The Teacher's Billionaire

like her father expected his employees to be seen and not heard.
    Like an obedient child, Callie followed the older gentleman deeper into the opulent mansion, and with each step her heart beat faster. Desperately she tried to focus on the beautiful surroundings rather than her rioting nerves. The walls were lined with framed portraits that looked as if they belonged in a museum and beautiful antique furniture filled the rooms she passed. Yet despite her best efforts, it wasn’t helping.
    She’d never experienced an anxiety attack before, but she knew without a doubt she was having one now. Her heart raced. Her breathing was rapid. And she felt ready to jump out of her skin.
    Relax. He’s only a man not some super human being.
    The knocking sound penetrated the ringing in Callie’s ears. As if from a great distance, she heard a male voice respond and the butler pushed open the door to an extremely masculine study complete with dark wood and leather furniture.
    “Miss Taylor has arrived,” the butler announced to the room’s occupant.
    Without consciously thinking, she ran her sweaty palms down the sides of her skirt and took a tentative step forward. She assumed Warren Sherbrooke would be waiting for her on the other side of the door. But he wasn’t the man Callie now found greeting her.
    Dylan knew she was disappointed. He could sense it with every fiber of his being. He also knew he was the cause of her disappointment, and that displeased him. Though he had no idea why. It didn’t matter how this woman felt about him. Today he had to act as host in Warren’s absences, plain and simple. He hadn’t even planned on being here this weekend. He was supposed to be in Chicago today on business. But when his mother called very late the night before asking him to meet Callie today, he sent his Vice President of Operations to Chicago in his place and came straight here instead.
    “Callie, it’s nice to see you again. Please have a seat.” Dylan smiled and gestured toward the leather sofa but remained standing until she sat down.
    As she settled herself on the sofa, he pretended not to notice how her skirt rose up exposing her thigh when she crossed her legs. Like the skin on her face and arms, her legs were tan and Dylan instantly found himself wondering if they felt as smooth as they looked. Uncomfortable with the path his brain was taking, he pushed the irrational thought from his mind. He needed to stay focused.
    Linking his fingers together he leaned forward and set about explaining Warren’s absence. “Warren planned on arriving early this morning, but he didn’t feel well enough to fly today. He spent last night in the ER with a severe case of food poisoning. He and my mother hope to leave sometime tomorrow. It’ll depend on how he is feeling though.”
    Personally he didn’t think they’d be able to leave Florida until Sunday at the earliest. For his stepfather to go to the hospital, he must have been feeling downright awful. Warren hated going to the doctors. And he never let illness stop him unless he was literally too sick to get out of bed.
    “He’s very disappointed. . .” Dylan stopped mid-sentence when the door to the study opened.
    “Have you heard from mom and. . .”
    This wasn’t what he needed now; Dylan thought when his half-sister entered the room. She’d already made her opinion known about Callie’s visit, and he didn’t need a repeat performance of their earlier argument. He especially didn’t need it in front of their guest. It was already apparent that Callie felt uncomfortable. Dylan didn’t want to make the situation any more awkward. The last thing he wanted was for her to leave before Warren arrived. He’d promised his stepfather that Callie would be there, and Dylan wasn’t a man to take his promises lightly.
    “I talked to them early this morning when they got back to their hotel room.” Dylan paused before continuing. His manners dictated that he make formal introductions even though he knew they weren’t necessary. The look on Callie’s face told him she knew exactly who Sara was. Still it was the polite thing to do.
    Don’t say anything stupid Sara.
    Clearing his throat he prepared himself. “Sara, I’d like you to meet. . .”
    “You don’t have to tell me who
she
is,” Sara snapped. Her voice dripped with contempt. “Or why she’s here.”
    Dylan knew what his sister was implying. Unfortunately, he couldn’t control what she said. Once again he