Cheeky Romance (Billionaire Dads)

VANYA

Sunshine strains into the room, fighting to get past my heavy blackout curtains. I roll on my side, ignoring the fingers of light in favor of getting more sleep.

It’s so rare to have an opportunity to lounge in bed. Normally, I’m up at three on a flight to Paris, Hong Kong, or Madrid where I’ll be expected to look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the camera.

No exceptions.

Forget the fact that I’m usually exhausted and jet lagged. Directors don’t care that their model got only two hours of sleep in the last forty-eight hours. They’re paying for a professional, and I know I have to deliver.

As much as I love what I do, it’s not as perfect or as glamorous as it appears to be. I sometimes cringe when teenagers run up to me, declaring their love of fashion and their dreams of throwing it all away for a modeling contract.

I never discourage them, but I wish people talked about the hard work modeling entails. It’s not all fancy trips, fame and accolades. It’s not glossy and perfect. In fact, the only glossy things in my life are my lip balms and magazine covers.

I try to go back to sleep, but a delicious smell wafts to my nose. A hissing sound comes from the kitchen and the savory fragrance intensifies.

My stomach demands I get up and check what’s going on.

I test my nausea levels. No discomfort today. I’m glad my intestines are content enough to stay inside my body this morning. For a while there, I thought my baby had a love affair with toilet water.

“Let’s be good today, kid.” I pat my belly.

It feels weird talking to my stomach as if there’s a living thing growing in there. Almost like someone pointing to my couch and telling me it’s an ancient god and I should make a sacrifice.

Ridiculous.

But I have to make a deal with the kid or the next nine months will be torture. I’m hungry, and it’s been so long since I’ve kept anything down.

Even Mama Moira’s delicious fry jacks didn’t satisfy me. I was so nauseous yesterday that I spent half the evening in the bathroom.

Now, my body’s hollowed out.

I slide off the bed and shove my feet into the ducky slippers that I use when I’m home. They’re a ridiculous gag present that Hadyn got me for my birthday. He meant it as a joke, but they’re surprisingly comfortable and one look at them can make me smile.

The door creaks when I shuffle into the hallway. I take a deep breath. Wow. I have no idea what Hadyn is doing, but he better not stop. And he better share.

I patter into the kitchen and nearly have a heart attack.

Hadyn is standing at my stove… shirtless. There’s an obscene layer of muscles on his back, starting at his shoulders and tapering into his lean waist. His shoulder blades flex sexily as he flips something in a pan and sings off key to whatever song is playing in his ear buds.

“Hadyn,” I call.

My heart is pounding.

Heat is climbing over my skin and it has nothing to do with the smoke in the kitchen.

“Hadyn!”

He bobs his head from side to side, yodels out a ‘yeah, yeah’ that would make any musician cringe in their skin, and plates a pancake.

My chest rises and falls on an exaggerated sigh. I march forward and poke him in the side.

“Hadyn!”

The moment my finger drills into his skin, Hadyn jolts and grabs my hand. He drives me backward, hovering over me.

His naked chest brushes against mine. There’s a sprawling angel wing tattoo on his left pec with numbers written on the edge of it. My eyes linger there before dropping to his abs. I could grater cheese on that washboard. Have mercy.

“Vanya? Geez, you scared me!” Hadyn’s grey eyes are fierce until they land on my face. Thick eyebrows arch in recognition and he lurches away.

He’s hollering because of the music, so I pluck one of the ear buds out and he returns to a normal volume.

“Are you up now?” he asks.

“One point for you, Captain Obvious. What are you doing in my kitchen?”

“Cooking.” He lifts the spatula and gives me a sexy grin. He looks like a roguish pirate with wicked plans and it’s definitely my fuzzy, just-got-out-of-bed brain that’s sending electricity straight down my spine.

“I know that,” I snap. “Why are you cooking naked?”

“Van, I threw on pants out of respect for you. I usually walk around with nothing on.”

An image of Hadyn going commando flashes in my mind and suddenly my tongue is heavy. “Well, uh, you shouldn’t… uh…”

“What?” Hadyn swoops in, his nose an inch away from mine. “I shouldn’t what?”

I get a close up of the coarse hair crawling between his abs and disappearing into the waistband of his slouching sweatpants. My nose brushes his tattoo.

He’s all man.

And he’s all up in my face.

My heart is slamming against my ribs like a machine gun going rapid fire.

