Wicked Billionaire - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,30

a week, so I know my arms are great. Revealing them little by little, I watch closely for a reaction.

And there it is… her eyes drift down as I do the right sleeve, then the left, which I fold over my Bvlgari watch. Typically, the watch alone would catch a woman’s eye as it cost six grand. It’s definitely not the most expensive in my collection, though. I have a Patek Philippe worth over eleven million, which I only bring out on special occasions.

Not that it would impress Bailey. I realized early on that she’s decidedly unmoved by name brands.

No, I’m hoping it’s the muscles in my forearms and the way they were braced on either side of her body last week while we fucked that will make an impression.

She observes me as I finish, seeming to have no clue she’s even fixated. It’s only after I put my arms down and her attention snaps back to my face that she realizes I’ve caught her watching me.

It gives me satisfaction to know she’s still affected. Pathetic, maybe, but oh well.

At this point, I realize I’m torturing myself since I won’t do anything with this knowledge. Not like I’m going to make a move on her or suggest we return to The Wicked Horse. I refuse to cross that line again.

“The spreadsheet?” Bailey prompts. I wince, feeling like a dolt for having drifted off into my own internal quandary.

What in the hell am I doing? Torturing myself and probably Bailey at the same time. Feeling a sense of accomplishment and validation by proving she still wants me, but to no useful purpose since nothing can be done about it. It’s the most exceptional exercise in futility possible, and I’m an idiot for engaging in it.

Moving on from her is my only course of action. The best way to do that is by replacing memories of her with someone else.

Resolved, I decide to hit The Wicked Horse tonight. I’ll fuck until I can’t fuck anymore.

“Actually…” I say dismissively. “I’ll just email the spreadsheet to you. It’s self-explanatory. Try to change it to fit our department reports. If you need any help with the intricacies of the formulas, you can see Mr. Pierson’s secretary, Gayle. She’s a whiz at it.”

“Yes, Mr. Blackwood,” she murmurs. After a slight dip of her head, she starts to back out of my office.

I have to physically restrain myself from watching her go. I’d most likely have failed at such an endeavor since she has an amazing ass, but I’m saved by my phone ringing.

The ring tone is my buddy August Greenfield’s, whom I haven’t seen in a while. I nab my phone from the desk, then make sure Bailey is out of earshot when I answer with a hopeful invitation. “Wicked Horse Vegas tonight. Meet me at eleven. You, me, and a woman with loose morals. You in?”

“Actually, I’m way out,” August replies. Weirdly… I find myself a bit relieved. “In fact, I hoped I could see you for a drink. I’m actually close to your resort now. Got a few minutes to spare?”

Ordinarily, I’d say “no.” August is a friend, but no closer or distant than my other casual friends. We’ve shared some great times at The Wicked Horse, most recently with his girlfriend, who’d come back into his life. August was my go-to guy when I was in the mood for a threesome.

But no one gets an audience with me during my workday without pre-approval and planning. My time is precious, and I guard it fiercely. Admittedly, Bailey has become very adept at defending it for me. Had she answered this call, she would have flat-out refused him, then offered to book him next week.

Yet, I don’t say no. When I glance at my watch, I realize it’s almost five, which means someone is having a drink somewhere. August has a lot going on in his world—an old flame newly out of witness protection with potential bad guys after her and a kid sick with cancer. Only because of that, I decide to spare him a few moments.

“Yeah, man,” I reply. “Just head over to Farina’s bar. I’ll meet you there.”

When I hang up the phone, I glance out my door. Bailey is back at her desk, head bent over her work. If I don’t have any evening requirements for her, she usually stays until at least six. I have no clue where she goes or what she does after that. Hell, I don’t even