Marrying My Billionaire Hookup - Nadia Lee Page 0,9

I just need…

My dress. On the floor exactly where I left it.

I pick up the wrinkled outfit and put it on. Then I take another long look at the man who gave me more pleasure in one night than any of my exes did the entire time we dated.

If circumstances were different…maybe we could’ve had some fun together.

Wistfulness flows through my heart, making me feel reluctant and sad, which is so not me to feel over a guy. It’s just…

I sigh softly. He just made an impression.

Finally, I blow him a goodbye kiss…and leave.

* * *

Edgar

My phone rings and I open my eyes. After a few moments, I slowly roll my legs off the bed and sit up. My head feels like it’s full of soggy cotton, and I gently knead my temples. It feels like I had less than four hours’ sleep, and now I’ve got a mild headache to show for it. But a cup of strong coffee will cure that.

My jacket is on the floor in a heap. I dig my phone out and answer it. “Yes?”

“Hey, you coming down for breakfast?” Tony says.

“Uh. What time is it?”

“Nine,” he says. “I thought you might be tired from the trip, old man, but Ivy and Yuna have requested your presence.”

“Yuna’s here, too?”

“Yup. She spent the night.”

Makes sense. Yuna’s tight with Ivy. “I’ll be down there with…” I look back at the bed and note it’s empty. I place a hand on Jo’s side and feel none of her warmth, just the cool sheets. Disappointment mixes with mild resentment. “I need to shower, but I’ll be down soon.”

“Okay. I’ll tell the chef to make extra for you. French toast good?”

“Yeah.” I hang up and search around in the sheets, under the pillows and on the other nightstand, looking for a note. Nothing. Not even an It was fun, bye!

However, I do find her shoes. One heel is sticking out from under the bed and behind a pillow that got knocked off sometime during the night. She must’ve been a hurry to leave. Does she think I turn into an ogre during the day? I’m always the same Edgar: responsible, dependable and controlled. Surely, that’s a cause for at least some attraction.

Annoyance starts to simmer. I can’t quite decide yet if I’m upset with her or myself. The emotion doesn’t sit right, but I do my best to put a lid on my feelings and get into the shower. The hot spray hits me instantly, and I run through a quick full-body scrub. I don’t bother to shave.

I wish Jo were here to join me for the brunch. She didn’t have to sneak out like she did something wrong. We’re both consenting adults. I made sure to protect both of us, and all those empty condom packets are proof.

At the same time, I accept that I’m being perverse. Normally I don’t care for women lingering afterward, wanting me to make promises or lavish them with affection and undying devotion. So I should be relieved that Jo left on her own.

But what I should feel and what I am feeling are two very different things. There’s nothing I can do about it, except be irritated.

I put on a button-down shirt and pair of dark slacks I keep at Tony’s place and make my way down the stairs toward the airy breakfast room. One wall is made of solid glass that shows the impeccably maintained garden. Sunlight is pouring in, and the round table has a couple of pitchers—one with grapefruit juice and the other with mineral water. I also note a silver thermos pot, which hopefully contains coffee.

But before I walk in, I stop and study everyone. Tony’s in a T-shirt and shorts, while Ivy’s in a loose dress, her strawberry-blonde hair pulled up into a topknot. He hands her the juice. Yuna’s dressed like… Well. Yuna. Some fancy designer dress, a wide-brimmed hat and double chains of platinum around her neck.

So what does that say about them…? Tony appears casual, even though he’s really not. Ivy’s…obviously pregnant. Yuna is… She looks like she’s rich and enjoys designer items.

Okay, never mind. This is pointless. And why am I trying to do what Jo does, anyway? So I can tell her the next time I see her? Is there even going to be a next time, given how our night ended?

I school my face to appear calm and in control. After all, I’m supposed to be constant. “Good morning,” I say, and