Page 2 of The Bossy Billionaire

“I think I might catch them by surprise today.” I smile sneakily, already thinking about how shocked they will be to see me in their office. I have only been there a few times. But if they can barge into my business, I will barge into theirs.

“Okay. Call me if you need backup,” Dwayne says, grabbing his small towel and wiping the coffee machine.

“You’re already on speed dial,” I holler to him as I dodge a young family coming in the door. The fresh air hits my face as I walk out the door, and I take a breath. Pushing my glasses back up my nose, I turn left and limp down the street.

One leg not quite working as well as the other.

Not anymore.

CHAPTER TWO - HUXLEY HAMILTON

Everyone’s eyes are on me as I take a sip. The bite of the alcohol touches my lips, then my tongue before the soft burn simmers down my throat. But that is not what I notice. It is the soothing aftertaste of honey, butter, caramel, and my taste buds already want more.

“This is your best yet,” I say honestly to Tanner and Connor Whiteman, the father and son duo who own the largest whiskey distillery in the country. It is so popular it now rivals anything out of Japan or Scotland, yet they still won’t let me invest, preferring to keep full ownership in the family.

Assholes.

“I taste caramel…” my best friend Harrison Rothschild murmurs from across his polished timber boardroom table. It shines so bright I can nearly see my reflection.

“Ohhh, no, I get the honey…” His brother Tennyson moans his enjoyment, and I huff a laugh.

“What do you think of the buttery notes?” old man Tanner asks. I smirk at him. In his late forties, he is not old. In fact, he and Connor are more like brothers than father and son. I guess that would happen when you have a child, when you are a child yourself, at only seventeen. When I was that age, I was chasing girls and already dreaming about how to build my empire. Being a father would have been the last thing I needed or wanted. Now that I am older, I can appreciate kids, though. It is definitely on my wish list to be a father.

“It’s soft,” Benjamin Rothschild says, assessing the amber liquid in his glass with due diligence.

“But still there. Like it peeks through without being overbearing…” Eddie, the youngest Rothschild, adds, clearly knowing his stuff as both Tanner and Connor nod.

“How many barrels did you make?” I ask, already wanting to know more about the business side of things. We are meeting here today because I haven’t seen any of these guys for months. Having gone to school with Harrison, I have known the Rothschilds for years. I grew up with Connor, so we go way back, and now, sitting around the Rothschilds’ boardroom table in Baltimore, are seven of the wealthiest businessmen in the country. All sipping fine American whiskey.

This is the kind of meeting I like. Whiskey. Shooting the shit. Connecting, talking business—my favorite subject.

“I can’t believe my best friend is going to be fucking president…” I murmur, looking at Harrison as I roll the whiskey around in my glass, noticing the caramel color glisten. “I am proud of you. Never thought I would say it, let alone feel it, but I do.” The glass feels nice and heavy in my hand as I take another sip. Crystal. From Europe, no doubt expensive, and I look underneath to find the brand so I don't get too deep with my feelings. I don’t like talking about my feelings. Not even with my closest friends.

After everything this family has been through, with their father passing, their horrible mother, the hospital fire, and then finding out they have a half sister, their life is like a soap opera, yet they have pushed through it all. Looking as ready for the Whitehouse as the fucking Kennedys.

“I want your support…” Harrison says, his eyes flicking to me, then to Connor and Tanner.

“You want my money,” I say flatly, because he already knows he has my support. I may not be around much, my investment business firmly planting me in New York City, but we talk. I knew he was always going to run for president. It’s in him. He was born for the job.

“Yeah, I want your money. A lot of it,” he says honestly, with his charming smile on full display. The one that would drop all the girls' panties in college. He was the best wingman for me throughout those years.

“It has to all be aboveboard. Legitimate,” Ben adds, looking at me suspiciously.

“Spoken like a true lawyer,” Tanner mumbles, and Connor smirks. While Connor spends his time in New York, managing the global expansion of their whiskey brand, Tanner runs the distillery in the small town called Whispers where we grew up. He is broad, grumpy, and works harder than anyone else I have ever met. He’s not really one for white-collar antics, although he is smart as a whip and could probably put us all to shame.

“Well, good thing I see you as a wise investment, Harrison. You have my support, my money, and my vote,” I say, placing my empty whiskey glass on the boardroom table. It’s unusual for me to support an individual like this. I buy and invest in businesses. There is nothing about business management that I don't know. I break down businesses before I rebuild and tidy them up, then resell them again, making a profit. Some say I gentrify society; I prefer to say I am rebuilding it for the better. I see something of value, I put time, effort, and money into it, and then sell it. I never keep anything of value. I tried that once with Amy. She shit all over my heart, and I learned my lesson then to never to keep anything of value. It isn’t worth the pain.

“You got our vote, Harrison. You will make a fine leader,” Tanner says surely.

“I will make sure we all celebrate with a nice bottle of Whiteman Whiskey when you are announced. Only the best for the president,” Connor says with a smirk, raising his glass in mock cheers.

“Speaking of whiskey, when are you going to let me invest? Surely, there is an upcoming whiskey release I can get in on?” I ask them, knowing full well what their answer will be. I ask them every time I see them. The alcohol industry is not one I have stepped into fully yet, but I have bought and sold a few nightclubs, restaurants, and a winery, so I wouldn’t mind investing in whiskey. Although these days, I am tied up with a few tech startups and dabble in a few other things. Content creators, coworking spaces, and matcha lattes are the latest bullshit things to take up my time. Everyone wants to be the next tech superstar. But what they don’t realize is that in front of every tech superstar is someone like me. The rich, powerful investor who can make or break their dreams in an instant. And I usually do.

“Never, and you know it,” Connor says, smiling wickedly, giving my whiskey dreams a quick and painful end.

“What, aren’t you busy enough, Huxe? Business going okay?” Harrison asks me, smirking over the top of his crystal whiskey glass.

“Business is fucking great. But that’s the problem. Nothing challenges me anymore. It is all so… boring. Same thing. Tech, tech, and more tech.”

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