Marrying My Billionaire Hookup - Nadia Lee Page 0,112

no reason for you to go just because my dad came by yesterday.”

“But he was talking about your family legacy and stuff. What was that about?”

Turning you into a cold, brittle shell like my mom.

“None of that matters at all?” she asks.

I give Jo a placid smile. Over my dead body. “He’s a traditionalist. He basically wants a grandson, and especially one from me, since I’m his firstborn. But we don’t have to be in Louisiana to have kids.” Then, to end whatever argument she might have, I go for the things I know she can never give up. “You don’t just have a career here. You have friends and family. And we both like Dr. Silverman.”

“That’s true.” She nods. “But what about your work? Isn’t it hard to do it long distance?”

“Don’t worry about it. Communication is cheap and instant these days. And if I have to physically be in town, I can pop up, no problem. We have a private jet for that, you know.” Besides, it is less of a priority now. Before, Dad and I fought over the difference in our vision, and I was becoming disillusioned and frustrated. Jo and the baby are showing me where my energy might be better spent.

“Okay.” She smiles.

I kiss the back of her hand, pleased that the point Dad brought up got resolved so easily. And I’m grateful Jo isn’t impressed with my family’s status. It was annoying at first when I couldn’t use it to get her marry me, but long-term, it’s better this way.

Over the next few days, Jo and I settle into a routine. I get up hours earlier than her to deal with Blackwood Energy business. With the time difference, the office in Louisiana is already humming by six thirty Pacific Time.

She usually gets up between seven and nine. I let her sleep as late as she wants. I remember hearing from Tony that Ivy was exhausted all the time, especially during her first trimester. And Jo’s schedule is still very full with appointments.

I’m glad she isn’t overly stubborn about hiring a decorator. Some women want to do it all themselves, then get angry that they’re so exhausted. Jo said she doesn’t have the time to go furniture shopping or work on color schemes. And it isn’t like she and I don’t have better things to do.

Like sex.

I’m getting hard just thinking about it—the way her nipples bead up and how she gets wet so fast. She seems almost embarrassed by how easily and profusely she gets aroused, but I love her responsiveness.

It’s our first Sunday together. But no matter how much I want us to spend the rest of the day in bed, I need to get ready for lunch at her parents’ home.

Crashing her family dinner at the restaurant was my way of trying to assert myself—and stopping Jo from announcing her engagement to Aaron. Yuna was convinced she was going to do it soon.

But being invited to her parents’ home is a whole new level.

“Are you sure I don’t have to bring anything?” I ask. “Some wine, or…?”

“For the tenth time, no. But you can bring flowers for my mom and aunt, if you want. That’ll make them happy.” Jo picks out a pale gray shirt and jeans. “Here you go.”

“I can dress myself, you know.”

“Yes, but I’m a professional.” She sticks her tongue out. “And I don’t want you putting on a fifteen-thousand-dollar suit. I don’t understand how you could’ve thought it would be the thing to wear to a Mexican family restaurant.”

I sigh. “It just seemed appropriate. I wanted to make a good impression. Most women want their men to look good.”

“You looked amazing.” She lets out a sigh, her eyes soft. “But you’ll also look great in what I picked out.”

I grumble a bit, even though I’m pleased to hear she thought I looked awesome.

Jo’s in a casual yellow and cream sundress with a lavender floral pattern and silver heels.

“I thought we were dressing casual,” I say.

“I need to get some use out of my favorites before I get too big. And I need to go shopping for some cute maternity clothes and shoes.”

“Here.” I hand her my credit card. “Use this.”

“I have money,” she says.

“I know, but it’s my baby too.”

She grins. “Okay. I’m not turning down shopping money when it’s fair.” She winks, then takes the card and puts it in her purse.

Pulling her close, I kiss her on the crown of her head, loving her good