Nope.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

I am not letting Hadyn Mulliez’s sexy body and god-like face rob me of my brain. It’s already enough that he and his stupid sperm had their way with my womb. A girl has to draw the line somewhere.

Lifting my chin, I point at the guest room. “Shirt. Now.”

“If I leave, I’m drinking all your chai.”

My anger poofs away. “There’s chai?”

He motions to it. “I went out early to pick it up this morning. Vanilla latte. I thought you could use something sweet.”

If I hadn’t already married the man, I’d probably offer to marry him again.

I rush straight to the concoction on the table and drain it like the cup of elixir that it is.

“So good.”

“Addict,” Hadyn mumbles.

“Drug dealer.” I eye him over the cup. “Who’s the one that keeps supplying these?”

“Do I?” A corner of his lips hitches up.

“You even stock them at the race track.” I lick my lips.

His eyes follow the movement of my tongue before they flick up. “I don’t stock chai for you.”

“Is that why your receptionist always brings me a cup when I visit?”

“She does? I need to talk to her about that.” He flips another pancake. “The point is to make you so uncomfortable you never come back.”

“Ha ha.”

Hadyn faces the stove to hide his smile. “Nice tongs by the way.”

“T-thong?” The chai spills from my mouth and drops into the cup. “Did you go through my underwear drawer last night?”

“Yes, Vanya. I threw all your panties on the ground and rolled around in them,” he answers in a dry voice.

“Pervert!”

“Sweetheart, I was talking about your kitchen equipment.” He picks up the tongs and uses it to turn the crackling turkey bacon.

All the blood drains from my face. “The… kitchen equipment?”

He walks around to the table, sets a plate of whole wheat pancakes down and pinches my cheek. “Don’t worry. I would never go pawing through your underwear drawer. I’ve already seen you in lingerie and I prefer you naked anyway.”

I narrow my eyes and gear up to fight with him when there’s a knock on the door.

Hadyn goes back to cooking, still laughing softly.

I jut a finger at him. “I’ll be right back. Stay out of my bedroom.”

Juniper’s at the door. He’s wearing another silk shirt with a golden-tree pattern. His dreads are pinned back in a ponytail, exposing the shaved sides of his hair. His dark eyes are strained even when he smiles at me.

I point to his shirt. “You buttoned that wrong.”

“What?” He croaks. Then he glances down and curses. “Give me a sec.”

“Is everything okay?” I observe him carefully. Now that I’m looking, I notice that his dreads are tied with a rubber band. Juniper hates using rubber bands as hair scrunchies, claiming it’s ‘ghetto’.

“Don’t worry about me.” He whirls around, looking more put-together but still a little unhinged. “You gave an SOS yesterday. What happened?”

I sling an arm across my stomach. How do I tell him that I’m pregnant and Hadyn’s the father?

“Uh…”

“Morning, Juniper!” Hadyn calls from the kitchen.

Juniper’s eyes double in size. “Is that…” He points a finger and stalks toward Hadyn.

“I can explain.” I scramble behind him.

Smile bright, Hadyn sets the plate of turkey bacon on the table. “Want to join us for breakfast? I made pancakes.”

Juniper’s gaze slides down Hadyn’s muscles before jumping back to his eyes. He purses his lips and makes an ‘mm-hm’ sound that every black mama knows how to utter.

“Vanya, can I see you in private?” my manager hisses.

I pull my lips in and follow Juniper down the hall to my office like a child caught spray painting behind the school gym.

My office is bright and full of windows. Natural light tumbles in by the bucketful. Turquoise green walls and pastel flowers add to the beachside theme. My cookbooks are displayed proudly on wall-to-ceiling bookshelves and a computer is all that sits atop a white, adjustable standing desk.

Juniper slams the door shut with his hip. “Talk to me.”

“Hadyn’s in a bit of trouble with his family. He’s staying here until the banks open on Monday and he can sort himself out.”

“Mr. Ken Doll doesn’t have any other friends he can stay with?”

I blink rapidly. “It’s just for a few nights.”

Juniper steps forward. “Might I remind you that you’re supposed to be getting a divorce?”

“I haven’t forgotten.” I rub my forehead. It was all I could think about last night when I was struggling to fall asleep.

Hadyn and I can’t stay married. We’re not a good match in any way, shape or form and having a baby together isn’t going to change that.

“It’s already hard to provide evidence for an annulment. If you’re living with him, that’ll make the case more difficult to try.”

“I told you. He’s leaving soon. While he’s here, we’re going to stay out of each other’s way.”

