Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1) (45 page)

“Oh. My. Gawd!” he exclaimed. “My spidey sense told me something was off with your rash departure, but I brushed it off, figuring maybe you just wanted to see tight asses in spandex all day. And, girlfriend, I didn’t blame you one bit for that. Hell, I would’ve done a whole lotta things—
emphasis on dirty
—that would’ve made them football boys blush to snag that job.”

“I didn’t take the job for the tight asses in spandex, Dean,” I muttered.

“Well, I know that now! I can’t believe I didn’t see this sooner!”

“Didn’t see what sooner?”

“You banged the boss.” He sighed dramatically. “I am
so
jealous.”

“Don’t be.” I snorted in irritation. “Kline Brooks might be good in bed, but he’s even better at tearing your heart to shreds.”

“Oh, no he didn’t!”
I literally heard his fingers give three quick snaps through the receiver. “What happened?”

“One day, when I don’t feel like throwing up and crying when I hear his name, I’ll give you all of the gory details. I just can’t talk about it right now.”

“Damn girl. I’m so sorry. It was that bad?”

“Times it by about a thousand and, yeah, it was that bad.”

“If I wasn’t wearing my new three-piece Gucci suit, I’d strut my ass right into his office and slug him.”

That had me laughing. “You’ve never ‘slugged’ anyone in your life.”

“That’s only because I’m a bottom, sweetheart. The men in my life prefer me well-groomed and well-manicured. Slugging would mess up my pretty hands.”

“Wait
…you’re a bottom?”

“Well…not
every
time, but yeah, I prefer to be ridden.”

I grimaced. “Jesus. That’s too much information for nine a.m.”

“Pretty sure you asked, doll,” he said through a laugh. “I miss having my little diva around. Tell me we can meet up for drinks soon.”

“Definitely.”

“And if you’re curious and want to know what a certain someone—”

I cut him off before he rehashed that argument. “Nope. Not gonna happen. But I will make time for you. Call me this weekend and we’ll make some plans.”

“Okay, lover. We’ll chat later.”

After we hung up, I busied myself with the one hundred pages of Excel spreadsheets management had sent my way. I was finding out quickly the asshole who had run this position prior to me didn’t give a shit about tracking expenses. The franchise would be lucky if their marketing investments broke even by the end of the fiscal quarter. No wonder he got the boot and they offered me the job at the drop of a hat.

Three soft knocks at the door grabbed my attention.

“Come in,” I answered, glancing up from my computer.

A young man in his early twenties, and pretty much too adorable for words, hesitantly walked in. The Breakaway Courier logo was etched on his navy blue polo. His hands gripped a thick envelope.

“Georgia Cummings?” he asked, standing in front of my desk.

“That’s me.” I got up from my chair. “What can I help you with?”

“I’ve got an urgent delivery for you.” He pulled a small black tablet from his backpack. “Mind giving me a signature?”

“Uh, sure…” I responded, slightly confused. “But are you sure this is for me? I wasn’t expecting anything today.”

“Definitely for you. I had strict orders to make this my next stop.”

My brow rose. “Really?”

He nodded, holding the tablet out for my signature.

“Did they tell you who it’s from?” I asked, signing and taking the package from his hands.

He shook his head and shrugged. “No clue, but apparently, it’s really important.”

“Okay, well, thanks.”

I scanned the front of the manila envelope for a clue. Only my name and office address were written across the center, along with the words,
Urgent. Open and read immediately.

“Have a nice day, Ms. Cummings.”

“Thanks. You too,” I mumbled.

My fingers slid beneath the lip of the envelope, breaking the seal. Still bewildered, I pulled out a thick stack of legal documents and skimmed the first page.

Business Purchase Agreement

This agreement is made on Monday, October 15th.

Between

1. Kline Matthew Brooks, Brooks Media, (the “Selling Party”) and

2. Georgia Rose Cummings, (the “Buying Party”)

This Business Purchase Agreement (this “Agreement”) is made and entered into on Monday, October 15th, by and between, Kline Matthew Brooks, having its principal office of business at Brooks Media, 15 Fifth Avenue New York, NY (“Seller”), on the one hand, and Georgia Rose Cummings (“Buyer”) on the other hand. Buyer and Seller are collectively referred to as (the “Parties”) and are sometimes referred individually as a (“Party”).

RECITALS:

WHEREAS, Seller is the owner of Brooks Media at 15 Fifth Avenue New York, NY, collectively, the (“Business”).

NOW, THEREFORE, for and in consideration of the mutual covenants and benefits derived and to be derived from the Agreement by each Party, and for the other good and valuable consideration, the receipt and sufficiency of which are hereby acknowledged. Seller and Buyer hereby agree as follows:

Agreement to Sell:

Subject to and in accordance with the terms and conditions of this Agreement. Buyer agrees to purchase the Business from Seller, and Seller agrees to sell the business to Buyer. Seller represents and warrants to Buyer that it has (and Buyer will have) good and marketable title to the Business free and clear of liens and encumbrances.

Purchase Price and Method of Payment:

Brooks Media, all stock and investments, and corporations under the Brooks Media name are net worthed at 3.5 billion dollars, along with the ownership of one fluffy cat, Walter Brooks.

