The Billionaire Boss Next Door

I know I shouldn’t give him that much control over my personal life, but the fact remains, he’s finally giving up enough control to let me run the show on something big. And right now, the New Orleans project is my main priority. My entire focus. And, quite possibly, a huge turning point in my career that will result in my dad finally trusting me and realizing I am more than capable of running Turner Properties.

Random sex with a random woman, no matter how irresistible she was, was not a good enough reason to put that kind of future on the line. No matter how fucking worth it her perfect, satin-covered body and plush, warm mouth made it seem at the time.

“You know what?” Cap asks, but apparently, the question is for himself. “I am ridiculous. Because you can’t say ridiculous without saying dick, and you can’t come without getting your dick wet.”

I laugh. “You can’t get genital herpes without sticking your dick in random pussies either.”

“Geez, Timmy. Back away from the well. That’s what condoms are for.”

“For fucking random strangers without contracting diseases? I’ll suggest that to Trojan for their new campaign,” I say with a little smirk. “I’m sure their marketing department is just waiting for that kind of million-dollar idea.”

“I’d buy forty cases,” Cap retorts, and another laugh escapes my lungs.

“And go through them in a week.”

“Glad to see you’re starting to understand just how virile my big cock and I really are, Turn.”

“I swear to God,” I say through a laugh. “One day, I will get a wedding invitation for the impending nuptials of you and your dick.”

“And I will look fucking gorgeous in a wedding dress. Satin and silk, though. No fucking sequins and tulle.”

“So that’s how it would work.” I grin. “You would be the bride?”

“Of course.” He snorts. “My cock is far more of a man than I am.”

“Touché, Cap. Tou-fucking-ché.”

He smirks like he’s the smartest man in the room, and I shake my head when I realize just how far off track he’s managed to take us.

“God, sometimes I really do kind of hate you.”

“I love you too. Now get the hell out of my office, and don’t come back until you’ve fucked the new chick.”

I laugh. “I know your general inclination is toward absolute insanity, but I’m not going to have sex with her.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“For about a million different reasons…not only are intraoffice relationships a hell no, but she’s literally the last person I would consider having sex with.”

“Is she ugly?”

“No,” I admit. “She’s beautiful.”

“Does her pussy have actual fire ants living inside?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Then why in the hell would she be the last person on earth you’d have sex with? Because I personally never say never until I see a vagina with fangs and venom. Even then, I’d consider it. Sometimes freaky, kinky shit is just what the good doctor ordered.”

“She’s an employee, Cap,” I repeat. “And she’s obstinate. Stubborn. Fucking infuriating.”

“Mm-hmm. And you, what? Have the employee handbook memorized and say your prayers over it nightly?”

I shake my head. “You don’t get it.”

“Oh no. I get it perfectly.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Oh, trust me, I do.” He smirks like the devil. “I’m even going to start a countdown on my desktop.”

“To what?”

“The fucking,” he says with the biggest grin that could fit on his giant head. “Because that’s exactly where you’re headed, Turn.”

Pfft. That’s not happening. Ever. I’ll be rolling around in my grave before I have sex with Greer Hudson.

But this is a useless conversation where Cap is concerned. He’s convinced something nefarious is going to happen, but he’s a moron when it comes to shit like this. The bastard thinks every life scenario ends with sex. Funerals, business meetings, trips to the fucking grocery store, sex is always a possible outcome for ole Cap.

“You’re getting the PI, right?” I ask, and he tilts his head to the side and smirks like a bastard.

The instant the question leaves my lips, the inklings of regret start to roll around in my stomach. A PI? Really, Trent? She might be a big fucking problem, but isn’t a PI a little over-the-top?

It might be. Okay, it probably is.

But what could it hurt, really? Just because I’ll get the information doesn’t mean I’ll actually do anything with it.

“Is this your way of telling me you’re done here, sweetheart?” Cap asks, and I nod.

“Yep.”

“Consider your dirty work done.” His grin grows wider. “And consider yourself mere weeks away from knowing what pretty little Greer feels like—”

Instantly, I cut him off before he can say any more obnoxious shit. “Goodbye, Cap.”

Without another word, I head for the door, but not without lifting my middle finger over my shoulder.

Cap, however, has one final comment before the door closes behind me.

He’s laughing as he says it, and his voice carries all the way to the other side of the building.