Billionaire: A Billionaire Boys Club novel

by Henley Maverick

  This was definitely one of those moments where he wished he’d taken a beat, given himself time to think before everything got out of hand. Now, he was rolling around on the floor, beating the crap out of a man he didn’t even know, all because he saw him holding a bouquet of flowers with a lovesick expression plastered onto his features.

  And Sawyer hadn’t pushed him away.

  Granted, he knew now that it was because he was her former best friend, back after being away for years, but he hadn’t known it at the time, and it would’ve made things different, easier.

  Instead, all he had was a black eye, and no Sawyer.

  He wanted to get up and go after her, but they were still rolling around on the floor, throwing punches at each other like he was back in college. He hadn’t gotten in a fight over a woman in years, and he distinctly remembered not liking it then.

  Now wasn’t any different if he were being honest.

  If anything, it was worse because the stakes were higher, and there was much more to lose. If the look on her face was any indication, Sawyer was beyond pissed. She was furious, and more than half of that was directed at him.

  In all fairness, she was right.

  He was the one who tuned out her explanation and lunged for the tall man making a move on her, assuming he was trying to steal her right from under him. In retrospect, he didn’t even know why he was worried.

  After all, she was dating him, chose him, and he needed to give her the benefit of the doubt. With that thought firmly in mind, he leaped to his feet, leaving Isaac behind on the floor, his lip completely busted, and a stunned look on his face.

  At least he lasted a long longer than he should’ve, and against a military guy no less. It was a small consolation prize given the fact that he was about to get chewed up and spit out for the scene he just pulled.

  Sawyer was not the kind of woman who enjoyed men fighting over her, had repeatedly mentioned it when she noticed his macho ways. Obviously, he’d laughed it off, assuring her that she didn’t need to worry about it because he hadn’t imagined a situation where she would need to, until now.

  An old friend resurfacing tended to do that.

  Moxley scrambled up, his limbs not working as fast as he wanted them to, tearing down the stairs, like some kind of madman, not even pausing to wait for the elevator. He stumbled out onto the street, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun.

  Sawyer was a few feet away, getting into her car.

  “Wait,” he called out, throwing himself forward, his legs aching in protest. He ignored them, adrenaline pumping through him. “Sawyer, please wait.”

  She stiffened but didn’t turn to face him, her hand gripping the top of the car. “Moxley, I really don’t want to talk to you right now, and I don’t think it’s a good idea anyway.”

  Moxley drew to a halt, staring at her back. “I know I screwed up back there, and you have every right to be mad at me, but at least let me explain.”

  “Explain what? How you just lunged at him without any kind of provocation?” Sawyer demanded, shaking with anger, but she still didn’t turn to face him and that was worse, much worse than giving him the silent treatment.

  Just turn around, please. Look at me, Sawyer. I know you want to.

  “He was handing you flowers,” Moxley protested, weakly.

  Fuck.

  Even he knew that was a weak excuse, and he wanted to kick himself over the head for it. There was no reason for him to do what he did, she was absolutely right.

  “No, wait, you’re right. That was out of line,” Moxley added, before she could respond. “I just saw him with you, and you looked kind of cozy, so I panicked, but I shouldn’t have. You’re right.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but he was my best friend growing up. We lived next door to each other, and our parents were good friends, but I haven’t seen Isaac in seven years, Moxley, so I wasn’t expecting him today. I was just as surprised as you were.”

  Bastard.

  What did he expect? That she’d sit around waiting for him?

  If he’d known Sawyer back then, he never would’ve let her go, and this was a lesson Isaac had to learn the hard way, he supposed, but it wasn’t his place to teach him.

  No, it was going to be hard enough as it was without Moxley rubbing it in his face.

  “Yes, I know. I get that now,” Moxley replied, softly.

  “You would’ve gotten it sooner if you’d just listened,” Sawyer replied, coolly. “We talked about this before, Moxley. I really don’t like being made to feel like I’m some kind of prize to be fought over and won.”

  “You aren’t,” Moxley insisted. “I just saw you with him, and it drove me crazy.”

  Sawyer snorted but said nothing, some of the tension in her shoulder seeping away. He took that as a good sign and drew closer, holding his hands up in surrender.

  “Marry me, Sawyer.”

  Sawyer spun around to face him, her eyes narrowed into slits, blurring with tears. “What?”

  She was looking at him as if he was stupid, like he’d fallen down the rabbit hole and had to pull himself back out, and he knew exactly why. This was completely out of the blue, as far as she was concerned at least.

  And no he wasn’t asking her to make up for what he did.

  “I said, marry me, Sawyer,” Moxley repeated, holding her gaze. She blinked slowly, and cocked her head to the side, studying him like he was some kind of weird specimen she couldn’t figure out.

  “What did you just say?”

  “I’ve already said it a few times already. How many more times do I need to say it?” Moxley asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “You’re crazy,” Sawyer commented, incredulously. She shut the car door with a little too much force, the sound of it reverberating between them, echoing in the space.

  “I’m crazy about you,” Moxley corrected. “And yes, I know it’s a cliché, and there are about a million better ways that I could do this.”

