Arrangement with a Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaire Brothers Book 1) COMPLETE

Chapter Forty - Call Me Maybe

Chapter Forty

Arturo wasn't back at the apartment when Isla came back. He didn't show up the next day either. Or the next day. Or the day after that. It seemed as though an entire month had gone by when Isla realized that she hadn't heard a thing from anyone in Arturo's circles. Jane pretended to not know anything that was going on. She didn't mention Sylvio's name, or confirm or deny what Isla thought had happened after she had left.

Which made things awkward in the beginning. Isla wanted to know how she'd even met Sylvio, and why was she so embarrassed to have any sort of connection with him? Was it because she wrote billionaire romances? Maybe it was embarrassing for her to be a writer in that genre, while actually knowing a real billionaire.

It was hard to sexualize a person when they had a real face and a life, and weren't just text on a page, or an actor on the big screen.

Isla felt sorry for Jane, but she wasn't a good enough person to spare much of even that pitiful emotion.

Isla was still wallowing in her own self pity, and trying to forget that the very thought of Arturo made her heart thump in all the wrong ways.

She loved the bastard. She loved him, and her plan to get close enough to even be considered a friend, to make him feel guilty for getting her to sign that contract, had backfired spectacularly in her face. Now there wasn't anything between. Isla hadn't so much as received a call or a text, and she'd certainly never heard anything back from Orlando, Sylvio, or even Sam or Martina.

She missed those two especially.

Isla had heard from the lawyers of course, people who wanted to make sure that the transfer of forty-nine percent of a multi million dollar company in Isla's name went smoothly.

And it did. For what had to be the first time in the history of any business transaction of this size, everything was clear skies and smooth sailing.

Arturo had even arranged to continue operations of her share of the business until she was ready to tell her parents that she had it, and then hand it over to the people who knew what they were doing better than she did.

Which she hadn't done yet.

Isla knew Arturo's phone number. She had lived in his house for a little over two weeks, after all, but when the time came that she was ready to explain to her parents that her adoring billionaire boyfriend was handing over part of his girlfriend's family business, Isla was to call his lawyers, who would then relay the message to him.

Isla wasn't supposed to call Arturo personally.

Isla stayed in bed, staring at her phone, staring at the screen with Arturo's name and number on it. She imagined calling him right now just for the hell of it, of hearing his voice, but then her imagination quickly filled in what would happen next.

He'd know it was her. He had to have caller ID, and if he didn't have it, and didn't recognize her number, then Isla would hang up the second he picked up and said a single word.

Her stomach constricted at the thought, as though it was something that had already happened.

But then she'd hear his voice.

She stared at the screen of her phone, looked at the black pixels that spelled out his name, and thought about calling.

She turned off her phone and stuck it under her pillow. The level of pathetic that oozed from her was impressive in it's sadness.

And she hadn't showered in three days. Hadn't sketched any new designed, despite the fact that having the business back, or part of it, meant that she'd be going back to work soon. She hadn't even opened up her kits or made anything out of her many supplies. Her body was tired. So was her mind. She thought about doing these things, but even as she imagined her legs and arms moving, or jumping out of bed and hoping into the shower and starting her day—at one in the afternoon—her body wouldn't cooperate. Her fingers didn't even twitch.