Love Your Moves: A Billionaire Valentine's Romantic Comedy

by Weston Parker

  At thirty-eight years old, I’d been building up my conglomerate, Reed Global, for twenty years. I’d registered it at eighteen, but it had been little more than a name for the first decade of its existence. It took blood, sweat, and maybe even a bit of tears to build it into the powerhouse it was today. Not that I’d openly admit the part about the tears to just anyone.

  The kind of work I was doing this morning was my bread and butter. It fed my soul and made me feel like the king of the fucking world. The future of this company was in my hands—if I still wanted it to be after going through all their paperwork. The thrill of the high-stakes strategy game I was playing still had me riding an adrenaline high every time even after all these years.

  Some called me a workaholic. Some called me a ruthless businessman, while others simply called me a dick. I was all of those things, but I was a workaholic, ruthless dick who aimed to win every single time. And more often than not, I did.

  When the sky outside had just started lightening, there was a firm knock on my door. Carl, my COO and best friend, strode in a second later. He was my oldest friend, my right-hand man, and just about the only person who came into any of my personal spaces like my home or office without having been invited to do so.

  He grinned when he saw my tie was already loose, his light brown eyes taking a quick survey of the state of my desk and my empty mug. “Prosper Insurance, I’m assuming?”

  “The one and only.” I sat back, folding my hands over my stomach as I watched him sliding into the seat across from mine. He flipped open the tablet in his hand and took a sip from the takeout tea in the other. “How was your weekend?”

  “I’m married with two children. My weekend was the same as any other one. Sue and I tried to keep the girls from turning the entire house into a princess castle while also trying to find a minute to ourselves.”

  “You only need a minute these days, huh?” I laughed, and he flipped me off before shrugging.

  “Bro, let’s talk after you’ve been married for a dozen years and have the supposed angels you spawned force you into a tutu.” He tried to keep a straight face, but there was no hiding the amusement in his eyes as he pictured me in a tutu. “One day, when you’re not spending your weekends in a ritzy club in New York City with a bunch of eager models anymore, you might understand what I’m talking about.”

  I laughed some more, shaking my head before faking a solemn expression. “You only think I spend every weekend at a nightclub in the city. Sadly, I’m too old for that shit and this place doesn’t run itself.”

  “It’s your loss if you’re not doing it. Take it from me, if I was a single billionaire, I’d have been doing it until I was at least eighty. Fuck age. You’ve got the bank accounts to ensure you wouldn’t be going home alone.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but being a single billionaire isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Especially when you had the kind of shit-show in your personal history that I did. Considering some of my past experiences, the last thing I needed was to have any more women after what was in those bank accounts he’d mentioned. One woman after everything was more than enough for me.

  Carl knew me well enough to recognize what my face looked like whenever I thought about my ex, and his expression turned grim. “You’re still have trouble with Nic?”

  I nodded, releasing a heavy breath through my nostrils. Nicole Reed, better known as Nic, had gone from being the woman I’d thought was the love of my life to the person I knew was the bane of my existence.

  Carl knew all about my struggles with her and her desire to nickel-and-dime me over what she considered to be an unfair divorce settlement. For most people, receiving tens of millions of dollars they hadn’t lifted a finger to earn after a mere three-year marriage would’ve been considered a gift.

  Hell, it had been a gift, considering that I’d given her more than three times what she’d been entitled to according to our pre-nup just so I could have our nasty fucking divorce over with. But nothing was ever enough for Nic.

  With her auburn hair cut into a perfectly kept A-line bob, her glittering brown eyes and petite figure, she looked like a sophisticated angel. Unfortunately, her beauty was only skin deep. She’d loved the lifestyle I’d provided, but when I started preferring nights in with her and thinking about a family, she’d cut and run for the fucking hills.

  If she just hadn’t been ready for that next step, it would’ve been one thing. I’d have been able to respect her wishes and I’d have waited however long it might’ve taken before she was ready. It hadn’t been that, though.

  She’d straight up told me one night that she’d married me for my money and that she’d thought we had a mutual understanding. According to my least favorite gold-digger, said understanding was that I would fund our lifestyle, we’d have fun together, keep having great sex, and we’d both be happy with living that life until death did us part.

  Maybe I’d been hallucinating on the day we’d gotten married, but those sure as hell weren’t the vows I remembered us making to each other. When she’d finally realized our mutual understanding had been a giant misunderstanding, she’d gotten her ass to lawyers so fast I’d almost seen the fire coming from it.

  She’d wasted enough of my time, though. Shoving all thoughts of her to the side, I inclined my head at the papers in front of me. “We need to go over everything involving this acquisition with a fine-tooth comb. I don’t want a repeat of the fiasco we had last month.”

