Claimed by My Ex's Daddy

The first text I got on my birthday was from my boyfriend Julian—bailing on me last minute.

Whatever. I still have a backup plan: a fancy birthday party to go to.

Too bad it isn’t mine. I'm just working there as staff.

I know it sounds pretty pathetic. But the truth is, I need this money to refill what I tore out of my student loans… for Julian.

When his emergency came up, I had to give what was left. And now I am working nights to fill that hole back up. With summer already half gone, I need to make every cent back before semester starts.

“For god’s sake Lily, that boy is just a year younger than you.” My best friend Erica clearly doesn’t get our relationship.

"You have to go easy on Julian. He is trying to pay me back too. And you know that ever since he stepped up and saved me that time… I’ve always felt like I owed him." I reply softly but firmly.

Erica rolls her eyes. “Be glad he’s eye candy, cause that’s the only reason I let you two date.”

I chuckle while putting away the last plate. “Maybe I’ll even have time to grab a birthday cake later.”

No sooner have the words left my mouth than the manager stands over us with that smug look.

"Do you think you're grocery shopping?" she snaps. "I hired you to keep this party classy. Take those trays to the dishwasher."

Erica says a quiet “Sorry” to the manager, then grabs half the tray and walks with me toward the kitchen.

"I think I know why the manager's so tense tonight," Erica whispers with a sly grin. "Rumor is that super-sexy billionaire Mr. Whitmore is staying at the hotel tonight."

I blink slowly as I recognize the name. Not mainly because of his looks, but because of Julian.

The last time I saw Whitmore on some gossip show, Julian stomped over and slammed the TV off. He looked pissed. Told me that the guy’s a total asshole.

Julian explained they just ran into each other at some event once. I didn’t push, because that look on his face at that time was the same uneasy look he gets when his family comes up. Tight with something awkward.

My gut says the guy’s not all bad, though.

But I see it—those photos of Whitmore do kinda look like Julian. Same dark hair, blue eyes. Maybe men are just wired to hate strangers who look like them.

“Really?” I ask, trying not to sound interested.

Erica nods with a coy smile. “Rumor has it, the man not only looks like he was sculpted by the gods themselves but also gifted with their knowledge of all the ways to make a woman moan.”

“Erica!” I hiss, hoping no one heard the inappropriate comment.

“What?” She asks innocently. “This could be great. You’re gorgeous, funny, and intelligent. You deserve to have mind-blowing sex with a man who will spoil you rotten.”

I give her a disapproving look. “I'm still with Julian. What kind of person would I be if I wasn't loyal to our relationship?”

But the next second I see the birthday girl, Vanessa, draped over some polished-looking guy. They don’t stay long in my view, but the glimpse I get of his profile is a perfect match to Julian’s.

My heart stops. So he bailed on me… just to be at someone else’s birthday?

I want to believe Julian would never betray me, but my gut is screaming at me to confirm it for myself.

Then, I pull out my phone to call him. Straight to voicemail. Well, that does nothing to ease my suspicions.

My manager is nowhere in sight. There’s nothing left to do. I have to follow the mysterious Julian doppelgänger like some sort of stalker until I know whether that’s him. If I don’t, my brain will fixate on it forever.

I grab a tray and add a bottle of Cabernet and two glasses. Hopefully, security will just think I’m delivering room service and won’t stop me.

“Cover for me?” I ask Erica. She just nods, asking no questions as I head out the door.

I head in the direction I think the woman and my boyfriend lookalike went. I pass by a security guard, and I drop my eyes, picking up my pace like I’m on an urgent errand. He says nothing as I pass by him toward the first-floor rooms.

I breathe a sigh of relief and start wandering through the hall, listening for sounds of the woman or Julian.

It doesn’t take long before I can’t lie to myself anymore. I’m lost. This hotel is huge, and there is no sign of them anywhere. Although, if they’re in a room, I’m not likely to find them.

My stomach clenches. There’s only one reason they would be in a room.

I’m about to give up and see if I can find my way back to the party when I turn and collide into a solid form. The bottle on my tray tips, and red wine splashes all over the pristine white shirt of the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.

A gorgeous man I immediately recognize.

Adrian Whitmore. The exact billionaire we were just talking about.

Holy hell, the man is way hotter than any grainy tabloid photo I’ve ever seen. My gaze trails from his broad shoulders up to those deep blue eyes—hypnotic, almost, like they’re pulling me in. I can’t look away.

I swear I see a flicker of amusement cross his cold expression, but it’s gone so fast. I’m still staring like an idiot when Adrian cuts through my daze with a low cough.

“I’m so sorry,” is all I can utter as I frantically grab napkins from my apron and start pressing them to the red stain on his shirt. It probably costs a fortune. How could I pay for it?

His hand gently touches my wrist, stopping me. It’s only then that I realize I have been stuttering my apology repeatedly.

“It’s alright. It’s just a shirt. Don’t worry about it.” His voice is like a cello, deep and rich. There’s a genuine smile on his face as he takes the napkins from me.

Any other guest in this hotel would have me fired. So, of course, I destroy the clothes of the only decent one we have. Guilt stabs at me.

“Please, let me get you another shirt.” I offer. “I’m sure the hotel valet has some.” For once, I was grateful to work in such a luxury hotel. They usually had some clothing on hand.

Adrian doesn’t expect me to say that. I feel his hypnotic eyes linger on me, his gaze holds something dangerous. Out of nowhere, I get thirsty.

“So I suppose I need to give you my room number. For the delivery.” There’s a knowing curl to his smile.

I still can’t think straight around this intense man. All I do is swallow and nod.

After Adrian's answer, I scurry down the hall and quickly take a shirt back.

But I don’t expect Adrian to have already showered and changed into a robe by the time I return. I try to hand him the clothes and leave, until I realize I never confirmed his size.

“Maybe you should try them on first,” I say nervously.

Adrian raises a brow, a slight curve at the corner of his mouth. “Then maybe you should come in and help me check.”

I nod and follow him inside, only for him to drop the robe, standing there in just a towel. He spreads his arms, waiting for me to dress him.

A flush rushes to my cheeks, and I swear I forget how to breathe. Adrian is the picture of male beauty. With only a towel wrapped around his waist, his defined chest, sculpted arms, and all eight abs are on full display.

I take the shirt, and he turns for me to pull it over his arms and across his broad, muscled back. He adjusts the shoulders and turns back to face me. His eyes look at me and then down at the unfastened buttons.

My cheeks flush and my heart pounds wildly while my hands reach for the open edges of the shirt. With my shaking hands and fumbling fingers, I start to wonder if I’ve forgotten how buttons work.

My breath shakes, and I struggle to draw in another as my heart pounds faster. And why did he have to smell so good?

Just as I finally fasten the second-to-last button, my fingers accidentally brush against Adrian’s burning abs.

Before I can even apologize, he grabs my wrist and yanks me hard against his chest.

His blue eyes glow with a hint of red.

“So… is this what you wanted?”