Heart of the Billionaire (Taming The Bad Boy Billionaire 7)

When I could breathe again, I cleared my throat softly and proceeded to fasten the tie. “In that case, let’s get you dressed and ready.”

We worked in silence, opening drawers he hadn’t touched in years and slathering products in his carefree beach hair that he’d long since forgotten. We pulled out neglected cufflinks, platinum watches, and snakeskin belts, anything that resembled the accompaniments we might find in his uppity brother’s closet, all those accessories James went out of his way to dismissively scorn.

When we finished, he looked like a coverboy for GQ, like a man whose photoshoot would be perfect for a how-to article, “Dress to Impress at the Office...and Everywhere.” More accurately, he looked like an actor, and he sort of was, ready for his role as a businessman. He was too handsome to play the part, a bit too distracting to be believable, but it wouldn’t really matter because no one would be able to take their eyes off him.

For me personally, it wasn’t James’s appearance that was so distracting. After all, I’d seen the man’s wardrobe, and he looked a whole lot better in his birthday suit anyway. What left me feeling bothered and not so hot was the way he said it, the way he sternly mentioned taking control back again. The tone of his voice made it clear that it was going to be a hostile takeover, not a mercy killing. He wasn’t just doing it for himself either; James was a man on a mission, and he clearly considered himself a human shield. He was willing to place himself in front of the peons like me who had to walk into Cross every day and work our asses off, only to have those asses constantly kicked by his abusive, power-hungry, arrogant, falsely entitled bastard of a brother. James was willing to be a savior for the hundreds of employees who would be left out on the street if Robert ran it into the ground, a capable captain who had a second chance to take back the ship and steer it in the right direction, just the way Ben Cross would have wanted.

No, James wasn’t doing it for himself, at least not on the surface. It was my secret hope, though, that what started as a selfless decision would turn into something more. It wasn’t lost on me how his eyes lit up at Madison’s place when he solved a particularly difficult problem or figured out a way to achieve the impossible and finalize a deal. I noticed the magnetic pull those files of ours had on him, the effortless smile that lit up his face when he slipped into a role that it was clear he was born to fill. Now, he had that chance, and I wanted him to take for himself as well as for us.

If there was one thing I’d come to know about Robert, it was that he was never willing to let go of the things he wanted, at least not without a vicious fight. I was living proof of that, and I’d never known anyone to be as greedy as Robert was to keep his claws in the company his father had built. It didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t good at it. It didn’t even matter that he knew he wasn’t good at it and that James was the more natural fit. Robert had staked his claim years ago, fixed his eyes on his father’s throne, and now that Ben was out of the picture, I couldn’t fathom him stepping down very easily. A sibling rivalry for the ages was inevitable.

“Okay,” I said, stepping back as James spritzed himself with expensive designer cologne, “you’re ready.”

He nodded quickly, and his eyes flashed as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. To anyone who didn’t know him, he would have seemed to be in complete control, entirely calm, cool, and collected. I, however, had spent plenty of time with him, gotten to know him on a deeper level, and I knew that all that coolness and confidence was just a façade, something he put on with just about as much difficulty as he experienced with that tie. James Cross, nervous? It didn’t seem that those words could possibly fall into the same sentence, but I knew that under his dapper appearance, he was shaking with anger and doubts he would never reveal.

“Hey, relax.” I stepped behind him and slid my arms around his waist, then gave him a comforting squeeze as he fidgeted uncomfortably in his suit. “You’ll be...as fine as you look,” I said with an encouraging wink, “and that’s pretty damn fine.”

He nodded again but didn’t meet my eyes.

“James...”

He finally stopped fidgeting and looked up at me, then froze in place when I gave him another wink.

“Yo

u got this.”

Our eyes locked, and for the first time all morning, his face relaxed and even harbored the hint of a smile.

The next second, he kissed me swiftly on the lips before heading out the door. “I’m off to work, honey!” he called out theatrically. “See you when I get back.”

I bit my lip, grinned, and leaned against the doorframe, watching him go.

Yes, you most certainly will.

Chapter 8

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, JAMES went to work?”

Nick, Abby, Max, and Ferdie all occupied the same couch while I sat in a chair next to them, feeling like a prisoner in an interrogation room, gripping the armrests as they continued with their line of questioning. I should have seen it coming, or at least James should have. On second thought, he probably did. No wonder he slipped out at the butt crack of dawn, the little bastard.

“I mean just what I said,” I repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “He’s having a meeting with David Camper, a preliminary step toward taking over the company.”

All four of them blinked at once.

“Yes,” Nick said, leaning forward with a little frown on his face, “but he, uh...went to work?”

Ferdie rolled his eyes to the heavens and stood. “I do believe breakfast is in order,” he said, happy to have the excuse to walk away.

Abby patted her husband’s knee and wore a patient smile. “Yes, honey. Believe it or not, some people do that on weekdays. They actually go to this place called work.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed, and he pulled stiffly away.

“And work,” Max continued boldly, “is that thing some people have to do to make money—you know, for food and bills and—”

Nick opened his mouth to cut the man off with a scathing reply, but before he could say a word, little Arabella appeared out of nowhere and perched cheerfully upon his lap.

“And money is that thing Uncle James has more of than you do, Daddy!”