Felicity makes a beeline for his room with her overnight bag, eyeing us weirdly, but he makes no attempt to follow. As she disappears his expression changes back to full blown frown mode.

“Who was it?” serious, no-nonsense boss tone.

Ughhhh!

I should have known better … He’s hard to palm off even on a good day.

God dammit, Jake.

I turn away breezily, I know he won’t let up … he’ll cancel dinner and stay here if I say nothing. There’s no point being evasive when he has that look on his face, so I resign myself to caving.

“My sperm donor.” I wave an airy hand as though I’m saying something non-important, but I can already feel the tension in my face. I’m glad I’m looking toward the open door of my room away from him and pull out my cell to cradle in the charging dock on the table beside it.

“Your father?” he sounds surprised.

You and me both.

“Yep.” I look around quickly for a distraction, so I don’t need to turn and look at him. I spot his personal tablet on the table nearby and lift it to scroll iTunes, to turn on music. It’s the best I can muster when he’s moved so close.

“You’ve never mentioned a father.” His tone is serious and gentle, body a little too close for comfort.

“I don’t have need to. There’s nothing to mention … I don’t know him.”

“So, why is he calling? It didn’t sound like nothing, Emma. You definitely didn’t sound happy.” He’s moved closer to me, invaded by his body heat emanating against my spine. So close he is touching me.

… I’ve met him once in my life and it was brief. I don’t know

have a good idea why he’s calling now, it’s no surprise. He did this once before, a brief meeting at fourteen when he thought my mother had struck gold. A simple picture in the paper about the “feed the homeless” charity she runs but he’d been disappointed to find that she was as penniless as the charity itself. Sadly sure, that she would be swathed in dollars, and able to help him out with a few hundred to tide him by. Here he is now, after I have been

He thinks I’m loaded and dating Prince

close to me that I’m tickled by his breath against my hair. I move away quickly, tense, and jumpy; I need head space

am itching to get in that power shower and let my hair down,” I flutter sweetly, moving further from him to give myself some much-needed distance, and finally

and the frown on his brow lets up as though

take your hair down?” he winks and there it is, back in full swing, that cheeky Carrero

for such suggestions,

fingers twitching at me as though making threats. I swat him away, he’s not against threats of tickle torture in

need them to leave. I hate feeling vulnerable in front

never

answer, just steps forward quickly and shoves me into my room so that I almost lose my balance and he laughs

I yell after him with a smirk. He turns and blows me a kiss and a wave before walking across the suite to his own room and I’m relieved. I fooled him well enough; they’ll go to dinner now and he probably won’t remember anything

he won’t, I don’t want to talk about this,

door quickly. Leaning back against it for a moment to steady my nerves and reel a little from shock,

think he was, calling me after

it off. I won’t succumb to tears over that scum bag, he

* * *

figure I maybe should have gone easy on the temperature gauge. My head’s swimming a little, and I’m

nightdress and robe to try and cool off, pad out into the empty room, and instantly know that I’m alone. I had been in the shower an hour and they must have left for dinner. It feels good to be able to chill out and have some alone time though. I mulled over the call enough in the shower and I’m tired of thinking about it. I’ll have to screen my calls from now on, maybe change my number. I’ll need to call my mother; I

goddamn sob story. She needs

functions. I guess he figures I’ve hit a goldmine and wants to see what he can get out of me. I push the bile down in my throat bitterly as I think about the fact that all I am to him is a meal ticket. Heart aching with the reality

a prick. A money

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