My Grumpy Billionaire

It’s the same damn smile he gave me when he told me Silicone Dream was a “high-tech” company. He must’ve found a new way to screw me over, thanks to that stupid video. Granted, I was lying in it, but no one other than Sierra knows that.

I shut the door behind us and gesture at the visitor’s seat. “How can I help you?” My tone is brisk as I sit down at my desk. Time to get this visit over with. And figure out who I need to sue to take the damned video down.

He lowers his body onto the chair and groans, like it’s a torture to press his ass on the hard, molded plastic. “You know, I never realized your office was so small.” He says it like it’s a huge problem he’d like to rectify immediately.

“I like it small.” It discourages people from visiting or lingering. The space is already full with him inside.

“Ah.” He smacks his palms on his thighs, then runs his hands along the slacks—a delay tactic. He looks around, his lips pressed together. “Cozy and intimate, then.”

I shoot him a bland smile. If he’s trying to bring up the inappropriate behavior of coeds in my office, I will dislocate his jaw. If anybody has a complaint about inappropriate behavior, it’s me.

He clears his throat. “You should’ve informed me of your relationship with Sierra Fullilove. I realize it can be uncomfortable to give advice to one’s girlfriend.”

I just give him a hard look. I want to correct him, but don’t want that disgusting Todd hearing the truth and telling everyone he’s in the process of reconciling with Sierra. He doesn’t deserve her, and she doesn’t deserve him. Perhaps we’ll wait a couple of weeks and then quietly feign a breakup.

“My wife loathes getting advice from me, even when she’s asked for it.” Charles chuckles urbanely. “But…perhaps your relationship means it would be easier to, ah, arrive at a good conclusion if you told her what she wants to hear.” He gives me a hopeful look.

“Can you define ‘a good conclusion’? I’d hate to misinterpret.”

“Good. Satisfactory. Whatever the family thinks is appropriate, of course, but it would be nice if they could… Well.” He huffs, his cheeks turning red with the embarrassment of having to spell out an indelicate matter.

“The research center,” I say, amused that he’s so predictable, and disgusted that he’s this shameless. Bisons will propel themselves to Mars with their farts before I lift a finger to help fund the research center.

Fundraisers mean peopling. Or at least pretending I’m happy to be wasting my time with people—the sum of whose collective brain cells don’t reach double digits. I’d rather have my legs broken by my sparring partner.

“Yes!” Charles’s eyes brighten with relief. “Just so.”

“You should call Sierra’s assistant and set up an appointment to discuss it.”

He blinks at me. “Ah…”

“Please don’t misunderstand. I would do it, of course. Anything to help the college out. But unfortunately, Silicone Dream’s corporate governance doesn’t allow for interference or undue influence. And I do rather fit the definition.” I give him a blank smile. “I’m sure you understand the ethical issue. We wouldn’t want a scandal attached to the center.”

“No, of course not.” Disappointment dims the bright greed in his eyes.

“I knew you’d understand. Now, if that’s all… I have a call scheduled with Keith Lenin to discuss our research.”

“Of course.” Charles stands up and starts to leave. It takes a while because he drags his feet, probably hoping and praying that I’ll change my mind and agree to put some subtle pressure on Sierra after all. I maintain my bland smile of vague neutrality, and let it drop the second he’s out the door. Smiling takes entirely too much effort.

My office phone rings. I consider letting it go to voice mail, then decide maybe I should pick it up in case it’s something important.

“Griffin Lasker.”

“Good morning!” comes a chirpy female voice. “This is Sierra.”

Yes, I know.Every cell in my body just sprang to life like a puppy jumping to its feet at the sound of its owner coming home.

No, not like a puppy,I decide. I just don’t like it that her voice is so chirpy. It’s unnatural for people to be this happy in the morning, especially when the day started out less than stellar.

“Is this a bad time?”

Lady, this entireday is bad. “I can spare a few minutes.”

“Oh good. I just wanted to see if you were okay. I mean, you probably are, but I didn’t want to assume. Just in case.”

“Things are going as expected.” A total shitshow.

“Awesome.” She sounds relieved. And happy. Why is she so happy? “People are being a bit weird here, you know?”