The Billionaires: The Bosses (Lover's Triangle 2)

She laughed softly, helping to alleviate some of his tension. “I don’t expect you to fully grasp all this. But, Rory…” Her tone turned serious and the mist coated her glowing eyes again. “I don’t want to be the girl hiding in the stacks anymore. I want to be someone. I want my mother to know that she didn’t have me in vain. That there was a purpose to her putting her life on the line for mine. Whatever possessed her to have me when it put her own health in such extreme danger—it has to mean something. I can’t let her regret it or let it all be for naught.”

“Bayli.” Fuck. His heart wrenched once more. “You talked about me being an overachiever and all the pressure that brings, without taking your own damn advice. You don’t have to conquer the world by the time you’re thirty—you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Sure as hell not your mom. Because even if your face never graced the cover of a magazine or your name never became a household one, she’d still be proud of you and she’d still stand by her decision to have you. Come on … even I know that. Neanderthal chef that I am.”

She sniffled. He had to catch the tears with his thumb and sweep them away before they tumbled down her cheeks.

“Stop thinking you have to be everything to everyone, Bayli.” He stared hard into her eyes. “Just be you. Swear to God, you won’t go wrong.”

She smiled again. It wasn’t the megawatt one he’d hoped for. In fact, it was a bit shaky. But he’d take what he could get at the moment.

Bayli said, “Who would have guessed Angsty Chef could be so sensitive? Not a Neanderthal at all.”

“Angsty Chef, huh?”

“Mm.” She shrugged. “If the jacket fits…”

“Ha. Ha.” He very lightly kissed her cheek. “Remember that you promised to keep my secrets.”

“Wise on my part. Less competition for me that way.” She winked.

Rory was about to tell her there was no competition for her, but she was already collecting her things and heading to the door.

Still, he felt compelled to call after her. “Bayli…”

She glanced at him over a bare shoulder and said, “I’ll sign. And not just because I want to be famous.”

She disappeared into the hallway while Rory worked to get his dick—and his heart—under control.

THIRTEEN

Bayli took a few moments to collect herself in the servers’ station, inhaling deeply in hopes of getting her racing pulse and raging hormones under control. For as much as Rory had tripped something profound and emotional within her, he also got her hot and bothered.

And Bayli knew Christian would have the same effect on her when she saw him again.

She stepped into the bar and was greeted once more by Pierre, who escorted her to a curved booth tucked into a far corner by a fireplace. It was a seductively lit area and the shape of the booth was cozy and intimate, offering a bit of privacy.

“Monsieur Davila will be right with you. May I pour champagne?”

“Oui. Merci.”

He smiled appreciatively at her enunciation of his native language. Then he popped the cork on a bottle of private-reserve Dom Perignon that Bayli suspected cost more than her rent. He splashed a little into a glass for her to sample. As if she’d know whether it was substandard. But she sipped anyway. Decided it was time to play fake it until you make it if she was going to pull off this new venture. Both of these new ventures.

Her toes curled as she recalled what Rory had said about him and Christian still wanting her. And damn … Rory had been so amazing. Not at all mocking, not trivializing what she was going through. No, he’d just let her work through it while he helped her. Solid as oak.

She gave a nod for Pierre to pour.

The spark between her legs when she caught sight of Christian heading her way undermined her more valiant ruminations. Because her brain was suddenly overrun with thoughts of his cock in her mouth in the back of the limo. His mouth on her when they’d been in her apartment. The way he’d fucked her …

Heat crept up her neck. She couldn’t stop the blush.

Christian slid into the seat beside her, his leg brushing hers and making her flush deeper.

He leaned in and whispered, “That shade of pink on your cheeks is stunning. You were just thinking of my hands on your body, weren’t you?”

“Not just your hands,” she corrected. And sipped. The crisp champagne did nothing to douse the flames inside her, flickering brighter than those in the hearth.

He draped an arm around her shoulders and said, “You look much more relaxed than earlier. Is it the bubbly or did you and Rory work things out?”

“This is my first glass.”