The Irresistible Billionaire

Chapter 12

"Hey, Cassy babe. Which one do you think suits me best?" He lifted two identical ties in front of me, looking overdressed with all his buttons done.

I came by his hotel room to remind him of what he had to do today, but I think everything I said just went in one ear and out the other.

Without glancing at them, I pointed at the one on the right with my pen.

"Did you hear what I just told you?" I asked, arching an eyebrow while he chose the one on the left, making me scoff.

Why did he even bother asking?

"The dinner meeting with Mrs. Walker will start in a few moments. Her secretary gave me a copy of her proposal and—surprise—you didn’t bother touching it," I muttered, picking up the folder from the table. "I read the whole thing, just like you asked."

"Uh-huh?" he mumbled, tone completely disinterested.

"Would you like me to express what I think about it?" I insisted, finally lifting my eyes to look at him—only to find him fumbling with his tie.

"Tell me something about Mrs. Walker," he said instead, veering off topic. Well, somehow, she was who we came here for—but clearly not in the way I meant.

"According to the internet, she’s active in business. She has made—"

"No, no," he cut me off, tugging his tie loose and walking closer. "Tell me something 'about' her," he repeated with more intent.

"Oh..." I muttered.

"Do my tie," he ordered, pulling me from the chair. I flew toward him like a spring onion.

I adjusted my glasses that nearly fell off and made a face as he stood there, hands in his pockets, legs apart—like a slim bouncer—while I fixed the stupid knot.

I swear, if I could reach the ceiling, I’d tie him up there.

"Mrs. Alma Walker celebrated her fiftieth birthday last week. She’s got two sons and a daughter—a gay, a bisexual, and a lesbian. She’s married to her seventh husband, Olson Walker, the eighty-four-year-old 'former' billionaire who used to own one of the biggest insurance companies... until his money vanished like magic," I recited in one breath, expertly tying his knot.

"She doesn’t look fifty to me," he muttered, as if that was the only thing that mattered.

"She’s had more than ten plastic surgeries, including breast implants. A trivia I know you’d be mad if I skipped," I added, and he chuckled.

"That’s it?" he asked, clearly unsatisfied.

I crossed my arms. "Sorry, I work for Miles Shipping Corporation, not the CIA."

He pouted, then fixed his collar. "Touché," he mumbled, admiring himself in the mirror. "Fifty, fake double Ds, still married, and experienced. Not bad."

I felt my stomach churn. "Are you serious?" I asked flatly.

He grinned wickedly. "Cassy babe, if you don’t want me doing something wild with the oldie, offer yourself instead. You know I like everyone with a pussy."

I gaped at him. "Does that include yourself?"

He burst into laughter, bending over dramatically. "No, Cassy babe. That includes 'you'." He pointed at me, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You're hopeless," I groaned, gathering the pointless stack of papers and grabbing my purse.

"Like you always say." He grabbed his jacket and slipped it on like a superhero. "Is that your dress?" he asked, eyeing me.

"Yes," I replied, painfully polite.

He stared for a second, then nodded. "I like it."

As we walked out of the hotel room toward the elevator, I caught my reflection and grimaced. My hair looked like it lost a fight with a storm. The floral formal dress was the most decent thing I owned, but I looked more like I was trying to attract bees than close a deal.

"Mr. Miles..." Mrs. Walker greeted us at the reserved table, her smile more radiant than the chandeliers. No—she smiled only for Johnny.

"Call me Johnny," he said, kissing the back of her hand with a wink.

She flushed like a teenager and clamped her lips to hide it.

I felt a twitch in my nose. I refused to name the emotion starting a warinside me. I’d rather sin in silence.

"Very well, Johnny. Then I’m Alma," she giggled, then eyed me coolly. "And who is this?"

Johnny placed a hand on my back, making me stand beside him. "Cassidy, my very reliable secretary."