  Carl let the subject change slide without batting an eye, nodding as he pulled up a file on his tablet. “I’ve got all the reports about their financials back from our guys. Everything there seems to be above board. Their human resources don’t look as good, though. There appears to be a lot of fat that could be trimmed. If you consider our own structures and capabilities, the ship could be too heavy if we took them all on.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” I glanced down at the organogram lying on top of the pile of papers on my desk. “If we decide to keep any of their employees on, we should only take the best. I don’t want any of their extra weight dragging us down.”

  “Let’s see what we can do.” He tapped on his screen, making a note for himself to refer back to later. “It’s going to be an intensive, time-consuming process to trim the workforce down if it turns out to be necessary to really do it. You up for it, or should I get our HR on it?”

  “Get them on it. Have them put together whatever they can find on where we can add value, but I plan on being hands-on with this one. I can’t get a proper feel for the candidates unless I’m there, looking into their eyes when the decisions are being made.”

  “Got it.” He made another note before we moved on to other aspects of the acquisition. Our meeting lasted roughly an hour, and then he left me to it while he got on with the rest of his day.

  I worked straight through to dinnertime, getting my meals delivered from the same deli that brought my breakfast every morning. It wasn’t necessarily because I was a creature of habit. I enjoyed new experiences and adventure as much as the next guy, but I was also a loyal customer, and moreover, food poisoning wasn’t one of those experiences I considered to be either new or an adventure. So for my day-to-day, the deli it was.

  I was making decent headway into a deal we were doing with an investment company in Switzerland when my phone rang. Carl’s name flashed on my screen, and I took his call even though I didn’t make a habit of answering while I was all the way down the rabbit hole like I was now.

  “You’re having dinner in your office again?” he teased after we’d made our initial small talk. “When you go home again, you might want to have a look at this room you have called a kitchen. One can prepare one’s own meals in there—and eat in your underwear in front of the TV.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard it’s possible to cook food at home and relax while eating it, but you know me. I’m all work and no play these days.” For all his joking, he knew I spent most weekends working as many hours a day as
I did in the week.

  My taste for partying had fizzled out and died along with my marriage and my desire for a new relationship. My divorce hadn’t been amicable, and not even the thought of companionship or getting my dick wet on the regular could make me forget what I’d gone through.

  Carl chuckled at the other end of the line. “Well, I hope you don’t mean absolutely no play. I was actually calling to remind you about our guys’ night coming up soon. Unless playing cards with the boys is now something you don’t consider worthwhile play anymore?”

  “You’re shit out of luck on that front, my man. You’d better bring your A-game, or I’m going to clean you out again.”

  He groaned, no doubt remembering how he’d left our last guys’ night as the loser. “God, I’m glad we only play for chips or I’d be on my third mortgage by now.”

  Laughing as I muttered my agreement with his statement, I told him I already had the date on my schedule and let him get back to his family. We hung up, and I finished my food before going back to work.

  Truth be told, if he hadn’t called to remind me, I would’ve forgotten about our card night later in the week. We got together as often as we could, but there wasn’t a regular night for it. There were too many schedules of too many busy guys to take into consideration, and we had to squeeze time in whenever we could spare it.

  I was looking forward to blowing off steam with the guys, though. It was one of the few things I did for myself that didn’t involve work, and it was about fucking time that I just cut loose a little for the night again.

  Chapter 3

  TORI

  The rumor mill at the office was working double time. I was trying to go about my daily tasks, keeping my head down and trying to make up for missing Bruce’s call the other day, but it was difficult to concentrate with the company takeover looming over my head.

  As we learned more about it, people’s concerns were only growing. Prosper Insurance, where we worked, had been around for ages. Unfortunately, the company hadn’t exactly kept up with the times. We operated on several archaic systems, our structures hadn’t been reviewed since at least three presidents ago, and a number of the products we were trained in now only sold to geriatrics and conspiracy theorists.

  We had a lot to be concerned about, and that was putting it mildly. Some of my coworkers were congregating around the water cooler again when I walked into the break room, and they pulled me into their conversation right away.

  “I’ve heard Reed Global is only keeping some of the employees,” Rita, our Head of Office Gossip, declared as soon as I joined their ranks. “Adam in finance knows someone whose cousin used to work for a company Reed took over last year. They only kept maybe ten people. The rest were all out of a job.”

  “So just about all of us are about to be out of jobs?” a young IT guy, who I was pretty sure was named Peter, said. “That blows. How do they even decide who stays and who goes?”

  Of course, that question sparked an entire debate about the issue of how it should be decided who would be keeping their jobs and who would be given their marching orders. I was still reeling from the information that most of us would be fired.

