Bossy Billionaire Read online

  At Fordham, she studied business management and minored in economics. A charm school it wasn’t. She also hadn’t mastered sweet talk. Not that schmoozing would work on this woman. “What about a teaching assistant job? A clerical spot here in the bursar’s office?”

  The woman glared at her. “There aren’t any of those jobs available in the middle of the semester.”

  Lexi looked away from the scowl and studied her hands resting in her lap. Her dress inched above the knee as she fidgeted. She’d wanted to look nice for her tour of the 9/11 Memorial earlier that morning. Being a daughter of one of the firefighters who lost their lives, and all.

  She closed her eyes, resisting the temptation to use the 9/11 tragedy for sympathy. Neither she nor her mother had traded on her father’s death in twenty years. Even though this was her dad’s dream, her going to law school. She just...couldn’t do it.

  “What’s the real harm to NYU if I pay this semester back with interest mind you, after I graduate and get a job?” After she took the bar and god-willing passed it.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Mrs. Canter snapped back. She probably heard more excuses in one day than Lexi could conjure up in a year. “What kind of message would that send to the other students?”

  Lexi scoffed. “Oh, so now what other students do and think is relevant. I keep hearing how everyone’s situation is different and don’t go by anyone else. Blah blah...blah.”

  Mrs. Canter stared with beady eyes while frowning at Lexi’s hair and makeup. “Excuse me.” The woman marched away from the desk. That might have been a bad sign.

  The well finally emptied. There was nowhere to turn. With all the other corners she’d cut, she’d forgone expensive Manhattan room and board and endured a long commute home to the Jersey Shore each night. She and her widowed mother shared a two-bedroom cottage located across the road from their family resort. A dump that didn’t exactly rake in the green. The Portside Inn needed serious cash for an overhaul just to make it a viable business again.

  Mrs. Canter returned a few minutes later looking even more annoyed. Maybe her supervisor said it was okay to let Lexi slide. Victory spread through her, then she got handed a printout:

  Withdrawn

  Withdrawn

  Withdrawn

  Withdrawn

  Withdrawn

  All of her classes. I just got kicked out of law school.

  Lexi shot to her feet. “You’ve withdrawn me? There’re only two months left. I’m supposed to graduate.” When the woman shrugged, she pleaded, “Can you just give me an incomplete and I’ll work with the professors to—”

  “Incompletes are for paying students,” Mrs. Canter barked. “I’ll also be turning off all your campus badges as of five pm today.”

  “For what?”

  “For non-payment.” Mrs. Canter folded her arms. “You spoiled kids think you’re owed everything in life. Welcome to the real world. There are no free rides.” Her nasal rant faded as Lexi stormed out of the cubicle and tromped down the hall.

  It wasn’t worth the argument. Not while people stared at her with disdain. Like she was a loser. As if duds got into one of the most prestigious law schools in the country.

  A wave of warm March air and the flip flops she kept in her school bag left Lexi no excuse not to hoof it north to Penn Station. Her mom had taught her to be self-sufficient. And she wouldn’t waste the last of her cash on a taxi.

  Two decades since 9/11, Sylvia Markham never remarried. Lexi’s frugalness came from watching her mom scrape by in tough times. No one had been happier or prouder when her brother, Theo, became a firefighter, too. New York’s Bravest made peanuts and her brother had to live in the city, so he was stretched to the bone. Didn’t even have enough money for a girlfriend.

  How sad was that?

  Then again, she wasn’t much of a catch at the moment, was she? She never doubted her good looks and her brains, but with her head always in books and bad credit score, she hadn’t had much luck in the love department.

  Spotting crowds milling around Penn Station, she hoped they were just drunks celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, or fans waiting for a New York Rangers hockey game. No one wore any of those green felt hats, and she’d heard on the news that morning the Blue Shirts were out of town. Everyone standing around wore suits and dresses and looked super miffed. She concluded this was the Friday rush-hour crowd pissed-off because of train delays.

