The Boss (Billionaires of Club Tempest #1)

by Sloane Hunter

  That pushed them over. Kyle opened the door and Henry led the way. They filed into the bar after him, shepherding the guy along, as Mac, Mason, and I brought up the rear. Beck still hadn’t noticed that I was a part of this party, and I didn’t know if I was looking forward to her reaction or not.

  The Black Shade Saloon had a forty seat bar, live music, and a dance floor that was crowded with bodies. The reason we liked the place so much was because the VIP section was elevated overhead and situated toward the back, giving us a good view of the stage and floor with half the noise and heat. One of the Knights, I wasn’t sure which, paid for a private table, but it was open for all of our use. Hell, it could have been me, and it just slipped my memory over the years. I was probably paying for a mile-long list of memberships and services that I hadn’t used in forever.

  Henry gestured for them to follow him and we walked up the stairs to a roped off area with couches set around a table where bottles of whiskey and vodka already waited. The attendant let us in, welcoming Henry and then each of us in turn. My eyes watched the back of Beck’s head and when the man said, “Mr. Callahan,” the effect was instantaneous.

  She whipped around like she’d been electrocuted.

  “You!” The word escaped her in her surprise and her friends turned to look too. The tripper gasped at the sight of me as well, and just then I realized she was familiar too, someone else who worked for me in design. HR was going to have a field day with this. I might have cared if I didn’t already have much bigger problems at work.

  “Do you know each other?” Mason asked, looking between us.

  I forced a smile. “This is Beck. She’s my new assistant.” Mason’s eyes widened. I’d told him about Beck already and the unfortunate coincidence of last week. “And this is…” I searched my mind for the name and came up with, “Alice?”

  Alice smiled at the sound of her name. “I’m surprised you know who I am,” she admitted.

  I leaned back into the couch. “I know everyone who works for me,” I lied, immediately hoping the other two weren’t on my staff. I wouldn’t have been able to come up with Alice’s name if she hadn’t just given a presentation on the lobby design of the Astor. “I enjoyed your ideas for the Astor.”

  Alice’s grin shone all the brighter in contrast to her boyfriend’s glower beside her. He was sitting so close to her, he was practically on her lap in a pathetic attempt to claim ownership. Alice, on the other hand, didn’t even seem to be aware that he was there.

  My eyes flicked to Beck. She was staring at me with a mixture of astonishment and horror at the sight of me amongst her friends. I was sure the memories of our last night out together were playing as vividly in her mind as they were in mine.

  “So you all work together?” one of the nameless girls asked.

  “Kinda,” Beck said. “He’s our boss. Mr.—”

  “Call me Sam,” I interrupted. “We’re not on the clock.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “You’re Sam Callahan? I live in one of your renovations.”

  “I hope it’s serving you well,” I said. “And you are?”

  “I’m Kylie,” she said, but she spoke more to Henry then to me.

  He was still eying her like a snack and she didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. “I’m Henry, Henry Blackburn.”

  “And this is Mac Walsh and Mason Reads,” I said, gesturing to the other two. At the sound of Mason’s name, Beck seemed to snap out of her stupor.

  “Mason Reads,” she repeated. “The artist. Sam said he knew you.”

  Mason smiled softly. He wasn’t a huge fan of prise, especially in public. Why a private guy like Mason hung out with a bunch of egotistical assholes like the rest of the Knights was a constant wonder. “That would be me,” he admitted. “Do you like art?”

  “I love it,” she said. That strange surge of jealousy erupted again. How could paint on canvas be more impressive then entire skyscrapers? Maybe if I renovated them with my own bare hands… Now that would be pretty fucking impressive. But still.

  She was about to continue, but Mac cut her off. He looked directly at Alice and said, “My god, you have to be about the most delicious-looking piece of arse I’ve seen this side of the Atlantic.”

  He said it with complete clarity and the obscenity of his words mixed with the matter-of-fact tone caused a stunned silence to descend over the group. He’d been silent for so long, I should have known he was rearing up to make a fool out of himself.

