Free Boxed Set: Rocked by a Billionaire – Vol. 1-3 by Lisa Swann Page B

compliments, all the better to betray you later. Sacha certainly wasn’t like that.
    When I woke up in the morning, he had disappeared again. I thought I would go and surprise him in his office, on the loft floor. I carefully climbed the glass staircase, walked forwards and pushed the half-open door. Just like downstairs, the room was largely dominated by a glass wall which inundated the room with light. Nobody. I moved behind the desk to get closer to the bay window. I almost got vertigo, I was so high up. I turned round. His Macbook was on, so he couldn’t be far away.
    His email inbox was open. Without thinking, I read the text which was up on the screen.
    ----
    From: Natalia Azarov
    To: Sacha Goodman
     
    My very dear Sacha,
Everything is going well in Chicago, but I’m worried about you. I have just spent a very “instructive” evening with your future partner. Be wary of the little intern. She is very ambitious and her main aim is to find a job. Arnaud Dufresne has obviously experienced her first hand. She has done everything possible to get him into bed, she’s so desperate to get a job with the firm. He thinks she’s scheming to get something out of you, that she’s interested in your status and your money. Be very careful, I don’t want you to suffer again.
Your Natalia.
----
    ----
    From: Sacha Goodman
    To: Natalia Azarov
     
    Don’t worry on my behalf, my Natalia… I know what I’m doing. I’m enjoying myself. Everything is under control.
Your Sacha
    XXX
----
    I’m enjoying myself?
I’M ENJOYING MYSELF?
Am I dreaming or something? I re-read the sentence several times. But it didn’t change – the words were there, written in black and white. I had a burning sensation in my throat and I was suffocating… I went back downstairs quickly, grabbed my things, my eyes brimming with tears, and slammed the door less than ten minutes later.
    I burst into tears in the taxi as it took me back to the hotel.
The bastard, the bastard, the bastard!
I was no more than a plaything for him. The little intern. But why? Why had I let myself be taken for a ride so easily? I went into my bedroom with red eyes. I didn’t know what to do. Go back to France? Impossible, I had to wait for the Dufresnes to come back. But there was no question of staying here, as if everything were ok. I packed my bags. In the taxi, I gave the driver the little piece of paper Jess had given me the day I left. At least I would have some peace until Monday.

6. (In)decent Proposal
    It took me less than twenty minutes to get from my hotel to Brooklyn, the district where Jess’s aunt lived. The streets of New York were almost deserted on this Sunday morning.
    On the way, I couldn’t help wondering – once again – what I was doing. Even though Jess had pretty much ordered me to go there if I had any problems, I suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable turning up at this woman’s house without warning. But I really needed support – I could no longer understand or see clearly what was going on. I took out my phone and wrote a text message to Jess to tell her I was going to her aunt’s house.
    I kept my phone in my hand and watched the streets go by. It hurt so much… I, who until that point had only had a few gentle little flirtations, was really being hauled over the coals.
    Sacha Goodman was the biggest bastard on earth.
    I choked back a sob. My phone rang. 'Jess' flashed up on the screen. Was she calling me from Paris? I answered and it felt so good to hear her thin, yet so familiar voice:
    – I knew it would end badly with that lawyer… Don’t panic, darling, I’m here! And when I say here, I mean in New York… Her voice was partly drowned out by announcements and a lot of noise.
    – What? In New York? What are you talking about? I can’t hear you properly.
    – I’ll explain it all in an hour maximum… that's the time it takes to get there from JFK. I’m with my aunt. Wait for us at the door.
    I hung up… This whole thing was