Sleeping With My Boss: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (A Dirty Office Romance) (81 page)

CHAPTER
FORTY

Epilogue

"
Hey
, hey, hey! No running in the
house!" I yelled as I heard the sound of pounding feet run through the
kitchen toward the back door.

"We're not
running!" came the protesting voices in unison. "We're marching,
Mom!"

"Okay, well,
running or marching, I want some peace and quiet in this house!" I called
back trying to swallow my laughter. "Because if you wake your sister,
you're going to be responsible for her. Do you hear me?"

"Aye aye,
ma'am!" came the reply from two small voices.

"They are
your sons," I smiled as I looked up over where Ryan sat at the table
reviewing paperwork that had been delivered that morning.

"Well, I
can't say I'm sorry to hear that, Dr. Powell," he grinned. "What's
for dinner?"

"I don't
know, what did you pick up at the grocery store on your way home?" I asked
sweetly.

"I was
supposed to pick something up?" he looked up at me genuinely confused.

"I've been in
the lab coding SAI 02 for three straight days," I sighed. "You knew
you were responsible for dinner!"

"I suddenly
miss those days when we lived next door to Nemo's and I could just call your
boyfriend and order dinner," he said with a wistful grin.

"You are a
pill," I laughed as I moved around the island and leaned down to hug him
as he sat scanning papers. "What's that?"

"Same thing
as usual, just going over the TriCorp books making sure that you're not
squirreling away money so you can dump me and move to your own private
island," he said turning to kiss my cheek.

"Yes, because
that's what I'd definitely want to do if I squirreled away a lot of
money," I said returning his kiss. "But if possible, could you direct
a little more money toward the SAI 03 project? The lab team needs some supplies
and I can't get the supply manager to release them."

"Cece does a
great job of keeping that place in running order, doesn't she?" he
grinned. "Give her the paperwork and I'll see if I can't prod her to get
what you need a little quicker."

"You're a
good husband," I said as I picked up my phone and tapped the screen. A few
minutes later, I said, "Okay, you're off the hook. Dinner's on it's way
and should be here in an hour. You do, however, need to get your sons in here
to wash up and set the table for six of us. Meanwhile, I will go wake my
daughter and get her cleaned and fed so that she can entertain the crowd."

"Who's coming
to dinner?" he asked as he stood up and walked over to me. He wrapped his
arms around me and pulled me to his chest.

"Who do you
think?" I said as I rested my cheek against his chest and breathed in his
musky scent. "The supply manager and my old boyfriend, they're bringing
food from Nemo's."

"I miss those
old days, but I am eternally grateful that you agreed to create a whole
lifetime of new days with me, Echo," Ryan said as he held me close.

"I am, too,
Ryan," I said as I tipped my head up and stood on my toes to kiss him.
"I am, too."

Click here to continue to my next book.

Get Each of My Newly
Released Books for 99 Cents By Clicking Here

Click
here to get my book Swipe for free

BILLIONAIRE’S
TRUST

By
Alexa Davis and Claire Adams

This
book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are
products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not
to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual
events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright
© 2016 Alexa Davis

CHAPTER
ONE

Dax

"
What
the hell is wrong with you, Beck?" I
yelled. "You fuck up everything you lay your hands on!"

"Aww, c'mon,
Dax," he said with a hangdog look. "I didn't do it on purpose. It's
not that big of a deal, only a couple of ounces got lost."

"Lost my
ass," I said as I rubbed my eyes and then looked at him. "Beck, I
don't care if you are my fucking brother, if you don't get your shit straight
and run your business right, I'm gonna fuckin' kill you."

"Dax, it's
not my fault," he whined. "I sold the stuff the way you told me, it's
just that your connection shorted me on the buy."

"Bullshit,"
I said. "He's never once shorted me before. This is your fuck up and your
fuck up alone. Get your shit straight, Beck, or I'm gonna have to do something
you're not gonna like."

"Fine,
whatever," he said as he turned and walked across the empty floor. He
stopped before he got to the door and turned to look at me as he spoke.
"You're not always going to be on top, you know, big brother. Someday,
someone is going to come along and knock you off your throne and then where
will you be, huh?"

"Let them
try," I said as I held his gaze. He looked away first and then shoved the
door open with a loud bang before walking out into the street.

I turned to the
figure sitting in the shadows and said, "Keep an eye on him, Riza. He's
gonna fuck things up for all of us, I just know it."

"Don't be too
hard on him, boss," she said as she stood up and stretched. "He's
young and wants to impress you."

"That may be,
but I'm not going to risk the entire business for his growth opportunity,"
I said. My younger brother was a Class A screw up and had been his entire life.
It wasn't entirely his fault.

We'd spent the
first years of our lives in a violent home before my father, a failed inventor,
shot my mother, a financial analyst, and himself and left us orphans. We'd been
placed with my father's mother, an Irish woman who ran a grocery store on San
Pedro and lived in a shack behind the store. We didn't know it at the time, but
she was in the early stages of dementia and often left the store closed up and
us to fend for ourselves while she wandered out into the streets on Skid Row
looking for a way back to her hometown of Dublin.

