Victoria.
Christian stood up abruptly, his expression unreadable but already promising trouble.
"Christian, I can explain. It’s not what it looks like," I stammered, raising my hands like I was about to be arrested.
He advanced toward me, and I instinctively stepped back. The frown on his face was so severe it could probably have its own weather system.
"Babysitting?" he repeated, deadpan. "That’s your cover story? Funny, right?"
"I didn’t mean to lie! I desperately needed a job to help with the bills," I said, my back now firmly against the wall. Before I could blink, he slammed his hands on either side of me like we were rehearsing a scene from a K-drama. I jumped, startled.
"Victoria," he said, his tone soft but laced with exasperation, "I’m a billionaire. A billionaire. Do y
