy babe? Now, are you going to bring that pretty little ass over here, or should I come over there and teach you what happens when you don’t listen?

I swallowed hard, glanced at his cousins. Andrew smirked. Daniel was living for the drama. Franklin and Eros? They looked like they’d seen this show before.

Now I feel like a slut.

As I stood up, my heels clicking on the marble floor of the jet, Johnny’s voice dropped to a whisper that only I could hear.

“Just so you know… if you step into that room, Cassy, you're stuck with me.”

And darn it… my hand was already on the doorknob.

I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, feel my spine arch with the anticipation of a sin I knew I shouldn’t commit.

But when he murmured, "Good girl."

I didn’t just open the door. I stepped right into the fire.