FAKE DATING WITH BENEFITS MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS (Ophelia Corrigan) novel Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

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– SIMON

The elevator climbed slowly, and I was dying inside.

Jamie was beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her body through the pink suit she was wearing. Her dark hair was pulled up in a perfect bun, and I spent most of the time imagining what it would look like down. She smelled like flowers and something sweet, and all I could think about was how I’d spent the last few hours counting down the minutes until I could fuck her again.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. The elegant bun left her neck exposed, and I couldn’t stop staring at the line of her jaw, the way she bit her lower lip in that way I already knew meant she was nervous. Or thinking. Or maybe both.

The elevator stopped at the penthouse floor, and the doors opened. I stepped out first, holding the door for her, and we walked into the living room.

“So…” she started, hesitant. “I didn’t bring gym clothes. Hope you don’t mind me coming to your gym like

this.”

“Forget the gym,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “Tonight’s about cardio.”

I moved toward her like an animal, pulling my tie off in one sharp motion. My lips found hers before she could protest, and the kiss was anything but gentle. Urgent. Desperate. Tongue, teeth, pure hunger.

She stepped back, and I followed, kissing her without stopping, until her knees buckled and she dropped onto the sofa. I climbed over her, my hands finding her thighs, pushing her skirt up and spreading her legs, my body pressing hers into the cushions.

By then, I’d completely forgotten about the bedroom. I was going to fuck her right there, on that sofa, without waiting another second.

Until the elevator doors opened.

Fuck. Who the hell would show up at this hour? If it was Stephen, I was going to send him to hell and close the elevator doors with his forehead.

I lifted my head slowly, looking over the back of the sofa.

My father was in his wheelchair, being pushed by Susan, his caretaker. They were both staring at us with expressions that ranged from shock to barely concealed amusement.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” my father said, his voice dripping with irony.

I stood up quickly, pulling Jamie with me. She was red-faced, her hair a mess, the bun now lopsided.

“Dad,” I managed, my voice still rough. “This is Jamie Collins. My… chief counsel at Hart & Co.”

My father extended his hand, and Jamie shook it with a smile that seemed genuine despite the awkwardness.

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11:42 Fri, Sep 25

FAKE DATING WITH BENEFITS: MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hart.”

“The pleasure’s mine. And please, call me William. ‘Mr. Hart’ makes me feel a hundred years old.”

She smiled.

“William, then.”

My father laughed, a warm sound that filled the apartment.

“You know what?” He looked at me. “Son, have you offered this young lady dinner yet?”

“I was going to order from a restaurant,” I said, still trying to regain my composure.

My father shook his head, feigning disappointment.

“No, no. That’s no way to treat a guest.” He turned to Jamie. “My dear, do you like lasagna?”

“I love it,” Jamie said, and I saw the sparkle in her eyes.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll cook. Susan, can you take me to the kitchen?”

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Susan, the fifty-year-old woman who was his caretaker and best friend, nodded and started pushing my father’s wheelchair toward the kitchen.

Dinner was… surprisingly pleasant.

My father cooked like he always had-with love, patience, and that care inherited from our Italian family, where feeding someone was practically a way of saying I love you. The lasagna was perfect, and Jamie ate two servings, complimenting every bite.

“You’re a wonderful cook, Mr. Hart,” she said, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Your son clearly didn’t inherit any culinary talent.”

My father laughed. “He inherited the palate, at least. When he was little, he’d eat anything I put in front of him. Except broccoli. Always hated broccoli.”

“What kid likes broccoli?” I defended myself.

But Jamie was already laughing.

The conversation flowed naturally. My father told, for the thousandth time, the story of when I was ten and ran away from home on my tricycle, ended up at a street fair, and within an hour had made friends with half the vendors. When he finally found me, I was standing next to a fruit stand, trying to convince a man that my tricycle was worth twenty dollars and that it was an excellent deal.

Jamie laughed, and I watched her, noticing how her eyes lit up when she laughed for real. How she leaned in when my father spoke. How comfortable she looked there, at that table, with people she’d never met before.

“You know,” my father said, as if it were nothing, “I like Jamie. I hope you two can make things serious. My dream of being a grandfather is getting further and further away.”

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11:43 Fri, Sep 25

FAKE DATING WITH BENEFITS: MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS

I cleared my throat, changing the subject quickly.

“Dad, are you staying here tonight?”

My father looked at Jamie, a conspiratorial smile on his lips.

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