The Billionaire's Fall (18+)

9: Clicks and Cans

His PI came through at the most convenient moment of his fucking life.

Brandon had only succeeded at slipping his pants on by the time Piper had made her escape. He ran after her the moment the click of her heels faded—he damn near broke his neck when he tripped over them, too.

Leaving them in front of the door was a tricky move, but so was the fact that she had managed to evade him. He had run out the back door as quickly as his legs could carry him and breezed into the alleyway half naked only to see no sign of her.

After a sleepless night, he woke up to a message from the PI he'd hired to figure out every little detail about Piper.

The guy had come through.

Not only did he get a long list of information dating back to her childhood but also a good amount of pictures of her. She's fucking stunning.

Brandon had hesitated on looking at the file of photos, but he just couldn't resist the idea of finally seeing her face.

She blew him away.

The unique honey color of her eyes paired with an unobstructed view of her inky black hair was otherworldly. He had almost fallen to his knees the moment the recent photo popped up.

That girl—that woman was his. Brandon didn't need to think on it any longer.

That's why he was currently walking across the parking lot toward the door of the place she works in.

Piper Malia Prescott is the owner of a well flourishing restaurant. She previously worked an office job as an assistant, but now spends most of her time running the business passed down to her by her late father—as well as visiting a certain gentleman's club from seven to midnight. That part wasn't mentioned in her file but he had a feeling it's the exact reason she had a mask to begin with.

Brandon wasn't going to let her hide from him. He needed to see her face in the flesh. The door to her restaurant opened and a small note of music announced his entrance.

The moment he locked eyes with the receptionist—Piper—he was being scowled at.

Before he even got to her podium, she was rounding it and clutching his arm as she dragged him back to her office.

She looked at him like she was willing him to drop dead on sight, or to just fall into a blackhole all together. "What the fuck," she growled.

Brandon cleared his throat. "I hoped we could talk about yesterday, you ran out on me before I could apologize."

"No need," Piper said. "I think it was just what I needed to hear."

"Just what you needed to hear..." Brandon repeated, taking a step closer because he didn't like the gut feeling he was getting from her tone.

Piper had her hands gripping the edge of the desk that she was leaning against, tight enough to turn her knuckles white. He knew plenty about body language to know that he wasn't going to like the next words out of her mouth.

"Yes, that, and you being here right now has opened my eyes. This isn't going to work, Brandon."

He bit down on his tongue and sat in one of her office chairs. It was to hold back a million words he couldn't say because they would scare her off, and to stop himself from ravishing her against the sturdy oak that would most fucking definitely hold up for the task.

Brandon's eyes stayed glued to her stunning features as she looked at him as if he'd broken several laws and thirty different sacred customs. It took a moment for his cold business stare to say what he couldn't. He wasn't fucking going anywhere. Not without some type of chain linking them to each other.