“He’s standing naked in your kitchen making you bacon!” Juniper snaps.

“Half-naked,” I defend, as if that makes a difference. “And it’s turkey bacon.”

“Look, I already have a lawyer working on your case. He’s more excited than a shopaholic with a black card. According to him, you and Hadyn not signing a prenup means you might be entitled to half his crap. That’s a big deal. A very big deal.”

I grimace. Oh, poor Juniper.

He studies me. “Why aren’t you excited? Don’t you know what the Mulliez family is worth? Even a quarter of that kind of cash could set you up for a lifetime.”

“Sorry to disappoint but as of last night, Hadyn Micheal Mulliez is worth this much.” I hold my hands in a circle.

“Is that supposed to be a gang sign?”

“He got cut off, Juniper. He’s no longer heir of the Mulliez empire.”

“Say that again?” Juniper’s smile cracks on his face.

“Hadyn’s broke.” And knowing how stubborn he is, he’ll never concede to his father to get his access back.

“But… but…” Juniper produces a designer handkerchief and dots his dark forehead. “That’s not possible.”

“As of this moment, I own more than he does.”

“That means… in the divorce… he’ll get half of your assets…”

My eyes whip to Junipers. “Oh crap.”

“What are you going to do?”

I fall against my desk and chew on my bottom lip. My bills are high every month and it’s going to get worse when the baby shows up. I’ve invested almost all of my money into the Vanya Scott brand as insurance for the day my modeling career implodes. And I never expected that day to arrive so quickly.

“Let’s do this.” I push off the desk. “For now, I’m not going to get a divorce.”

“Are you sure? There’s a possibility this blows up in the media. If you’re tied to him in the public eye, there’s no scrubbing that off the records.” Juniper scratches his neck.

I notice the nervous tic and grab his hand. “Are you okay? You haven’t seemed like yourself since you got here.”

“It’s…” He swallows hard. “I just got a call. My mom had a stroke last night. She wanted to keep it from me since I’m so far away, but my brothers told me.”

“Juniper,” my eyes widen, “you shouldn’t be here then. You should be with her.”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

I grab both his hands and bring them to my chin. “I know what it’s like to lose a mother and although I hated every moment that my mom was sick, I don’t regret being there for her. I wouldn’t trade those moments for the world.”

His eyes get misty. “There’s a lot going on with your Vegas wedding, the divorce, the Vanya Scott brand. You have a shoot all the way in Hawaii later today. I can’t leave you right now.”

“I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Vanya.”

“Go.” I pull the door open and nudge him out. “Go be with your mom.”

“Let me call a replacement. You’ll need an assistant while I’m gone.”

“You’re going somewhere?” Hadyn asks. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, a stick of turkey bacon bobbing in his mouth like a cigar. He still hasn’t put on a shirt and his long, lean frame looks extra gorgeous as he lounges.

“He’s got a family emergency. I’ll be on my own for a few days,” I explain, still trying to usher Juniper out of the house.

“Maybe I shouldn’t.” Juniper digs his heels in. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you with just anyone.”

“Then leave her with me,” Hadyn says, wiping his hands against his sweatpants.

Juniper stares Hadyn down. “I like that even less.”

So do I, but I nab the opportunity anyway. “Hadyn’s right. He can drive me around and take me to shoots over the weekend. You can take care of all the details from your hometown and he’ll handle the physical stuff here.”

“Oh, you know I can handle the physical stuff,” Hadyn rumbles.

I shoot him a dirty look.

Juniper scoffs. “He knows nothing about fashion. He wouldn’t take it seriously.”

“I’ll teach him everything I can. It’s just a temporary position anyway.” I nudge my manager to the front door. “Be with your family. Don’t you dare come back until you have to or I’ll fire you on the spot.”

“Vanya…” He still looks unsure.

“Go.”

Juniper wraps his arms around me. I sink my face into his dreads, enjoying the way they tickle my nose and carry the scent of castor oil.

“Thank you,” Juniper whispers, squeezing his eyes shut and hugging me tightly.

“You’re welcome.” I kiss his cheek. “Now go.”

He eases back and gives Hadyn a hard stare. “Take care of her.”

“I got this.” Hadyn drops an arm around my shoulder.

I bounce him off.

After Juniper leaves, I slam the door shut and go looking for my chai. This crisis is bringing up sad memories of my mom. It’s not the best feeling.

Hadyn’s bare feet patter against the hardwood floors. “About this assistant thing, what’s the salary?”

