Billionaire's Baby Contract (Hawthorne Brothers 1)

I suppress a frown.

Damn it, Ethan. Could you be any more obvious about checking a woman out?

I like what I see, alright, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go down on one knee and propose or take her to my bed. Well, the latter sounds tempting, but I’m not going to do it just because my father is suggesting it. There’s no way I’m going to give him that satisfaction.

“This is Stella Quinn,” Dad introduces. “She’s worked with some big names in the past. An actor. An author. A governor.”

She has impressive credentials. Of course.

“She knows four different languages, including sign language, has a black belt in karate, and is really good with computers. Or so I’ve been told.”

Karate? With that petite body and those slender arms and legs? I guess she’s tougher than she looks.

“It’s a brown belt, actually,” Stella corrects my father as she tucks a wavy strand of cappuccino brown hair behind her ear, which has a pearl earring hanging from it. “I didn’t have time to get to black.”

“That’s fine.” My father pats her shoulder. “I bet you can still kick ass.”

She doesn’t answer.

“Anyway, I hope the two of you get along,” Dad goes on. “It may be a little rough in the beginning, but I know the two of you will mesh into a great team.”

Whoa. This is more than persistent. This is desperate. And disappointing.

“Dad?”

“Just try to be gentle with her,” Dad continues without giving me a chance to speak. “Give her time to adjust. And you, my dear, find out what Ethan likes, his kinks, his pet peeves. Accommodate his needs as much as you can, anticipate his moods, his moves. Endure when things get uncomfortable.”

“Dad!” I raise my voice.

This is too much. He’s treating me like a five-year-old kid. No. Worse, actually. I feel like I’m being pimped out by my own father. It’s embarrassing as hell.

“But know when to speak up,” he goes on, his attention completely on Stella. “You can’t let him get away with everything. Sometimes, you have to take the driver’s seat, too.”

“Dad, I’m not having sex with her, okay?” I blurt out.

Finally, he stops talking. He turns his head to look at me as if I’ve just said something absurd – and I realize I have, so I quickly look around. Thankfully, no one seems to have been listening in on our conversation.

Stella, obviously, has heard every word. Her cheeks are so red that they’re nearly the same shade as her lipstick and she’s looking at me with wide eyes. Then her gaze drops to the cement as her fingers fidget with the hems of her sleeves.

Shit. I’ve humiliated her, haven’t I? And hurt her, probably.

“I hope not,” my father breaks the awkward silence hanging in the air.

I look at him with furrowed eyebrows. What did he just say?

“Otherwise, the two of you might not be able to work together,” he adds.

Work together? What nonsense is my old man spouting this time?

He squeezes Stella’s shoulder. “Stella here is going to be your executive assistant. You know, she’s going to be managing your schedule, setting up your meetings, screening your calls, preparing your documents, planning your trips, getting your suits dry cleaned, all those things that Roseanne used to do for me.”

My eyebrows arch. “Why, what happened to Roseanne?”

“She asked me if she could retire when I stepped down, and I thought it was only right. I was going to suggest it to her, actually. She was my assistant for so many years. Now, Stella will be yours. Sounds good?”

I feel like slapping my forehead. Now that everything makes sense, I feel even more embarrassed. Instead, I straighten my shoulders as I turn to Stella with a smile.

“Perfect,” I tell her. “And I hope you’ll forgive me for the misunderstanding earlier.”

Stella shakes her head. “No worries, sir.”

“I look forward to working with you. I’m sure we can make a great team and learn a lot from each other.”

She smiles back. “Thank you.”

It’s a hesitant yet warm smile that brings out more of the golden flecks in her eyes. It lights up her entire face.

Fuck. Now that I know I can’t sleep with her, I feel like doing it even more, even if it’s just to see how her eyes look when glossed over with lust, just to see what kind of smile she can show me when we’re done.

“Well, I’ll leave her in your hands.” My father pats my back before walking away.

I notice Stella’s eyes following his back like she’s wishing he hadn’t left us alone. Again, she fidgets with her sleeve.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask her.

Maybe a drink will help her loosen up.

“No, thank you,” Stella answers. “I still have work to do after this.”

“What work?” I ask curiously.

“Stuff to read. Files to organize. I also have to unpack my stuff. I’ve just moved in from Seattle.”