  Sawyer continued to stare at him, a flicker of indecision flitting across her face before it disappeared. She stood there, in her pencil skirt, her blouse slightly untucked, the first two buttons undone, and her falling in loose tendrils around her face.

  She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen or ever would see, and his decision was pretty much a no brainer for him. This wasn’t a spur of the moment decision or because he was afraid to lose her.

  It was because he wanted to be with her, plain and simple, but he could tell that she didn’t quite believe him, all the evidence wasn’t in his favor after all, what with picking a fight with her former friend then chasing her out onto the street for a slapstick impromptu proposal.

  No wonder she thought it was half-assed.

  Way to go, Moxley. She’s never going to take you seriously you know. You should’ve planned this, maybe got some flowers or some shit like that. Indiana could’ve helped you. Asking her to marry you while you’re standing on the sidewalk isn’t exactly romantic.

  Especially not with strangers milling around them, weaving in and out, giving them curious looks as they passed. He had the urge to give them all dirty looks, snapping at them to mind their own business, but he knew it wouldn’t help him accomplish anything.

  Besides, Sawyer needed to know that he could control his temper since this was the root of the problem, and he wanted her to see that he could, more than anything else.

  “The only reason I lost it back there is because I’m crazy about you,” Moxley repeated. “And when I saw him moving closer, I thought I might lose you, and that thought didn’t sit well with me.”

  “So you’re proposing as an apology?” Sawyer asked, confused. She threw her hands up in the air, tilted her head towards the sky then looked back at him, incredulity settling in even further.

  “No, wait. I’m doing this wrong,” Moxley replied, hastily. He patted his pockets and cleared his throat, sinking down to one knee. “I’ve been carrying this around for
a while, hoping to find the right moment to ask, and I guess there’s no time like the present.”

  Sawyer’s eyes widened, her hands flying to her mouth. “Holy shit. You’re serious.”

  Moxley rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Sawyer. I can’t live without you, and I honestly don’t want to. I know we’ve only known each other a few months, and it might seem like it’s too fast, but it isn’t to me. For the first time in my life, it feels right, and I love how I feel with you.”

  Sawyer gulped, her hands dropping to her side once more. “But I-, you’re my boss, Moxley.”

  “So? I can get you a job somewhere else if you want, or you can continue to stay here. It doesn’t matter to me,” Moxley remarked, giving his shoulders a slight shake.

  Honestly, it didn’t matter to him one way or another.

  He understood her concern though, wanting to protect her job in case things turned ugly given how hard she worked, and she deserved it, but that wouldn’t be the case with them anyway.

  Moxley wasn’t a vindictive nor a petty person.

  “I don’t care about any of that, Sawyer,” Moxley added. “I just want you to be my wife.”

  He reached for her hand and held up the box, popping the lid open, so she could examine the ring, a dainty thing that he thought would look perfect on her finger, simple yet elegant, just like her.

  Sawyer’s gaze swung back and forth between the ring and his face, a ping pong, indecisive and swinging between the two ends.

  “Please say something,” Moxley urged.

  “This is all so sudden,” Sawyer whispered.

  Moxley swallowed, prepared to withdraw the ring, but her grip on his hand tightened, giving him hope. He dared to glance up at her face, which was stretched into an ear-splitting grin, eyes shining with joy.

  “You are crazy, Moxley, but I have to admit, it’s part of what I love about you. You inspire me, you push me, and most importantly, you make me feel safe,” Sawyer revealed, shyly. “I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way you do, and I don’t want to be with anyone else either.”

  Moxley smiled. “So, is that a yes?”

  Sawyer drew him to his feet and pressed her lips to his for a deep kiss, stealing his breath away. “That’s a hell yes, Moxley Denton. There’s no one else for me.”

  “Even if I hog the covers?” Moxley teased, hands falling to her waist.

  Sawyer laughed. “Yes even then.”

  “Even if I sing all the Disney songs louder than you?” Moxley joked, just to see her smile. She pinched his arm, and he yelped, rubbing the sore spot in return.

  “Are you trying to get me to change my mind?” Sawyer inquired, playfully. “Because you won’t be able to do that, you know.”

  “No?” Moxley asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “We’ll see about that, Mrs. Denton.”

  Sawyer scoffed. “No way. I’m keeping my last name.”

  “How about a hyphen?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Sawyer considered.

  Chapter 10

  Phoenix

  He could say, with absolute conviction, that weddings weren’t his thing at all. In most cases, he wouldn’t be caught dead at one, would have to be dragged there kicking and screaming, or bound and gagged preferably, if they didn’t want a scene.

  However, this was one of the few cases where he couldn’t miss it, not even if it really wasn’t his scene. After all, it was his older brother’s wedding, and he wouldn’t have missed it for the world, not even wild horses could’ve stopped.

  It didn’t stop him from regretting his decision to be all in, volunteering to be his brother’s best man and helping him with every single painful detail. Now, he realized why most men preferred to be kept out of it and couldn’t plan a shindig this big to save their lives.

  Yes, it all made sense now, and he’d never underestimate another event like this again, but he’d felt nostalgic, briefly yearning for simpler times when he and his brother didn’t have any kind of tension between them, even if was fleeting.

