Twins For The Billionaire

“Yes.” Confident. That was Sofia. She could handle an interview. She could handle this office—although it didn’t seem to need a lot of managing.

“One moment, please.” The receptionist turned her attention to her computer screen.

Sofia’s stomach tightened with anxiety. She’d been selling real estate for over seven years and before that, she’d been helping at her parents’ agency. But managing an office like this?

This wasn’t just real estate agents. Eric Jenner no longer bought and sold houses. He bought land and built things, like this skyscraper. He employed agents and architects and interior designers and lawyers. He built exclusive office spaces and luxury apartments. And he did it so well that he had become a billionaire. Sofia didn’t stalk Eric online but it’d been hard to miss when he’d been left at the altar and then, just a few months later, been named one of Chicago’s top five eligible bachelors, following the marriage and subsequent delisting of his friend, Marcus Warren.

What was she even doing here? She didn’t know anything about billionaires. She knew how to sell houses and condos to families, not manage architects and negotiate tax breaks with municipalities. She was struggling to hold on to middle-class respectability, for crying out loud. She’d had to move back in with her parents because she couldn’t afford house payments or daycare. This was not her world.

Her chest tightened and she had trouble breathing.

Oh, no.

No, she could not have a panic attack. Not another one, not right now. She took a step back from the reception desk, the urge to flee so strong it was almost overwhelming. Two things stopped her. The first was the image of the twins in her mother’s arms this morning, all waving bye-bye to Sofia as she went off for her big interview. Mom had been training Adelina and Eduardo to blow kisses and it was the cutest thing ever. The twins needed more than Sofia could give them right now. They needed stability and safety. They needed a mom who wasn’t teetering on the edge, trying to keep everything together. To be that person for her children, she needed a steady job.

The other thing that halted her in her tracks was the sound of her name. “Ms. Bingham?”

She looked up and the air rushed out of her lungs. There he was. She’d seen pictures of him in those impossible-to-miss articles, but there was something unexpected about Eric Jenner in the flesh that shook her.

That smile, at least, hadn’t changed. But the rest of him? Eric Jenner was now over six feet tall, moving with an easy grace that projected strength and confidence. He was simply breathtaking in a way she hadn’t ever associated with him. His hair had deepened from bright copper to a rich burnished red, although his skin was still tanned. She almost grinned. Bronzed redheads were such a rare thing that it only made him all the more special.

One thing was certain—he was not the boy she remembered. His shoulders were broader, his legs more powerful as they closed the distance between them. And his eyes... When she lifted her gaze to his, he stumbled to a stop, his brow quirking and she knew he recognized her, even if he didn’t know from where. Something in her chest loosened and she could breathe again because she knew it was going to be all right.

She hoped, anyway.

Then the realization broke over his face. “Sofia?” He took a step forward before pulling up short. “I’m sorry,” he went on in a completely different voice. “You look like someone I used to know.”

She became aware that they were standing in the middle of the reception area and that, while no one was openly staring at them, a lot of people were paying attention to this conversation. She clutched the strap of her handbag harder. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Jenner,” she said because she did not want to presume anything at this point.

His face lit up and dang if that didn’t make her smile. “What are you doing here? And when did you get married?” He paused and looked at her again. A warm heat flushed her cheeks. Great. Blushing.

It only got worse when he said, “Wow. You really grew up.”

Her anxiety tried to wrestle control, but she powered through. “Actually, I’m your nine a.m. I’m here about the job.” He blinked at her. “The opening for office manager?” she prompted him.

“Oh, oh—right.” He glanced around, as if he was also just becoming aware of how this conversation might look to his employees. “This office could definitely use some management. Come on back.” He cast a critical eye around and people seemed to melt back into their offices but he did so with a faint smile on his face. Sofia caught the receptionist grinning and rolling her eyes. Eric saw it, too, and said, “All right, Heather—back to work.”

“Of course, Mr. Jenner,” Heather the receptionist said, still smiling. She had perfectly white, perfectly even teeth, which was almost enough to distract Sofia from the sly way she winked.

Eric winked back.

Sofia’s heart began to pound again. What did she know about him, really? The boy he’d been had been someone privileged and wealthy but still kind to a little girl. He’d taught her how to swim and roller-skate and had, on more than one occasion, played tea with her and some of his mother’s delicate china dolls.

But that didn’t mean he was the same person now. Yes, he was rich, handsome—and single. Of course he would make eyes at the beautiful young receptionist. And the beautiful young receptionist—well, she wasn’t stupid. Of course she would make eyes back.

Sofia had just begun to feel invisible when Eric turned back to her. “I had no idea you were applying for this job,” he said, motioning for her to follow him. “Tell me about your husband. Who was lucky enough to land Sofia Cortés?”

He said it in a way that was almost believable, the kind of benign flirting a man like Eric no doubt excelled at. But, unfortunately, it wasn’t run-of-the-mill small talk to Sofia. All she could do was keep breathing.

