Billionaire On Fire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance) (27 page)

“You can see that?” I rolled them again
involuntarily.

“And that. I’m good with the coffee, but
thank you. Dinner should be arriving soon. I’ll get off my computer when it
does, I promise.”

“What? Dinner?”

“Yep, it’s a particular kind of meal,
usually served in the evenings, usually the last meal of the day.”

“You think you are so funny, don’t you? I
didn’t know we would be having dinner.”

“Well you do now. Tonight and every other
night until I say otherwise, you’ll be having dinner with me at the office.”

“Will I ever get to choose what I want to
eat or will you always be doing it on my behalf?” I regretted saying that
immediately. I was kind of being a bitch, but the best part about takeout is
deciding what to eat.

He looked a little wounded by that. “Well,
I will just email you Sean’s number and you can tell him what you would like
from tomorrow onwards.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Sean’s my chef. He does international
gourmet meals.”

“Oh,” I said feeling stupid. “Of course.”

Why would we be getting take-out when he
had an international gourmet chef at his fingertips? For some reason, the
notion made me feel extremely uncomfortable, and a little irrationally angry. I
hung up, looked away from Zayden and took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure why I
was so on edge. Perhaps because I had been hanging out around the office after
a long day of work to entertain him, while he pretty much ignored me for most
of the night thus far. What was he even trying to accomplish?

Okay, maybe I was a little upset because I
had wanted to talk to him, get to know him, and get help with my Econ paper.
Not sit here staring at my phone panic-texting Stacey. The truth was I wanted
us to become friends. In order to achieve my dreams of becoming a successful
loan officer, having a powerful network of contacts was essential, and it was
particularly helpful if my contacts were of the power and stature of one of the
most successful young banking entrepreneurs in the country. Part of my
reasoning behind wishing to discuss homework with him was that he could see my
potential outside of my job as a teller and hopefully serve as a valuable
reference someday. In fact, the more I thought about the contract that I had
signed, the more it seemed to be beneficial to me rather than him.

But this, whatever was going on right now,
was beneficial to nobody.

It was another half hour before a couple
of men in black-and-white uniform materialized as though out of thin air and
began setting up silver dishes on the mahogany table in Zayden’s office.
Wouldn’t that stain? Zayden Sinclair probably didn’t give a crap about stains
though. He probably owned an entire IKEA all to himself, all furniture readily
replaceable whenever he liked. Much like the women he got involved with.
Disposable, just like me. I shook my head. Instead of letting my thoughts stray
to needlessly upsetting places, what I needed to do was enjoy a nice dinner
with an influential man and try to build on my nonexistent network.

One of the men in the uniforms was now
walking towards me.

“Dinner is ready, Ma’am,’ he said with a
smile on his face.

Ma’am. I wanted to burst out laughing.
“Call me Aria, and thank you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Ma’am,” he
looked at me nervously.

Oh god. I did not have the energy or will
to argue, as it hit me just how hungry I was. Whatever rich people ate for
dinner, it had to be tasty, right? I took off my jacket and walked towards
Zayden’s office. I was wearing a blue dress with a slightly low-cut neck, and
black tights. Professional and hopefully alluring in a not misleading or sexual
kind of a way. Most of the men in uniforms were now waiting just outside the
bank’s premises, except for the guy who had come to summon me: he was holding a
bottle of champagne.

Zayden was already seated when I got
there, with a red napkin wrapped around his neck and his sleeves rolled up.

“Do you like champagne?” he asked.

“Who doesn’t like champagne,” I giggled in
a don’t-be-silly kind of a way and sat down. “I love champagne, it’s super
tasty and-”

I made the mistake of catching his eye. It
was twinkling.

“Okay, I’ve never actually had champagne
before,” I admitted. “I don’t really drink other than a few beers here and
there with pizza and T.V. I am not a particularly exciting person.”

He was beaming at me as though I had just
said I saved sick puppies for a living.

“I haven’t had the luxury of enjoying greasy
pizza and cheap beer with some good old television in quite some time.”

“Luxury? Are you mocking me?” Our waiter –
server? butler? – was pouring out two glasses of champagne, as I tied a red
napkin around my neck to match Zayden’s.

“No, not at all! Luxury is relative,” he
said looking quite disdainful. “Sometimes I wish I could enjoy the simple
pleasures of life but all this was dropped on me,” he said, extending his arms
out to his sides.

“You’re talking like you’re dead. We can
totally just hang out with some Bud Light, pepperoni pizza and Netflix at my
apartment one night if you like.” I laughed out loud at the thought of him
coming to my apartment. Yeah, that was totally going to happen. It was polite
to ask, still.

“What is that? Some kind of recording
device?”

I stared at him in utter confusion for
almost a whole minute before it hit me and I burst into a full-blown laughter.
Zayden Sinclair, CEO of the entire South National Bank empire, was asking me if
Netflix was some kind of a recording device. What planet did he live on?

“It’s,” I started out to explain but felt
another fit of giggles coming on, which I quickly turned into a cough because
he began looking somewhat offended.

“It’s this website that stores hundreds of
thousands of movies and T.V. shows, and you pay like 10 bucks a month to be
able to stream all their content online.”

He twisted his mouth in a comical fashion.
“I’m just joking Aria,” he laughed. “I’d rather just purchase all of the movies
and shows though.”

Well, he gave me a good laugh anyway.

“It would probably cost over a million
dollars to try and purchase every title that’s on Netflix though,” I said,
trying not to roll my eyes. “It’s just a cheap way to find entertainment for
regular people like me.”

“I see,” he frowned, clearly not liking
the concept and purpose of Netflix.

He was rich, so buying a Netflix
subscription wasn’t something he would understand.

