Marrying My Billionaire Boss - Page 33

“An orgy! Nate proposed a drunken orgy!” I wave my arms around in frustration and outrage even though Kim can’t see me.

“Thankfully, Barron won’t ask about that. Not even he wants to know about his grand-nephew’s sex habits.”

“Oh, stop. I’m going to throw up.”

“You don’t have to have sex, Evie. Although you could take one for the team if you feel up for it.”

Yes, Evie. Take one for the team. All indications are that Nate can give you a great orgasm or twenty. Just look how the man’s built.

Stop agreeing with Kim. “There’ll be no sex, drunken or otherwise. And no more dating. This is the first, last and only time I’m doing this. Ever.”

“Uh-huh. Look, I have a meeting, so I gotta go. Just relax and enjoy the trip. Nate is a gentleman boss with a bangin’ body. Things could be worse.”

Kim turns out to be right about that. It could be worse. And I realize that from every angle when I’m on Nate’s jet.

Holy cow. I can see why Nate proposed flying o

n it to start the date off, even if he does plan to end it with an orgy. The thing is luxury defined. It has a bedroom with a real bed with a mattress—not chairs that morph into lie-flat “beds”—a shower with a dressing room and a lounge complete with a fully stocked bar. There’s a library and a swanky office where you can work. There are vases with fresh flowers, secured for takeoff and landing.

The food isn’t just edible, but amazing. For the short flight to Vegas, we’re served champagne, pâté and caviar with freshly cut fruit, including some odd things I’ve never seen before called mangosteen. The white, juicy flesh inside the deep purple rind tastes like nothing like I’ve ever had. Nate casually mentions it costs about five bucks a bite, which promptly makes me choke.

When he just chuckles, I decide he must’ve been messing with me. Who the hell pays five dollars a bite, anyway? Mangosteens taste amazing, but not “five dollars a bite” amazing.

My unhelpful tongue disagrees.

Once the snack service is over, Nate goes over some reports on his laptop while tapping his temple the entire time. The cabin attendant tries to ply him with alcohol, but I stop her, since alcohol is supposed to hit you faster at high altitudes.

Since I don’t have anything to do, not even a meeting to rearrange before the weekend, I fiddle with my phone, then read Kim’s text again.

There’s absolutely nothing to be done about it. If there were, I would’ve told you. It’s only one night. Think about the 3x bonus, hazard pay, plus overtime. Besides, people like Nate travel in style. You’ll be pampered and spoiled. Trust me.

It’s true that the extra pay is something I can really use. People who say money doesn’t buy you happiness have obviously never been poor. Or else they have a rich relative or friend to bail them out.

Mom already spent money she shouldn’t have to because she knew I had to leave Dillington after the disaster with Chad. I can pay her back by being successful, and part of that is being financially secure.

The pilot announces we’ll be landing in ten minutes. I breathe out hard. I’m not ready for Vegas, even if the drunken orgy is off the agenda.

Shoulda had the Brazilian, cuz you never knooow…

Shut up. Nothing’s going to happen that will require ripping out all my hair down there.

Nate puts his laptop away.

“We shouldn’t have cut the working day so short,” I say. “We could’ve left at, like, midnight.”

“But then there wouldn’t have been enough time for the orgy, and the assholes would win their bet.” He smiles his thanks at the cabin attendant as she takes away his empty glass.

The woman doesn’t bat an eye, like discussing orgies is what people like Nate do on their jets all the time. I wouldn’t know, since I’ve never ridden on one until now. Nate never asked me to travel with him, and I never volunteered, since traveling means hotels, and hotels mean…

It’s best I don’t let my mind wander too far. Besides, I have more urgent matters to consider.

“Can we not talk about that?” I hiss under my breath. “Besides, how many hours do you need to do one anyway?”

“Oh, at least twelve hours.” His tone is grave—like we’re on the topic of the annual budget for the Sterling Medical Center.

I put my hands over my ears. I don’t even know why I’m trying. It’s probably because even though he’s obscenely rich, he acts like an everyday Joe from time to time. Fools me into thinking he’s normal.

But he isn’t. Not even close.

Tags: Nadia Lee Billionaire Romance
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