I gave her a limp wave. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Walker. I’ve read about your work." I extended my hand. She didn’t take it. Instead, she smiled like I was a stray dog.

Knowing her type wouldn’t touch a peasant like me, I fanned the air then scratched the bottom of my nose as an excuse.

Awkward was an understatement.

"I doubt she’s needed. I’d like to discuss something... in private," Alma said, patting Johnny’s chest with very non-businesslike fingers.

Johnny paused before glancing at me. "I have full trust in my secretary. She’ll be listening to everything."

Now that's new...

My eyebrows nearly flew off my face. Did he just deny what a woman wanted?

Tempted to celebrate—but the entire dinner was a mood killer. I lose my appetite. Their distance was making it hard for me to swallow.

In all my time working for Johnny, I’ve witnessed nearly every scandalous thing he could do. His dirtiest secrets were filed in my brain like encrypted folders.

And tonight? Another one added. He just like keep throwing deposits in my brain.

"I enjoyed discussing business with you, Johnny."

I almost punched the air in joy. But I want to be real: there was barely any “business” discussed. Just an hour of flirting, lewd whispers, and God knows what they do under the table.

I was the awkward third wheel. Judging silently. Suffering alone.

"So did I," Johnny said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "I’ll see you later."

And that meant only one thing.

The moment we exited the restaurant, Johnny admired his reflection in a wall panel.

"Should I stop by the pharmacy for you?" I asked, hinting, and he smirked.

"Cassy babe, you’re so thoughtful." He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and yanked me closer.

I could smell Alma’s perfume on him.

"Don’t worry, I came prepared," he added, kissing my temple. "So, tell me, what do you think of the proposal? I think it’s worth a try."

He always said that. Because the only thing he wanted was pleasure. Not to work with her—to work her.

"I beg to disagree," I said, pulling away. "It looks good, the Europe expansion thing is good game—but did you even read the fine print? If your eyes scanned those boring papers thoroughly, you'd know better."

He leaned against the wall, watching my lips instead of listening.

"There’s a 'clause' on page seventeen. Five-year exclusivity. No other partners. No deals. You’re stuck with her, rain or shine, once you sign. Handcuffed. Imprisoned."

The elevator dinged. We walked to the lobby.

"And the eco-friendly pitch? Just buzzwords. No certifications. I looked it up. It’s either a stretch of truth or just pure greenwashing."

"Hmm..." he hummed dismissively, strolling like we were at the park.

"And her last company she worked with? Bankrupt. She sued them. Total coincidence? Maybe. But does she scream 'trustworthy' to you? I don't think so. And let’s not forget her husband’s fortune disappeared just a year after they got married."

He suddenly stopped, making me bump into his back with a muffled "oof".

He turned and shrugged.

"You’re probably overthinking it. It’s a power move, Cassy babe. Business is risk. ‘No sacrifice, no victory.’ Ever watched the first Transformers movie? It was a blast."

I scoffed. What did I expect?

He flicked my nose. "Relax. I told the old lady I’d think about it. She gave me time."

"Oh, yeah! Let me guess. She asled you to give her a chance to make you change your mind in her suite?"

He just smiled.

"Cool. Just don’t act so surprised when she tanks the company and gut it from the inside and I say ‘I told you so.’"

"That scares me," he said, handing me a card. "Here. Take this. You know the PIN. Buy dresses, thongs, whatever. I expect your room overflowing with Victoria’s Secret bags. Get that?"

"What are you, a sugar daddy?"

"Just your hot boss," he grinned before stealing a kiss on my lips, making me gasp, then walked out of the building. "I'll see you tomorrow morning!"

"That son of a bitch."

I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and shivered. He kissed another woman and then shared the bacteria with me?

Fudge him!

Wait... why am I so angry? Is this jealousy?

No, no, no. This isn't jealousy. It's disgust.

"You gotta keep your head straight, Cassidy. He's just a tease," I mumbled to myself before eyeing the card in my hand. "Buy all I want, huh?"