Free Fighting for My Billionaire Boss by Cynthia Sax

soft, like talking about her any louder would make her disappear.”
    Am I the only person who didn’t know how he felt? I gaze at my billionaire.
    “But that’s not the point.” Gretchen peels more polish off her nails. “Is it?”
    “What is the point?” Brick is losing patience with his ex.
    “The point is you gave me an angle—life imitating art—and I had to use it. Your Lucille was brilliant, by the way.” She smiles at me. “The way she reacted, flinging herself at me? I couldn’t have scripted it better. The nose was unfortunate.” She touches the plaster. “But it gave the scene authenticity.”
    “Thank you, I think,” I mumble, feeling foolish. She had been acting. I hadn’t been, my responses real. “How did you know I’d react that way?”
    “I didn’t.” Her shrug is graceful. “I started with a script but then had to improvise. It was a struggle to stay in character. At times, I almost forgot I was acting.”
    “But you pulled it off. You convinced me.” The woman is a crazy genius and I can’t help but be impressed. “You deserve an Oscar.”
    “From your lips to the Academy’s ears.” Gretchen flicks her gaze skyward. “I like you, Lucille. We’ll be good friends, you and I.” She reaches over and squeezes my hands. “But not just yet, not publicly. I need a strong opening weekend.”
    “There will be no more publicity stunts.” Brick’s tone communicates that this is non-negotiable.
    “More won’t be needed…for a while.” She grins. “The footage of us fighting has over five million views already. Tonight’s confrontation will increase that. The tabloids will feed on us for weeks.”
    My paparazzi-hating billionaire groans.

Chapter Seven
    Gretchen chatters happily about her upcoming movie, and the bookings her agent will secure for her, and the roles she might be considered for, oblivious to being an interloper in our evening.
    I listen, intrigued by her lifestyle and her quest for fame, a goal I don’t share. Notoriety is merely the price I have to pay to be with my billionaire.
    Brick shifts against me, pressing his thigh along mine, his impatience palpable. I grip his leg, as eager to be alone with him, to hear, taste, feel his love.
    Will he come on my chest, as he promised? I drift my fingertips over the diamond necklace he gave me, making the gemstones sparkle.
    Brick’s gaze tracks my fingers. His face darkens. He turns to Gretchen. “Where are we dropping you off?” His voice is curt.
    “Outside the front gates of your house.” Her eyes glimmer with amusement. Perhaps she’s not as oblivious to the rising sexual tension as she acts.
    My billionaire frowns. “You’ll be besieged by paparazzi.”
    “I can hope.” She laughs. “Relax. I won’t be in any danger. My publicist will be waiting for me.”
    “You plan to cause more drama.” Brick extracts his phone from his tuxedo jacket, and sends a message to his driver. “Why did I ever get mixed up with you?”
    “Because, subconsciously, you knew you needed my drama.” Gretchen is unperturbed by his grumpiness. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be hiding your feelings for Lucille.”
    She’s right. I wouldn’t have known that he wanted me, cared for me, loved me. “Take care of yourself, Gretchen.” I reach over and grip her fingers. The limo slows.
    “I always do.” She squeezes my hands. “Watch this bit of acting.”
    “Gretchen,” Brick growls.
     She opens the door before the vehicle stops, stumbles out as though she’s been pushed. “You’re a bastard, Brick.” Her words, meant for her audience, float back to us. “But you’ve won.” Lights flash, once more blinding me. “You’ve broken me.”
    The door closes. The vehicle moves.
    “Were all of your women that dramatic?” I grin at Brick, having enjoyed the show.
    “No.” He hauls me onto his lap, positioning me so I straddle him. “Gretchen is… special.”
    I sink down on him, pressing my bare pussy