My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 265

Let’s be Ufficial

-Sam –

Zane was a problem.

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Not in the way that Julian Windsor was a problem – Julian was a walking natural disaster with taped knuckles and a marriage certificate nobody knew about, and that was Katia’s problem to survive. Zane was & different category of problem. He was the kind of problem that showed up at your door at eleven PM with good wine and better conversation and then stayed until four in the morning and made you forget why having boundaries was a reasonable life choice.

We had been doing this for three months.

Three months of what I had decided-clearly, firmly, with the full authority of a woman who managed a billion-dollar company’s operations and knew how to make decisions-was just sex. Uncornplicated. Enjoyable. The kind of thing two consenting adults did when they worked in close proximity and found each other attractive and had enough self-awareness to keep it entirely out of the office.

Except Zane had apparently not received that memo.

He was sitting on the edge of my bed at seven in the morning, dressed and composed, his jacket already on, his coffee in his hand. He had that look on his face. I had learned to identify that look in the last three months – the slight tension around the jaw, the way his eyes moved to my face and stayed there instead of moving on.

That look meant he was about to say something I was not going to want to hear.

“Sam,” he said.

“Zane,” I said, pulling my robe tighter.

“I want to talk about what this is,” he said.

I picked up my own coffee.

“It is seven in the morning,” I said.

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“I know what time it is,” he said. “I also know we have been doing this for three months, and I think we should-”

“Zane,” I said.

He stopped.

I looked at him over the rim of my mug with the clear, direct gaze of a woman who had made her position on this topic extremely clear on at least two previous occasions and was about to make it clear a third time.

“We are having sex,” I said. “That is what this is. I enjoy your company, and I enjoy your dick. God knows you have a very good dick that makes me moan.” I paused and considered the words, “I enjoy your considerable contributions to my evenings.” But that is where the boundary is.”

Zane looked at me.

“Considerable contributions,” he repeated.

“It is a compliment,” I said. “Accept it gracefully.”

He set his coffee down. He had the expression of a man who had prepared for this conversation and was going to have it regardless of my attempts to redirect it.

“You know I am not just here for the evenings, Sam,” he said.

“Zane-”

“You know exactly what I am saying,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower register “Three months. You call me when something trappens with Katia and the situation is bad enough that you need someone to talk to Icall you when Julian does something that makes my head hurt, We have dinner twice a week that has nothing to do with sex You kept the book I left here instead of giving it back.” Repaused. “That is not just sex”

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

The book was a valid point, and I resented it.

“The book was good,” I said. “That is not evidence of anything.”

“Sam.”

“Zane.”

“I want to make this official,” he said simply.

I stood up and walked to the window. Not because I needed to look at anything outside-the Brooklyn morning was doing its usual grey thing, and there was nothing illuminating about it. I walked to the window because I needed thirty seconds to collect myself, and the window was the furthest point from the bed without leaving the room.

The problem – the real problem, not the one I was going to say out loud – was that Zane De Windsor was one of the very few people in this city I genuinely liked. Not in the way you liked someone because they were useful or connected or professionally relevant. Actually liked. He was sharp and he was funny and he had the quality of listening to things properly instead of just waiting for his turn to speak.

And that was exactly why this was a terrible idea.

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