Free Chased by the Billionaire 1 by Stella Blaze Page A

Fuck.” I put my hand to my
forehead and tried to relax.
    But…
    But I was starving!
    How could I deal with a zombie turkey
apocalypse on an empty stomach?
    But nothing sounded good.
    “ Lance, I think we should
order…”
    He waved me off with his perfectly
manicured hand.
    “ Way ahead of you,
boss-lady. I ordered you pasta fagioli from Roma’s, with those
little crustinis you like so much.”
    I sighed as I gazed lovingly at him.
“Did you, maybe…”
    He smiled devilishly, his perfectly
symmetrical face a portrait of beauty, his warm green eyes
sparkling.
    “ I ordered myself an Italian
hoagie… you know I can never eat the whole thing!”
    He sucked in his fabulously ripped
six-pack and acted as if he needed to diet.
    But if he ordered the hoagie, and I ate
half of it, it didn’t count.
    Girl logic: perfect and
insane.
    “ Which reminds me, I’ve got
to get the contracts for the Caron show out by noon!” He made a
show of looking at his shell pink Rolex—a gift from a thankful and
filthy rich art buyer that Lance wined and dined… and then did
things to that I’m too young and pure of heart to know
about.
    The buyer, Churchill Walker, had been
old and crusty, though truly charming. I’m sure Lance earned every
spinning gear and crystal facing of that twenty thousand dollar
plus wristwatch.
    He eyed me. “So you’ll have to stay up
front to tip Franco when he delivers the food.”
    “ Why didn’t you add the tip
to the company card?” I whined. I hated handling cash. And though
Roma’s delivery man, Franco, was super nice… he liked to talk far
too much about the stupidest of things. He also looked a hell of a
lot like every Italian uncle in every movie ever made: potbelly, a
mustache, and a hooked nose.
    “ That’s why god created Visa
and Master Card… not to mention American Express!”
    He shot me a stern look. “If we tip
using the credit card, he has to claim the whole thing on his
taxes, whereas—”
    “ Whereas,” I cut him off,
“cash leaves no paper trail. I get it.” I reached up and tucked a
lock of his flaxen hair back behind his ear.
    Lance twirled his Ralph Lauren jacket
over his long, well muscled arms and kissed me on the
head.
    “ I’ll be back before you can
say cunnilingus .”
    I smacked him on the ass as he sashayed
toward the front door. “You’re really straight, I know
it!”
    He blew me a kiss, and then acted as if
he were about to faint when he strode past the geek artist and his
hottie boyfriend.
    I saw two more very large paintings
being hauled into the gallery.
    Jesus… this was turning into a
nightmare.
     

Chapter
2
     
    I settled in behind the reception desk,
sifting through the invitations that had stacked up over the week.
If I actually went to all the parties to which I was invited I
would do nothing else.
    I usually picked one, maybe two parties
to mingle at per weekend. If I was lucky, I could fit both parties
in on one night, preferably Friday night. That way I’d have
Saturday and Sunday all to myself to depressurize.
    All to myself…
    I felt a shuddering sense of dread—a
familiar feeling that had sadly become the norm.
    I dreaded weekends.
    No, not the weekends, what they now
meant.
    For the last three months I’d… well, it
was embarrassing as hell to say out loud.
    I hadn’t had sex for three
months.
    Okay, I said it…
    Sort of.
    Some might think three months was just
a little dry spell, but not for me. It was the equivalent of a
hundred and fifty years in my years, and a decade accrued at the
end of every night I spent by myself in my lonely little California
king—
    Watching the Cartoon
Network.
    I blame my best friend, Susan
Jacobs—formerly Susan Rhodes—sexy, though love-life-deprived,
architect extraordinaire.
    She finally opened her eyes and saw her
hot, though ultimately boring, male best friend for what he really
was: husband material.
    I don’t recommend it personally, but
wedded bliss totally suited Susan… so much so