Longing (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #7): A Billionaire Romance

by Ainsley St Claire

  “Not a problem. Parker is just finishing his initial phase with the FBI cybercrimes unit and may have some room on his plate. Send it over to me, and I’ll get it figured out.”

  “Cynthia, why don’t you share with everyone what you have going on,” Mason nudges.

  Cynthia smiles and informs us of her prospect, which seems exciting.

  When it’s my turn, I share what’s keeping me busy. “Emerson, if you have a minute, I’d love your thoughts on something that I’m looking at.”

  “Of course. Let me know, and we can talk.”

  “Okay, guys, so when we’re looking at these investments, we’re looking at close to a hundred million dollars in investments. We won’t invest in all of them, either by our choice or theirs, but we are in good shape.”

  As we break, Jim stands and gives his weekly reminder. “All right you guys, remember this information is for this room only. Try not to say anything to anyone outside of this room.”

  “Have a great week, everyone. I’ll see you in the morning at the office,” Mason concludes.

  We all shuffle out of the room. “Margo, thanks again for the outstanding dinner,” I tell her. These meals are better than the meals I grew up with, and they really beat the takeout I get most nights.

  “You’re welcome. Any special requests?”

  “I have to say, I loved your meatloaf with the cheese in the middle,” I share.

  “That’s one of my favorites too,” Cynthia volunteers.

  “Pasta dishes are always good,” Emerson offers.

  “You guys can do a pasta dish at your place any time. These dinners are supposed to be something you won’t make yourselves at home,” Margo admonishes her.

  CeCe puts her arm around her mother’s shoulder and says, “You’re spoiling us.”

  “And she loves doing it,” Charles says from behind me.

  “Whatever you make will be fantastic,” I add. “See you next week.”

  William and I make our way out the door. Once we’re firmly in the car and driving toward the 101, he says, “I was surprised to see the portfolio tonight. I’ve seen parts of it, but not like it was tonight. I know that each of the founders are listed as billionaires in the Silicon Valley Business Journal, which tells me it’s a possibility for both of us and quickly.”

  I agree. As I drop him at his place in Nob Hill, I continue on to Pacific Heights where I watch some television and relax.

  Lying in bed, my mind drifts to Bella. I don’t want to wash my sheets quite yet because I swear I can still smell her scent on the pillow. I really need to find her. I need to figure out a way to get to her. I don’t know what magic spell she cast upon me, but I can’t help but think this is the woman for me.

  Chapter nine

  Isabella

  “Another week, another dollar?” Ellie asks.

  “Hard to say. I keep waiting for Dr. Johnson to tell me when we’re meeting with the investors.”

  “I bet he can’t get them to talk to him. Bella, I know why you think you need him, but I don’t trust that man.”

  “And that is why I adore you.” I give her a hug.

  “Where is your car?” Ellie asks.

  “You don’t want to know.” It’s been two weeks. I’m still mad and haven’t bailed it out of impound. With a big sigh and a lot of prompting, I tell her what happened.

  “You mean you’re without a car?”

  “Public transportation in The City is fine to get around and out to Berkeley.”

  “Wait, there is something totally wrong with what they’ve done to your car.”

  “I don’t have time to figure it out, and what they want to get it out of impound is more than the car is worth. I’m good with rideshares for now. We just need to get the funding so we can move on to the next phase.”

  She reaches for my arm. “I know you’re worried about your dad. I get it.”

  My father has Parkinson’s, and the drugs haven’t worked. He was an amazing father when I was growing up. He never missed any of my activities, and he loved me unconditionally. Most importantly, he was a great buffer between my mom and me. She was a tiger mom before the term tiger mom existed.

  “I’m worried about my dad. I may not come up with a good treatment in time for him, but maybe I can for someone else.”

  “When will you know about the funding?”

  “We haven’t met with anyone, so I guess when he tells me. Dr. Johnson wanted to control that, which is fine because it keeps him out of the research side.”

