The Billionaire Prince and His Secretary

Chapter 9

Ember POV

John and I worked nonstop Thursday. The hours ticked by in a blur of meetings, emails, and endless paperwork. John was adamant about finishing everything so we wouldn’t have to rush through work on Friday and could focus solely on the wedding rehearsal, which was scheduled to start late in the afternoon. We went home a little after midnight, exhausted but satisfied with our progress.

When we finally called it a night, John didn’t offer to take me to my apartment as he sometimes did. A part of me was disappointed, but I understood and thought it was better that way. So instead of giving me a ride, I called the driver he hired for me, Seth, and went on my way. I was surprised though when John’s car pulled up in front of us just as I got out of the car.

John got out, and I stopped in front of him. “John, what are you doing here?” I asked.

He motioned for me to walk. “Let’s go inside,” he said simply.

We walked up to my apartment in silence, the night air cool and quiet around us. Once inside, John did his usual check of the place, ensuring everything was in order. When he was satisfied, he turned to me. “I was about to ask your driver to do the checking,” he admitted, “but when I thought about it again, I couldn’t trust anyone else with your safety.”

I felt a warm rush of gratitude. “Thank you, John,” I said. Not knowing what to say next, I offered him a drink. “Would you like something to drink? Or perhaps a snack?” I didn’t have much in my pantry, but I was sure I could whip up something. We had eaten dinner at our tables in the office, but I was not sure if he would want anything that late. “For drinks, I have a not-so-great selection. You can have a cheap red or a cheap white.” I laughed nervously. “I also have orange juice.”

“Cold water will do. Thanks,” John said, smiling. I nodded and went to my small kitchen with John following me. After I got us both glasses of water, we settled in my small living room. I listened to John talk about his travels and some embarrassing moments from his past. It was fun hearing his stories. They were very entertaining.

Then he yawned. “Do you mind if I just sleep on your couch tonight?” he asked. “I’ll tell Edmund to go home.”

I was surprised but agreed. “Of course. Though, if you’d be more comfortable, you can take my bed.”

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine here on the couch.”

We continued talking even after I told him to sleep. It felt comfortable and easy. He made me laugh, and he was his usual charming self. After a while, I realized I hadn’t changed out of my work clothes. Excusing myself, I also told John I would look for some clothes that would make him comfortable. He said not to bother, but I waved it off. I went to my room and changed into something more comfortable and appropriate–matching plain pajamas.

I gathered pillows and a comforter for John to use, noting to go back to my room for some clothes for John. When I returned to the living room, I almost fainted as I saw him taking his pants off, his back muscles rippling. He was already half-naked, standing there in just his boxers.

Shutting my eyes closed for a few seconds, I drew in a deep breath to calm myself. I had seen John with almost nothing covering him before–only a towel around his waist or swim trunks covering his crotch and butt. Like every other woman, I couldn’t help but drool over his perfectly chiseled body.

When I opened my eyes, John didn’t even look apologetic. I handed him the pillows and comforter, while he smiled mischievously at me.

“Thanks,” he said with his eyes twinkling. “I sleep with boxers on, sometimes naked. But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in your own place.”

My cheeks heated, and my throat went dry. I tried to say goodnight, but before I could, he pulled me, and I landed on his lap. “Stay,” he breathed.

I protested, but then he shifted us, making me lie down on top of him, my head resting on his chest. The couch was small, and the position was intimate, making me acutely aware of every inch of our bodies pressed together. His arms wound around my back as he settled both of us comfortably, at least for him.

“Tell me stories about you,” he murmured. His voice was a soothing rumble beneath my ear.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I admitted. “Your stories are all fun and exciting. I led a boring life.” He smelled so good that his scent muddled my brain. I could almost taste him. The thought brought me to bite the inside of my cheeks.

“Any story will do,” he said, “because I just want to listen to your voice.”

I thought for a moment, then began. “Well, there was the day I was set to be interviewed by Queen Nathalia for my university scholarship many years ago. I knew the queen was kind, but I was still scared and nervous about the interview. I almost peed on my undies!”

John laughed, which brought about the vibrations in his chest. “Mom is intimidating, but she’s always had a soft spot for scholars. Well, you now know she loves you. She told you so.”