  Her head tipped back. New Jersey Transit had been going for some kind of record lately with ridiculous service interruptions. Her tiny shore town was already on a line with very few express trains. The upside to this disaster meant she won’t have to trudge back to the city anytime soon.

  Lexi hooked a right down West 33rd Street to find a quiet bar. Might as well make her last night in Manhattan count.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Luke

  Luke ordered his second scotch from the waiter while Tristan and Laney sipped from tumblers of club soda. She still hadn’t taken a pregnancy test, but she was being cautious, and his brother supportive. How sweet.

  “So how did my brother lure you in, by the way?” He’d been dying to ask Laney, since his brother never revealed what happened on his annual cruises.

  “Our drinks got mixed up,” she said with an adorable smile. “He got my Cosmo, and I got his Balvenie.”

  “They served Balvenie on that cruise?” Luke’s shock pitched his voice up. “How much did that cost?” He and his brothers had gone from middle classy to filthy rich overnight, but Luke still appreciated the value of a dollar.

  “Priceless,” Tristan answered, kissing Laney’s hand.

  “What are you waiting for?” Luke asked, gripping his empty glass. “You know, finding out if you’re...” He stared at the bronze coffered ceiling, too embarrassed to say the word pregnant. Like it was none of his business.

  “We want to make it a special occasion,” Laney answered, holding Tristan’s hand. That had to mean sex considering how his brother blushed.

  Luke had left the hotel smiling when Tristan texted him, agreeing to meet for dinner at the quiet bar/restaurant not too far from his old law firm at One Penn Plaza. Except sitting with these two reminded him what he didn’t have in his life. Love or sex. For tonight, he’d take the sex, hold the love, please.

  Luke had given up trying to date anyone. He earned a horrible reputation after three years of letting his ego take the reins with all the parties and the...women. As an attorney, he lived a sweet life, but chicks hadn’t swooned over his legalese and long work hours. When he became the CEO of an iconic five-star Manhattan hotel, non-stop pussy got delivered to him on a freaking platter.

  He glanced around, ease settling into his shoulders. Dark-wood décor, tight tables, and one long brick wall was authentically New York City. Even for midtown. He’d treated many clients to a superb meal or a stiff drink there. Depending on the news he had for them. It always smelled of Limoncello and basil. The scent brought him back to his happy lawyer days. Man, those were not only gone. And not just with the wind. They were shot across the bow going mach-10 gone.

  The waiter brought the dinner bill and he let his brother grab it to look like a big spender in front of his girl. It all went on the hotel credit card, anyway. Luke enjoyed picking up checks to be heroic. Seemed to be the only superpower he had left.

  By the time Tristan signed the bill, Laney was already kissing his neck. No way was Luke sitting in his limo with two people who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

  Tristan dropped the billfold on the opposite end of the table and stood. The creep shot up to six-foot-four at Yale. His shy demeanor and sharp attention to his work meant he usually kept his head down. At Luke’s six-two height, they walked shoulder to shoulder. Gray, the six-five freak, towered over both of them. It was like the more kids his dad had pumped out, the greater the giants he was making. Thank fuck, his mother didn’t have a girl after Gray.

  “You coming?” Tristan asked.r />
  Lifting his fresh drink, he said, “Nah. I’ll finish this and walk back. Take the limo.”

  “You’re sure?” Laney slipped her purse under her arm. “We can send Tom back for you.”

  He peeked at his phone for the time and was surprised to see it was well after eight pm. “No, he can go home after he drops you off. Have fun later.” He winked to his brother.

  Laney’s lusty giggle confirmed he’d made the right choice. “Good night, Luke.” She stepped around his brother and kissed him on the cheek. She was a sweet woman who was always kissing and hugging him. Tristan always hovered, sending warning looks to both him and Gray. As if he’d hit on his brother’s woman.

  If Luke were ever to fall in love, he assumed possessiveness would overwhelm him, too. When he wanted something, he got it. And held on. Only, he hadn’t found anything yet worth going to the mattresses for.