I raised my champagne glass to change the
subject. “What are we drinking to?”

“To digital innovation,” he said, deadpan.

“Ha, ha,” I said, not laughing.

“Seriously though, to these next six
months,” he said, clinking his glass to mine.

I sipped the bubbly drink and it tasted
like a mixture of white wine and orange soda, something that sounds gross on
principle but my god was it delicious. I closed my eyes letting the sweet,
fizzy taste sink into my taste buds. This was why everyone made such a big deal
about champagne.

“You like it then?” Zayden asked with a
hint of satisfaction in his voice.

“It’s a step above Bud Light for sure,” I
smiled at him, and took another huge gulp.

“That’s a shame,” he said looking at the
butler. “You went through so much trouble locating the perfect bottle for no
reason, Mark. Her standards are at Bud Light—you could have picked up anything
bubbly from CVS next door and it would have served nicely.”

“Noted for next time,” Mark joked back.

There was something inherently pleasant
about the way Zayden was so relaxed and friendly with his staff. Aren’t men
like him supposed to be complete dickheads?

“To both of your disappointment, I now am
spoiled to be partial to nothing but the best,” I said sipping some more of the
goodness.

“Time for appetizers,” Mark said, removing
the lid from one of the silver containers to reveal succulent looking sushi rolls.
“Spicy tuna rolls. Sean had the fish transported from Japan only a few hours
ago. It was practically fished this morning, so I hope it’s fresh enough.”

I felt a rush of excitement flood through
my veins. Spicy tuna rolls were among my absolute favorite foods. What were the
chances?

“Nah, I am sure it can’t beat the 5 dollar
rolls from China Garden across the street that I’m used to,” I said, trying to
sound nonchalant, even though I was dying to taste one.

When I did, I could just about cry with happiness.
Perfectly soft, slightly crunchy and so, so spicy. I let out an involuntary
moan.

“Tasty?” Zayden asked, looking delighted
by my reaction. “I’ll stick to plain old California rolls. I’m the victim of
mundane taste buds.”

“Suit yourself,” I said between mouthfuls.
It made little sense, though. Why would he ask his chef to make spicy tuna
rolls if he couldn’t handle some spice? I couldn’t be too bothered about it,
however, as I was too busy putting one sushi roll after another into my mouth.
I had already gobbled up an entire portion in less than five minutes. I
probably looked like an uncivilized moron. Just one more…

I had sufficiently devoured two whole
portions, when I heard Zayden, “I will take it from here for the entrees, Mark.
Thanks for your help tonight.”

He handed him what looked like five 100
dollar bills and added, “Share it with the guys and thank them for me.”

Mark took the cash looking completely
un-phased, as though this was a daily occurrence. It probably was.

When Mark left with the remaining
appetizers, there was an awkward silence for a few minutes, and I almost wished
I had another sushi roll there just to keep myself occupied. Zayden was looking
at me straight in the eyes, not a single expression on his face. Should I say
something?

“Is that a push-up bra?”

What? The question was so random and
bizarre, I couldn’t help but snicker.

“I don’t have to answer that question,” I
said pouting.

“Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry, as his eyes
were now fixated on my breasts. “I am just a little distracted.”

His seductive ways weren’t going to stop.

“Let’s see what’s for dinner,” I tried
changing the subject and lifted off the lids of a couple of silver containers.
What the hell? The sushi could maybe just be a coincidence but there was no way
that this entire dinner accidentally constituted of my absolute favorite
dishes. The aroma of rich Indian spices filled the room and one small container
was specifically reserved for spicy peppers.

“You don’t look happy,” Zayden said,
looking concerned.

“No, no!” I widened my eyes. “I’m just…
really surprised. I adore Indian food, and spicy peppers, and spicy anything.
And you said you couldn’t even handle the sushi so how come-”

“I called your emergency contact, some Ms.
Stacey Pace this morning, asking about your dietary preference.”

“You didn’t!” I exclaimed, feeling a
mixture of amazement and slight annoyance at Stacey. She could have told me.
Whose side was she on, anyway?

“I hope you enjoy dinner,” he said,
looking extremely pleased with himself.

I enjoyed dinner, all right. Very, very
reluctantly, I enjoyed the best Indian food I had ever tasted, wanting to laugh
and cry and hug him all at once.

“Dessert?” he asked after we ate.

“I think we have exhausted my capacity to
eat for tonight,” I said, sounding more regretful about not having space for
dessert than I intended to. “Thank you though. This was truly fantastic. You
didn’t have to go above and beyond, you know.”

“It was nothing,” he shrugged. “Really. I
didn’t have to do anything.”

He was grinning. Right. He had help. Ugh.
I felt stupid. He probably did this for every girl he tried to seduce. I had
made myself sound more important than I actually was.

“I know, but I am still grateful that you
took the time to learn what I liked. You’re helping me out with this whole
contract thing a lot more than I’m doing anything for you already. Don’t feel
like you need to put in any effort at all, even if it’s only making a few phone
calls on your part. Honestly, I would have been happy just hanging out and talking,
maybe asking you for some help with an Economics paper…”

I didn’t mean to say that last part out so
casually. Shit. I didn’t dare meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry… I meant
like, if you were interested and had nothing better to do, I could entertain
you with some amateur Macroeconomics.”

When I finally looked at him, his eyes
were shining, with a tiny hint of a smile on his lips. “Macroeconomics, huh?
What is your paper on?”

“The economic benefits of progressive
taxation,” I said, my eyes planted on the silverware in front of me.

“Isn’t that a little left of center for
college economics?” He sounded genuinely interested. “When I was in college
they taught us to be a lot more conservative.”