“Forget about being my assistant. I’ll handle it.” I take another sip of the chai, not even caring that it’s melted.

“Oh, I’m taking the job.” He sets his hands on my shoulders and steers me to the table.

“What do you mean you’re taking the job?”

Hadyn pulls my plate towards himself, spears a pancake and cuts a neat triangle. “Are you having the baby?”

My eyes bug at his question.

When I say nothing, he glances up. “Are you?”

“Yes.” I fold my hands and speak primly. This conversation might as well happen now. “I spent some time with friends and realized that I’m not in this alone.”

He stares at me intently, taking it in.

“We made a stupid mistake that night, but the kid didn’t have a say in it.” I drum my fingers on the table. “I’ve thought about it and I’m not going to hold you responsible for what happened. If you’re not interested in sticking around, then I won’t force you to. You can continue to live life the way you want and I’ll take care of everything.”

“That’s not going to happen, Vanya.” He sounds annoyed.

“I’m giving you a free ticket out, Hadyn.”

“And this is me tearing that ticket to pieces.” He leans forward. “I want to take care of you.”

My heart sputters out like someone pulled the plug. A second later, it recharges and thuds to a crazy rhythm.

A lazy grin crosses his face. “Besides, I need a job that pays by the hour. So this came in handy.”

“Are you serious?” I peer at him. There’s no way I can picture the heir to a billion-dollar empire doing my bidding during photoshoots. He can’t even do my bidding when we’re alone.

“I am.” Hadyn pours a mound of honey and dips the pancake in. He extends the fork to me. “Boss.”

The airport is bustling with people eager to get to their next destination. I’m wearing comfortable sneakers, joggers and a crop top, a perfect outfit for traveling.

Or it would be.

If Hadyn hadn’t tied a scarf to my head and insisted I wear giant sunglasses. I look like a geriatric fortune-teller after Lasik surgery.

I whip the glasses off. “You know this only makes me stick out more?”

“Put them back on, Beckford,” Hadyn orders.

I glare at him. “I think you’re highly overestimating my popularity.”

“Your fan club got wind of your next shoot. They’ll be looking for you.”

“How do you know about my fan club?” I’m more amazed by that than I am at my fans’ ninja-hacking skills.

“When Juniper sent your itinerary, he sent a list of things to look out for. Plus I’ve been around when you’ve gotten mobbed by fans. It’s chaos.” Hadyn lifts his arm and the duffel bags strapped over his wrist slide downward. “You have three hours until your shoot. If you get surrounded, you’ll want to sign everyone’s T-shirts and magazines. The likelihood of us missing the flight is high.” His jaw hardens. “Keep the disguise.”

“Anyone can recognize me in this.”

“That’s why the plan is to move in and move out. Quick. Don’t lift your head or make eye contact.”

“How can I make eye contact behind these dark glasses?” I mumble.

Hadyn adjusts his grip on the large silver suitcase. “Let’s go.”

I ignore how sexy he looks when he’s all overbearing-grumpy-bodyguard and try to keep up with his long-legged stride.

We’re about halfway to our destination when I see the phones whipping out.

Hadyn curses under his breath. “They found us.”

“Maybe we should…”

“Run!” He grabs my hand and drags me along. I have no idea how he manages all the bags and the suitcase, but he picks up speed and turns a corner.

“Vanya! Oh my gosh!”

“Vanya!”

The screams are punctuated by the thud of sneakers as the fans give chase.

Sweat runs down my face and drips off my belly. I slow down and Hadyn half-drags, half-nudges me along like a physical trainer from hell.

I glare at the back of his perfect head as we run.

Crazy psycho. Although I exercise on the treadmill every day, cardio is still my worst enemy.

My breathing starts to get labored. “Hadyn,” I wheeze, “I can’t keep up.”

“Come on.” He urges me.

I grab both his hands and bend over slightly to tug him to a stop. “It’s okay. Let them catch up.”

He gives me a scolding look. “Van.”

“I heard everything you said about schedules. I did. But I won’t take long.”

When he still remains unconvinced, I tilt my head and bat my eyelashes. “Whenever you say ‘time’, I’ll drop the pen, hand back the selfie sticks and move on. I’ll listen to you.”

“You? Listen to me? I’ll believe it when I see it,” he grumbles. But he slows down and allows the fans to catch up with us.

I look out at their glowing faces. Most of the women are full-figured like me, but there are many different body shapes and ethnicities here. It’s humbling that people from all walks of life see something worth admiring in me. It makes me want to work harder and push myself further to prove they put their faith in the right person.

