Breaking the Billionaire's Rules

by Annika Martin

I set the sandwich he didn’t order on the perfectly flattened bag-bed, showing meticulous care, adjusting it just so. I’m close enough to feel the heat of him, the electricity of him, and something else—annoyance, maybe. Anger. Some high emotion. And I’m pretty sure he’s watching me, too. Discreetly watching me. It feels amazing. I don’t know why, it just does. I decide to push things even further by making presentation hands, like a game-show hostess presenting a special prize. I peek up. A muscle in Max’s jaw fires. I bite back a smile, imagining how Sienna’s jaw would drop if she saw me doing presentation hands like this. Especially if she knew that this wasn’t even the sandwich Max ordered. I spin around and go back to my cart. I can literally feel his eyes on me, like an angry caress, waking up my skin. The only good thing about my outfit is the short multipocket apron that covers most of my middle and is designed to hold utensils and stirrers and salt packets and things, and in my case, it doubles as a really effective tummy hider. I fuss in my cart, like I can’t find something, trying not to smile or laugh. I sneak a glance. Quickly he looks away. My pulse races. He totally hasn’t noticed that I gave him the wrong sandwich yet. I can’t wait. This shouldn’t be exciting, but it is!