Victoria The Billionaires Maid

Oliver’s [POV]

Holding Sage Evans ranked up there as one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

Not because I didn’t like it. The exact opposite.

I wasn’t a cuddler after sex. Definitely wasn’t a Spooner. Unless I was forking, I usually took a hard pass. Just not my thing. I hadn’t been raised with much affection, and I’d never developed any particular affinity for physical closeness that didn’t involve my dick.

Crass, but true.

Sage curled into me as if I was her shelter in a brutal storm. Fanciful, but still a fact. She purported not to like me or had before we’d embarked on this flight yet she snuggled into me as if she were starved for that kind of comfort.

I would’ve said I wasn’t. I was touched often enough to suit my needs. Or so I’d believed.

Not like this. Nothing like this.

She was so soft. So yielding and trusting. At least in this moment and this space, if in no other. Her long blond hair was in a messy ponytail, the wild waves trying to escape, and it took everything I possessed not to bury my face in the thick, fragrant strands. Sunshine in a bottle, that was Sage’s scent. Clean clothes drying on a clothesline in the summertime. Warm, inviting.Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

Intoxicating.

And that wasn’t saying a damn thing about how she felt. She was curvy as hell, and let’s just say my cock had no problem with me being cozied up to the parts of her I’d only ogled the other day. Her impossibly full breasts tucked against my chest would probably live in my fondest jacking-off fantasies for the next few months.

If not years.

She eventually moved back, once the flight had stabilized and the ride had become smooth as satin. I pretended to be so absorbed in my work on my tablet that I didn’t hear her chatting brightly with her new friend, who probably would’ve offered to marry her if they’d had another few hours on the plane.

Alas, they did not, though they exchanged numbers when they parted. Rob also gave me his number, since he was now my friend too. There was talk of getting together for drinks once we were back in New York.

He was a nice enough guy, but I’d just file that idea under the heading not going to happen.

Sage might not like the idea of watching me hook up, but guess what? The feeling was mutual.

Though it did bear questioning why she cared about my dating habits. I knew why hers interested me. She was too sweet, inexperienced, and naive. Men were, by and large, pigs. She was Ally’s best friend.

Hell, my entire role for being here on this trip was to ensure she had a fun, safe time. That was why I’d wanted to growl at Rob every time he so much as smiled at her too warmly. He hadn’t been properly vetted yet, that was all.

That could be the only explanation.

We collected Sage’s eye-searing-pink suitcase from the conveyor belt and arranged for a car over to the hotel. Once we were in the backseat, she pulled out her phone and started texting, ignoring me entirely.

All right then.

“Ally says hello.”

I glanced up from my iPad. “Hello, Ally. The kid still inside?”

Sage sighed. “Must you sound so dispassionate about your nephew?”

“Who’s being dispassionate? I asked a question that proves my concern.”

“Sure it does.” She went back to texting.

I’d just returned to reviewing the contract I’d be presenting to Stanley Curtis next week for the purchase of a dairy farm on the outskirts of town when Sage let out a gasp and my head snapped up. Which triggered the pain in my jaw from her head colliding with mine.

Because she’d forgotten her bathing suit. Sweet Jesus. As if I needed to put a picture of her in swimwear in my brain.

“What is it?”

“Ally found the cutest Yankees outfit for the baby. Look!” She thrust her phone at me.

A tiny slugger outfit was spread out on Ally and Seth’s bed. It was cute. Hardly worthy of a gasp, however.

“Lovely.”

Sage yanked back her phone. “See what I mean? Dispassionate.”

“I’m in the middle of work. Remember, the business you said I didn’t have in Vegas?”

This particular contract had nothing to do with Vegas, but she didn’t need to know that. Distraction and subterfuge were nine-tenths of the law.

“You’re intruding on my vacation, you can at least have happy vacay vibes.”

“Not so much, since according to you, I can’t even have sex.”

I didn’t know why I’d said that. I didn’t want to have sex. Unless she was up for-

Nope. I was shutting down that line of thought this instant.

My happy vacay vibes were evidently residing in my pants, and I wasn’t about to give them carte blanche.

Sage narrowed her eyes. “You said this trip a very short, two-day trip, I might add was for you to combine business and being a friend to me. Unless that was Hamilton’s spiel and you’re really here to make sure I have no fun while you have every naked kind you can fathom. If so, don’t you think that’s taking our frenemy thing a little too far?”

I set down my tablet, more amused than annoyed at being interrupted. Maybe it was the warm Nevada air working wonders on my mood because I never felt so benevolent toward her when we were back home.

Then again, she’d never spent half a plane ride almost in my lap either.

“Is that a word they use in the tabloids? Frenemy? Next, are you going to say stop trying to make fetch happen?”

Sage gaped at me. “You’ve seen Mean Girls?”

“I do know my pop culture references.”

“Yet you didn’t know frenemy?” She went back to texting. “Probably watched it with some chick you were trying to bed.”

“Actually, no, I saw it with Laurie.”

“She’s four. Mean Girls is too advanced for her.”

“And three-fourths.” She gave me a serious side-eye. “She’s got a case of hero-worship for that Amanda person. The one who dressed as a mouse. Anyway, I didn’t turn it on for her. She got control of the remote and had watched half of it before I realized what she was watching because I was buried in work. I heard that fetch nonsense before I turned it off.”

“You can’t let children ever control the remote. It’s not safe.”

“Yes, well, that page of my parenting manual was torn out before I got it. Also, in case you didn’t notice,” I sketched a finger over my face, “not a parent.”

She made an indignant sound. “Some things you just know.”

“Perhaps if I’d spent years practicing for my future family with my Wetsy doll and Easy-Bake Oven as you have all your life, then yes, I would.”

Her face seemed to crumple for a moment, the brightness in her eyes fading before she lowered her head and returned her attention to her screen. Effectively blocking me out.

Just as I deserved.

Asshole.

Being rude to her was like kicking a puppy. The banter was one thing. But it was far too easy for us to cross that line.

Just as we’d nearly crossed another line earlier when she’d been nestled against me. Or perhaps the almost-line-crossing had all been on my side since she’d managed to keep her wits about her just fine.

“You’re headed to the Golden Apple?” the Uber driver confirmed.

“Yes,” I answered when Sage remained mute. She still wasn’t happy I’d upgraded her room.

Stubborn woman.

“Not rooming together, I hope. Because you two are a Dr. Phil episode waiting to happen.” The driver chuckled at his own joke.

“I would never room with him. Who knows, I might look at him and get designs on his penis.” Sage pretended to shudder while the driver’s shoulders shook in not-so-silent laughter. “Next thing you know, I’d whip out my Easy-Bake Oven and try to pie him into submission.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to pie me. I have a feeling I’d be quite willing.” I gave her my friendliest smile, all the while plotting how to get her back for this latest indignity.

My penis didn’t want her to have designs on it. So there.

Liar.

“Of course, you would. Manwhore to the rescue once again.” I heard manic tweeting from her phone that indicated she was playing some game.