Cheeky Romance (Billionaire Dads)

VANYA

Even though dad’s surprise visit could not have come at a more inconvenient time—any time that I’m naked in bed with a man is inconvenient by the way—I appreciate his presence. Especially when Project Vegas makes his or her excitement known by regurgitating all of the canned chai that I drank.

“It’s okay, Van.” Dad rubs my back. His hand is warm and soothing.

I sink against the toilet like it’s a mattress with Egyptian cotton and catch my breath. Dad digs his fingers under my armpits and hoists me away from the john so he can drop the lid and flush the Rated R-level, gory contents down the drain.

“Are you okay?” dad asks quietly.

“Yeah.” I push myself to a standing position and stumble to the sink. Dad hands me a towel when I’ve finished washing my hands.

“Sweetheart,” he glances at the ground, “has this been happening often?”

“What, dad?”

“The vomiting?” Concern flickers in his brown eyes.

I avoid his gaze. “No, not really.” Clearing my throat, I hurry outside before he can sift out that I’m lying.

My phone vibrates from somewhere in the living room.

I hurry over to it, anticipating that it’s Juniper calling to let me know he’s arrived in the city.

But it’s not my manager.

“Hey, Dawn,” I say, putting the phone to my ear.

Dad walks into the living room behind me. I’m not looking at him, but I can feel his concerned stare on my back.

“Vanya, I just called Hadyn to tell him about his race car being fixed and he was freaking out. He said something about his dad going into shock.”

“What?” I scream.

“We’re heading to the hospital now. He told us not to tell you for some reason. Something about not wanting to bother you while your dad is visiting…”

“That idiot!”

“Sounds like you’re coming anyway,” she croaks.

Hell yes I am. “Thanks for the heads-up, Dawn.”

“Who’s an idiot?” Dad whispers behind me.

“Who else?” I grind out.

I don’t remember my brain giving my feet the order to move but, suddenly, I find myself running.

“Vanya,” dad calls after me, “what’s wrong? Where are you going?”

I screech to a halt and turn. For a second there, I forgot that dad was even here. “Come on. We have to go to the hospital.”

“The hospital?” His eyes bug.

I don’t have time to explain. Swiping my keys from the dresser that Hadyn fixed for me last week, I bound to the elevator.

Dad slips in beside me.

I tap my fingers on my jeans, staring at the numbers.

Come on. Come on.

Dad observes me quietly.

I pretend not to notice and rush straight to my car. When I start to go for the driver’s side, dad cups my shoulder.

“Let me drive,” he says.

I give up the keys and he gets behind the wheel.

On the way to the airport, I fold my arms over my chest and start grumbling. “What the hell is wrong with him? Why would he not tell me about his dad? I told him to call if something happens. Was he even listening to me? It’s like talking to a wall.”

“What are you mumbling about?” dad asks.

“Nothing.” I wrap an arm around my stomach. Project Vegas has impeccable timing. I’m glad he got the nerves out before Dawn called me.

Dad notices the way I’m cradling my stomach and he rubs my shoulder. “Are you still feeling nauseous?”

“No, not at all.” If I’m feeling anything right now, it’s murderous.

His Adam’s apple bobbing, dad stares straight ahead. “Vanya.”

I stiffen. That’s the tone he used on me when he found out I followed strange men into a strange room because they told me I could make money modeling for their store. I got grounded for the rest of my life after that.

Dad adjusts his fingers on the wheel. Sweat is dripping down his face despite having the air conditioning on full blast. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

“Anything like what?” I ask.

“Anything,” dad says.

Well that’s vague. “Not really.”

We meet late evening traffic. It’s bumper-to-bumper and goes on for miles.

I bite down on my bottom lip, feeling every second tick by.

Tap. Tap. Tap. My hands refuse to stay still.

“How’s your modeling been going?” dad asks.

“I haven’t really been modeling these days,” I admit.

“Is it because of the nasty comments online?”

I snort. “Dad, I’m a black, curvy model. There’s always going to be nasty comments online.”

“It’s okay to say it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t.” I peer out the windshield.

“You don’t have to be so strong all the time, Vanya.”

“What’s the alternative, dad? Roll into a ball and cry?” I realize my words are sharper than I wanted and I sigh. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand what this conversation is about.”

“It’s about you. And your feelings.”

“Exactly.” I point at him. “Since when did you want to discuss me and my feelings?”

“I’m concerned about you.”