  I give her a hug goodbye when we arrive at the lab. “Thank you so much for the ride.”

  “You’re good to get home tonight?”

  “Yep.” I hold up my cell phone because it holds the app to call a rideshare.

  Waving as she drives off, I walk into the lab. Our receptionist stops me. “Good morning, Isabella. Dr. Johnson is looking for you.”

  Glancing at my cell phone, I note that I’m early. “No problem. Do you know where he is?”

  She shakes her head. “Do you want me to call his cell phone and ask?”

  “Goodness, no. I’ll track him down.” I smile, and my stomach churns. What does he need now?

  I drop my bag in my office and turn my computer on, letting it go through the start-up sequence while I get a cup of coffee and go in search of Dr. Johnson.

  As I am pouring my first cup of coffee and eyeing the donuts that someone has brought, Dr. Johnson comes into the break room. “Ms. Vargas, you’re late.”

  “I am? I usually don’t arrive until noon on Wednesdays.”

  “That’s not acceptable. You should be here by eight like everyone else.”

  “Dr. Johnson, I have a class I teach on Wednesday mornings. It’s in my contract.” Rather than argue with him, I change the subject. “So when are we meeting with the investor?”

  “He was here last Wednesday. I think I got him locked down.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were meeting with him Wednesday? This is my company. I should’ve been here. You don’t understand the slide deck I gave you.”

  He looks at me with disdain. “It isn’t your company. You left it with me to secure the funding, and the only reason people are talking to us is because of me.”

  I’m seething inside. “Where did he leave it?”

  “I’m just waiting for him to go through our information, and he’ll probably have a check for us within a month or so.”

  “Really? It was that easy?”

  “Ms. Vargas, it is quite the coup to have me running this company. My connections get me the funding.”

  I’m at a loss. If getting the money is this easy, we are in great shape. I may be able to make a difference to families like mine. “Well, great. I will begin preparing for trials.”

  “Yes, you do that.” He turns and walks out, leaving me trying so hard to remember why I decided to ask him to join me in the venture.

  I work my way back to my office the long way and check in with our staff. We’re fairly small at this point with only ten employees. I greet each person and ask them how things are going with their projects and try to ask something personal since we are all working toward a common goal.

  Just before I leave for a quick lunch break, Mindy rings me. “Ms. Vargas, the investor is here and would like to meet with you and Dr. Johnson, but Dr. Johnson has left to run an errand. Are you available to meet with him?”

  “I’ll be right up.” I smooth my skirt and check my reflection in the mirror. I can do this. I walk out, and I see Dr. Johnson with his takeout lunch in his hands and see him talking to someone.

  “…surprised you’re here.”

  “I hope you don’t mind. I did mention wanting to speak with your research assistant.” I stop in my tracks. Research assistant? Hell, no. What the fuck is he telling the investors?

  “Yes, well, I thought you’d make an appointment.”

  I appear and stop dead in my tracks. It’s Christopher from the club. He looks up an
d recognizes me at the same moment. This can’t be happening.

  I extend my hand. “Hello. Welcome to Black Rock Therapeutics. I’m Isabella Vargas, co-founder and chief research officer of Black Rock.”

  Dr. Johnson stumbles. “Ms. Vargas, I got this. You can go back to your lab.”

  “Actually, I think you’re the one I want to meet with,” Christopher says as he shakes my hand, ignoring Dr. Johnson.

  “That’s not necessary. I can have you speak with Jim Thompson in our lab,” Dr. Johnson insists.

  I’m ready to end Dr. Johnson’s contract immediately, but for the moment, I just stand there. I’m torn. I want to wring Dr. Johnson’s neck, but I also want to secure the funding for this venture.

  “Please, this way.” I motion for Christopher to follow me. I don’t know where to start. Dr. Johnson is rambling on, but I don’t hear him.

