The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 69

Orion

The VIP booth Morrison had reserved was exactly what I'd expected—prime real estate on the second floor with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the main club, leather seating that probably cost more than most people's cars, and a spread of premium alcohol that could have funded a small country's defense budget.

Three women had been strategically positioned around the table, each one stunning in that professionally maintained way that screamed expensive entertainment. Morrison knew how to close a deal with style, and for the first time in days, I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders.

I was reaching for my whiskey, half-listening to Morrison's opening pleasantries, when movement at the main bar below caught my eye. Just a casual glance downward while he droned on about shipping logistics.

Then my entire world tilted sideways.

*What the fuck.*

My hand froze halfway to the glass as my brain struggled to process what I was seeing. That couldn't be—there was no way—

But the honey-blonde hair, the graceful curve of her neck, the way she tilted her head when she laughed...

It was definitely her. Aveline Reeves was sitting at the bar below me, and she looked nothing like the composed, professional woman I thought I knew.

Her honey-blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders instead of being pulled back in her usual neat style. The black dress she wore clung to every curve, sophisticated but undeniably sensual. And her smile—Christ, her smile was radiant in a way I'd never seen before.

She was laughing at something the man beside her had said, her cheeks flushed with what looked like genuine happiness, and I felt something dark and unwelcome twist in my chest.

"Mr. Blackwell?" Morrison's voice cut through my focus. "Is everything alright? If the accommodations aren't to your liking, we can certainly—"

"It's fine," I said curtly, not taking my eyes off the scene below.

The man Aveline was with was tall, well-built, with the kind of easy confidence that suggested he was used to getting what he wanted. They were sitting close enough that their knees were almost touching, sharing drinks and intimate conversation like old lovers.

Or current ones.

"Excellent!" Morrison continued, apparently taking my distraction as satisfaction with his arrangements. "Now, about the Newark port expansion—our logistics team has identified three potential warehouse sites that could handle the increased container volume you're projecting."

I nodded absently, watching as Aveline threw her head back and laughed at something her companion had whispered in her ear. The sound carried even over the club's music, rich and uninhibited.

When had I ever made her laugh like that?

"Sir?" My assistant, Marcus, appeared at my elbow, his expression concerned. "Should I have them draw the curtains? For privacy during the business discussion?"

"No," I said sharply, my voice coming out harsher than intended. "Leave them open."

Marcus exchanged a meaningful look with Morrison but said nothing.

"The shipping lanes," Morrison continued, pulling out a tablet with route maps, "we're looking at reducing transit time by thirty percent if we can secure the exclusive contracts with—"

"Fine," I interrupted, still watching Aveline. "Whatever terms you're proposing for the Atlantic routes, I'll match your competitors' offers plus ten percent."

Morrison blinked in surprise. "Sir, you haven't even seen the specifics yet. Don't you want to review the cost projections?"

"I trust your numbers," I said dismissively, though I wasn't processing half of what he was saying.

Aveline had stood up now, and her companion was leading her toward the dance floor. The way she moved—fluid, graceful, completely at ease in her own skin—was mesmerizing. This wasn't the careful, controlled Ms. Reeves I knew. This was a woman letting loose, enjoying herself, being exactly who she wanted to be.

And she'd never been that way with me.

"The container storage capacity alone would generate—" Morrison was saying.

"Done. Whatever it is, we'll make it work." I leaned back in my chair, feigning casual interest while my eyes tracked every movement on the dance floor below.

Aveline was dancing now, her body swaying to the music with a sensuality that made my mouth go dry. The bastard she was with had his hands on her waist, pulling her closer, and she was letting him.

The rational part of my mind knew I had no right to be angry. She was a grown woman, she could dance with whoever she wanted, and I'd made it clear that our relationship was purely professional.

But watching her laugh and move and enjoy herself with another man felt like being punched in the gut.

"So we're agreed on the five-year exclusive?" Morrison asked, clearly amazed at how easily this negotiation was going.

"Sure," I said, though I couldn't have repeated the terms if my life depended on it. "Send the contracts to my legal team."

The blonde beside me was saying something about going to a more private room, her hand creeping up my thigh with obvious intent. I pushed her away without looking, my entire focus consumed by the woman on the dance floor who was systematically destroying my ability to think about anything else.

That's when I saw it.

Aveline's companion had disappeared—bathroom, bar, wherever—leaving her alone for a moment. She stood there in the middle of the dance floor, slightly breathless, her skin glowing with a light sheen of perspiration, looking like every fantasy I'd ever had made flesh.

The sight of her like that—beautiful, uninhibited, completely out of reach—hit me like a physical blow.

This was what she was really like when she wasn't busy hating me. This was the woman who existed when she didn't have to deal with my presence, my demands, my complete inability to stay away from her.

She was magnificent.

And she was never going to look at me the way she was looking at her mysterious companion.

The realization should have been a relief. Should have confirmed that keeping my distance was the right choice, that we were fundamentally incompatible, that whatever twisted attraction existed between us was better left unexplored.

Instead, it made me want to go downstairs and claim her in front of everyone.

"Mr. Blackwell?" Morrison was looking at me with obvious concern. "You seem... distracted. Should we postpone the rest of this discussion?"

I forced myself to focus on his face, though every instinct was screaming at me to get out of this booth and handle the situation developing below.

"No," I said, straightening my tie and adopting my most professional demeanor. "Let's finish this. We're agreed on all the major points—five-year exclusive, expanded container capacity, thirty percent reduction in transit times. I'll have my team handle the details."

I stood up abruptly, causing the women around the table to scramble to make room.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Morrison. This deal will be very profitable for both our companies."

As I headed for the exit, Marcus hurrying to keep up, I caught one last glimpse of Aveline through the glass. She was back at the bar now, alone, running her fingers through her hair in a gesture so unconsciously sensual it made my chest tighten with want.