Marrying My Best Friend's Sister: A Billionaire Enemies to Lovers MC Romance (Secret Love) by Nikki Bloom (free ebook novel .txt) 📗

The particular grant I was aiming for was very competitive and exclusive, so the project had to be perfectly executed. That didn’t leave me a lot of time for grocery shopping.

Especially not when Danna Powell was breathing down my neck, rubbing her connections in my face and generally trying to psyche me out. I hated that spoiled, entitled bitch with a passion. If her father wasn’t the Head of Department, she wouldn’t even have a foot in the door. We went to the same college, so I happen to know that she’d received a C- in biochemistry.

I slammed the fridge closed, quite unnecessarily I’ll admit –sometimes I let my temper get the best of me– and straightened up, thinking what else I could eat instead. The bottle of red wine I used for cooking was peeking out of the half-open cabinet and I grabbed a glass from the rack and poured myself a drink.

My tiny apartment in Brooklyn was open-plan, so it was five steps from the kitchen to the living room. I plopped down on my comfortable bean bag chair and tucked my feet under my ass as I reached for the remote. Who needs company when you can have wine and Netflix?

1

Domenic

It was such chore keeping my eyes open. I love a good long discussion about the ins and outs of tech companies about as much as the next person. Really, I do, but it had been three hours and Leyland was nowhere near done. He’s my lawyer and he loves to have every ‘i’ dotted and every ‘t’ crossed.

The bitter irony is that was the reason why I retained him. He didn’t miss a thing.

“Dude, I could use a coffee. Do you want some coffee?” I got to my feet, not waiting for him to answer me. I crossed over to my state-of-the-art coffee station. It goes against my religion to have less than the best quality coffee. So I hired my favorite barista to teach me her ways and then got the right equipment to make sure that alone or in company, the quality of coffee would never be compromised.

Case in point, even though he heaved an irritated sigh at me for interrupting his rundown of my faults and failings, Leyland didn’t protest. Once I had the pot percolating to my satisfaction, I collected some cups and spoons, got some cream and milk from the fridge as well as a number of sugar sachets, and brought them all back to the conference table on a tray.

“See? This is what I’m talking about, Dom.” Leyland pointed at me and then the tray. “You have people to do this shit for you. It looks low class when you do it for yourself.”

I held up a hand, examining my nails. “I’m sorry, my manicurist did her best, but she tells me there’s nothing that can be done about the calluses on my palm or my workman's hands.”

Leyland rolled his eyes. “If you’re not going to take this seriously then why am I here, huh?”

I inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of coffee in the air. “You’re here to prepare me for my meeting with Tech Dyne. Or am I mistaken? Was there another purpose to it?” I turned back to the coffee station and poured us both a cup while Leyland glared.

Yeah, I know he means I should have people waiting on me hand and foot and not make my own coffee, but it’s Sunday and my usual courtiers are off today. He’s the one who insisted we couldn’t wait for regular office hours.

“This is urgent, Dom!” he said to me on the phone. Personally, I think he just wanted the overtime.

My friend Morgan and I had been sitting in my vast game room, our legs up on the table, playing video games when he called. I was all for blowing him off, but Morgan said he had to recheck some security protocols in the building anyway, so we both came in. I was hoping Morgan would have come to rescue me by now, which just goes to show how delusional I am. In the dictionary, the definition of workaholic features a picture of Morgan Innes.

Considering the life we both left behind, I’m glad Morgan is so conscientious about keeping us safe. But still, I’d rather not be subjected to Leyland counting the ways in which I was gonna lose this job to Roman Alexander.

“Tech Dyne is positioning itself to be the next Amazon, Dom, but only for the one-percenters. They want a high-profile CEO who projects the right image. Roman’s got you beat college-wise. He went Ivy League, you didn’t.”

I shrugged. “Hey, I had a scholarship. Couldn’t have afforded to go otherwise. What do you want from me?”

“And we can spin that into some pulling yourself up by the bootstraps shit. It could work. It will work. But you gotta show that you’re ready to be in the big leagues. Staggering out of strip clubs at 3 a.m. won’t do it. When one-percenters want to party, they rent a yacht in Ibiza or the French Riviera and hire out of work actresses for entertainment.”

“Hey!” I wasn’t even offended; those strippers have some strong athletic cores. “That was one time.”

“Yeah, one time the paps caught you.”

I lifted an eyebrow at him. “Again, I repeat, what do you want from me?”

Leyland sighed. “I need you to clean up your act. Any chance you might be hiding a regular girlfriend somewhere? A wife? Even a boyfriend will do as long as he’s extremely hot and wholesome.”

I had to laugh. “What? No, I’m not hiding a girlfriend or a wife, let alone a boyfriend. What’s wrong with you?”

“Can you possibly acquire one soon? The wholesome, respectable kind?”

I was grinning like a loon, waiting for the punch line. Then I looked in Leyland’s eyes and saw he was completely serious. I sobered at once. “This is not a joke, is it?”

Leyland slowly shook his head. My