Page 23 of The Bossy Billionaire

“Ow,” I grunt as a hard punch lands on my upper arm, and I look sharply to my side, wondering who the fuck I am going to hit back.

“You are looking at Lucy pretty closely tonight, Huxley,” Ben says accusingly, and I roll my eyes. “I think you need to keep your eyes elsewhere.” These two brothers are really starting to piss me off.

“I think you all need to chill.” I look around the room for her again.

“Chill? I love you, man, but you are the biggest player I know. You can have your pick of women, so don’t go messing up Lucy.”

“You don’t think I am good enough for your sister?” I ask, looking at them both. It is true I play the field, and I have been pretty consistent with that since my fiancée left me without a word two years ago. But they were all playboys for a while too, especially Tennyson, so I am surprised they are coming at me like this.

“We just want what is best for her,” Ben says, his eyes searing into mine. “You’re her business coach, that’s it.”

“I don’t pretend to be a knight in shining fucking armor. But I am also no different than you fuckers used to be. I think you are all being a little overprotective and need to take a step back.” They remain quiet, knowing I am right.

“Get you dick wet already, Hamilton?” Eddie says, smirking, coming up to join our conversation.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, frustrated, because these men and their overbearingness is starting to wear really thin.

“I saw you walk out of here with Sandra. You couldn’t have made it more obvious if you tried,” Eddie says.

“Sandra? What?” I ask, dumbfounded and more concerned about where Lucy is than anything these idiots are talking about. My eyes continue to wander the room.

“Sandra is obviously an itch you needed to scratch.”

“Listen, you assholes. I had to take an important call from my guy in Singapore. Unlike you morons, I actually work twenty-four seven, so sometimes I need to rush out of a room and take a call and make a decision.” I don’t want to tell them my phone is almost permanently attached to my ear because I constantly call their sister.

“I don’t like the way you are always around our sister.” Tennyson puts it out there, what they are all clearly thinking.

“I don’t like the way you always overwhelm her,” I tell him honestly. My brain scrambles to catch up to what the hell is happening. I was on the call for over half an hour, trying to cement a deal I have with buying a new startup. I expected to come back inside and grab Lucy for a dance.

“Lucy has gone,” Harrison says, joining our conversation. He looks at me accusingly. “She sent Katie a text saying she was tired, and the car took her home.” I don’t need to hear anymore.

“Great night. Later, boys,” I say, pushing past them and strutting straight out the door.

“You better not be going where I think you are going,” Tennyson calls out to me.

I look over my shoulder and give him a wink, neither confirming nor denying his remark. There is only one place I need to be now, and that is not here with the Rothschild men.

I was promised a dance, and I am going to collect.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - LUCY

I turn on all the lights in my apartment before I second-guess myself if I locked the shop door downstairs. With my mind not easing until I triple-check the door, I begrudgingly walk back to the shop floor and toward the front door, when I hear a knock and jolt in my step.

Huxley. What the hell is he doing here? I pause for a beat because I saw him walk out with Sandra. It was so obvious.

“I can see you, Lucy. Open up.” I shake my head and steel myself before I go to the door and open it. The lock is already in place so I could have ignored my second-guessing after all.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, opening the door halfway, not letting him in immediately.

“You promised me a dance.” Huxley’s smooth voice coats me from top to bottom, and I suck in a sharp breath.

“Huxley, it is fine. I am tired." He was just with Sandra. Then he comes here for a dance? Is he crazy?

“I want to dance with you,” he says, sounding sincere, and I frown.

“Where is Sandra?” I ask, my tone more adolescent than I want it to be.

“Haven’t seen her since I was with you earlier. I heard she followed me out of the ballroom tonight, but I had a work call, so I don’t know where she went, and to be honest with you, I really don’t care.” I know he is telling me the truth. I can see it in his eyes. I swallow as I think some more. It is late… I shouldn’t be inviting him in. This crosses so many professional lines.

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