  “Mac!” Henry said sharply. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Wuh?”

  “Don’t— Don’t worry about it,” Alice said quickly, though she cast a what-the-fuck-is-your-problem look at Mac who drunkenly winked back. The guy at her side started to say something, but she nudged him, hard enough to push him back off her a few inches. He stayed silent, though now he was glaring daggers at Mac instead of Henry and me.

  “Forgive him,” I said. “Mac is the owner of Mac Walsh Liquor. It’s practically his job to be a drunk.”

  “And because he’s Irish,” Alice’s boyfriend muttered.

  “What’d ya just say about me?” Mac asked, flaring.

  “Daniel, shut up,” Alice hissed. “And leave him alone,” she said just as fiercely to Mac.

  Mac looked like he wasn’t about to drop it, but Kylie jumped in to save the day. “And what do you do, Henry Blackburn?” she asked. “I’m prepared to be impressed.”

  Henry grinned and lazed back on the couch. “I’m the head of an investment company, Blackburn Tech. I invest in upcoming technology and startups. Mostly hardware. I might not be as famous as these three bastards, but I’m pretty sure I’m worth twice as much.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t listen to him. Henry likes to compare bank accounts like most men measure dicks.”

  “Which I’d still come out on top in.”

  “Whatever you say.” I searched for a change of topic. “What are you ladies up to tonight? And gentleman,” I added nodding at Daniel. He glowered back at me.

  Alice launched into an explanation of where they’d been and where they hoped to go. I tried to listen, but my gaze kept drifting across from me to Beck, who still looked like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. I was a little annoyed she felt so uncomfortable around me. I wasn’t that much of an asshole, was I? Maybe I was. But that was work and I was frequently an asshole there. Not a great excuse, Sam. Still, I wasn’t that bad.

  Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was that cemented objective in my damn goal-oriented brain of getting laid tonight that was drawing me to her. She looked beautiful in a tight black dress, her breasts bulging a bit at the top, her creamy skin glistening with sweat from the summer heat. I could practically feel the heat coming from her legs under the table and all I wanted to do was to slip my foot out of my shoe and run it up the length of her leg, searching for that hot center and rubbing it until—

  I shook my head. That would definitely be the booze getting to me. So much so that I’d dropped out of the conversation for a moment, just long enough to miss whatever it had been that got Mac riled.

  “What the fuck you sain’ to me, boy? Who the feck are you? Seriously, who the feck is this son of a bitch comin’ in to my bar, drinkin’ my booze and talkin’ down to me like I just feckin’ rowed over here in a goddamn po-tater!”

  “Hey, hey,” Mason said, my normally quiet friend speaking loudly to try to interrupt Mac’s tirade before he got tired of talking and decided swinging was the better course of action. Daniel sat across the table with his arms crossed, looking smug at whatever insult he’d thrown Mac’s way and not the slightest bit as scared as he should have been. He might not have known that Mac grew up in a rough part of Dublin, fighting daily with anyone who’d swing their fists, but surely he wasn’t drunk enough to not notice the forty pound difference between them. And even though Mac was wearing a suit, it was clear that it was all muscle. I’d think Daniel was the dumbest kid in the city, if I didn’t se
e some version of this exact scene about once a month — an insecure kid sensing Mac pulling up on their girlfriend and trying to be the tough guy. It never worked out in their favor.

  “Come on,” Daniel cracked. “Why are you so offended? It’s not like I stole your pot of gold.”

  Mason, Henry, and I groaned in unison. Alice hit his shoulder. Beck and the other two girls had their mouths wide open.

  Mac stood up. “All ‘ight. Outside. Now.”

  “What are you talking about?” Daniel asked. The grin slipped from his face slightly.

  Mac cracked his knuckles and when he spoke he sounded as sober as a judge. “I’m not kicking yer ass in my favorite bar because I’d like to come back inside when I’m done.”

  Daniel’s mouth hung open a bit and I stifled a grin. It really wasn’t funny, but, to check that, yes it really was.

  Alice stood up. “Okay, that’s enough. We’re going home.”

