BILLIONAIRE'S DESIRE

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

SCARLETT’S POV

I bit down on my bottom lip, frustration bubbling in my chest

as I resisted the very real urge to kick the door down. My heels clicked

impatiently against the polished floor, the sound echoing through the hallway

like a countdown to my breaking point. I’d been knocking for five minutes

straight; an eternity when you’re seething and ignored. Patience was a virtue,

sure, but definitely not one I claimed to possess.

Just as I raised my fist to pound again, the door finally creaked open.

And there he was.

A six-foot-something Adonis with disheveled dark hair that somehow made him look even hotter, not less. His sea-green eyes locked onto mine, unnervingly intense beneath furrowed brows. A navy-blue tie hung loosely around his neck, askew and completely useless. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned halfway down, revealing a torso that belonged in a Calvin Klein ad, not in front of me, at eight in the morning, post-s*x.

Because yes, the fading bulge in his pants didn’t lie. He hadn’t been in a meeting. He'd been in someone.

Definitely not what I signed up for.

“Can I help you?” he asked, voice gravelly, either from sleep or… recent activities. His expression was neutral, almost bored, but his eyes gave him away. They were assessing, sharp, calculating.

I crossed my arms, refusing to look flustered. “As a matter of fact, Mr. Valiente, no. But you’re going to help yourself, starting now. I’m Scarlett Simpson, your new CMO. Chief Marketing Officer. Appointed by your board. And currently wondering if I should’ve accepted that offer from Cartier instead.”

His frown deepened, creasing that maddeningly handsome face. “My what now?”

“CMO,” I repeated, voice clipped. “Your brother Dominic should’ve briefed you. But judging from the... situation I walked into, I’m guessing that memo got lost somewhere between your sheets.”

I adjusted my glasses, giving him a polite once-over. “If we’re going to have a civilized conversation, how about you ask your... companion to exit stage left, put on an actual shirt, and maybe get some coffee so we can talk business like grown-ups?”

Shock flickered across his face, chased almost immediately by irritation. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing.

“I’m going to kill Dominic for this,” he muttered under his breath.

“Get in line,” I replied coolly, stepping past him and into the suite. “Now, shall we get started?”