  Christopher speaks over him. “Dr. Johnson was kind enough to walk me through the proposal. My apologies, I didn’t realize you were a co-founder. Tell me how you came up with the concept.”

  “That isn’t really germane to the proposal,” Dr. Johnson interjects.

  I ignore him. “Well, I have someone close to me with Parkinson’s, and as you know, Levodopa is the most effective drug to fight the disease, but the effectiveness wears off after two or three years of usage, and in some cases isn’t effective at all. Our method is another drug that uses Dr. Johnson’s method, for which he won the Lasker Award, to produce a new technique to get the medication to the brain. It may also have other implications for other brain degenerative diseases.”

  “Yes, my method makes this possible drug effective,” Dr. Johnson points out.

  “Are you a doctor—medical or a doctorate?” Christopher asks, ignoring Dr. Johnson.

  “I’m completing my doctorate in biochemistry from Cal,” I inform him.

  “After she finishes her dissertation in a few years,” Dr. Johnson says with disdain.

  “That’s true, but my course work is finished, and this project came out of my research for my dissertation.”

  Christopher looks at me, and I can see in his eyes he has questions that don’t relate to Black Rock. We’ve arrived at my office. It’s small, but we can fit. “I’m sorry for the cramped space, but I’d like to show you the data on my computer. I receive it raw from the lab, and I formulate the results you can see here.” Both men reach for chairs in my office.

  Christopher turns to Dr. Johnson “Your tour last week and presentation was outstanding, but do you think I could meet with Ms. Vargas and walk through these numbers with her? Alone.”

  Dr. Johnson’s hands balls into fists at his side, and I’ve worked with him long enough to know that is a sign that he’s angry. “Oh, of course.” He steps out of my office, and Christopher shuts the door behind him.

  I quickly write a note and show it to him, letting him know they can hear everything we say in the next office.

  He nods. “So, walk me through your assumptions and data,” he says with that damn sexy, lopsided grin. Caressing my hand in both of his, he reminds me what it feels like to be caressed elsewhere by those big, masculine fingers.

  I spend the next forty-five minutes explaining and answering questions.

  He writes a note and shows it to me, asking if we can go get coffee somewhere.

  I nod.

  He writes another note while I talk more about our next step in the trials we want to try.

  “You aren’t doing animal testing?” he asks.

  “Oh goodness, no. I’m not sure we’ll go that route. Right now we need to do more test-tube testing.”

  “That’s great news.” He hands me a note telling me he’ll meet me beside the building in twenty minutes.

  I nod again.

  He stands. “Thank you, Ms. Vargas.” He picks up a business card and asks, “Is this your phone and email?”

  “Yes, please feel free to reach out and ask any questions you may have. I understand from Dr. Johnson that the presentation of our proposal went well, and you are encouraged.”

  “Well, I’m the first cog in this train. From here I pass my recommendations along to my team. A fifty-million-dollar request is pretty significant for the first round. We have operations, legal, and finance groups to sign off before we would write a check.”

  “Thank you for your time. We really appreciate your consideration. This project has a lot of passion behind it.”

  He opens the door, and I’m taken aback to see Dr. Johnson is standing there. “Can I answer any other questions for you?” he offers.

  “No, I think Ms. Vargas was quite informative.”

  Dr. Johnson gives me a dirty look and Christopher leaves.

  I sit down in my desk chair and exhale. I can’t believe “my” Christopher is our possible funder. I can’t be sure what Dr. Johnson told him, but it’s becoming clear he didn’t mention me at all.

  Dr. Johnson comes marching back to my office. “How dare you meet with him without me.”

  “Excuse me? First, you met with him without me. And second, I didn’t ask you to leave, he did.” I’m so angry I’m going to say something I may regret. “I’m going to step out.”

  “You haven’t done anything today. You can’t leave.”

  I pick up my purse and grab my phone. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  “You leave, and you can kiss your job goodbye.”

