Free Filthy Rich: The Billionaire's Baby (A Bad Boy Romance) by Erin Wilder Page A

birthright.
    I wrap my fingers around the glass and lift it to my lips just as the blond reappears; she’s giggling with a friend and flicking her hair. Her eyes glance in my direction, and I grin right back. I’ve been parked on the same stool for a week trying to think of the right words.
    I’ve tried to be calm and calculated, but it’s got me nowhere.
    Fuck it.
    I’ve tried to do it my father’s way. Now I do it my way. I go to stand, but the bulge in my pants convinces me to sit back down and turn away from the bar. I’ll make my move as soon as my not-so-little friend softens.

“He’s totally checking you out,” Molly whispers as she presses her glossy lips against my ear.
    My eyes drift from the handsome stranger to my friend, colleague, and roommate all balled up in to one. Molly is short and thin and ever so cute. Wavy fresh-from-the-bottle red hair rests on her shoulders and her to-die-for figure is perfectly accentuated by her yellow polka dot vest and stonewashed denim skirt.
    Molly is awesome. We met just a couple of months ago, but she’s already my BFF. She prized the Ben & Jerry’s  Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice-cream out of my fingers, ripped off the Tweety-bird yellow bathrobe that I’d been wearing for longer than I’d care to admit, and dragged me down to Jammy’s to get this job that I now find myself in.
    I’m just a drinks-fetcher, which wasn’t my major at Berkeley by the way, but I’m really enjoying being out and experiencing life again. Being Allie again. I traveled across the width of America for a fresh start and found myself in New York.
    The journey was so exciting that I couldn’t even enjoy the in-flight entertainment. Ryan Gosling and Rachel Adams had to take a backseat to my journal. I sat there scribbling away. Imagining all the wonderful things I could do in the Big Apple. How I’d finally kickstart the career that had been on hold for so long that opportunity was about to hang up.
    The excitement didn’t last long. I turned on my phone to check my messages and there it was.
    If you can make it there, you’ll make it anywhere.
    I didn’t recognize the number, but I did recognize the tone. I shake the thought from my mind. Literally. I literally shake my head to get that man out of my mind as Molly tries to hook me up with someone new.
    “I’m not sure, Molly, maybe he’s just thirsty.”
    “Oh come on, Allie. Look around. The place is full of baristas and wannabe-writers. That guy is here for more than a stiff drink if you know what I mean.”
    I always know what she means. Molly doesn’t do subtle.
    But she was right, he did stand out from the regulars. The locals are short and skinny-fat while he’s tall and muscular. They wear loose-fitting faux western shirts and black-framed glasses with clear lenses while he’s dressed in a muscle-hugging Italian-cut suit that belongs in an upscale overly-expensive wine bar rather than a place that would need renovations to be called a dive bar.
    “Maybe he’s waiting for a friend or something.”
    “He’s looking to make a friend, Allie. He’s been here every night this week. Every. Night. And he just sits there waiting for you to take his order.”
    “Oh, come on, now you’re making stuff up.”
    “Allie Quinn, don’t make me slap you on that pretty face of yours. You know he is. I must’ve gone over to him ten times this week to ask him if he wants another drink, and he always says no; even if he’s got an empty glass.”
    “Maybe he’s just not thirsty, ever think of that?”
    “Oh, he’s thirsty, sweetie. That’s why he lets you take his order if his glass is full.”
    I know she’s right. I hope she’s right. But guys like him aren’t supposed to go for girls like me. I’m carrying a few more curves than I probably should (thanks, Ben and Jerry) and my tummy is a little smooth. Sure, I feel much better now than I did when I was elbow-deep in ice-cream, but I don't know if I could take the