Buyer’s price will include a 10:00 a.m. appointment at Brooks Media offices on today, October 15th. Buyer will give Seller fifteen minutes of uninterrupted time to give an explanation to the Buyer. Once the fifteen-minute time period is up, Buyer may sign the contract and claim the title, CEO and President of Brooks Media, free and clear.

I stopped reading, staring down at the words in utter dismay.

He was selling
—no
—giving me his company? Just like that? Kline Brooks was just handing over his company and fortune for fifteen minutes of my time?

Oh, and he was tossing in Walter to, what, sweeten the deal?

What in the ever-loving kind of shit was this?

My knees buckled and I was thankful my ass was near the edge of my desk. I gripped the mahogany edge and tried to breathe through the intensifying tightness in my chest.

He had really, truly lost it. What did he think this would solve? Did he think I would just fall into his arms because he was worth over three billion dollars? That he could just buy me back with money?

Fuck. Him.

I would not be bought.
Never.

He’d messed up. He’d ruined us. Our breakup rested solely on his shoulders, and I was more than ready to throw this stupid, insulting contract back in his face.

In. Person.

I grabbed my purse from my desk and stopped dead in my tracks as I reached the door to my office.

“Well, good morning,” Frankie Hart greeted, flanked by a very attractive man who immediately had red flags raising in my mind. I knew his face from somewhere…

“Georgia, I’d like to introduce you to Wes Lancaster, the Mavericks’ owner. He’s very excited about—”

“Wes Lancaster?”
I cut in, my jaw practically falling into my purse.

And just like that, the red flags turned to puzzle pieces as everything fell into place. I knew his face because I’d seen his picture,
in Kline’s apartment
.

He was the Wes in the Kline, Thatch, and Wes trio. Which,
seriously?
Did they all have to be good looking?

“That’s me.” He nodded, a handsome smile consuming his stupid, perfect mouth. “Frankie’s had nothing but good things to say about you. I’m excited to have you on board with our franchise.”

I just stared at him. Speechless. Everything I thought I had earned in the interview went up in flames. I had a feeling I was only here because of Kline. How could I have been so stupid? No one got a call back after an interview that fucking quick, no matter how fast a company wanted to fill the position.

“Tell me,
Wes
, did you consult with Kline before the interview or after?” I snapped.

Obviously, I had lost it. I was standing there calling the owner of the Mavericks out.

My boss. I was calling my boss out on my first day on the job.

“Well…” He cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “He told me I’d be an idiot if we didn’t hire you.”

I glared. At. My. New. Boss.

“It wasn’t just because of him that we offered you the job. Frankie showed me slides from your previous marketing campaigns. He told me your ideas. And I loved them.”

For some unknown reason, he seemed more concerned with calming me down than offended by my unprofessional behavior. Because, let’s face it, I was being far from professional. So far, I had snapped at him, glared at him, and taken it upon myself to be on a first-name basis with him.

And I knew the reason why he wasn’t acting insulted.

Kline motherfucking Brooks.

Wes caught sight of the contract balled up in my hand. “Obviously, we’ve come at a bad time, and I just remembered I had a nine thirty phone conference.” He made a show of looking at his watch. “And it’s already nine thirty-two. I better get moving.”

Frankie’s head tilted in confusion. “But…I thought that wasn’t until noon?”

“Nope. It got changed.” Wes shook his head. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Georgia,” he said, ushering a confused Frankie out of the doorway. He pointedly glanced down at the contract before meeting my eyes again. “I’ve been friends with him for years because he’s one of the good ones. Don’t be too hard on him,” he added before heading in the other direction.

First, Kline Brooks got me to fall in love with him, before breaking my heart.

Then he called in a favor to his best friend so I’d get a new job, before couriering over a contract to sign his entire business over to me.

Was this real life? Was he fucking joking with this right now?

The shock of meeting Wes was quickly replaced by anger.

I strode out of my office and didn’t even bother telling my secretary I would be gone. Hell, with the floor show I had just provided my new boss, I’d have been shocked if they’d let me come back.

But I didn’t even care to rehash that horribly awkward meet and greet in my head. I was solely focused on getting to Kline’s office and letting him know how I felt about his offer.

Once my feet hit the sidewalk, I hailed a taxi and felt a surge of adrenaline rush through my veins because I was ten minutes away from shoving that ridiculous offer straight up his ass.

“I
n all the pining and whining you did over this chick, you failed to ever mention she was scary,” Wes said into my ear.

I rolled my eyes. He’d had to listen to me talk about her for a fucking week. That was it.

“Scary?” I asked.

“Fucking
scary
. I wouldn’t want to be you right now.”

Hope bloomed and blossomed in my chest. “She’s on her way?”

“Yep, as we speak. And she. Is.
Pissed
.”

I smiled. God, I loved when she was fired up.

“How long ago did she leave?”

“Oh, about twenty minutes or so,” he relayed in my ear as bedlam broke out in the office outside my door. I could see Dean running toward the office through the window, a look of pure glee on his face, and Thatch gave me the nod from the other side just as Georgia burst through the door.

She looked like Heaven and Hell and the sole reason for the constant ache in my chest for the last several days.

Hate and love and uncertainty all lined the edges of her face as she warred with herself at the sight of me.

I wanted desperately to pull her into my arms and feel the warmth of her seep into the cold of me, but I knew I had work to do before it was even a remote possibility.