Victoria The Billionaires Maid

Ally’s [POV] I ignored him and popped my pickle into my mouth.

“Laurie’s birthday is next Saturday,” he said after a few moments of charged silence had passed between us. Oliver and their father were laughing quietly in the next booth, and Seth was eye-fucking me with enough force to have my clit pounding. It was kind of impressive if I didn’t want him to stop.

Right now. This instant.

Okay, maybe tomorrow.

“She’s going to be four,” he added as if I didn’t have the date circled and red-starred in my planner. “I want to have a big party. Will you help?”

“You want to have a big party in a little over a week. Have you planned any of it yet? Figured out a guest list, sending invitations?”

He bit the tip of his thumb and shook his head. “No, not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“I haven’t planned it at all yet.”

I sighed, the joy from my orgasmic burger already fading. “People need more notice than a week. It’s almost summer. Little kids have activities and family stuff going on.”

“I know, and I should have done it forever ago, but I got busy at work. Laurie’s counting on it.” His dark eyes silently pleaded with me.

I pointed. “That look is getting you nowhere.”

His lips curved and he mouthed, “Already did.”

I pried off the last pickle round on my plate just for the pleasure of tossing it at his smug, laughing face. “I don’t have my planner with me here, but we need to figure some stuff out.”

“So I’ll come over tonight.” The way he tucked his tongue in the corner of his mouth didn’t make me think he had party planning in mind.

More like he was envisioning how many spots in my loft he could desecrate.

“Your child,” I reminded him.

“So you can come over,” he said.

“I have work early.”

“So come over tomorrow.” He leaned forward and skimmed his fingers over the back of my hand. “Come every day.”

“Incorrigible, and no. We can do this via Skype.”

He did that tongue in the corner of his mouth thing again. “I can work with Skype.”

I reached for my purse and pulled out the pen and small notepad tucked in my wallet. He had to spring this on me the one day I didn’t bring my planner.

Before I could begin my list of what we needed to accomplish, he grabbed the pad and my stubby pen. He scribbled something and turned the pad my way.

Why do you have a condom in your purse?

I glared at him and wrote a quick reply.

You went through my purse, you bastard?

He took back the pad.

You ditched me again, your fault I had to look for clues.

I snatched the notepad.

I just needed time to myself. To process.

He eyed me suspiciously.

Girl thing?

I nodded. It was a little insulting, but hell, lesser of two evils. Then I returned to an earlier point of contention.

You were looking for clues that include condoms?

He snatched it back.

Condoms? Is there more than one?

Despite myself, I laughed. He was so ridiculous sometimes. I took the notepad and wrote what I felt was a reasonable reply.

No. Just the one.

I’d gotten free at a bar some time ago, but whatever.

I thought it was good to be prepared. Wasn’t sure if you’d want to go for the gold yet. Thought you might want to practice first.

The look he gave me after reading my words sent a jolt of pure arousal through me. Especially since he didn’t look away as he wrote out his response.

Oh, I want to practice. Over and over. But every time I want to be dripping out of you like I was this afternoon.

I clutched the pen and breathed. Honestly, that was all I was capable of for about thirty seconds.

You’re saying that stuff with your dad and brother two feet away? Don’t you have any shame?

I nudged the pad at him and he grabbed it up fast enough that he tore the edge of the page.

Oh yeah, I do. Notice I haven’t thrown you on this table yet and fucked you right here? Trust me, that’s a feat.

He started to push the notepad back then took it again before I could.

You keep licking your lips and looking at me and looking away, and I know what all those signs mean. You want it too. Want me?

I read his words and debated a comeback. They were what we exchanged. Always, over everything. Rarely serious, always messing around and antagonizing each other. That was our way.

Telling the truth was so much harder.

Duh.

Okay, I didn’t say it was a reveal worthy of Dr. Phil, just that it resembled honesty. Hesitantly, I slid the pad back to him.

