The Billionaire's Bitch

Fifty-Eight

"Well, Kingsley, my boy, I've gotta hand it to you!"

Adrian arched his eyebrows politely to Mr. Carmichael.

"This is the longest I've ever seen you keep a PA! And I can certainly see why; pretty little thing she is! Seems docile enough, with just the right amount of feisty in her!"

Adrian's expression smoothed out. He offered only a quiet snort at this.

"But honestly, Adrian, what's with the extra muscle? I mean, Claudia's my favorite secretary for a very good reason, and I would loathe to lose her also, but she don't have her own bodyguard!"

"Well, you know how it is, Carmichael. Us elite lead complicated lives." Adrian slapped the old fat man on the shoulder, giving him a cold smile that told him to drop it.

Brock Carmichael was a shrewd man, however, not one to be easily deterred. He was also a sly old bastard. He nodded down the hall the way Eve had just departed. "Seems like the muscle is getting a little handsy with the help, though, wouldn't you say?"

Adrian turned reluctantly to follow Carmichael's indication. Just in time to see Mike putting his hand on the small of Eve's back.

Blue eyes narrowed as he watched Mike lean down to whisper something in her ear.

Whatever he said made her gasp and elbow him playfully in the ribs, but she was giggling.

Adrian felt a curious sensation then inside of him. It felt vaguely like his blood boiling. The rest of what happened was only inevitable, he later supposed ruefully to himself.

But what he'd said to her, claiming her to be his, he could admit that had been a little...impulsive.

Reckless and selfish and stupid were probably better words to describe it, really. He knew better than to mess around with her.

"The help" as his dear peers would refer to her as.

Of course, Eve was infinitely more to him than that by now, wasn't she?

Nevertheless, he felt like a right old jackass for implying things to her that he couldn't possibly live up to.

He knew what kind of woman she was, after all, didn't he?

She was the long-term commitment type. She was the settling down type. Being his mistress wouldn't do, not for a lady like her.

She'd want the boyfriend status and all that came with it. She'd expect him to eventually propose, make an honest woman out of her and all that propaganda bullshit. She'd want children from him, too, wouldn't she? In time, all of those things would start to matter to her.

If he let her in, she would inevitably fall in love with him, and then if he ever let her down...it would break her little heart.

Adrian was back in his penthouse now, standing at his office window as he sipped a glass of brandy. Gazing down at the far reaches of the city, he imagined what Eve was doing at that very moment.

He pictured her on her knees in a comfortable, modern living room, playing with her niece and nephew. She would be glowing that way she did when she was content; it radiated out of her, it made her come alive with mirth.

He wondered how often she checked her phone, or glanced at the clock, secretly hoping he'd text.

He imagined that kiss down in the parking garage had flustered her. Hell, it had flustered him.

Almost compulsively, Adrian pulled out his phone and found himself cueing up her contact info.

It was now 9:46pm.