Her Dirty Billionaires_An Office MFM Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Her Dirty Billionaires

  Teach Me 2X

  Baby For The Mountain Man

  Nail Me 2x

  Thank you!

  Copyright Page

  Her Dirty Billionaires

  An Office Ménage Romance

  By Nicole Elliot

  And

  Sophie Madison

  1

  Jude

  If I weren't rich, I would have had a much harder time getting through the day.

  People could say all they wanted, but money made shit easier. Die mad about it, was what I told them. They were probably happy with their fifty grand a year and fuel-efficient cars. But that didn’t work for me, which was why I worked so damn hard for everything.

  Maverick said I told others to do the hard work, but at least I had the damned ideas to begin with.

  I’d started the day with a workout, as I did every Tuesday. I met my trainer at the gym, spent a good hour busting out some frustration, and then had my chef cook an egg breakfast before my driver took me to work. Most of the time I drove, but the worst thing after an arm workout was working a stick; my ’69 shift had a really heavy wheel.

  All was well until I sat in front of my computer and read my own emails, instead of letting my assistant do it.

  Maverick had been up my ass for the past few months. He wanted to tighten things up, and that included not letting assistants see too much behind the scenes since not all of them had signed NDAs. Maverick and I worked too hard to have some weasel selling secrets.

  Right out of college, we’d started this brokerage company from the ground up. We’d met in college—the oh so original roommates story. He’d thought I was some punk with tattoos, and I’d thought he was a rich brat from the valley, but both of us were wrong.

  I guess he’d been partially right about me though. I’d had a full sleeve of tattoos back then, but now I only had two. The main difference, though, was that I’d become worth billions of dollars.

  I continued sorting through my emails, seeing that the ones from the stock account managers didn’t look as good as normal. However, I chalked that up to the sudden influx of bankruptcy in some big toy company. This job was all about connecting dots and making shots in the dark. So I saved notes for a meeting later with Maverick; we never made decision about the company alone.

  Our team was small, but efficient, with no need for a board and seven partners. There was just us as partners and principal owners. Nonetheless, we were starting to see some lag thanks to our two old-fashioned senior brokers—proof of why we needed someone new and fresh to help make good choices. Someone preferably right out of college so that they could actually remember shit. It took a lot to keep a company running, so hiring new and qualified people was important.

  I rose from my desk to get the stack of paper applications from the mail. Maverick liked being old-fashioned, claiming it made it easier to see things like resumes, letters of recommendation, and work history when it was written down.

  “Besides, computers crash,” he always reasoned.

  The manila folders were thick and landed on my desk with a thud. I groaned to myself and settled on the couch, ready for a long afternoon. The packets were so thick because we required so much, including photos of the applicants to weed out any moles or potential spies. This was a cutthroat industry and everyone had a price for their secrets, or even their company’s secrets. So there were always people willing to work for rival companies to bring down their former company. Our methods ensured that never happened to us though. We did background checks on applicants before they even had their initial interview.

  As I continued sorting through the applications, none of them stood out to me. They all simply had the regular stuff—clean college records, internships, short starter jobs.

  I was just about to call it quits when my eyes landed on the application for a Henley Cates. I read the resume first, seeing that she’d done multiple short internships at other companies, a few even bigger than ours. The applicant pool was specifically for a corporate lawyer—someone who could fight our battles before we even knew they existed.

  Henley Cates seemed good, and that was before I even got to her picture.

  Damn.

  If I’d had her in the office now, it wouldn’t have been good for anyone, especially me. She was stunning. Just looking at her photo, I began to have inappropriate thoughts about wrapping her red hair around my fingers. Her face was soft and sweet, the kind of innocent look I shamefully wanted to defile. I knew not to hire someone based on looks, but whoever made that rule hadn’t seen Henley. Plus, I’d never been one for following rules…

  I stood with her application in hand, prepared to match it with the file number on our online portal to set up an interview. But after further thought, I decided to talk it over with Maverick first.

  As if on cue, he walked into my office without knocking.

  “What if I had been jacking off?” I said as he shut the door.

  He scowled. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’d seen it. We need to talk.” His movie-star good looks were twisted in frustration. Even his suit jacket was undone—a rare sight. Sighing, he poured himself a scotch, also strange considering he never drank during the day.

  He took a seat in the chair before my desk.

  I crossed my arms. “I have to talk to you too. About the applicants.”

  “I fucking forgot about that,” he said after downing his drink. He ran a hand across his face and through his hair, which wasn’t as well kept as it usually was.

  “How about another drink?”

  He nodded and held out his glass. I poured him more scotch and took some for myself while he stewed for a moment.

  “I think I found a good applicant,” I said, breaking the silence.

  He glanced at me with a torrid look in his eyes. “If she’s some hot chick, we’re not hiring her. Last time was difficult enough.”

