Page 3 of The Bossy Billionaire

“Maybe you need to change direction?” His eyes thin a little, and I have known him long enough to know that he is thinking something over.

“Maybe. Maybe I need to invest in whiskey?” I say pointedly, looking straight at the Whiteman men with my eyebrows raised.

“How’s Hudson going these days?” Tanner asks about my older brother to change the subject.

“Great. I mean, great as can be when you lose your wife to cancer and have to raise your son on your own. Doesn’t help that he is on the other side of the country,” I tell them, thinking about my brother and wondering if I can get him to move closer now. “Enough about me, how are things going since the hospital?” I ask Harrison the question that has been looming on my lips since I arrived. I got in my jet and flew to Baltimore from New York this morning, had a quick scout around the city for business potential, then came straight here. My afternoon is now wide open to spend with my friends, and we have dinner booked tonight so we can all relax a little more.

“The hospital is almost fully renovated. Even though it has been nearly two years, the city is still a little shaken, but otherwise almost back to normal,” Harrison says diplomatically.

I look at Eddie and raise my eyebrow in silent question. He took the brunt of things, along with his girl, Katie. Last time I saw her, she managed to talk me into funding some special kids’ program and now my name is on the building at some youth center downtown here in Baltimore.

“We’re fine. We’re all fine,” Eddie says, waving me off, not wanting me to delve into it, and I won’t.

“So what’s this I hear about a sister?” Tanner asks about the other elephant in the room that we are all dying to know. The Rothschild boys are very protective of their privacy, but we have all known each other for years and are friends. We have left them to it for the past year or so, as they have had a lot going on, and while we talk, we haven’t delved into things too much. But this is a closed conversation, we all know it.

“Yeah, how about that… It was a shock, for sure. We have had some teething issues,” Tennyson says, running his hands through his hair.

“The fact that she is older than me kind of stung a little…” Eddie says, and it is hard to believe that you would have an affair and a baby with another man, yet still remain married and have another baby with your husband only a year later. But Mrs. Rothschild was anything but ordinary.

“So is she like your mom?” I ask, and all four Rothschild men look at me like I just slapped them.

“She is nothing like her,” Harrison says.

“The complete opposite.” Ben shakes his head.

“She is fucking awesome.” Tennyson grins. Obviously, he gets along well with her.

“She is amazing,” Eddie adds, and as I glance at them all, they look a little smitten with this new sister.

I huff out a laugh. “You have all gotten soft. You are all acting like smitten little puppy dogs, so full of love and affection…” I mock them because they have changed. Ever since they all got serious with their girlfriends, put rings on their fingers, and purchased their white-picket-fence dreams, they have lost their edge. That is the complete opposite of me. I like women. A lot of them. Regularly. Sometimes two at a time. Ever since Amy left, I vowed to never commit to a woman again. Except in the bedsheets.

“Just wait until you find the right woman. Then you will know how it feels,” Ben says, looking at me knowingly.

“Ha. I had one of those, and it didn’t turn out that great, so I don’t recommend it,” Tanner says, and we all laugh. After his kids were born, his teenage girlfriend ran away and left him to raise them on his own. He is still a single dad, even now that they are adults.

“Exactly. I’m on Tanner’s side.” I nod, sliding my glass over to him as he refills all of them, the seven of us having another round of whiskey. The dull ache in my chest from the pain I endured when Amy left me still lingers. It’s been two years since my fiancée walked out and never came back. Not a word from her since. She had to go and find herself. I waited a year, but she never returned. Not so much as a letter, a call, or an email. Clearly, she is still lost.

I rub my chin, feeling pretty good about my life now. I prefer no strings. I travel the world. Live the high life from my apartment in the sky, the glittering New York lights twinkling below me most nights. And now as I sit around this table with my best friends and some fucking fantastic whiskey, I smile.

All I need is a sexy blonde for the evening to ease my balls and this day will be nearly fucking perfect.

CHAPTER THREE - LUCY

I arrive at the Rothschild high-rise in the city, pushing my way in between the power suits and the honking cabs. I stop to get my breath and to rest my leg for a moment, looking up to the top of their building, seeing the familiar R family crest on the top, lording over the city like they own it. Because they do. Huffing out my breath, I power on.

“Good morning, Miss Rothschild,” a woman's voice hums delicately as I walk past the concierge desk and through the polished marble foyer.

“Good morning, Marieta, and a reminder for you, I am Miss Bloomer,” I say, trying to remain angry, but softening the minute I see her sly smile. She is a nice lady, always friendly to me.

“Yes, but I like my job here, so for all intents and purposes when you are in this building, you are a Rothschild.” She nods at me, and I roll my eyes.

I try to quicken my pace toward the elevator as pain shoots up my leg. I didn’t really feel much pain in the warmer months, but now as it starts to get cooler, my leg aches more and more every day. Yet another frustrating thing about my life these days.

I squeeze into the elevator to looks and nods from complete strangers. They eye me eagerly. Everyone knows who I am. My face was plastered all over the newspapers after the fire. I was the worst injured, spent months in the hospital and rehab, and along with the history of Bloomer Books, I became the face of the fire. I will forever now be known as the woman who survived and turned into a Rothschild. My identity is no longer unknown.

Pushing my glasses up my face, the protective nature of them does little to dampen my nervousness. If I wasn’t so angry, I would probably turn around and go back to the shop. I never venture in here. My last visit was to formally meet them, go through our history, and connect the dots. Since then, every other meeting has been more casual. Katie is usually the one dragging me along to some family dinner or weekends at her large estate out of the city. She and the girls make it a pleasure to see the boys, because those four overbearing men are constantly making my life harder than it needs to be.

The ding of the elevator has me looking up, and I step out onto the thirty-fifth floor, hobbling my way to reception. My eyes remain on the lady behind the desk as I try not to be affected by the sparkling untouched furnishings, the floor-to-ceiling view of the city, or the warm lights that adorn the space, none of them flickering. I grind my teeth. My bookshop has more charm in the cracked window out the back than this building has on this entire floor.

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