“You don’t have to be. You raised me to be strong and independent. This is the result of that.” I gesture to my body.

“I didn’t raise you to take online harassment and I didn’t raise you to carry all your burdens alone.” His voice rises. “I’m aware that the tabloids have been… unkind lately. People have been extra cruel to you since the Vanya Scott thing.”

“Dad, it’s okay. I have thick skin.” I crane my neck to see if there’s a way out of the gridlock. Maybe if dad drives on the sidewalk, we can get around the other cars faster. If we get a ticket, I’ll pay for it.

“Well if,” he licks his lips, “if you ever feel discouraged, I want you to remember that you are beautiful just the way you are.”

“Random, but thanks dad.”

No, the sidewalk isn’t a good option. There are too many cyclists and pedestrians around.

“You’re making such an impact, Vanya. So many people inform me—daily—about how you inspire them. They’ve never seen a woman who looks like them, with a body like theirs and dark skin like theirs, on the cover of magazines. You’re doing something good. Something important.”

I twist my neck around and pay full attention to dad’s speech. “Why are you being so sentimental?”

“No one understands the incredible amount of pressure you’re under. It must be tough to feel like you have to fit into the mold—whatever that mold is. I want you to know that you don’t have to please anyone on this earth except yourself.”

I puzzle through his words, trying to make sense of the warning.

And then a light bulb hits.

“Is this about what you saw in the bathroom?” I ask.

“You’re trying to lose weight by vomiting up your food,” he says gravely. “I recognize the signs.”

My jaw drops. “What?”

His eyes get teary. “It’s my fault for always telling you to be strong. You’re my baby girl. Just because the world sees you as impenetrable doesn’t mean you are. You should be able to come to me when you’re struggling with body image issues. And if not, I should be able to see when you need me. I should have run here the moment you told the world you were Vanya Scott.”

“Dad… is that why you flew all the way here today? Because of the hate I’m getting online?”

“The more important question is why are you hurting yourself just to lose weight?”

I sigh heavily. Everyone’s first assumption is that I’ve got an eating disorder and it’s a little annoying.

“Dad, I’m not hurting myself. And I know I’m beautiful. I’m gorgeous. I am absolutely comfortable in my skin.” I glance at him. “You and mom did a great job with me.”

“Maybe if I lived closer…”

I shake my head. “You’ve built a wonderful life for yourself. You deserve to live it.”

He sniffs. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too. And as much as I love this conversation, can we please take a shortcut? This traffic is obnoxious.”

Dad chuckles. “You remind me so much of your mother.”

His words hit me hard.

Especially when I see the hospital lights looming in front of us.

Memories of our last drive to see mom flash in my head. I push them away. Hadyn needs me right now. I don’t have time to be overwhelmed.

Dad arches an eyebrow as he parks and I hop out of the car. He says nothing until he sees me marching urgently into the building.

“You’re not afraid of hospitals anymore?” he asks, following me through the lobby.

“No, I still hate hospitals.” My eyes track back and forth as I search the hallways. “I just hate Hadyn a little more.”

Dad stops and stares at me.

“Over here,” I say. Then I drag him down the hall and pull him into the elevator.

Dawn and Max are already there when we arrive. Max is talking to the doctor, cold blue eyes locked on the old man’s face. His intimidating stare is matched only by his intimidating height and build.

Dawn is sitting next to Hadyn in the waiting chairs. She’s wearing dirty over-alls. Her stunning face is streaked with grease. It seems like she ran here straight from the shop.

My harried footsteps alert everyone to our arrival.

Hadyn glances up. His eyes widen. “Vanya?”

“I called her,” Dawn says.

Max turns around, his eyes falling on me. He nods.

I nod back and take the seat beside Hadyn. Angrily, I scold him, “Why didn’t you call me?”

He frowns at me and leans in close to whisper, “I wanted you to rest.”

“Does it look like I need rest?”

Dawn puts a calming hand on my arm. “Vanya, it’s okay. The doctors have managed to stabilize Mr. Mulliez.”

“He won’t be allowed visitors for the time being.” Max walks up to our group and looks down at Hadyn. “He’s in too fragile a state.”

“Hadyn!” Mrs. Mulliez sprints into the lobby. She’s wearing a flared dress with a scarf tied around her neck. Her hair’s brushed away from her face. Despite her exquisite makeup and designer dress, she still looks harried and pale.

