Billionaire's Single Mom

I didn't realize it at the time, but I had been doomed from the moment I first laid eyes on her, looking so intoxicating in the damn bikini top with her sweet smile and blue eyes. She was laying a trap for me the entire time, luring me in with her hot body and then trapping me with her winning personality. I couldn't stay away, couldn't stop thinking about her and wanting to know more about her.

"Ethan, wake up. It's after noon," a familiar female voice was calling my name and shaking me by the shoulder vigorously. Could it be her? my groggy mind wondered hopefully, but no — the voice wasn't right.

I opened my grainy eyes and stared blearily up into the face of none other than my former assistant, Angela. She looked beautiful, with her red hair falling around her porcelain face in soft waves, like an angel come to rescue me.

"Come on, let's get you into the shower and put some food into your stomach." She dragged me out of bed, stripped me down, and shoved me under the spray of a cold shower. The blast of icy water shocked me out of my groggy hangover, and I rushed to turn the temperature up.

"You stink and you look like shit. Get cleaned up and meet me in your kitchen," Angela insisted in the same capable tone she would use when we used to work together. She had always been superb at her job. She never took any crap from me and had a way of making sure things got done with excellent precision, and this was no exception.

She handed me a bar of soap and closed the door behind her as she left. I had to admit the hot water washing away all the spilt booze, sweat, and vomit from my grimy flesh felt good, even though my head was pounding.

I put on some fresh clothes and as I got downstairs, Angela handed me a huge glass of water along with several Extra-Strength Tylenol. No sooner had I finished the pills than she handed me a steaming cup of very strong coffee along with a plate of dry of toast.

"How is it?" she asked as I tried not to choke on the thick brew.

"Good," I lied and took a huge bite of toast. God, I was starving. When was the last time I'd eaten? As I chewed, I looked at her quizzically and said, "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" she shot back me with her usual fire. "You've got a company to run. We're in the middle of a lawsuit. Shit's falling down all around us, and the CEO and owner has been missing for three days. I figured someone better come over here and fish you out whatever muck you'd slipped down into, and it looks like I'm not a moment too soon."

"Three days?" I couldn't believe it had been so long, yet the pain of Kayla leaving me still felt like it had just happened. I looked down at my chest expecting to still see blood gushing from my open wound, but there was nothing.

"So, what the hell happened? Did that girl leave you?" Angela didn't pull any punches. I had thought I had done a good job of keeping my feelings buried, or at least hidden, but she saw right through me. Was it as apparent to everyone else?

I started to deny it, but she shot me a glare and I had no choice but to tell the truth. "Yeah. Since the night of the press conference, she'd been pressuring me to commit to her, and I kept having to explain that's not who I am. She couldn't accept it, so she left."

"So you started drinking and haven't stopped since." It was an observation, not an accusation.

"I'd been missing out on a lot of parties since I was with her. I needed to make up for some lost time," I said with false bravado, but Angela didn't buy it.

"Yeah, a party of one. I hope you didn't do anything to make it hard for her to take you back."

"Why would I want to do that? I've got tons of girls falling at my feet."

"Yeah, but none of them are her." She was rubbing it in, and it was starting to piss me off.

"So what? You don't even like Kayla," I grumbled.

"No, but any girl that can steal you away from me deserves some respect. I may not like that wholesome-girl-next-door thing she's got going, but it's clear that you sure as hell do."

"What are you talking about? I like women of all types: vixens, athletes, petite, curvy. As long as she's got tits and an ass, I'm game to fuck any girl."

"Is that what I was?" Angela shot another zinger at me, and I felt the color rise in my face.

Hiding behind my coffee mug, I said, "I was with you longer than any relationship, except for when I was with Gwyneth back in college. I'm just not capable of settling down with anyone. I'm a born player."

"Yeah, but you never felt for me what you felt for her. I saw the way your eyes lit up whenever you looked at Kayla, and when you talked about her you were practically beaming. I was no match for her right from the start; you two are meant for each other."

"How can you say that? She and I have only been going out for a few months," I said, feeling defensive.

"It's obvious. I've been working with you for a long time and I've seen you with a lot of women, including myself. You've never lit up inside the way you do when you're with Kayla. She's the first girl to touch your heart and actually get inside that barrier of yours. Let down the walls. Let her in. Go for it."

"That's not me. I'm a bachelor." I couldn't stop clinging to who I used to be. It was pure stubbornness now, but I couldn't surrender.

"Then why did you drink yourself into a coma when she left you?" Angela asked pointedly, and I had no answer. She placed her hands gently over mine. "Maybe it's time you stop fighting this and admit that you love her. Give her the commitment she wants from you."

"Why the hell should I do that?" I asked. I tried to put a surly edge in my voice, but I just sounded broken and defeated.

"Because it's obvious it's what you want, too. Your playboy days are over. Now, go make things right with Kayla so you can come back to work. We miss you."