  With Tristan now ensuring the Hart name would go on, Luke had no urgent desire to be in a relationship. Exclusivity was never his thing, anyway. But he needed sex. Badly. Almost every night for three years his shiny black limo dropped him off at a red carpet hot-spot where women lined up for the playboy CEO. Putting all that nonsense behind him, he ached to get a woman the old fashion way, talk to her, woo her, seduce her for him. Not his hotel. Certainly not his billions.

  A shock of cotton-candy pink curls caught a shine off the bar’s twinkling lights. Luke had a thing for curly hair. He never thought pink could do it for him, but a rush of warm exhilaration fired through him. The thumping of his heart had his ass off his chair as his long legs swaggered in that direction. Years of snapping his fingers and women falling at his feet had gone to his head. This little chippie had easy mark written all over the lovely line of her body.

  I’ll be gentle, Curly Sue.

  As he got closer, his heart pounded more and more. Talking to a stranger where he had a clean slate, excited him. He licked his lips, taking in her long legs in that short red dress. The flip flops, though, gave him pause. Overall, she was sexy as hell, but the practical footwear made him smile and just like that, a sense of calm spread over him. He didn’t have to be anyone in particular. He could be himself.

  Whoever the fuck that was these days.

  As he advanced on the woman, a trio of pub-crawling drunkards stumbled in, shirtless with emerald colored beads hanging around their thick necks.

  Here we go...

  As if the crystal sconces dangling from the ceiling over every other stool at the bar wasn’t enough of a hint this place was fucking high-end. And not a place serving cheap green beer.

  Vito, the manager, approached the interlopers and Luke hurried his steps to give the guy a hand. As the shouting started, though, Curly Sue beat him to the punch. Wow, she was quick.

  “He totally has the right to refuse to serve you,” she broke into the argument, arms crossed, those flip flops firmly planted. She looked goddamn adorable.

  “Where...” one idiot slurred. “Where does it say that?”

  Oops. As far as Luke knew, Vito didn’t have a No shirt, No shoes, No service placard in his window. This was fucking midtown Manhattan. That shit was obvious.

  Curly waved the drunk bastard off. “He doesn’t need a sign. It’s by order of the Board of Health.”

  “Um, no it’s not, honey,” Luke whispered to himself. But he had a feeling she knew that. And that these guys were so drunk, they couldn’t see straight enough to google that shit.

  “Come on,” drunk number two said, pulling at his buddy. “No hot girls in here, anyway.”

  That’s how drunk they were. They missed one of the prettiest faces Luke had seen in a long time. Then again, being yelled at turned off a lot of dudes.

  Luke must be a sick bastard because he didn’t think he’d mind getting yelled at by a cute pink bunny.

  “Thank you, Miss,” Vito said, steering her back to the bar. “Your drinks are on me.”

  She shook her head, those cute pink curls sweeping across her shoulder. “That’s not necessary.”

  When she planted herself back on the stool, Luke finished his stride toward her. No way was he passing up an opportunity to talk to her now.

  Lexi

  LEXI PLOPPED BACK DOWN on her stool, regretting she didn’t ask for a refill on her pretzel bowl. When she saw the prices on the wine list earlier, she’d been too embarrassed to leave and ordered a Coke to save face.

  Then those morons had stumbled in and harassed the manager. She jumped in to help so the drunk assholes wouldn’t paw all over her. She did it more for herself and not to get a free drink.

  “That was pretty amazing.” A deep velvet voice felt like a gentle caress on her shoulders. “I’ve never seen a girl with pink hair scare off three dudes who could clobber an entire rugby team.”

  Despite the gooey feeling spreading through her, she got her leave me alone face on and turned around. Only, the man standing over her made her jaw drop. “Rugby?” she asked, her brain spasming out any other thought.

  “You know...” He rested his forearms on the back of the barstool next to her. “That sport where guys the size of refrigerators link arms and—”

  “I know what rugby is.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is that your opener?” Anyone who called her scary because of her hair wasn’t serious. Or sadly out of practice. Another glance at his breathtaking face had her backpedaling. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re right.” The man’s laugh sounded lyrical. “That was lame. Nice hair, by the way. How do you get it that color?”