  I turn and look at his little weasel face. “Dr. Johnson, I think if you check the agreement we have, you will find that you can’t fire me.”

  “I will make sure that we don’t get the funding.”

  I walk out, leaving him talking to the door. As I exit the building, I see Christopher in a silver Mercedes SUV at the end of the building. I’m shaking mad right now, and I don’t want to screw up our funding, so I use the brief moments to breathe deeply and collect myself as I walk down to him.

  Chapter ten

  Christopher

  She gets into the passenger seat and smiles at me. “Well, that was quite the surprise.”

  Man, she has a great smile—full lips, straight white teeth. I really want to taste that mouth and feel her give in and open for me.

  “I can’t believe that I ran into you. I went to The Church Saturday night looking for you. Why did you leave, and why didn’t you leave your number?” I ask, embarrassed I’m so open and not playing it cool at all.

  “It was a one-night stand. I didn’t expect you’d want to see me again.”

  I take a big breath. “Did you have fun?” She bites her lip and nods. My cock stands at attention, and I wish it was me biting that lip. “I did too and wouldn’t mind having more fun.”

  “Instead of coffee, can we get lunch somewhere close?”

  “Sure.” I pull into a sports bar I go to when I want to watch hockey. The beers are cold, and the food is greasy. Probably not her style, but it’s out of the way but close.

  I park, and I hold the door for her. “This should work.”

  “Perfect.”

  It takes a moment for us to adjust our eyes from the bright light of the outside to the dim sports bar. A long wooden bar runs the length of the back walls. Huge, flat-screen TVs seem to occupy every inch of wall space. Baseball games flicker on screens, but luckily the sound is muted, so we hear only the normal rustle of any bar—glasses clinking on tables, patrons chatting, the sizzle and pop from the kitchen.

  We take a seat, and I ask her, “What’ll you have?”

  “A diet coke but with a sandwich or something. I haven’t eaten, and I have a hunger headache that’s killing me.”

  “Lunch it is.”

  A waitress stops by our table, and we both order sodas and sandwiches.

  A dent creases her face as her lips curl in a half smile, once again revealing her dimples in addition to the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard. Oh hell, I’m in trouble.

  “Are you a medical doctor?” she asks.

  “Yes, but I’m not license
d to practice. I went to med school and have an MBA. I always wanted to work in venture capital.”

  “Who grows up saying, ‘I want to be a venture capitalist?’ I mean, really?”

  The yeah-right look she shoots me sends heat careening through my veins. I clear my throat and place my hands in my lap, so I’m not tempted to reach for her. “My father was an intellectual property attorney when he started out. I was going to follow in his footsteps, but instead used my science degree to attend medical school. Medicine bored me. The idea of dealing with the same thing over and over was a deal breaker, but I enjoyed the research side and played with that. I saw funding as an issue for most medical-related start-ups and realized that few venture capital funds understand how to invest in businesses like yours. I have a friend of a friend who introduced me to my firm, and they hired me.”

  “It’s hard to get funding. I approached Dr. Johnson because of his notoriety after winning the Lasker Award.”

  Our food arrives and we dig in enjoying our lunch and not talking about work for a few moments. “This is the best ruben in all of San Francisco.”

  “The turkey sandwich isn’t bad at all either.” Her perfect mouth is devouring a hand-carved turkey, bacon, lettuce, and tomato on toasted wheat bread.

  I want to know everything about her. I have thousands of questions running through my mind, but I don’t want to frighten her, so I start with an easy question. “What do you do for fun?”

  “Fun? I don’t have time for fun. I hardly have time to sleep. I’m a grad student at Berkeley, and I teach two classes. I’m working on my dissertation, and I work fifty-plus hours a week at Black Rock.”

  I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table, my hands so close to hers, if I move just a fraction of an inch, we’d be touching. But I don’t need to touch her to feel the heat rolling off her in waves. The same heat is rolling off me. “Can we go out? Dinner? Drinks? Whatever you want.”