Page 6 of Flirting with my Billionaire Boss

“Well, at least let me help you clean up this mess.” I reach down and put the broken glass back into the grocery bag.” Then I pull out my wallet and take out a stack of hundreds. “Please, take this. It’s the least I can do.”

Her eyes widen at the bills in my hand like I’m offering her a poisonous snake. “I don’t need your money. I’m fine. I promise.”

“I insist.” I shove the cash toward her.

“You should take it,” Stella said. “He did hit you, after all. What if you end up with medical bills?”

“No, really,” she insists. “I don’t want it. I have plenty of money. And that’s way too much.” She juts her chin out stubbornly.

I pull out a twenty instead, cringing because now I feel like a cheapskate. “How about this much?”

She takes it from me. “Fine. That should cover the groceries. And we’ll exchange insurance info.”

“That seems fair,” I say. It’s the least I can do after practically running the poor girl over. And of course she has to be totally gorgeous. That’s not embarrassing at all. Nope. Not that I’m looking for a girlfriend or anything, but this town isn’t exactly known for its overabundance of beautiful women. Most of the single ones are girls I’ve known since childhood. They’re more like sisters than potential dating candidates.

I have a bad dating history, anyway. The last girl I dated cheated on me but wanted to keep me on the side for my money. Believe me, that felt great. Since then, I’ve had multiple women act interested in me once they learn about my family’s wealth. Is it too much to ask for to have a woman want me for me?

I say goodbye to the two ladies and head back to my place. We keep a wall around our property with a gate. I punch in the key code, and the gate opens. Is it just me or did it seem like that Latina girl I hit was shooting daggers at me with her eyes? If looks could kill, I’d be long gone. She really didn’t want my money either. I couldn’t turn away from her fiery eyes. Something about her drew me in like the strongest magnet imaginable. Maybe it was the fact that she was turning my money away. I’m not used to that. Most women are clawing at each other to get their grubby hands on my billions.

I drive up the long driveway that winds up the mountain. My family has multiple estates around Blue Mountain. I picked this hilltop for my estate. My parents also have estates around the world, but I have this one, the one in Atlanta where I do most of my business, and one overlooking the beach in Antigua.

I’ve lived here for five years and had it built to my specifications. Every detail was planned carefully with a top-notch architect. This is where I want to bring home a wife one day. And if all goes well, hopefully children too.

My mother is chomping at the bit for grandkids. As the oldest of her five unmarried sons, she expects me to have provided them for her by now.

And she seems to think Jenni Finley is just the woman for me. There’s nothing wrong with Jenni. I just don’t feel anything like that for her. She’s more like a sister to me. The Finleys and the Keiths have been friends for generations. Jenni’s dad married a wonderful woman of Indian heritage connected to a powerful family in India. Jenni was raised in Blue Mountain, so although she looks Indian, she has an American southern accent.

My parents really want a union between the two families, but if it ever happens, it won’t be because of me. Hate to disappoint. Jenni’s brother is best friends with my younger brother Langston. Those two always got along fine. And I got along great with Jenni. I just never felt anything romantic for her. I didn’t when we were growing up, and I still don’t.

My mom doesn’t plan to give up anytime soon. She’s relentless. That’s what happens when a woman wants grandbabies. It’s like they’re baby hungry all over again. She’s already picked out my kids’ schools, the perfect nanny, and bought them designer baby clothes. She’s picked out names too. The woman is out of control. She has five boys. I don’t know why she has to focus so much on me.

My brothers travel all over the world. Ashton spends a lot of time doing business in Singapore, so I don’t see him as much as some of my other brothers. Brensen, the fourth son, is off on some soul journey before he’s ready to come back to join the family business. He’s planning to come back in a few months for a family trip we have planned on our yacht in the Caribbean next June, but then he’s heading back to Africa or wherever he plans to go next.

My youngest brother, Kaison, spends a lot of time in Dubai. He just joined the company and decided to jump in with both feet. He just went through a nasty breakup with the girl he dated all through college, and now he’s turned into quite the playboy. He’s either working or off with some woman, even when he comes home to Blue Mountain. We’ve collectively decided as a family that he’s trying to numb his pain.

I pull into my five-car garage and park next to my off-roading Mercedes G-class. I just got it last month and still haven’t found the time to take it out. What a shame. I’ve been too swamped with work to play much. And if I don’t get a new assistant soon, I’ll be in a world of hurt. My work to-do list is getting longer by the day, and my deadlines are closing in faster than my mom chasing after my next girlfriend.

I come into the house from the garage with my grocery bags in my hands, and Skipper dashes toward me, slipping and sliding across the marble floors. He slams into my legs and promptly gets up and runs circles around me.

“Hey, boy!” I reach down and scoop him up. Something smells amazing from the kitchen. I set the bags on the counter. Martha is standing at the stove, stirring a pot. “What are you cooking?”

“Taco soup.”

“Fantastic. If it tastes as good as it smells, it’ll be amazing.” I settle at the bar. “I can’t believe Natasha has been stealing.” She had denied it when I’d confronted her. But I didn’t really expect anything more. I’d had my fair share of women lying to me, especially after what happened with my last girlfriend.

Martha shakes her head. “It’s hard to find reliable people to trust these days.”

“That’s why I’m putting up that job posting in town. I want someone local.” I’d lucked out with Martha. She’d been on my parents’ staff when I was growing up. “You don’t know anyone who might be able to replace Natasha, do you?”

“Let me make some calls.”

“Good. Because I’m not sure I can wait for someone to call from the bulletin board. I need help right away.”

My phone rings. I’d been anonymous when I posted about the job. I don’t want anyone trying to get the job so they can steal from me again. And whoever it is will have to get a background check. I’m sure the agency I used before could handle that for the right price. Natasha had one, and it came back clean, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t a thief. Lots of people stole and never got caught.

I answer the phone.

“Hi, my name is Callie Richardson. I’m calling about the job posting you had on the bulletin board at the grocery store.”

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