She glances around at all the new faces and stops completely when she sees my dad. “Hugh?”

“Ruth.”

Mrs. Mulliez accepts the hand my father offers and gives it a squeeze. Looking less distraught now, she says, “I just got the call from the hospital.”

“Master Mulliez.” Will trots toward us.

“Hi, Will.” I wiggle my fingers.

“Lady Mulliez.”

I cringe. He really needs to stop with the fancy titles.

“What happened?” Hadyn’s mom whispers. “My husband was fine when I left.”

“He went into shock,” Max explains. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

Hadyn gives me a guilty look.

My heart sinks and I start to piece together what happened. Hadyn must have taken my advice and confronted his dad.

Now things are a mess and it’s all my fault.

Dad pats Mrs. Mulliez’s shoulder. “Now, Ruth, you shouldn’t fret. The important thing is that he’s okay. All he needs is rest.”

“I need to see him.” Mrs. Mulliez stomps ahead like a woman on a mission.

“They’re not allowing visitors,” I remind her.

“I’m his wife,” she insists. “I don’t care what the rules are. They’ll have to break them for me.” She lifts her chin and beckons. “Come on, Will.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He hurries behind her.

Tense silence falls on the waiting room. I notice Hadyn sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head down. I can tell that he’s feeling awful and it makes my heart throb.

“Is anyone hungry?” Dawn asks. “Mama Moira is here for another visit. Sunny invited us all for lunch.”

“I could eat,” dad agrees.

“I should stay with my mom,” Hadyn says to the ground.

“Then I’ll stay with you,” I announce.

He finally lifts his head and meets my eyes. “No, you haven’t eaten anything since last night. And you were…” he darts a gaze at dad and clears his throat, “busy most of this morning. You need to eat.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He takes my hand. Though his voice is low and weary, it’s firm. “Eat something, Vanya.”

I sigh. “Fine.”

“And no chai.”

“Now you’re just being rude.”

His lips twitch and I’m glad to see a little sparkle in his eyes. A cheeky Hadyn, I can handle. A sexy, growly Hadyn, I can resist. But a Hadyn who looks like a puppy left out in a rainstorm? It makes me want to wrap my arms around him and hold on tight.

Dangerous thoughts to have.

Especially now that we’ve slept together. While sober.

I need to draw the line between what’s real and what’s not. And right now, the only thing that’s for sure is the baby growing in my stomach. We can’t afford to pollute the waters by throwing in a relationship that might not work.

“I can’t believe this!” A voice echoes down the hallway.

We hear Mrs. Mulliez before we see her. Heels clipping the tiles, she comes into view, her cheeks ruddy and her eyes filled with annoyance.

“They’re forbidding me from seeing my own husband. Apparently, I need to come back in a few hours.”

“It’s to keep him calm, ma’am,” Will tries to explain.

She waves her hand around. “Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous.”

“Rather than stay in the waiting room, why don’t you come and eat with us?” Dawn offers. She gives Max a small glance to see if he agrees. Max dips his head. Although I’m pretty sure he would say yes to whatever Dawn asks, no matter what it is.

“I couldn’t possibly intrude,” Mrs. Mulliez says.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be an intrusion. You’ll love Mama Moira.” Dawn smiles.

Mrs. Mulliez pulls her lips into her mouth and contemplates the offer. “Very well then. I’ve never heard of this Mama Moira restaurant. Do they have vegetarian options?”

“How does the Belizean option sound?” Dawn asks.

“Belizean?” Mrs. Mulliez makes a face. “What on earth is that?”

Dawn rises on her tiptoes to sling an arm over the woman’s shoulders. “Trust me. Once you get a taste, you’re going to be hooked for life.”

Darrel and Sunny’s farmhouse should be quieter. It’s the middle of a weekday. The alcohol’s at a minimum. The kids are at school.

There are no UNO cards scattered on the ground and tiny faces screwed up in concentration. There’s no screaming when someone drops a Draw 4. No friendships being tested by loud, obnoxious victory dances.

This lunch should be a sophisticated soiree.

Instead, it’s an explosion of friendship and laughter.

Soca music blares through the farmhouse. All the doors and windows are open, dragging in oceans of sunlight. A cool breeze flows from one room to the next, sending napkins fluttering.

I notice Mama Moira shaking the living daylights out of her rump in the kitchen. Mrs. Mulliez is with her, doing a more awkward, rhythmless imitation.