  “Wait a minute,” Daniel said, standing too. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  Mac and Alice shared an expression — You should be.

  “Let it go,” Alice said. “Both of you. I’m sorry he’s being an ass,” she said to Mac, “but it’s not worth it.”

  “There’s where I’d disagree with ya, love,” Mac said. “I think yer little friend needs to be taught a bit of respect.”

  And that was when Daniel lunged across the table and punched Mac directly in the nose. The party stilled to silence for the second time in less than ten minutes. Mac stared at Daniel with a mix of wonder and disbelief. But no anger, not yet. That was on its way.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Beck

  I watched as if in a dream as my boss and Mason Reads strong-armed the head of Mac Walsh Liquor into a black SUV as he shouted abuse in such a progressively thickening Irish accent that soon I didn’t understand a word he was saying.

  “Mac— Mac!” Sam stopped a flailing arm and leaned into the backseat, which was what I’d assumed was correlative to putting your head directly into a wasp’s nest. His words likewise became indistinguishable, but I could hear him talking in a strong, soothing voice to his friend. I stood a ways back, but close enough to admire how tight his body looked, tense and ready for a swing even as he talked his abrasive friend down. I wished he was still a stranger so I could admire him without guilt or fear of consequence.

  Speaking of friends, I’d tried to help Alice with Daniel, but she’d refused any assistance.

  “I should carry the full weight of my poor choices,” she’d said with a wry smile before heading down the street with Daniel, bleary and bleeding, hanging off her shoulder. Before she’d left though, I’d noticed her cast a curious glance at Mac as he tried to avoid Mason and Sam, shouting insults and curses at that “son of a bitch racist skinny American fecking bastard”. When she noticed I was looking though, the gaze quickly turned to one of disapproval, and she headed home to take care of her poor, stupid not-boyfriend.

  Jordan and Kylie were sticking around, which wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t every night you crossed paths with a trio of handsome billionaires. Or, at least, I assumed it wasn’t. I was batting two for two at the moment. The girls were talking with their heads together a short distance away like they were part of a secret club that I wasn’t invited to participate in. That thought wasn’t exactly fair. I didn’t have anything against Kylie and Jordan; they were nice enough and seemed to like me too. I’d probably like them more if I saw them outside of dark bars and drunken stumbles. But with Alice gone, I felt a bit lost standing alone on the pavement.

  I glanced over and saw that, while Sam and Mason were still talking to Mac, Henry Blackburn wasn’t alongside them calming down his angry friend. He stood off to the side, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the building across the street with a bored expression on his handsome face. For want of something better to do, I joined him.

  “Why aren’t you over there?” I asked. The question came out more judgmental than I’d wanted. It had really just been borne out of curiosity and a lack of better topics.

  If Henry was offended by the question though, he gave no indication. “Cause I’m over it,” he said, dragging on his cigarette. “Trust me, this is not an isolated incident. Mac has more tantrums than a twelve-year-old girl, and it gets boring after a while.”

  “So you leave your friends to do the clean up?” Okay now that was judgmental, but I didn’t like his tone.

  He glanced at me and gave a sharp laugh. “Okay, now I can see why Sammy likes you,” he said. “If you want an honest answer, threes a crowd, and Mason and Sam are such bleeding hearted do-gooders, I figure I’ll give them a chance to get those warm, noble fuzzies.”

  Sammy like me? I wanted to ask why he’d said that, but didn’t want to seem too interested. So instead I followed his gaze to the small group. “I don’t get that impression from him,” I said.

  “From Sam? Yeah, I’ll admit, it’s a bit more obvious with Mason — something about the ‘artist sensitivities’ — I don’t know — but Sam’s got ‘em too. He just buries it under his stony ‘professional’ persona. Trust me, bleeding hearts, the both of them.”

  I thought back to all my interactions with Sam and couldn’t find any instances to make me consider him a secret softy. A good sense of humor, maybe; well-mannered, under the right conditions. But a do-gooder? I supposed the evidence was directly in my face as Sam packed Mac into the SUV and spoke to the driver, but for some reason I didn’t think that it counted when it was toward his friends. That was just the bare minimum. Right?