He laughed. Just sat there laughing at me, or with me-hell, maybe at us-and I laughed too because he wasn’t the only one who was ridiculous. We both were.

For a moment, he just stroked the pen. That shouldn’t have been sensual, but somehow it was. When he started to write, I inched forward on my seat, too eager to see his message to wait until he passed it back.

Skype tonight?

I nodded and he wrote more.

Naked Skype?

I shook my head, smiling faintly.

Maybe a still or two?NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

I bit my lip, pretending to think it over.

For sustenance during toddler party planning.

“Maybe,” I mouthed, knowing I’d probably send him any naughty pictures he wanted. Even if I blushed the whole time.

This was Seth. I didn’t have to worry he’d upload the pictures on the internet or do anything sketchy with them. We could have the world’s biggest fight and never speak to each other again and I’d never have to worry about that. He was a decent, honorable guy.

So why I had been so sure he just wanted me for my eggs? It was as if I’d read that stupid contract and forgotten everything that had come before.

But God, I couldn’t forget what had come since.

He smiled and scribbled a single word on the pad before nudging it back.

Tonight.

He kissed his fingertip and pressed it to the back of my hand before sliding out of the booth. The gesture was so sweet, I sat there dazed while he said goodbye to his family and loped out of the diner, every one of his long-legged strides doing something funny to my belly.

Oliver got up to go to the bathroom and I tucked away my notepad. Might as well wait to take notes when I spoke to Seth. I grabbed my book and was about to take off when Mr. Hamilton turned in the booth to smile at me. But it was the expression of a shark who scented blood.

Mine.

“It’s never going to happen, you know.” He stretched his arm along the back of the booth. “You’ve played a long game, but he’ll never settle down with you.”

My spine locked and I gripped my well-loved book until the pages crinkled. “I think you have me confused with your son’s ex-wife. I don’t play games.”

Except wasn’t that exactly what I was doing? Pretending I wasn’t in love with Seth. That I could have a baby with him and we’d still be friends and everything would be hunky-dory.

Having a baby together was a life changer. A friendship changer. What would our new reality look like on the other side?

“No? I bet Laurie’s mother would have something to say about that.”

Not Seth’s ex-wife. Laurie’s mother. Another reality I didn’t like to face. That little girl didn’t just belong to him. She had a mother out there, and whether or not she’d been paid to split-and had accepted that payment-she could come back anytime. Rules were made to be broken. Contracts made to be ripped up.

Bonds to be rebuilt.

“Laurie’s mother’s feelings have nothing to do with me. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“No? She knew you would always be between her and her husband and she grew tired of second place.” Mr. Hamilton shifted back to face forward, adding over his shoulder, “Laurie not having her mother around is on you.”

Oliver approached the table as I stared at the back of his father’s head. Seth’s twin hadn’t returned to his table, he’d come to mine.

“Hey Al, you know next time you don’t have to whisper” Oliver stopped and frowned. “Are you all right? You’re shaking.”

“Fine. I’m fine.” I grabbed my purse and started to slide out of the booth, but he halted my movement with a hand on my arm. “Don’t touch me,” I snapped.

He immediately drew back. “Okay. I won’t touch you. Do you need a ride somewhere?”

“Oliver,” Mr. Hamilton barked, but his son didn’t pay him any mind.

“I’m fine. Really. I just need some air. I think I’m getting the flu or something.” I attempted to get out of the booth and this time, Oliver let me pass.

My mistake was glancing up into his dark eyes, so familiar and so foreign at the same time. They matched Seth’s in color and shape, though not in feeling. Not in humor or mischief.

No one was like Seth. And maybe that did make me a game player because I’d been lying all this time. To myself most of all.

Now I wasn’t the only one without a mother. Laurie was too. I wasn’t dumb enough to completely believe what Mr. Hamilton had said, but if any part of it was true, it was too much.

Swallowing hard, I sidestepped Oliver and hurried out of the diner.