The sound of laughter swells above the music. It’s coming from the immaculately groomed lawn.

I peer outside and notice the guys on the back deck. Hadyn is with them. His grin is wide and his eyes are bright, but I can tell he’s not fully there. Every so often, he checks his phone as if he’s waiting for word from the hospital.

We rode in two separate cars, but he didn’t say much to me when we got to the farmhouse. He probably blames me for pushing him to confront his father. If I hadn’t given him that ill-timed advice, Mr. Mulliez wouldn’t be knocking on death’s door.

Again.

“Are we staring at Hadyn?” a voice whispers to my left.

I twist my neck and find Sunny leaning over my shoulder. Her dark, almost black eyes probe mine.

I glance away before she sees more than she should.

Kenya hooks an arm around my waist. Although she comes across as stand-offish, she’s the most touchy-feely of all the women.

Her curls press against my cheek, bringing the scent of natural hair products and oils. Dark chin tilted to the sun, she smiles. “If it makes you feel better, Hadyn’s been stealing glances at you since you got here.”

“He’s been looking at her like she’s his lifeboat ever since we left the hospital,” Dawn says. She stands on my other side. She’s still wearing her over-alls, but the grease is gone from her face thanks to Max.

I spied the tender moment they shared outside the bathroom while he was cleaning her face in between kisses.

“So what’s the deal with you two?” Sunny asks pointedly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” Kenya scrunches her nose, looking both mischievous and gorgeous.

“You know, I heard what pregnancy hormones can do to a woman.” Sunny winks at me. “It makes ‘em frisky.”

“Like a dog in heat,” Kenya mumbles.

“As the only woman here who’s already given birth, I can confirm that,” Dawn says, raising an arm.

“Is this the I’m-having-a-baby glow or… the other kind of glow?” Kenya teases, gesturing to my face.

I pin my lips shut.

“How’s Hadyn when he’s sober?” Dawn blinks innocently up at me. “Everything you say at the farmhouse, stays at the farmhouse.”

I shake my head. “Not up for discussion. My dad is right there.” I jerk my chin at my father, who’s sitting next to Hadyn.

“Okay.” Dawn snaps oil-stained fingers. “That means we’ll discuss it later. When your dad is gone.”

“I’ll bring the champagne,” Kenya promises.

“Non-alcoholic.” Dawn reminds her.

“Right.”

Mama Moira approaches us. “Ladies, do you mind helping me bring these platters outside?”

Sunny pouts. “Why are all the men outside and the ladies in the kitchen? That’s so old-fashioned, ma.”

“Excuse me? ‘All the women’ weren’t in the kitchen. I was the only one cooking. You still want to talk about fairness and equality?” Mama Moira slaps a hand on her hip.

“No, I don’t.” Sunny kisses her mother’s cheek.

Mama Moira lets loose a big and boisterous laugh. Her pigtails shake on her small shoulders. “Go serve the food.”

We each pick up a plate and walk, single-file line, to the patio.

The moment they see us, the men spring to their feet and help. Both Hadyn and dad reach for my potato salad.

Hadyn beats dad to the punch. “You shouldn’t be carrying anything heavy,” he grumbles at me.

I look into his grey eyes and see the heaviness there again. It bothers me so much that my fingers slip on the glass. Thankfully, Hadyn already had a good grip on the plate and he saves the dish.

The scent of fried fish and stewed beans makes my mouth water. I reach for a plate, but Hadyn takes it from me and starts serving.

I lose my breath. He’s taking care of me even though he’s hurting and…

Oh crap.

Oh no.

This is bad. I’m getting the urge to throw myself into Hadyn’s lap and stick my tongue so far down his throat that I taste his tail bone.

Is it pregnancy hormones? Why do I feel so handsy all of a sudden?

Kenya fans herself with her hand. “It is so hot today.”

“I’ll get you a drink, babe.” Alistair slips out of his chair.

“Me too.” Darrel raises a hand.

“Get your own drink,” Alistair grumbles but, when he returns to the table, he has two bottles in hand. He slides one over to Darrel, who lifts it in a toast of thanks.

“This is delicious!” Mrs. Mulliez exclaims to the table, slopping more beans into her plate.

“Thank you.” Mama Moira beams.

“Mom, you might as well move to the city because at this rate, we’ll always be stealing you from dad,” Sunny quips, pouring gravy over her husband’s stewed beans and rice.