  I laughed, knowing he was referring to some years ago when we brought in this intern—a typical hot blonde with a shit work ethic. She was somehow good at the job though, at least until she started using her body to get favors from every man in the company—weird, off the wall shit like rigging the overtime clock, filing stuff she hadn’t actually done, and falsifying post-meeting reports. She even hacked the security system so she could show up and leave whenever she wanted. Yet, no one did or said anything because she would just bat her eyes.

  Obviously, women could and did work with us. It was just that when I got involved, I usually couldn’t help myself. After all, it wasn’t in anyone’s contract that there couldn’t be office relationships.

  “She is a…well, she’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. But her application actually stands out,” I defended.

  He shook his head and set his glass down. “Whatever. We can talk about that later. I came to talk to you about Hatchett.”

  I frowned. If there was anyone or anything I hated more in this world, it was that damned Hatchett and his company. Our competitors. Our rivals. The company that rose with us, but somehow managed to always stay a few points ahead of us in stock value every quarter. They weren’t any bigger than us, and they didn’t have better owners. They just sold off a long time ago and rotated CEOs every year. We’d been around for eleven years, meanwhile, they’d had different board members every half-year. It gave them an edge over us, especially since Maverick and I were the only operating partners and owners.

  “What about him?” I said through gritted teeth.

  Maverick scoffed and leaned back, crossing his arms. “We went i
n on the same buy-in to that new tech start up with Hatchett four months ago,” he started.

  I nodded. I’d hated that plan, but we’d needed to flood the market and we were the only investment firm besides Hatchett that went in on that new startup. Tech was a big deal now though, and social media ran everything. So it would have been foolish not to go in on it. In the past four months since, others joined and drove investment up to over seventy percent, giving more potential for return. It was a gamble but seemed to be working.

  “Hatchett pulled out this morning,” Maverick said, deadpan.

  “What?” I said blankly.

  Maverick gave a single nod, knowing what this meant and knowing I was already putting the pieces together. “The market is already down five deviations. Our stock is down, and our initial percentage of investment just decreased in value,” he continued, spelling it out anyway.

  I sat, reeling. The initial buy-in was ten million, but we weren’t prepared to go half-and-half with no contract, particularly not with a company we hated and didn’t trust. Their worth was that much higher, so we had let him take the fucking bit and went in seventy/thirty. Now, with them pulling out, everything shifted to cover that loss, putting us in place to lose three million if we didn’t figure it out.

  The problem was, we hadn’t used company revenue for it. We hadn’t wanted to have to write it off and knew that if it went bad, we would have to recover company loss in the market as well.

  “Fuck,” I said.

  “Yeah. Fuck. I already started making calls. The other companies came in later with a lot less, so their losses will be dismal. But ours…”

  “I mean, it’s only three million,” I said pointing out the obvious.

  Maverick shot me a look. “I know, but we don’t need that dip in market right now. Besides, why would he pull out? This is bigger than losing three million. Hatchett is plotting. I knew this would be a fucking mistake.” He sighed in frustration.

  I fought hard not to roll my eyes. Maverick was always frustrated over nothing. I knew it was a big deal, but still, shit could have been worse. “Relax man,” I said. “We don’t even have the facts yet.”

  “What the fuck else is there to know? We’ve been played!”

  “Possibly, but it’s just a bump. We can get a specialist on it. Or a new lawyer, as I was saying…”

  Maverick sighed again, but he visibly relaxed a bit.

  I clapped his shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Nothing we can’t handle. Look, we’ll hit the bar tonight. I think you just need to get laid.”

  He laughed. “I don’t need to get laid. I need to not be fighting with some old fart.”

  We both laughed. Hatchett was at least sixty-five, having gotten into the game late. I supposed that maybe he just hated young folks, which was why he made our lives so fucking difficult.

  “Right. Well, look—we can have this interview and pick a good lawyer. I don’t like being unprotected.”

  “You?” Maverick gestured to the tattoos peeking from under my sleeves.

  I grinned. My suit usually hid them, but I didn’t care if anyone saw. I was the fucking boss. “Yeah, me. Anyway, her name is Henley Cates. She looks good. On paper.”

  Maverick stood, shagging the cup and buttoning his suit. “Well, set something up then. I look forward to meeting her.”

  2

  Henley

  It was hard to believe that a week prior, I’d had a steady job and could afford more than frozen dinners. Though it was just an internship, I was getting paid. But the six-month duration had ended, and I’d had nothing going for me since I hadn’t been offered a full-time position.

  It sucked. I mean, really sucked. I had officially become one of those people who graduated but didn’t have a job. I’d made damn near perfect grades, had second-chaired law cases, and received glowing recommendations, but was still out-of-luck.

  I tended to blame my shortcomings on my red hair, thinking it kept people from wanting to hire me. My hair wasn’t the nice kind of red that people dyed theirs; it was the unruly wild kind that belonged on exotic models, not ordinary law students, or lawyers rather, since I’d already graduated. I always tried to make it look darker by either slicking it into a bun while wet, or keeping it tied up.