I smile at all the cameras getting shoved in my face and do a little wave. Squeals hit the air as my fans pulse forward to get a picture with me. Elbows jostle me in the side and I wonder if I’m going to be trampled.

Suddenly, Hadyn steps in front of me and delivers a frigid stare. “Hey, no pushing. Single file line.”

“Who’s this?” One of my fans gives Hadyn the stink eye. He’s an older guy with curly hair, a nose ring, and dark eyeliner. “This isn’t her manager.”

“Vanya, did you get a new manager?” someone calls out.

“Is that any of your business?” Hadyn growls. He looks ten seconds away from decking a fan in the face.

I keep my smile steady. “Guys, I only have a short time before my flight. Do you want to spend it asking questions?”

“No, I want a picture!”

“Me too!”

“I saw her first.” The guy with the eyeliner hustles to the front.

Hadyn frowns but lets him get close to me. I press my cheek against the fan’s and smile for the camera.

“Thank you so much, girl.” He flips his wrist. “I love to see fat girls winning!”

“Uh, thanks.” I laugh nervously.

“Fat girls for life.” He throws a fist and walks off, giggling.

I feel someone’s hand on my stomach, pulling me back. A second later, I collide with Hadyn’s muscular chest.

He dips his mouth close to my ear. “What happens if I wring his scrawny neck?”

I’m acutely aware of the heat coming from his body, the smell of his expensive cologne and the weight of his hand on my stomach. My fans turn extremely quiet as they watch us, but it’s impossible to remember them when Hadyn shifts slightly and his hips brush my backside.

“If you hit him? Lawsuits. Possible jail time,” I whisper, trying hard to sound harsh. “Can you let me go now?”

Hadyn grunts.

“Is he your boyfriend, Vanya?” someone calls.

I smile gingerly. “He wishes.”

Hadyn makes a sound that’s part offended scoff, part disbelieving laughter.

I hide my grin and offer my hand to an outstretched pen. “Autograph?”

I sign a few shirts, give a few pep talks and dole out more selfies before Hadyn makes a ‘come here’ gesture. The fans don’t want to give me up, but he barges his way through and drags me away without so much as an ‘excuse me’.

After we’ve handed in our tickets and settled into the VIP waiting lounge, he drops the luggage next to me and glances at his watch. “It’s too soon for more chai.”

I scrunch my nose at him. “It’s never too soon for chai.”

“I’ll get you a bottle of water instead. Stay here.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t wander off.”

“Hadyn, you’re my assistant, not my babysitter. I’m a grown woman.”

His eyes slide intently over me and goosebumps pop over my arm.

“I know,” he grumbles.

I watch him saunter to the nearest kiosk. And I’m not the only one. Women whisper and point to him. He’s tall and athletic with broad shoulders that can cut through a crowd of excited fans without effort. There’s a reason he’s built his ‘king in the sheets’ reputation. The man can build a fort with the broken hearts he’s collected.

Girls have no problem throwing themselves at Hadyn even after he’s made it clear he’s not the commitment type. Sadly for them, they always forge ahead, thinking they’ll be the one to change him. I’ve seen it happen more times than I can count and I refuse to fall under his spell.

By the time he returns, I’m much more in control of my emotions.

“Thanks.” I accept the bottle from him and try to pretend I’m not keenly aware of how close he’s sitting to me.

When I spend a few seconds fumbling with the cap, he yanks it out of my hands, breaks the cover without a sweat and hands it back to me. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“What?”

“What that guy with the eyeliner said.”

I scrunch my nose and flip through the past few hectic minutes until it dawns on me. “Oh, the fat model comment?”

“You’re not fat.” He folds his arms over his chest and gives me a hard look as if daring me to contradict him.

“I’m not skinny,” I point out.

“You’re the right size for you,” he insists.

“I’m a big girl. That’s not a bad thing.”

“Why are you so calm about this?” he growls.

“Why are you so upset?”

“Because I hate seeing you take abuse with a smile.”

“Being big isn’t some kind of crime. Why should I run crying when someone points out the obvious?”

“It was rude.”

“Maybe. Probably. Some people might be sensitive to that word,” I concede, thinking of a few of my model friends who’d absolutely die if someone said that to them. “But I feel he meant it in a good way.”

“I don’t care what he meant.”

