Embrace | Secret Billionaire Romance, Book 2

Seduction begins The Secret Billionaire: Asher Blackstone Duet with a dark, forbidden billionaire romance. When Penina Ross falls for mysterious “Jake,” she doesn’t realize he’s really Asher Blackstone. Their passion is undeniable, but his secrets could shatter her world in this suspenseful and steamy romance.

Ugh, here he comes.
I duck my head and nearly stare a hole through the wood grain of the bar, praying I’ve gotten it wrong—that Rich Durbin, my ex-boyfriend, is not approaching me and that we didn’t lock eyes a few seconds ago. What did my gaze reveal? I’m sure I didn’t show more than how shocked I was to see him in Bellies Bar and Grill.
According to the great Rich Durbin, backup quarterback for the New Orleans Quest, this eatery—catering mostly to those who work at Unity Memorial Hospital across the street—isn’t cool enough for him. The spots he frequents always have plenty of professional athletes with their entourages and groupies.
I squeeze my eyes shut to think. In a matter of seconds, I’ll know if Rich is coming to see me or not. We broke up at the end of summer, which means I haven’t seen him for two, nearly three months. Have I missed him? Perhaps a smidgen, maybe not. I’ve been so busy at the hospital that time without him has flown by. However, we dated for three years—one thousand ninety-four days too long.
Rich is a serial cheater and, like most men, isn’t that good at it. I used to receive occasional phone calls from random women informing me that my boyfriend had given them an STD—one that, thankfully, was never transmitted to me. I never slept with him without a condom. Instinct always warned me to protect myself in that department, and I always followed my gut.
Before our breakup, I was constantly stalked by a woman he was involved with. Every so often, one of them would come into the hospital requesting me—the steady girlfriend they broke the girl code with—as her physician, only to learn that I’m a neurosurgery resident. If her brain didn’t need to be sliced open for any reason—and bad judgment for getting involved with Rich didn’t qualify—then I was the wrong doctor for her.
Sometimes, the crazies even showed up where I lived, banging on my door. After the fourth time that happened, I developed a process with Jamie, the building manager. I would call her, she would call her brother Joe, a local police officer, and he and his partner would stop by, escort the crazy lady out of the building, and threaten to arrest her for trespassing if she showed up again.
To say that dating Rich Durbin is stressful is an understatement. It will be a spring day in hell before I get involved with him again.
However, when a large hand comes down on my back, I know I can’t escape him.
“Pen,” he says jollily, as if he is ultra-excited to see me.
Everyone calls me Pen, short for Penina. I hate my name. Grade school bullies had a field day with it. I was called Pinhead, Pin the Tail on the Donkey, and other silly insults that were only funny to fifth graders.
I smile hesitantly. “Rich? What are you doing here?”
He freely puts his arm around my upper back and guides me in for a hug. “You look good, as usual.”
I squeeze my arms against the sides of my chest, remembering how I never wanted him to touch me again. He has also avoided answering a direct question. Experience has taught me that he is hiding something, and such secrets usually involve another woman. Suddenly, all I want him to do is get as far away from me as possible. The feeling is like being overtaken by a wave of severe PMS. I want him to evaporate into thin air and get out of my life forever.
Rich points at the glass in front of me. “Wait, you’re drinking alcohol?”
“It’s tonic water with lemon,” I mumble and point at my wings. “I’m here for a bite before heading home, but you already know that.”
He sneers. “To sleep, then you’re back at the hospital to do it again and again, a million more times.”
My brow furrows. “Yeah,” I say, remembering how he used to complain about the exorbitant amount of time I spent at the hospital. “So, why are you here again?”
He sniffs, then scratches an eyebrow before donning his famous lopsided smile. The expression used to give me butterflies—but not anymore. It’s official. I’m over him.
“I’m here because I’m meeting someone,” he says.