“Maybe we will.” Mama Moira lifts a shoulder. “I’ve always wanted a big Mayan family.” She smiles over at Darrel. “And although Sunny went and chose a white man—”

Sunny groans. “Mom!”

“—Relax. I’m saying that I still have that dream. To be surrounded by grandkids and friends and family.” Her tone turns wistful. “You never really know how long people will be with you. You might as well cherish them while they’re alive.”

Hadyn dips his chin.

I can feel the guilt leaping off him.

My heart catapults straight out of my chest and I shift my body toward his. I don’t want to be this tuned-in to him, but I am. Why am I noticing every shift in his expression? Why is every sigh from him sending shafts of pain through my soul? Why can’t I turn this hyper-awareness off?

I lean over and rub my hand over Hadyn’s thigh.

He glances up in surprise.

I pull back quickly, stunned by my own impulsiveness. Heat flares in my cheeks when I realize how I must look to him. We slept together this morning and suddenly, I can’t keep my hands off him.

Will he think I’m clingy and annoying like all the girls he’s complained about in the past?

I chew on my bottom lip and force my hands to stay in my lap.

“Oh, Hadyn.” Dawn pokes her head forward so she can see beyond Max’s massive chest. “Your race car’s fixed.”

“Race car?” Dad’s ears perk up. “You still into racing, Hadyn?”

“I am,” Hadyn answers quietly.

Dad chuckles. “I remember you and Max getting into all sorts of trouble back in the day. Vanya was always telling on you.”

“They used to threaten me because of it,” I tell the table.

“We didn’t threaten you,” Max defends himself.

“You told me snitches gets stitches.”

“But they do.” He lifts his head haughtily. “That’s a fact.”

“Dawn,” Sunny snorts, “are you aware you’re marrying a mafia boss?”

Dawn throws her hands up. “I knew it.”

Max rolls his eyes.

Dad laughs. “What kind of engine are you working with?”

“I can answer that,” Dawn says, her eyes glowing with excitement. “It’s a 365 Holly on a small block engine.”

Dad whistles under his breath.

Mama Moira glances between Dawn and my dad. “Translation for the non-mechanics?”

“It’s fast,” Max explains.

Hadyn doesn’t participate in the conversation, which is so unlike him that I start to feel a little panicked.

Max races cars to escape reality, but racing cars is Hadyn’s reality. Any other day and dad’s one little question would have been a powder keg that kicked off an excited rambling about twin turbo chargers and tricked out engines.

I drop my gaze to Hadyn’s plate and notice he hasn’t touched a single grain of rice. Mama Moira’s traditional Belizean meals are to die for. Something’s wrong.

I drop my napkin on the table. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I announce.

“You know where it is,” Sunny says, waving me away.

As I move my chair back, I catch Hadyn’s eyes and jut my chin at the house. A few seconds later, he joins me in the hallway to the guest bathroom.

“Are you okay?” He looks me over, his voice subdued. “Are you nauseous?”

“Are you okay?”

His eyebrows wrinkle.

My words erupt in a gush. “You’re not eating. You’re not talking about race cars. You haven’t laughed genuinely since we left the hospital and yeah you’re smiling and talking and making all the right moves, but I can see right through it and I need to know right now, what’s wrong?”

Hadyn’s gaze locks on me with a firmness that sends my breath skittering back into my lungs.

Nerves tangle in my stomach. I lift a hand. “If you’re angry at me for suggesting you talk to your dad, just say so, Hadyn. I can take it.”

He presses a finger to my mouth and leans down. “Stop. Talking.”

My eyebrows pull into a V as I wait, but Hadyn doesn’t rush to fill the silence. Music is blasting from the kitchen. A Belizean artist is yelling to the sound of fast-paced drums and whistles. “We goin’ to have a good time!”

Hadyn grits his teeth. “I’m trying really damn hard to control myself, V.”

“W-what do you mean?” I ask.

“Such a, such a good time!”

“I’m not angry at you.” The finger Hadyn has on my mouth runs a trail to my ear. “It’s the opposite of that.”

“What’s the opposite of anger?” I insist.

“Why do you care?” He fires back. “I thought I was just your booty call.”

Heat flares in my cheeks. “Don’t misunderstand. I couldn’t care less—”

Hadyn takes advantage of my open mouth and crushes his lips on top of mine. He doesn’t just kiss me. He bombards me with his tongue and his hands that slip under my tank top. Hot. Hard. Decadent. My knees buckle and stars explode, one by one, behind my eyes.

