The Billionaire Boss Next Door

Good God. And this is the guy her best friend set her up with?

Me: Wow. That tells me everything I need to know.

Greer: Everything you need to know for what?

Me: And for the record, you look stunning tonight. And your breasts are better than great. I’ve been staring at them ever since you got here.

What’s destined to be is motherfucking destined to be.

I started moving before I sent the message, so by the time she looks up, I’m standing right beside her table.

I can’t help but feel good when her blue eyes flare thankfully.

Her date doesn’t seem quite as relieved.

“Hi,” I say softly, and a tiny grin plumps the apple of her cheek.

“Hi.”

Her date doesn’t delay before jumping in, all misplaced righteous indignation and hero complex. “You know this guy?”

Greer nods, slowly turning her gaze away from me to look back at him. “This is my boss.”

He starts to smile at the news when she adds, “And my neighbor. You know what, he’s kind of a lot of things.”

His patience is obviously thinning as he asks, “And what is this man of many things doing here?”

“Ending your date,” I say for her.

Her mouth gapes, and her date jumps up from the table, affronted.

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

I shake my head and offer a hand to Greer. It takes her a moment to decide, but eventually, she takes it. Immediately, none of the rest of how this encounter goes even matters.

I push her behind me a little, just enough to protect her if this guy loses his shit, and answer him. “You’ve been pounding whiskey for an hour. I’m sure you’ll find something to do without her.”

My words infuriate him, and before I know it, his fist is cocked and he’s propelling his body straight toward me.

But I’m not five whiskeys deep, nor am I intimidated by this prick.

He’s inconsequential in this scenario.

The only thing that matters is that I’m leaving this restaurant with Greer.

My Greer.

And I don’t care who the fuck I have to fight to do it.

Greer

My chest pounds as Trent pulls me from the restaurant by a tight grip on my hand. My feet can barely keep up, but seeing as he just hit my would-have-been date in the face and the cops are probably on the way, I don’t complain.

“Holy shit!” I yell, shaking as we round the corner into an alley and fade into the darkness. “You just clocked that guy right in the face!”

He shakes his hand, obviously hurting, and laughs.

Fucking laughs. After committing assault.

Clearly, this motherfucker has lost his mind.

God, he’s so hot right now.

“Yeah, well.” He pauses. “He swung at me first.”

“And missed!” I yell, completely beyond controlling my volume. “But you didn’t. Bam-o! Right in the kisser!”

He shakes his head and pulls me back down the alley toward the street, checking both ways before stepping outside and putting his hand to the small of my back.

We move at a swift pace, and with all of the excitement, it takes me a minute to realize how bad this could be.

“Jesus. Are you going to get arrested?” I question, coming to a complete stop as I do.

He shakes his head and pushes me forward again. “I don’t think so. I know the owner, so I doubt he’ll give my name to the police.”

“My God. This is exhilarating. I’ve never been a part of something like this in my life!”

He laughs, admitting, “Me neither.”

I can’t stop myself from blathering on. “Where are we headed now? To see your bookie? A speakeasy? Do you know someone with connections in the clink?”

“We’re going to eat dinner.”

“Oh, well. That’s anticlimactic,” I say, and then quickly realize that his presence at La Previe wasn’t exactly an expected occurrence. “Wait a minute. How did you even end up there tonight?”

He shrugs. “I just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

I quirk a brow. “And then you what, just so happened to show up on my date?”

He grins. “I guess it was destiny.”

Destiny. There’s that word again.

Consider my mind officially blown.

I start to pace the sidewalk, but he stops me and turns me to face him, and the eye contact is strong. I fade into the power of his sharp green eyes with surprising ease.

“Did you eat anything?”

“No.”

“Well, me neither. And I’m hungry.”

He stays there, silent and stalwart, waiting for me to agree, and it doesn’t take me long to fold.

I barely get the word of agreement, a simple okay, out of my mouth before he jerks me inside the restaurant we’re directly in front of and directs me to a table.

I sit while he goes up to the counter—obviously, we’ve taken the ritziness down a couple of notches from the place we fled—to put in our order.

I take the opportunity to ogle him freely.

With his suit jacket left behind at the booth with me for safekeeping, his ass is delightfully available for viewing. It’s tight and round, and I don’t think they had any other ass in mind when they designed those black wool pants.