“I do.” I meet Hadyn’s eyes. “There’s a movement right now to take back the words that were meant to hurt us. Who gets to decide if three letters are bad or good? I’m the one it applies to and I decide that even if I’m bigger, I’m beautiful. Some people haven’t gotten to that point yet and so the word is dangerous for them. It’s still important to be careful, but it’s just as important not to give people the power to make you feel ashamed.”

“All that inspirational crap would be unnecessary if I’d handled things my way.”

“Violence isn’t the answer to everything.”

Hadyn’s frown says he thinks otherwise. I guess he won’t be joining a hippie movement any time soon.

“Why do you always get so wound up about things like that?” I ask, sipping my water.

He frowns into the distance.

I poke him with my finger. “There is nowhere to run, Hadyn. Tell me now or you’re fired.”

“You’re a tyrannical boss.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.”

He squirms in his seat. “You remember that Bobby Preston guy? From high school?”

I scrunch my nose. “Ew. Bobby.”

“You didn’t think he was gross back then. You wanted him to ask you to junior prom.”

“And it’s a good thing he didn’t. Guy was a class-A jerk.” We went on one date and he spent a whole lot of time talking about how he loved that I wasn’t ‘built like other girls’. If I didn’t know what that meant, he made it pretty clear later in his car when he kept trying to fondle my boobs.

I pushed him off, and he called me a whore.

Talk about a gentleman.

“I remember, one day after free period,” Hadyn tilts his head back, “he made fun of you in the hallway. Called you a pig and other things I won’t repeat.”

I stare at him in shock. “Were you… how did you know about that? You were rarely at school during free period.”

Hadyn’s hangout spot was under the bleachers popping the cherries of all the thirsty girls in our high school. Because his dad contributed to the school, he had free reign to walk off campus at any time, skip any class he wanted, and live in utter rebellion without a single consequence.

“I was there that day,” he says simply.

“Wait.” I shoot up. “Bobby came back to school with a black eye and a fractured wrist. He said he got into an accident but… was that you?”

Hadyn lifts his chin. “Look, they’re calling us to board. We have to go.”

I keep up with him as he gathers the bags. My sneakers sink into the carpet. “Did you beat Bobby up because of me?”

He stares straight ahead, not batting an eye.

I walk backward so I can continue to tease him. “Did you?” Laughter pours from my lips. “Did you, Hadyn?”

Suddenly, Hadyn wraps an arm around my waist and drives me into his chest. My nose smashes into his T-shirt and a grunt tumbles past my lips.

He looks down at me, his eyes stormy. “Watch where you’re going, Beckford. This isn’t a playground.”

I twist my neck and notice an old man standing ahead of us in line. I would have bumped into him if Hadyn hadn’t caught me.

His palm cradles the small of my back. The heat from his body is turning my legs to putty. The slight caress of his thumb sends my mind reeling.

I swallow hard and push at him. “I’ll walk properly now.”

When I try to wiggle away, Hadyn tightens his hold on me. “Uh-uh. I don’t trust you.”

My heart decides now would be a good time to try tap-dancing and I can’t maintain eye contact.

Hadyn dips down until I look him in the eye. “Are you blushing, Vanya?”

“I’m a black woman, Hadyn. I don’t blush.”

He curls his thumb and slides it over my cheek. “Looks like you’re getting red to me.”

“That’s racist.”

“Oh-ho.” He laughs. “How is that racist?”

“You’re applying Euro-centric beauty standards to me and thus, you’re now a bigot.” I raise my voice. “This man is a bigot!”

“Fine, fine. I’ll let you go.” Hadyn slides his hands from around my waist and gives me the stink eye.

I blow him a kiss to taunt him and then hurry into our first-class seats.

Hadyn puts up all the luggage and I might be spying on his bulging biceps and rippling forearms for longer than necessary while he stows the carry-ons.

“Let me help you, ma’am,” Hadyn says, noticing a woman struggling to push her bag into the space.

She gives him a look of pure relief and I watch Hadyn’s Rippling Biceps Part II.

When he settles in beside me, he nods to my seatbelt. “Put that on.”

“It’s not time yet,” I mumble.

He scowls.

I frown. “Who exactly is the boss here?”

“You are,” he says before leaning over me and snapping my belt in place. When he eases back, his face is an inch away from mine.

I catch my breath as he smiles.

In a scramble to look unaffected, I stick my earphones in and glare at him. “Don’t talk to me. I need to get into the zone.”

“Your wish is my command, boss.” Hadyn smirks as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me and naps for the rest of the ride.