Page 25 of The Billionaire's Secret Kiss

"What a load of bullshit," I spat out. "We’re not bidding for the same jobs. He works in social media development. Nothing he does is in any way related to Endicott Tech. Has he called you before?"

"Not recently," she said. "He called me once right after he sued you, but I hung up on him. It was really weird, Noah. He was acting like we were good friends, telling me he was worried about me, worried that you were going to bother me while you were here, but then he knew where I worked and started asking me questions about you and Vance. Creepy."

"I don't like this," I said. "You know he had a crush on you in college, right?"

"Philip Martin? What? I didn't even know him that well."

"We got in a fight about you once when I overheard him making comments I didn't appreciate. And after we broke up, he used to throw you in my face all the time whenever we ran into each other—which was too often because of that stupid fucking lawsuit. He must've heard a rumor that we were close to hitting the market with our new software. But how the hell did he know I was here?"

"Could someone on your team be talking? Even if it's not on purpose. You know how everyone knows each other. Maybe someone said something to a friend and the friend works with Martin. He said he's had eyes on you," Ella said.

"That could mean anything," I said. “He makes good money. He could've hired someone to watch me. I know that sounds crazy, but this is Philip Martin we’re talking about. He tried to sink my company just because he thought he could. I wouldn't put it past him to do something crazy, but he's got shit timing, as always."

"Is there anything I can do to help?” Ella asked, her gaze open and sincere. I wanted to say,Yeah, you can ask your boss to give me the money I need, or at least put in a good word for me.

I didn't do it. I didn't want Ella mixed up in my business, especially not with Philip Martin calling her. If Martin was involved, I didn't want Ella anywhere near this mess.

"Yes," I said. "You can say you’ll have dinner with me tonight. I was serious when I said I want to figure this out, Ella. I know it's complicated. We're on different sides of the country. You have to finish school. My company sucks up a lot of time, and I know that's not ideal. If we don't get this product to market soon, we’re going to be scrambling. And if we do get it to market, we’re going to be busting our asses to keep up with demand. Either way, the next year or so is going to be stressful and crazy. That's part of why I kept putting off coming back here. I want to be able to tell you that I can put you first. And in my heart, Ella, you'll always be first. But there are going to be times when the company gets in the way. I didn't handle that very well before. I know I can do better now."

"I'll have dinner with you," she said quietly. "I'll have dinner with you, and we can talk."

“I’ll pick you up here at seven?" I asked, feeling like I'd won the lottery despite the cluster fuck that had hit this morning.

"Seven," Ella agreed.

My phone beeped an alert. A text from Vance Winters. Shit.

Caught Twitter this morning. This doesn't look good, Noah. Call me.

Even Vance's ominous text couldn't dull my mood.

Putting him out of my mind temporarily, I said, “Do you need to get your car? I have to get moving, but if you get dressed, I'll drop you off."

Ella's smile, sweet and hopeful, was enough to set me up for the rest of the day.

I dropped her off at her car with the promise to see her later and headed back to the Four Seasons to change clothes and get to work. Between Endicott Tech, fucking Philip Martin, a call with Vance Winters, and the plans I had for Ella, I had a lot to do, and not a lot of time.

I knew how to crush a deadline.

Flipping open my laptop, I ordered up breakfast and got to work.

Chapter Eight

Ella

Ifloated through my day, trying to pretend to myself that I wasn't daydreaming about Noah. The night before had been . . . I have no words.

Familiar and yet new.

Back when Noah and I first started having sex, we'd been kids. Over the legal age, but not adults. Not really. What we’d lacked in knowledge, we'd made up for in enthusiasm.

I'd never been disappointed in Noah—not when we were in bed. Still, as good as it had been back then, now, sex with Noah was a whole different ballgame. I felt bad that the phone call had interrupted us that morning. I'd been treated to a spectacular orgasm thanks to Noah’s very talented mouth, and he'd been left with nothing.

I had plans to make it up to him.

He hadn't told me anything about where we were going, so I had no idea what to wear. I'd texted him that afternoon to ask, and his answer had been less than helpful.

There is no dress code. Wear whatever you want.