Free Yes, Mr. Van Der Wells (Not Another Billionaire Romance) by S. Ann Cole Page A

middle-aged man with a receding hairline rushing towards us, waving a manila envelope.
    “Not now, Richard,” Sexy Demon grits out.
    The elevator doors slide open just then, and I wait for him to take the lead, but he doesn’t. He is, instead, looking down at me with a strange expression. One of…expectation? Like he’s waiting for something from me. What? Is there something he told me to bring with me that I forgot about? Maybe he had. Unfortunately, whatever it is, I can’t go back to get it. Although I’m certain every important piece of document I have is packed in my bag. So, feigning ignorance, I step into the elevator.
    With a slight frown, he watches me for a moment longer before stepping in with me. A swipe of his keycard, and the doors begins to close.
    I return to our interrupted conversation, “You were saying you were on your way to…?”
    Relieving me of my handbag, he stares disturbingly hard at the safety pin holding the strap. “Find you.” That stare is then transferred to me. “Like I said would.”
    “You weren’t leaving with that woman?”
    “I just told you I was on my way to come find you.”
    “With the woman?”
    He releases an audible sigh, offering no more words.
    What he said and what I saw don’t coincide. But hey, what do I care if he’d been heading off to bang the redhead? I’m just glad the job is still mine.
    I’m about to ask him his name, finally, when I remember the man in the lobby calling him Van Der Wells. A surname I’m familiar with.
    Remember that third crush I mentioned earlier, the chubby one? Well, he was a Van Der Wells. A billionaire. From an insanely wealthy and influential family.
    “Hey,” I break the silence, “are you by any chance related to Nate Van Der Wells?”
    With both hands, he clutches the straps of my bag, letting it dangle in front of him. Seconds cruise by before he answers, “As a matter of fact, I am.”
    I laugh as I pry, “What’s with the long, dramatic pause? You two don’t get along?”
    He makes a disgruntled sound in his throat. “As far as I’m concerned, Nate no longer exists.”
    ‘ Drama Queen, much ?’ Rational Lotty snorts.
    “Pity,” I mumble, shrugging. “I was hoping you could tell him howdy for me. I knew the family growing up. Yes, yes, I was an Upper East Sider like you once upon a time. But shit happens. How about his mother, Gloriel? You on the outs with her, too?”
    “If you knew Gloriel, then you’d know no one can be ‘on the outs’ with her. She’s a nettlesome pain in the ass.”
    “Yep, that’s Gloriel.” I grin fondly at this, remembering Nate’s insistent mother. And then Nate. “Don’t tell Nate I told you this—well, of course, you won’t. You hate him. Though I can’t understand why because Nate’s one of the realest people I’ve ever known—but when I was young, I had a monumental crush on him. I’d stalk him in the mornings like a creeper. Tried to bait him into noticing me, but he wouldn’t bite. Jesus, thinking back, I was an errant, perpetually horny little teen.”
    “You’re still a teen,” he points out.
    “Thanks for the reminder.” 
    “And Nate was married.”
    “I said crush, not affair.”
    “Not to mention repulsively fat.”
    “Repulsive to you , maybe,” I defend, put off by his meanness. “And is it a sin to be attracted to a man who doesn’t look just like every other guy in the city? Also, as far as I can remember, he was married to Sienna Sullivan. Sienna Sullivan who was dubbed the sexiest vixen in the city. Obviously, she had good taste in men.”
    “Sure. That’s why she cheated on him,” he mutters, laying on the sarcasm.
    Ping! goes the elevator doors, and I turn to glare at him. He’s studying me hard, and try as I might, I can’t decipher the emotion behind those eyes.
    “Is that why you hate him much? Because he’s ‘repulsively fat’ yet still managed to score Sienna Sullivan? What, was Sienna your dream girl? Didn’t think