  Logically, I knew it was foolish to think this way, but I also knew there had to be a reason I wasn’t being hired. Each day was the same. I’d spend the day reading, running unnecessary errands, and keeping myself busy until six o’clock when I would pretend to be coming back from work. And then I’d eat a sad dinner and scour every job site I could find for anything related to law.

  I was convinced I would end up as a paralegal or an assistant, but knew I had to keep trying because I didn’t go into major debt with student loans to wind up with just a subpar job.

  My roommate and best friend, Denton, was gone for the time being. I was lucky for him because last month, I’d barely had enough money for rent, so he cut me a break. That’s when I vowed to get a job by week’s end, no matter what. So I submitted to every firm and company around, hoping something would give. I even tried my luck with the big guns like Hatchett and H&P. With those two being heads of investment banking, I knew I could make a killing as an investment lawyer for either of them. But I also knew it was a farfetched dream. Their application stacks were seven feet high, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if you had to be a blood relative to actually work there. Hence, I doubted my glowing resume and job experience would improve my chances. Nor would the photo that was required for one of the applications, for that matter. Sure, I have a pretty face and would probably have a job by now if I used it to my advantage. But to say I didn’t know how would be an understatement. My hips and curves were just barriers to jeans and button up shirts, not something I used to control men.

  By the end of the night, I’d showered and snuggled into bed with my e-reader. Sometimes I felt lucky to not have parents that were down my throat. They traveled the world and had a satellite number I never called, but it was nothing personal. I was alone besides Denton, and even he had stopped asking about my employment status, knowing how much it annoyed me. I was already thoroughly disappointed in myself and didn’t need constant reminders about why.

  I ended up having a fitful sleep, not waking until ten o’clock and taking my soggy oatmeal into the bathroom. Denton and I had separate bathrooms, and I had decorated mine in silver and white with black fluffy rugs and flowers back when I’d had money a few years ago when we first moved in. It had been my junior year of college. His fashion stuff had taken off, so we had decided to get a nice place together. I’d been working for an investment firm at the time, but lost the job when I graduated because the position had only been for students.

  The sun peeked through the window and I felt luxurious as I soaked in the tub with the last of my good bath salts. Leaning against the towel pillow, I shut my eyes and tried to relax, but could feel the tension throughout my body. I was constantly waiting for my phone to ring these days, so when it did, I practically flew out of the tub, hoping it wasn’t just Denton saying he’d forgotten his key.

  I looked at my phone, not recognizing the number. “Hello, this is Henley Cates,” I said, accustomed to answering as a professional.

  “Hi, this is Martha with Human Resources at H&P Enterprises. I’m calling to let you know you have been scheduled for an interview this afternoon at one o’clock.” Her chipper voice glided through, but a glance at the time didn’t allow me to enjoy the good news.

  “Thank you. Is that one, central time?” I squeaked.

  “Yes, ma’am. About forty-five minutes from now. You can enter through the front and you’ll be directed here. Thank you.”

  She hung up before I could ask why the hell I hadn’t been notified sooner.

  I jumped out of the tub, not bothering to empty and wash it, and quickly began drying off, wondering when, or if, I had previously gotten a notification about the interview. I’d been glued to my emails and cal
l-log for months, yet I was sure this was the first time I’d heard about it.

  Ridiculous.

  I didn’t have time to obsess over an outfit, so I just threw on a black dress and blazer, found some respectable heels, and tied my hair into a bun.

  I knew the office was at least twenty minutes out, so I’d be late if I didn’t leave within ten minutes. But just as I was about to head out, I had to scour the room for my car keys. I searched my bedroom, the living room, the bathroom, and my bedroom again before finally finding them in the fridge.

  In the fridge.

  Then, of course, I needed to find my portfolio; showing up without it would mean immediate back-logging. Truthfully though, I wondered if I even had a shot since I would probably be late even if I rushed.

  Finally finding the damned thing in my pile of papers on the coffee table, I hurried out the door.

  The city was so wrapped around with cars and trucks that I had to take backroads, running over so many pot holes I wouldn’t have been surprised if my hub caps were gone.

  “Come on, come on,” I chanted, less than five minutes out.

  I rushed into a parking spot in the lot across the street. Jumping out of my car, I had the misfortune of stepping into a pot hole and breaking my heel.

  “Shit!” I cried, pretty sure the heel had snapped in half. Knowing I couldn’t walk into such an important interview with a broken heel, I ran back to my car and grabbed the pair of flats I always kept with me.

  As I finally made it inside the building, I felt my bun loosening. My skin was flushed and the cool air inside did nothing to help.

  I stepped up to the information desk. Everything was sleek, clear, and luxurious, instantly making me feel out of my league. The company name took up the wall behind the desk.

  “Hi. I have an interview at one,” I announced.

  The woman glanced at the clock that read twelve fifty-nine. “Wait here, please,” the woman said, and gestured to the couches by the door.

  I pressed my lips together. I was already late, and now had to wait. I wondered if this was a sign that I had already ruined my chances. I knew I looked a mess, with my ratty shoes and quickly worsening hair situation. This interview was already turning out to be a disaster of epic proportions.