  The pressure of being pitted against each other to run a company their father built wasn’t easy, and they’d done their best to avoid it, but it didn’t mean they didn’t fall prey to it from time to time, letting their ego get the better of them.

  Still, he did believe that the right person was in charge.

  While Phoenix was the one with a head for numbers and logic, Moxley had something he didn’t: vision. The ability to think outside the box regardless of the situation, and it was something he secretly envied about his brother, wishing he could have half the imagination.

  Yet, he wouldn’t admit to Moxley, knowing that the last thing his brother needed was that kind of ego boost. If anything, he could stand to be taken down a notch or two, and Phoenix had happily done it over the years, but now, the responsibility fell to his wife, the incomparable Sawyer.

  Truthfully, he’d known from the minute he stepped off the elevator, heading towards the two of them, that something was brewing between them, an undercurrent of energy he’d picked up on instantly.

  In the beginning, he was wary, afraid that if his brother got it into his head to pursue her then screw up that have some serious ramifications businesswise. At the end of the day, a woman of Sawyer’s competence was hard to find, and he’d been prepared to step in should things get out of hand.

  But he hadn’t expected it to come to this.

  A wedding.

  Well, wasn’t that just a kick in the nuts?

  He hadn’t even known his brother was the marrying type much less such a romantic, pussy whipped and acting like Sawyer had him on a short leash, and he was at her every command.

  In his mind, the whole affair was supposed to fizzle out, to dwindle down until all that was left was tears and bittersweet memories. He’d anticipated having to convince Sawyer to stay, to put her career ahead of herself and her ego.

  Call it caution, but he’d learned, fairly early on, to be careful, to have contingency plans in place just in case things fell apart, and he didn’t think there was anything wrong with that, but now he was prepared to take it back, to eat his own words.

  If he were being honest with himself, he could admit that he was almost jealous. Anyone with two eyes could see that Sawyer and Moxley were made for each other, dancing to the beat of a drum only the two of them could hear, and it never ceased to amaze him.

  Even now, watching his brother twirl her across the dance floor, looking like he won the ticket to life, and her gazing up at him with so much adoration, his stomach did an odd little flip in response.

  No, he wasn’t jealous.

  What a ridiculous idea!

  He was just nostalgic, that’s all, and he had a little too much to drink, the frothy drink he had was settling in the pit of his stomach and gurgling, burning a path from his throat to his belly.

  Besides, he didn’t have time for a relationship, much less something this serious, and if it got right down to it, he wasn’t even sure settling down was for him. It seemed like such a hassle, giving up too much and gaining little in return.

  With that thought firmly in mind, he reached for the drink and took another sip, making a face at the small umbrella in the center. It was entirely too girly for him, so he glanced around for a waiter, his legs dangling off the stool comically, and he managed to flag one down, begging the man to bring him some beer.

  The waiter gazed at him with pity then agreed, scurrying off to see if he could snatch one from the back or something. He didn’t care how he got it, as long as he did, and he’d be sure to tip him generously for it.

  Sawyer’s idea of a fancy wedding was something out of a Jane Austen novel, with a sweeping dance floor, glittering chandeliers and name cards in cursive with a big dance number in the beginning, borrowing dance moves from the 1800s.

  The only reason he knew any of this was because he was eavesdropping on a conversation between a group of women, trying to figure ou
t what the hell was going on. He’d been struck with the sudden insane urge to laugh, so he fought it back by swallowing back his drink and signaling for another.

  Finally, the waiter emerged, acting like he was on some kind of covert operation. Proudly, he sat the beer down, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. Phoenix made sure no one could see as he slipped him the money and nursed his beer, a slow and lazy grin etched onto his features.

  Now, this was more like it.

  He hopped off his seat, half hiding the bottle underneath his suit jacket till he found a quiet chair in the corner, abandoned in the middle of the grass. Not caring who it belonged to, he sank into it, the plush leather giving way to his form as he adjusted himself.

  For a few minutes, he took quiet sips of his beer, glancing around at all the happy party-goers, dressed to the nines to celebrate the momentous occasion. Half the people in attendance were women, casting envious glances at the happy couple, no doubt wondering how Sawyer got so lucky.

  But he knew she could handle herself, she’d more than proven that, and at the end of the day, she would make his brother incredibly happy while also bringing him back down to reality, an important combination.

  He tilted the drink in their direction, a silent salute to them before he pressed the bottle to his lips and chugged. Briefly, he glanced down at his phone, hoping for something, anything, to happen to break the monotony.

  A thick and heavy fog was settling over his brain, creeping in like a mist, and reveled in it, nursing his drink as he bobbed along to the song blasting through the speakers, another popular bop people would forget all about by next year.

  Oh, well.

  As if he’d conjured it up through sheer will, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out, squinting when he read the name flash across the screen.

  Fuck.

  It was Darby.

  Again.

  He wanted entertainment, true, but he didn’t want drama, and she seemed like she came with a whole baggage of it, written, directed and produced by her, a one-woman show, and he had no interest hopping aboard that particular train.