Page 108 of The Billionaire Is Back

“Are we not done?” she asks with a weak laugh.

“Not even close, Little Sweeney. I’m never going tobe done with you. And your laundry certainly isn’t done yet either.”

I tap on Smooth Operator again.

Claire curses under her breath, but when she smiles up at the camera, she can’t hide what she’s thinking.

That she’ll never be done with me either.

Chapter 28

Resting Batch Face

Grady

“It’s about discipline.”

I’m sitting at one end of a massive oak conference table on the top floor of the office building owned by Relicteros Inc. Harrison Lynch, the man who is still technically the owner of Relicteros Inc. and the fine oak table, stands at the other end of it, stabbing at it with his index finger while glaring at me. Lynch is making an impassioned speech—well, it’s impassioned for him—about what it takes to lead a large company.

“It’s about maintaining control.”

He’s attacking me without attacking me. Very Sun TzuThe Art of War,boilerplate passive-aggressive board room tactics. He’s an effective speaker—I’ll give him that. But all of this talk of “discipline” and “control” has my mind wandering back to Claire. I want to open up that app on my phone. I picture her in a thong, pretending tosearch for dirty laundry. I imagine her bending over to pick up imaginary laundry outside the high-rise windows on a window-washer platform. She glances over her shoulder to roll her eyes at me. I should not find that sexy, but God damn it, I do.

I have to suppress a grin.

And I have to get my shit under control so I can give my follow-up speech.

Surprisingly, the board members of Fortune 500 companies tend to frown upon executives who address them with even a moderate hard-on.

My stomach drops and a sudden rush of adrenaline courses through my body.

I need to focus.

I can’t fuck this up.

But I do want to pull my phone out. Not just for the app but because I want to text Claire, or call her, to see how her opening is going.

This didn’t used to be a problem. I don’t disagree with Lynch—it does take inhuman amounts of discipline and control to do what we do. I used to have a nearly bottomless well of it.

Now I can’t sit in this meeting without risking bursting out into laughter or getting an erection.

Is this why it took me so long to go back home?

Am I bad at my job when I let the people I love back in Beacon Harbor into my world?

“That is why I’m asking you to reconsider this takeover,” Lynch says in conclusion. He takes a moment to look around, making eye contact with every single person at this table except me, and then sits back down.

The atmosphere in this room is incredibly tense. To the left is Lynch’s board, and behind him, seated on overflow chairs, crammed into the room, are his people. On my right is my executive team. All eyes turn from Lynch as they follow his glare to where I’m sitting. I don’t match Lynch’s hard stare. This part of it is as much a performance as anything. We’re professional wrestlers in bespoke Italian suits. I let that grin I’ve been suppressing form. I can appear easy and relaxed on the outside, when inside I’m anything but. I stand up, button the front of my jacket. I know that my face will read as confident and relaxed, but I am putting on my armor. I tug at the cuffs of my shirt sleeves for good measure. I look at Lynch, and while keeping the easy grin on my face, I’m thinkingwell played.

But this is over.

I’m Grady fucking Barber. And your company is mine.

It’s more of an affirmation for myself than the fundamental fact of the universe it used to be.

But I will myself to believe it.

I pause. I pause for an uncomfortably long time. Most people can’t handle being the center of attention for this long without moving or saying something. I think I read somewhere that public speaking is terrifying for most people because it activates the circuits in our brain that make us feel like we’re about to be eaten by a predator.

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