Pregnant By The CEO by Cassandra Dee
5
Casey
With a casual sigh, Pierce takes a smug sip from that obnoxious little miniature coffee. But somehow, the tiny cup just makes Pierce look bigger and even more dominating. Oh god, what have I gotten myself into? Because twenty thousand dollars is a lot, and I know what I’d do with that bracelet. I certainly wouldn’t give it back. I’d keep it in my jewelry box and take it out occasionally, savoring the sparkling diamonds. Maybe I wouldn’t wear it right away, keeping it as my special treasure, but I definitely wouldn’t give it back.
Still, the alpha male doesn’t have to know.
“It seems that money is the only thing you care about,” is my airy reply. “You seem to be missing every point, and I’ve had enough. Goodbye, Mister Lane. Enjoy your lonely life surrounded by fancy things.”
I know it's petty, but I can't resist giving him a deep, sarcasm-steeped curtsy after getting up from the small table. I tilt my chin haughtily, and then spin around, hair flying before waltzing out of the cafe.
On the street, my body is ablaze. Did that really just happen? I’ve never told a person off like that, especially not face-to-face, and definitely not someone who’s a billionaire. I’m opinionated, sure, but I tend to like and trust most people.
Not that I don’t trust Pierce. Actually, despite everything, I feel strangely safe and comfortable around him. How did that happen? One moment we were snarling like dogs at one another, and the next, I was safe as a rose in a bud vase? Where is this coming from?
My mind travels back to our sordid cafe meeting. Was the sarcastic curtsy really necessary? I mean, I’m impressed that I had the guts to go through with it, but I just feel overwrought now. Like I’ve survived two earthquakes and a hurricane, and am only just now coming back to my senses.
Honestly, even what I’d said about him in the column was far more intense than anything I’d normally say. Corner Chat generally prompts compassion from me, not name-calling and indignant anger.
Why does he get me so fired up? What hold does this man have on me?
To hell with the train. I’m walking in the hopes that it’ll calm me down. Striding down the pavement, I try to bring peace to the furious thunder of thoughts roiling in my head. But my body continues to buzz with a strange passion and anger because Pierce was so out of line, so smug and pompous. The whole time we were in that cafe, I felt myself resisting the urge to grab him and shake him by his collar. At first, I thought I wanted to smack some sense into him, but now, as the adrenaline runs out, recognition is dawning. I wanted to kiss him.
What? But it’s true. I am so strangely attracted to this man, and it’s a ridiculous feeling. I know he’s wrong for me. If nothing, he is the opposite of my ideal man, being arrogant and materialistic. He also hates me, never forget.
And yet, Pierce Lane is insanely compelling. What is it about the alpha male? It's certainly not the money, or even his achingly blue eyes. It's his confidence and sheer masculinity, and the way he carries himself as if he knows all eyes are on him.
Plus, this guy is from money. He’s Winston Lane’s son, and I’ve followed Winston Lane’s storied business career for years. The elderly man is best known for his wildly successful chain of luxury hotels and resorts, which have been around since the 1950’s.
Hmm, I wonder how old that makes Pierce. He seemed to be somewhere around his forties? Maybe late thirties? Definitely way too old for me. Because I've never been with a man more than five years my senior, but it's a scintillating thought. What would it be like? Someone with skilled, practiced hands caressing my curves. Someone who knows how to kiss, instead of the pimply, gangly guys I’ve been seeing too much of recently.
Oh god. I’m turned on. Walking with my head bowed, I try to ignore the arousal that shames me. But the thing is that in this moment, I would give anything to run my hands all over the hard body beneath that perfect suit. I’d give anything to hear Pierce’s blue eyes flash as he whispers my name. I’d sell my soul for a night with the handsome billionaire … even if he already hates my guts.