She didn’t say anything until he led her back into his office. The room was huge, with leather couches and a massive mahogany desk, plus a wet bar. And behind it all was a wall of glass facing due east. He had an almost perfectly unobstructed view of Lake Michigan. She didn’t sell downtown real estate, but even she knew this view was worth millions.

He closed the door behind her. For a moment, they stood with less than two feet separating them. Sofia became acutely aware of the heat of his body and it made her flush in a way that hadn’t happened in months. Years.

“What an amazing vista,” she said, striving for lighthearted—and willing him away from conversation about David. Willing away the heat she couldn’t seem to ignore.

Eric Jenner was every inch the billionaire bachelor. There was no doubt in her mind that his suit was custom-made—everything he wore was probably custom-made, right down to his socks. He’d paired a bold royal blue suit with a light pink shirt and a silk tie that probably cost as much as her car payment. It all fit him like a second skin.

A forgotten feeling began to pulse through her body, a steady pounding that got louder with each beat. For a dazed moment, she didn’t recognize it.

Desire. That’s what this tight, hot heaviness was. Want. She’d forgotten she could feel this way anymore. She’d thought...well, she’d thought she’d buried her needs with her husband.

The realization that she could still feel raw attraction was startling enough. But the fact that her body was feeling desire for Eric? Her cheeks got hotter by the second and here in the privacy of his office, there weren’t any winking receptionists or dinging elevators to distract his attention.

He stared at her, his eyes darkening. Her lungs refused to expand and she began to feel light-headed. She couldn’t want Eric and he shouldn’t be looking at her like that. That wasn’t why she’d come.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” she blurted out, making a conscious effort to look around the room. Photographs of him with famous people were mixed in with expensive-looking paintings and pictures of his buildings.

After a pause that was so quiet she was sure he could hear her pulse pounding, he said, “Was there any doubt?”

It sounded so cocky that she jerked back to look at him. He had a wolf’s grin on his face, but then everything about him softened and she almost saw the boy she’d known. “I work hard for what I have, but let’s be honest—I started from a place higher than almost everyone else, thanks to my parents.”

A little bit of the anxiety loosened in her chest. Yes, he had always been the privileged son of privileged people. But the Eric she remembered had been almost embarrassed by that fact. His parents hadn’t raised him to be an entitled, spoiled brat. How much of that boy still existed inside of him? Or was he the kind of man who hired a beautiful receptionist—or even a mildly attractive office manager—just to get her in bed?

She didn’t want him to be like that. If he was, she wasn’t sure she could destroy her fondest memories of him with reality. “How are your parents? I know they still exchange Christmas cards with my parents.”

Eric sighed, an action of extreme exaggeration that made him look younger. “They’re fine. They’re disappointed I didn’t manage to get married and start producing grandchildren, but they’re fine.” Before she could process that statement, he asked, “Your folks?”

“Doing well. I don’t know how much your parents have shared with you, but after you went away to school, my father started selling houses. Your father opened the door for him,” she added, always mindful of what the Jenners had done for her family. “It turned out there was a huge market for bilingual real estate agents and Dad was able to capitalize on that. He owns an agency in Wicker Park. Mom stays home with my children now. They spoil each other rotten.”

His eyes widened before he turned away from her and strode toward his desk. Each step put physical distance between them—but there was no missing the emotional distance that went up like a wall around him.

This was all casual small talk, every bit of it. But there was something else going on that Sofia couldn’t put her finger on. When he’d complained about his parents wanting grandbabies, it hadn’t sounded quite right. And the look in his eyes when she’d mentioned her kids? On anyone else it would’ve been longing. She couldn’t believe that someone like Eric Jenner, who literally had the world at his feet, would be interested in an old acquaintance’s babies.

He didn’t sit at the desk, didn’t turn around. Instead, he stared out at the lake. Although it was still early, she could see a few boats out on the water, ready to enjoy the beautiful summer day. “I hadn’t heard that you’d gotten married. Congratulations.” His voice was level—unfeeling, almost.

“Oh.” She couldn’t help the dejected noise that escaped. Eric half turned, his silhouette outlined in sunshine. “I’m not. I mean, I was. But he...he died.” No matter how long it’d been, her voice caught every time she had to state that fact out loud. “Seventeen months ago.” Not that she was counting the days—the hours—since the worst day of her life.

She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. If she did this quickly, it wouldn’t hurt so badly. That was the theory, anyway. “I don’t know if you’d ever heard of him—David Bingham? We worked at a real estate agency up in Evanston.”

He turned and took a step toward her and for a second, she thought he was going to fold her into his arms and she was going to let him. But he pulled up short. “Sofia,” he said, his tone gentle. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. How are you doing?”

That wasn’t small talk. That was an honest question from one of her oldest friends. God, she’d missed Eric.

It was so tempting to lie and smooth over the awkward moment with platitudes. Lord knew Eric was probably looking for an easy answer.

But none of her answers were easy. “That’s why I’m here. My twins are—”

“Twins?” he cut her off, his eyes bugging out of his head. “How old?”