Always My Babygirl: A Billionaire Romance

I stifle an inward groan. “Which one?”

He curses under his breath. “Which one? Seriously? You forgot that tonight’s the reception for your kick-off tour? Tonight at eight?”

Oh, God. The latest line of denim out of Europe, Trey Bien. That one. We booked the largest ballroom at Vegas, Baby for that. We’ve got people flying in from Paris, Rome, Nice, and Madrid. My agent arranged the details, but I know I’m supposed to be on. It will be hours and hours of posing for ‘candid’ photos and wining and dining. I look over to Miranda. How will she handle this?

“Okay. What time do I show up?”

“Your team will meet you in your suite at five to get you ready.”

Great.

I hang up the phone. She’s taking a call of her own. “Yes, of course,” she says. “Thank you for arranging that. Now, be sure that the contract details are in my inbox by nine a.m. tomorrow, please. I want to be sure we’ve got every detail covered.”

Is she talking about us? Or someone else? I wait until she hangs up the phone.

“What was that about?”

“One of our clients is taking one of our escorts on a cruise, and we want to be sure all our details are in order,” she says, her head tipped to the side curiously. “Why?” Then she nods. “Ahh. Did you think that was about us?”

I nod. “I did.”

She sits up and places her hand on my knee. “It wasn’t. That conversation will be private, and I won’t involve my assistant.”

“Good, then,” I say, taking out my phone. “I want to go over every detail of this, right now, before we head into that hotel.”

I draw up quick terms and show them to her. Her eyes widen at the payout. I’d pay more, but I don’t want Miranda for a night. I don’t want her for ten.

I want her forever.

But I know a proposal this soon after we “met” isn’t going to go over so well. So I play the game. I get the details sorted. I do what’s expected under these circumstances, because I need to play along until I somehow—some way—convince her to love me.

“That’s… that’s very generous, sir,” she whispers.

I massage the back of her neck. “Daddy,” I amend.

She flushes. “Daddy.”

“So you agree?”

“I do. I’d…” Something in her eyes tells me she’s having an internal battle—against what, I’m unsure, but when she finally finishes her thought, I know I’ve won, at least for now. “I’d agree to longer, if you’d have me.”

A zing pulses through my chest. I’m guessing “forever” would be pushing it.

“Good. Excellent. We do this for now. Two weeks. And then afterward, we’ll rearrange the terms of the contract if necessary.”

She hesitates for only a moment before she finally nods. She almost looks as if she’s the one who wants to ask for more time.

“First up, we’ve got a party tonight. I have to meet with my team beforehand.”

“A party? Your team? What kind of a team is it?”

“They’ll prepare me for tonight. You know—make this ugly old mug ready for the red carpet. It’ll be a lot of photo ops with the higher ups in the modeling agency, the owners of the jean brand I recently modeled for. A meet and greet with me in a tux, wearing you on my arm.”

Her eyes widen. “Gabriel, I had no idea that you… were such a celebrity. This sounds like a Hollywood A-list type event. You’re so... famous.”

I shrug. “Fame is overrated. Sometimes I hate it, and wish I could go back to a simpler life, but this is what I do for now.”

She nods. “I understand.” I love that she does.

Her eyes grow heated. “So I’m guessing… having little teeth marks or claw marks along your neck and… other places… might not be the best thing for tonight?”

She runs her fingers along my neckline, and I groan.

“Naughty little girl, trying to find herself over daddy’s knee?”

“What? For flirting?” But her eyes are half-lidded, her breathing hitched. She loves when I threaten to spank her.

“Trying to get me to lose my focus,” I say, reaching for her elbow and jerking her over my lap.

“Gabriel!” she protests, her hand flying back but she’s giggling when I slam my palm against her ass.

“What did I tell you about calling me that?” I spank her again, my cock jerking when she squirms over my knee.

“Oooh,” she says, wiggling over my lap. “I’m to call you daddy or sir. Yes, sir. I’ll do whatever you tell me, sir.”

I spank her again with a chuckle. “Sure you will.”

I give her three more hard, rapid spanks for good measure. I want to do more. So much more. I push her off my lap and tug her over for a kiss. I capture her face between my hands and brush my lips across hers. She sighs, as we pull up to Vegas, Baby.