“Back it up and grind it.”

His mouth tears away from mine and settles on the pulse that’s rocketing right at the base of my neck. I gasp when he sucks on it as if he wants to take my life along with my sanity.

My fingers clamp on his shoulders. I drop my head and initiate a kiss because the heat that’s flooding me is about to drown me in need.

My body throbs and the heat in my veins turns scalding.

Must… have… Hadyn.

“I can’t believe you ran out of the house in your pajamas,” Hadyn growls, kissing his way down to my collarbone.

“There wasn’t much…” I groan and temporarily lose my train of thought when the friction of his hips on mine nearly rips a scream from my throat.

“Because we having a good time!”

“Finish your sentence, sweetheart,” Hadyn instructs, breathing hard and fast. Each exhale sends a tiny hammer of air skittering against my chest. “There wasn’t much what?”

“Time.” I can’t hear my own words because Hadyn’s fingers are moving under my shirt and I’m no longer flesh but molten lava. “Time to… Hadyn.” I groan and run my hands over him too, needing him to feel as out of control as I do. The scrape of his jeans against my palm is glorious.

He moans softly into my ear. “You are so lucky we’re not alone right now, V.”

“Aren’t we alone?”

As if to prove we’re not, boisterous laughter erupts from outside.

“Jump up and go ahn bad. Having a good time!”

“Where did Vanya go?” Dad’s question booms so loudly that we hear it from the hallway.

It puts an abrupt stop to our necking.

Hadyn plants one more not-so-gentle kiss on my mouth and pins my pajama top closed. I wish I could help him, but my world has tilted off its axis and I’m currently flattened against the wall like a preserved butterfly in a museum.

Hadyn flashes me a smug look and I want to pretend that I’m not shaken. That I wouldn’t undo all the buttons he just took his time to close up. That I wouldn’t take him in every possible way and on every nearby surface until we both collapse from exhaustion.

But that’s not going to happen.

And it shouldn’t.

Our friends are outside.

My dad.

His mom.

More importantly, this isn’t a dirty hook-up. We can’t afford to be irresponsible. We’re having a baby. I will not ruin our co-parenting harmony because my body wants to jump on top of Hadyn like a rodeo girl gone wild.

Must… have… Hadyn.

Shut up.

I close my legs and hope the throbbing subsides on its own.

Hadyn adjusts himself. “Ready?”

I glance down and then back up. “Maybe you should leave after me.”

He chuckles and it’s his first, genuine laugh since the hospital.

I lick my lips and stalk away before I do something stupid. Like drag him into the bathroom and recreate another Vegas honeymoon.

Once I’m outside, dad frowns.

Dawn takes one look at me and her eyes go wide. She points to my chest and I quickly fold my arms over them before the entire table—but mostly my dad—can see my best ‘car headlights piercing the dark’ impression.

Laughing nervously, I fall into my seat and pick up my fork.

Mrs. Mulliez glances behind me. “Where’s Hadyn?”

“Hadyn? I don’t know. I didn’t see him,” I blurt, shoveling rice into my mouth.

“No?” She turns around completely. “He seemed to be following you though.”

Dad coughs.

Max gives me a knowing look.

I stick my tongue out at him.

A few minutes later, Hadyn strides to the table. He looks way more put-together than I do.

I dutifully ignore him as he takes a seat.

Do not engage.

“Vanya, Dawn mentioned you liked chai tea so I bought some and stocked it in the fridge for you.” Sunny folds her napkin up and pushes her chair out. “You want me to get it?”

“No, it’s okay. Someone banned me from drinking any more chai today.”

Silence sweeps across the table.

Max’s expression shifts out of its normal ‘angry businessman’ mode to complete shock. “And you listened?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I choke.

Hadyn’s lips curl up. It’s a shadow of a smile, but it makes his already chiseled face ten times hotter.

Must… have… Hadyn.

His lips are still wet from my kiss. The shine of my gloss makes his pink mouth look like it’s sparkling.

“You know what? I think I will have that chai,” I tell Sunny desperately. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” She gets up to fetch it for me.

I get my hands on the drink and guzzle it down, but it doesn’t have the same effect on me.

I’m still thirsty.

Must… have… Hadyn.

By some terrible twist of fate, my chai obsession has been usurped. I think I want Hadyn… a little more than I want chai.