  “Very carefully. You can sit, now.” She patted the leather seat next to her. “I’m not usually sitting in a bar all by myself. So, I’m a little...punchy.”

  “Where are you, usually?” He rested a glass of what looked like scotch on the scarred surface of the bar. By the rich smell of the liquor, she bet it tasted fantastic.

  The scotch also had to be expensive because the man’s suit screamed custom. And if that Jacob & Co. watch wrapped around his thick wrist was real, this guy could afford more than a bowl of pretzels. Perhaps he could use a personal shopper. Or someone to clean that watch. Heck, she’d agree to be his maid at this point if it got her tuition paid.

  She scoffed. Maybe that’s his only suit, and maybe he bought the watch in Chinatown. What were the odds on the day she got kicked out of school for non-payment, she’d meet a rich man?

  “School,” she finally answered, getting her head together.

  He shot to his full height which threw off her depth perception. “School? High school?” he asked, backing away.

  She tilted her head. “Law school.”

  “You’re kidding?” He grinned, showing a flawless mouth of pearly white teeth. “Would that be an online school by any chance?”

  She swung around to face him head on, steadying her hands on the sides of the barstool. The man was a certified god, firm jaw, chiseled cheekbones, and eyes the color of Superman’s classic electric blue cape. Fitting. “Okay, I’ll bite...”

  “You bite?” he said and she swore she heard a growl.

  “What makes you think I’m taking courses from an online law school?” Indignation burned in her throat.

  “There’re technically no state or federal laws requiring shirts and shoes,” he announced with so much smugness, he deserved a punch in that tempting mouth.

  She snorted in derision. “I know that. They were too drunk to know what day it is.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they know what day it is.” He gave a low chuckle that could have come from the devil himself.

  “I don’t suppose you know why no shirts/no shoes isn’t a law? I didn’t get to that part of my classes.” She hid the hurt, fearing she may never know.

  “I do know that one.” He lowered a dark blond eyebrow. If she ignored his insane good looks and the smell his intoxicating cologne, she could keep up the snarky banter. “It technically has to do with the Civil Rights act of ’64.”

  “And how do you know that?”
r />   “I’m a lawyer.”

  “You’re lying.” She waved him off.

  “Scout’s honor.” He held two fingers against a smooth temple. “Eagle, made rank in—”

  “All right, all right.” She studied him. An Eagle Scout attorney. After this, she’d head to a bodega and play the lottery or buy a scratch off, since her luck was on a roll. And by the look of him, he must be killing it. “Top firm, I take it.” She tapped his watch.

  “Eh.” Odd that he wouldn’t boast which one. His formidable aura screamed partner. The man. The boss.

  A rush spread through her chest. One day she would be a junior associate with powerful men all around her eighteen hours a day. Long work days crushed the possibility of having a serious relationship for a while. She pictured a late-night bang with the glittering skyline behind her as a man like this took her on a desk. Picturing this guy’s muscular ass flexed, thrusting his cock in and out made Lexi’s core tighten.

  Screeeech. It was hard to make that happen if she just got kicked out of law school. Her throat felt thick, hot and tight. No, she wouldn’t let this guy see her cry.

  “Where did you go to school?” she asked to move the focus from her.

  “Stanford.” It figured a man this smoldering went to the number two law school in the country.

  Feigning disinterest, she said, “I applied there, just so I could get mail from them.”

  His electric blue eyes sparkled. “They didn’t accept you?”

  “Waitlisted.”

  “It’s a crazy hard school to get into.” The regret in his voice sounded like he had something to do with their strict admission process. “I sort of had connections.” Not elaborating, he settled onto the stool next to her looking relaxed. “Where do you go?”

  “NYU,” she squeaked out, fighting the sob building in her throat.

  “Good for you. What are you drinking?” He circled the tip of his finger along the rim of her glass. The raw seductive move had her wondering if she would go home with a stranger.

  “Soda for now,” she answered.