When she was home,
it was obvious why my father had ended up the way he had and why we rarely saw
my grandmother while he was still alive. She held the firm belief that children
who were heard rather than seen should be severely punished in ways that would
have horrified even the toughest disciplinarian. Gram hated Beck and often
punished him for minor infractions that I was allowed to get away with.
Needless to say, I looked forward to the days when she'd disappear and leave us
on our own. They were a respite from the torment and abuse.

With no one to
check up on us, I quickly got used to being the protector and provider. We
didn't really have to struggle much, since my grandmother was well connected in
the neighborhood and people looked out for us, but it took awhile for Beck and
I to figure out the system. By the time my parents died, we were living in an
abandoned house that had no running water or electricity. The switch to the
Grand brought us into a different world that was more consistent in many ways,
but still left us on our own for long stretches of time.

Gram had little
interest in us, aside from ordering us to stock shelves or haul boxes into the
storage area from the truck that arrived every Monday. She didn't bother to buy
us any clothes or toys or even register us for school.

I had to figure
all of that out on my own.

We moved in with
my grandmother when I was ten and Beck was eight. By the end of the first week,
I knew which neighbors would feed us without asking questions and which ones
were inclined to call nosy social workers. I learned to call Elsa, the woman
who ran the liquor store on the corner of 6
^th
Street and who knew my
grandmother the best, and let her know that Gram was gone again. Elsa was the
one who helped me order clothing for Beck and I and register us both for
school. I quickly became wheeler-dealer and, as a result, I was able to
maintain a good front and keep people from asking too many questions, despite
the oddness of our living situation.

Beck was too young
to know just how strange our situation was, but he quickly learned to follow my
lead and do as I told him. He knew that not following directions would often
lead to something terrible, so he became both cautious and reckless in the way
he behaved. At home, he was a silent child who hid in the storage room or a
closet to avoid the wrath of Gram, but at school, he was a hellion who refused
to follow the rules or even stay in his seat. On more than one occasion, I'd
been called out of class to go to Beck's classroom and deal with his
misbehavior, since I was the only one he'd listen to. It was exhausting caring
for both of us, but I didn't see any other option. So I shouldered the burden
and did the best I could to ensure that we were fed, clothed, and had a roof
over our heads.

 
By the time I was twelve, I was playing dice
with the neighborhood hustlers in back alleys. They taught me about smoking,
drugs, drinking, and what little they knew about women. As a result, I never
touched the first two, but the last two, well, I always say I've never met a drink
I wouldn't sip and a woman I couldn't enjoy. The problem was that I also
learned not to trust anyone.

Except for Riza.
I'd met her on the streets when we were twelve, and she'd quickly decided I was
her best friend. She was taller than most of the boys in our neighborhood and
her exotic looks, thanks to her Honduran father and Moroccan mother, gave her
face a mysterious look of danger. It also helped that her father was a known
drug lord during the ’70s and had a reputation for "disappearing"
anyone who dared cheat or disagree with him. Riza was his pride and joy, and
since I was her best friend, he trusted me.

"Hey, boss,
you want me to take the car and follow the kid?" she asked. "I can
tail him tonight, if you want. The next shipment isn't scheduled till Tuesday,
so I've got some down time."

"You sure you
want to do that?" I replied.

"Yeah, sure,
why not? I've got the time. Why not nip it in the bud now and bring him to
heel?"

"Alright. If
you're up for it, then do what you can," I said as I walked behind the
bar, filled a glass with ice, and then hit it with a shot of soda water. I had
a meeting coming up later and I needed a clear head. "But don't let him
know you're following him. He'll lose his shit and then I'll have to deal with
it, and I don't have time to deal with a Beck meltdown this week. Clear?"

"Crystal,"
she saluted as she sauntered across the floor towards the door.

"Be back here
at three," I said. "I need you here for the meeting."

"Aye, aye,
boss." She waved as she pushed open the door and let sunlight briefly
enter the darkened club. Then she was gone.

Riza's dad had
taught me the business from the ground up and then made me a silent partner in
his cartel. I worked my way up from a corner boy, to the top dog on Skid Row. I
kept my head down, worked hard, and listened to every single thing Hernando
D'Oro ever told me.

Hernando, or Papi
as we all called him, had groomed me to run the empire and when he was gunned
down in a gang fight two years after he'd made me his second in command, I
stepped up and took over the business. I now owned a hotel on Grand Avenue and
this club, and, with the help of a loyal band of warriors, I ran a
billion-dollar drug business that owned the entire Los Angeles market. Everyone
hated me.

Except Riza. When
it had become obvious that her father wasn't going to train her to be the head
of his cartel, she joined the Marines and spent a few years in Iraq. Papi had
gone ballistic the day she'd told him what she'd done, but since she was
eighteen, he had no say in the matter. I knew it hurt him to watch his
beautiful daughter pick up a gun and fight in "a man's war," as he
called it.

There had been
nights when we'd made a run down to Tijuana to pick up a shipment and Papi
would talk to me about Riza and war the whole way down. But despite the pain,
deep down he was also incredibly proud of his daughter.

He just never told
her.

When she came back
from Iraq, something about Riza had changed. She’d seen too much and done too
many things that she said she didn’t want to talk about, but it came out in
other ways. She was constantly picking fights and winning them. She was one of
the most feared gang members in LA, mostly because it was rumored that she had
no conscience. I knew better, but she wanted to keep her secrets safe and
maintain a certain level of respect via fear. So, I looked the other way and
watched her try to self-destruct.