I loved how it was nothing to him that I was a poor student who needed assistance to be able to study. I so wanted to see his expression, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him so closely. The probability of me melting was high, more so if he stared back at me. I didn’t even know where to put my hands, so I was as stiff as a log, with one arm by my side and the other seemed to be everywhere–toward my face or stretched out. He took the hand touching my face and intertwined our fingers before lifting my hand up to his face to kiss my knuckles.

I continued even when I was stuttering, talking about classes I took and the challenges I faced. I had only told him about one class when I heard him snoring lightly. My hand still intertwined with his beside his head. I looked up at him, and he was already fast asleep.

I marveled at how he could fall asleep with my weight on top of him. I was about to stand up, but his arm held me tighter, holding me in place. “Stay. Please,” he muttered in his sleep.

I couldn’t do anything but comply. I listened to his heartbeat, the steady rhythm lulling me into a sense of security. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.

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I woke up to the sound of birds chirping and the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. John’s arm was still wrapped around me, his chest rising and falling steadily. I carefully disentangled myself from his embrace, trying not to wake him.

As I stood, I glanced down at him. Even in sleep, he looked regal, his features relaxed and peaceful. I felt a pang of affection and confusion. What did the last two nights mean for us? Was it a lapse, or was there something more?

I shook my head as I walked to my bathroom. John would probably freak out when he saw me looking like a zombie. After freshening up, I thought of cooking us breakfast. I knew what he liked. He was a simple man and would eat whatever I served him. I thought of bringing out whatever little cooking expertise I had. I boiled a few eggs and sliced some apples and oranges. After brewing a pot of coffee, I put muffins in the toaster and then brought out the butter. It wasn’t much, but I thought it was enough.

Just as I finished setting the tray on the center table in the living room, John stirred, blinking up at me. “Good morning,” he said in a very husky, sexy voice.

“Good morning,” I replied, smiling. I melted inwardly, wanting to go back to the position I was in earlier.

He stretched, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “Sorry if I kept you up,” he said.

I shook my head. “No, it was…nice.” I shifted my gaze elsewhere to avoid staring at him and his body.

He stood, giving me a quick hug. “I should go home and change before the rehearsal.”

“Oh, but I made us breakfast? I mean, it’s okay. I’ll see you–”

John took one look at the table and then said, “I won’t say no to a delicious breakfast. This smells so good.”

We both sat on the floor, and then I filled up his plate with food. The air between us felt charged with the events of the night before, yet oddly comfortable.

He devoured the breakfast in record time, grinning as he declared, “This is one of the best breakfasts I’ve ever had.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re just saying that to please me.”

“No, I mean it,” he insisted. “It was really good.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

He called Edmund to come pick him up, then excused himself to use the bathroom. I used the time to clear the table and wash the dishes, my mind replaying the night’s events over and over. I couldn’t shake the feeling of his arm around my waist, his breath against my skin.

John returned, now dressed in the clothes he had worn the previous day. I heard him briefly on the phone, most like confirming Edmund’s arrival. He entered the kitchen, his gaze locking onto mine. “I should go,” he said softly.

He approached me, and before I could react, he kissed me full on the lips. It was slow and deliberate, catching me completely off guard as I held a coffee mug. My body froze, not knowing how to respond at first. John gently took the mug from my hand and set it on the counter behind me.

His lips moved against mine, coaxing me to follow. I did, hesitantly at first, then with increasing confidence. His hands caught mine, guiding them around his neck. He nibbled on my lower lip, sending a shiver down my spine, before probing my mouth open with his tongue. Our kiss grew heated, and I felt myself melting into him.

Just as things were about to escalate further, John’s phone buzzed with a call–Edmund must have arrived. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine as we caught our breath. He whispered, “I want to see you play with yourself. Maybe you will let me play with you.”

He kissed me once more, then left, leaving me breathless and stunned. I stood there, my heart racing, trying to process his words. Play with me? My mind reeled with the implications.

As I began to calm down, a horrifying realization struck me. My rabbit was in the bathroom, in full view. I used it the other day when I had my bath. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. Coming from a very religious family, I had always portrayed myself as pure and conservative. The thought of John seeing the different side of me made me want to crawl into a hole.

How could I face him that afternoon? My stomach churned with anxiety. I needed to think of something, some way to explain without dying of shame.