Page 28 of Her New Billionaire Bosshole

“I didn’t—” she protests, when I start to laugh. “Ididn’t. It so does not count if Olivia searches for you online and tells me about it.”

“And what did she tell you?”

The questions seems to sober her up a bit, and she sits a little taller in her chair, as though only now realizing she’s let her guard down. Slowly, holding my gaze, she says, “Well, she told me that you’re a bit of a playboy.”

“Really, who said that?”

“Nobody.” Sophie shrugs, looks out toward the city again. “Olivia just said there were plenty of pictures of you with… plenty of beautiful women.”

When she looks back at me, there’s no denying it — a clear, wide-eyed expression of jealousy. That she’s desperately trying to mask.

“I feel like you have more to say about that,” I venture.

She rolls her eyes, laughs. “Don’t you think it’s a bit cliché?”

“What — local man searching for the perfect woman, won’t settle for anything less than his soulmate?”

Sophie pauses with her glass halfway to her lips, shakes her head, and says, “Okay, now I see why you were able to get all those girls on your arm.”

The server’s voice breaks through the moment. “More champagne?”

Sophie and I spring apart, and I realize we’ve been leaning across the table toward one another. I nod, and the server fills our glasses happily, the bubbles rising up through the glass.

“Are you hungry?” I ask Sophie, and when she hesitates, I ask the server for a menu.

“Elliot,” Sophie warns, watching as the server hands the small menu to her. “This is not a date.”

“Who said it was?”

“Eating food makes it a date, I think.”

“Really, what rule book is that from?”

I want to ask her, more specifically, why this can’t be a date, but I keep that to myself. Sophie doesn’t answer — she’s too busy looking at the menu, practically drooling over the options.

“Consider it a business expense,” I say, grabbing the top of the menu and pulling it down slightly, catching her eyes. If she wants to keep this out of date territory, it’s far too late for that.But I won’t tell her if she doesn’t want to hear it. “Just a man feeding his all-star coach.”

“Okay,” she relents, putting the menu down and tucking her hair behind her ears. “But only because this flatbread looks way too good to pass up.”

CHAPTER 14

SOPHIE

I’m a liar.

I can still feel the shape of the words on my lips,Elliot, this is not a date.

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t a lie — but the sentiment behind it was untrue. Saying that made it sound like I didn’t want it to be a date, but I very, very much do.

Even after the comment about all the women he’s been with — which should have been enough of a reminder to me that this is a bad idea — I can’t ignore the fizz of excitement in my belly.

When was the last time I was on a date? When was the last time a man made me feel like this?

I know the answer without even having to search for it —never.

The food comes, smelling and tasting better than I could have imagined. Maybe it’s the champagne, or the effect of the glittering Miami skyline, or how Elliot insists that we toast with each new dish that comes to the table — the flat bread, the ceviche, even the crème brûlée. Our spoons make a littleclinkingsound when we touch them together, and Elliot holds my gaze as we each take a bite.

I make a noise, then immediately scrunch my nose. “Sorry, I hate when people do that.”