A Billionaire's Mistake

24|Hooked

Lincoln lives in a condo that's about ten minutes from my townhome. The sky-rise building is looming above me as I peer up at it, but in a way, it makes me feel better that there are other people around. If anything happens, others will hear.

Letting out a deep breath, I stride through the front doors and am greeted by the bellhop, who tips his hat at me. Inside, the lobby is decorated with marble floors and expensive gold-colored furniture, and when I glance down at my sweatpants and crocs, I cringe. I definitely don't look like I belong here. Lincoln had told me to dress comfortably though, so I did.

"Ms. Stone," a woman at the reception desk says with a small smile, looking nothing short of perfect. Long, straight hair, pink lipstick, and a figure that leads me to think she takes pilates five times a week. "Mr. Nash said you'd be coming. I have your key card ready for the elevator. It's floor sixty-two."

Taking the card from her hand, I tell her thank you and find my way to the elevator, breathing deeply in and out as it lurches up after I scan the card I was given.

You can do this, I tell myself. You are strong. You've got this.

The elevator doors open and I'm standing directly in the foyer of his home. Despite it being a condo, it's enormous. A large chandelier hangs down from the ceiling, and a wooden circular table is in the very center of the room. I gulp loudly just as Lincoln comes around the corner, my nerves seeming to diminish slightly when he sends me that boyish grin.

"Hi, Sienna," he says, his voice smooth as butter. "I take it you found it here okay? Sometimes the delivery people struggle with it."

"It was fine," I reply as I scan him from head to toe. Gray sweatpants are barely clinging to his hips, outlining the very thing I came here for. I don't think he's wearing underwear, because when he shifts his feet, his cock bounces with the movement. Fuck.

He crosses his arms over his chest, the muscles flexing from the white t-shirt he's wearing. There's a gleam in his eye that makes me wonder if he can read my thoughts right now, but he doesn't touch on it. Instead, he leads me into the kitchen, which looks almost identical to the lobby of the building. White granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and gold accented utensils.

Lincoln opens up the fridge, glancing at me before he asks, "You hungry?"

I didn't think I was at the restaurant with Carmen and Riley, but I hardly touched my chicken Alfredo, and right on cue, my stomach gurgles loudly. He smiles and pulls out a Chinese food bag, the same Chinese restaurant we order takeout from during our lessons at my office.

"I had leftovers," he says with a shrug as if it's not a big deal. "You just came over on a lucky day."

I watch him pull out a brand new container of sweet and sour chicken and arch a brow. "So, your leftovers consist of an untouched box of sweet and sour chicken?"

He smiles. "Seems like it."

As he pops it into the microwave, it's only then that I hear the voices flooding in from the other room of my favorite television show. A new episode is playing tonight of The Bachelor, but I was going to watch it when I got home. At first, I think it's just a coincidence, but then I remember the sweet and sour chicken that's currently heating up, the meal he clearly bought for me tonight, and I realize he did this for me. He did this so I'd be comfortable.

He grabs the bowl and tells me to follow him into the living room. The Bachelor is playing on the screen, just as I thought, but even better, his couch is one of those pieces that can fold out into a bed, and he's placed countless pillows and fluffy blankets all over the place. I blink a few times to let it register, Lincoln's anxious gaze making my heart flutter. He's nervous.