Page 7 of My Boss is a Billionaire

The lovely lady picks up her glass, leans back in her chair, and just before she tilts the edge to her lips, says, “That’s because you’re guilty of them.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You buy up businesses and put people out of work.”

“I buy up companies that are floundering or empty buildings that need purpose, create something new and sustainable and give those people jobs.”

Her brows furrow. “You create high-stress environments.”

“Change can be stressful.”

She purses her lips. “You offer low pay and little benefits to the people who work for you.”

“I hire contractors who hire people. I can’t control what those contractors pay their staff or the type of benefits they offer.” I don’t tell her the steps I take to ensure everyone is treated fairly. When she’s out to paint me in such a poor light, I’m not sure why I hold back such vital information.

The waiter interrupts us with our meals. After he’s placed the dishes and asks if we need anything more, I wait until she takes a few bites of her pasta before I urge her to continue.

“What else, Harper? How am I so evil?” I cut into my steak, judge its level of doneness—perfect—and take a bite. I’m impressed.

“Your website says nothing about you?”

“What more do you want it to say?”

“Where are you from? How did you become so rich? What are you really like?”

My lips twitch as I work to smother my smile. Does she want to satisfy the reporter’s curiosity? Or the woman’s?

I chew a morsel of meat as I contemplate how much to reveal.

“Well, my website is my professional persona. I’m a private person, I give details out on a need-to-know basis. But I’ll tell you. I come from Brookstone, Wyoming. I built my fortune flipping real estate, which turned into flipping investments.” I dip it into my garlic mashed potato. “I was lucky, to be honest. I fell into a couple of projects that had huge returns which gave me the means to invest more, and the ball kept rolling.”

“Lucky you. How do you find the projects?”

I shrug. “Depends. These days, through referrals, sometimes word of mouth, but initially, research.”

“When will you stop? When will you have enough?”

“Enough money? Is there such a thing?” I don’t wait for a response. “It’s not about the money anymore, Harper. It’s about helping people.”

She snorts. It’s not a pleasing sound, but I can accept it on her.

I place my elbows on the table’s edge and mesh my fingers together under my chin. “If I don’t step in where I can, those same people you’re worried about would be out of jobs, for an undetermined amount of time. I come in with a plan. With cash. I don’t waste time. And then, when things are running smoothly, I step away. They still have their jobs, perhaps not the same jobs, but they have jobs. I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

I grew up in a middle-class neighborhood; my parents had okay jobs and earned an okay living, but we lived paycheck to paycheck. Mom lost her job when the motel where she worked went out of business because tourists didn’t want to stay in roadside motels anymore. We survived by cutting back on what my parents considered extravagant items—weekly trips to the local burger joint or the movies turned into quarterly outings. When the mill closed and Dad lost his job, things got worse. Much worse.

I shake myself out of that memory. I’d promised myself long ago to do whatever I could to ensure families didn’t go through what mine did.

“I still don’t agree with your tactics. I think you can accomplish the same thing and be more gracious to the town and people you’re directly impacting.”

“I don’t have time for gracious, Harper. I have work to do. And they need somebody to take action.”

The conversation dies as we finish our meals, but our chemistry is as charged as ever. Each time our eyes connect or our hands touch as we reach for our wine glasses—I placed mine right next to hers to ensure it happened—the spark is so alive it’s almost visible.

Did she just rub her foot against my leg? Do women do that?

I adjust my feet, waiting to see if she’ll do it again.

She does.

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