The Billionaire Boss Next Door

“Hate to break it to you, but no one will question that you’re over twenty-one.”

I flip her off for the insult, and a memory hits me right in the chest and makes me glance to Trent’s door.

“Some people think I look younger than I am, you know. They’ve told me so.”

She hoots. “Was it a guy?”

I frown. “Maybe.”

“He probably just wanted to sleep with you.”

I pull my eyebrows together, and my grateful, wistful expression at Trent’s door turns into a glare.

It’s not even fifteen seconds before I’m heading in that direction and pounding on it.

Emory’s not pleased. “Greer! Fucking hell! We don’t have time to visit your damn neighbors!”

Trent answers in under a minute, right when I’m winding up to kick the door with my foot.

His eyebrows jump to his hairline at my raised ankle-boot-covered foot, and immediately, he covers his nuts.

Man, our relationship is weird.

I put my foot down to lower the threat level but deepen my glare.

“Um, hello?” he says. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Do you want to sleep with me?” I ask without preamble or context.

His eyes nearly bug out of his head, and Emory smacks me in the arm with her purse.

“Uh…well…wait…what?” Trent stumbles as Emory yells, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I gesture wildly, pointing to each of us like none of us knows who the other is. “He,” I yell, “is the one who says I look younger than I am.” I swing my finger over to Emory. “You are the one who says that means he wants to sleep with me.”

I swing my finger back over to Trent and then wave it between his body and my own like a lunatic. “So, I’m asking. Do you want to sleep with me?”

Emory jumps between us like a referee and gets directly in Trent’s face. “I’m begging you…do not answer that.”

“Why the hell not?” I shout.

“Because if he says yes, you’re going to flip out. And if he says no, you’re going to slip into a depression for the rest of the night, thinking you’re not attractive or something. And I’d really like to go to the party with the absolute sanest version of you possible, though that’s really not saying much.”

I flip her off again, and she shrugs.

I look back at Trent, and he lifts his shoulders too. Clearly, he’s been convinced not to answer.

Emory thanks him and grabs my hand again, dragging me down the hall as he watches us go.

He even steps out of the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest, like he plans to keep watching until we’re out of sight. It’s not until we’re almost to the stairwell that the urge overwhelms me.

“Why don’t you come with us?”

It’s out of my mouth in an instant, and surprisingly, I don’t want to take it back.

Trent and I always have a good time together, and he’s friends with Emory’s boyfriend anyway. It works out perfectly. Plus, he seems to enjoy my penchant for snark. Not once does he ever ask me to tone it down.

Unlike some people I know…cough, cough…Emory…cough…

“Goddammit, can you do nothing in a timely fashion, woman?” my best friend questions with a high-pitched, incredibly annoyed squeal to her voice.

Trent uncrosses his arms to reveal his sculpted, white-button-down-covered chest as I break free from Emory and approach him again.

“You want me to come?” he asks, looking down at me from his place way up higher in the air. I don’t know that I’ve ever paid attention to exactly how tall he is before now, but he’s got to be six two. “Are you sure?”

“Why not?”

“Well, I was going to head back to work. And I am your boss. I might cramp your style.”

“Pshh,” I say with a wave of my hand. “Take the rest of the night off, you workaholic. And you’re not just the boss. You’re the billionaire boss next door, and…” I laugh as it hits me that what I’m about to say is true. “My friend.” Who knows when it happened, but Trent is one of my friends.

A friend you keep thinking about kissing…

I shake off that annoying thought and focus on the facts. Trent laughs at my jokes, keeps up with my tangents, and doesn’t flip out when I act like myself. All in all, I’d say he’s one of the friendiest-friends I’ve ever had.

“All right,” he agrees then. “Should I change?”

I’m just about to tell him he looks perfect when Emory butts in. “No. For the love of God, you should not change.”

In the end, it’s probably better that she answered first.

I smile, and Trent does the same.

“I’ll just grab my wallet,” he says, and I grab his arm with an evil smile before turning back to Emory.

“Don’t bother. Emory says drinks are on her tonight.”

Trent laughs. Em glares. I grin.

It’s safe to say this is turning out to be a fantastic night.