  “And what about you?” I asked Henry. He wasn’t as tall as Sam, nor as thick, but he carried himself with a confident ease. Unlike the others, he wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans. Beneath the t-shirt, he wasn’t as built as Sam, but he was corded with lean muscle and little body fat. Despite his attitude, I found that I liked him.

  He grinned down at me. “I’ve never been shy about the fact that I’m more than a bit self-centered,” he said. “That’s how I got to be where I am.”

  “The others are billionaires too,” I reminded him.

  His grin widened. “And they still aren’t half as rich as me,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. “And I’m sure you never let them forget it.”

  “Let us forget what?” Mason asked. I hadn’t realized they were walking our way.

  “How much fucking money I’ve got,” Henry said with a smirk. “The amount is absolutely immoral, really.”

  “Whatever,” Sam said. He put his hands on his hips, glanced at me, and then looked away. He’d been exerting wrestling with Mac. His chest heaved slightly and I could see a thin layer of sweat glistening on his brow. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and furrowed his brow. His deep blue eyes were watching Henry as he spoke about… something.

  I snapped out of it, realizing I’d just fallen into some kind of trance just looking at him. Your boss, remember? I scolded myself. The one you don’t even get along with half the time? The one waaaay too close to Troy for comfort?

  Oh yeah, and the one who said this afternoon that love didn’t matter? If you get your heart broken here, you’re the only one to blame.

  I tried to focus on what Mason was saying instead of my turbulent inner thoughts. He was looking at Kylie and Jordan who had broken their huddle to come join us.

  “Are you ladies sticking with us?” he asked.

  I wanted to say no, but I knew we’d never be friends if I denied Kylie and Jordan an evening hanging out with a trio of ridiculously attractive billionaires. I wished again that Alice was still here. I shrugged at them, and Kylie quickly said, “If you don’t mind.”

  I followed her line of sight to Henry and noticed Jordan making equal amounts of eye contact with Mason. That must have been what they were whispering about together, picking out which cut looked the most delicious. I supposed that left me with Sam, but that was fine because as bad as the thought of fucking Sam again was, fucking one of his friends was e
ven worse. No, this was a celibate night. For me at least.

  “I’m tired of deciding on places,” Henry complained. “The Black Shade was supposed to be the last stop. Let’s just go back to the club.”

  “The Club?” Jordan asked. “Is that the place in the East Village that does body shot Wednesdays?”

  “No,” Mason said with a laugh. “He’s talking about the Tempest. It’s a private clubhouse in the West Village. Not too far from here actually. We could walk.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” Henry muttered.

  I really couldn’t picture what a “private clubhouse” would look like, the only thing coming to mind being the mouse ears and red dome of the eponymous “Mickey Mouse Clubhouse”. Somehow I suspected the Tempest wouldn’t compare.

  “Sure,” I said, looking to the others for agreement. “I’d like to see it.” There was no argument from Kylie and Jordan.

  So we headed off down the street, the couples naturally falling in line with each other. That unfortunately meant soon I was walking side-by-side with Sam. We walked silently for a while and I fell back to thinking about what he’d said earlier about love. I couldn’t fathom someone thinking that love didn’t matter. Not that it didn’t exist or some bullshit about it all being animal impulses, but that it didn’t matter. If you asked me, love was the only thing that mattered in this world. More than fame and money and success. To have all those things and no love would be like seeing the world in black and white. So close to perfect, but still not good enough. Did Sam even know what he was missing out on?

  It was strange to walk so close to someone and feel like they were a thousand miles away. I had no idea what to even say to him.

  As it turned out, he broke the silence first. “Are the girls still calling you June?” he asked.

  I laughed, taken aback by the question. “Yes!” I said. “How’d you know about that?”

  He glanced over at me with a soft smile. “Unfortunately, I’m aware of most of the office drama. My vice-president Cordon hears it from Janice and transfers it to me, mostly unwillingly. Every now and then there’s a good nugget of information.”