  Whoever was in charge over there at Reed Global had to be a total asshole to fire so many people, but especially just before the holidays. Then again, he was probably some kind of uptight wealthy corporate type who didn’t see people but only dollar signs.

  Squinting as I conjured up an image of a silver-haired, mean-eyed old coot with a tiny penis and no happiness in his life, I mentally gave him the finger before rejoining the conversation. Despite how it had started, it had become somewhat humorous as people listed the reasons they thought they were too valuable to fire.

  Our company might have its fair share of organizational challenges, but as a workforce, we were a merry band of corporate drones. Everyone here knew how silly we sounded, but I knew people were just trying to break the tension instead of making things depressing.

  “I know how to unjam the printer,” Peter said, his chest puffing out with pride. He wagged his index finger at the rest of us, his free hand propped on his hip. “I’ll also have you know that I am a master strategist. I’ve led my people to glory in three wars on that online game I told you guys about the other day.”

  Adele scoffed. “You think that’s impressive? I taught the whole department how to use the new messaging software. I also know how to use social media. My daughter taught me how to use my profile to post updates just last week.”

  “Well, I just got a new puppy,” Annie, our receptionist, bragged before pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Have you seen her yet? She’s too cute to starve.”

  “I used to be able to open beer bottles with my eyes.” Joshua, a finance guy, shrugged. “It was way useful at college. I’m pretty sure I can make them see the value in that.”

  “I can’t open beer bottles with my eyes,” I said, “but I can pick almost anything up with my toes, and I can vibrate my eyes.”

  My statement was met with laughter and the insistence that I demonstrate. Once I was done, a spontaneous round of applause broke out, and I dipped into a low bow. “Thank you. Thank you. I’ll be here all week. Hopefully.”

  As I was straightening up, my phone buzzed with a message from Kari. She’d sent me the information about that potential side job, including a link to the company’s website. My eyes nearly bulged out of my head when I saw what the job entailed.

  She wants me to be a candy dancer?

  Candy dancers were part of a new trend in the city. People could hire a pretty girl in a skimpy costume to show up at their door.

  I shook my head. I hadn’t danced since I was a kid, and even then, I felt I wasn’t all that good at it to begin with. Also, the website had a risqué vibe, like the dancers were barely one step up from strippers.

  I’d never, ever used my body that way, always focusing on pursuing a serious career. Not that I looked down on strippers. Their confidence and upper-body strength were incredible. I’d just never considered the profession for myself.

  Desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess. Laughing at the errant thought, I decided to shelve the opportunity for now. I hadn’t lost this job yet, and hopefully, things wouldn’t come to that.

  At lunch time, I left the office for the swanky restaurant where my sister worked. Kari’s manager, Eliot, loved her and allowed her to give an extra employee meal to me sometimes. I loved the food there, but there was no way I’d be able to afford it otherwise.

  “Tori!” Ally, the hostess and one of Kari’s friend’s, exclaimed when she saw me. “I didn’t know you were coming by today. It’s a good thing you’re here before the rush. I’ve got the best table available for you.”

  Ally’s idea of the best table in the house was one near the wide windows at the front of the restaurant that also had a nice view of the dining area as a whole. She seated me, talking a mile a minute before telling me she’d go let my sister know I was there.

  While I waited for her, the place started filling up fast. I really had made it with maybe five minutes to spare before I wouldn’t have been able to get a table. It was always like this during the lunch rush, though.

  Kari wound her way through the tables, dodging diners and flashing her polite but beautiful smile. With her dark blonde hair and blue eyes, she’d always been a stunner. Curves ran in our family, along with sassy attitudes, but my sister’s curves gave her a sexy shape.

  The only shape I could be classified as was round. But I’d long since made peace with and even started liking the way I looked. It just was what it was. I wasn’t unhealthy. I was just… rounder than others. Round is a perfectly respected shape anyway.

  “You want me to be a candy dancer?” I said, my tone teasing when she came to stand next to my table. “Seriously? Did you forget the time I sprained my ankle trying to do a simple pirouette?”

  She scoffed, but her eyes sparkled with barely constrained laughter when they got
that faraway sheen in them that told me she was reliving the memory. “Pirouettes aren’t always simple. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’d be crazy not to go for this.”

  “Crazy? Really? How so? You have to be able to dance to be a candy dancer. It’s right there in the name.”

  “It has flexible hours, it pays well, and the work is easy. So what if you have to practice a few moves in the mirror at night? Especially if you’re going to be out of a job soon.”

  “We don’t know that for sure yet.” I sighed, propping my elbows on the table and bringing my palms together before pointing my pressed-together fingers at my chest. “I have a lot to offer Reed Global. They could keep me for my degree, smarts, experience, and stellar personality.”

  “They could,” she agreed, running her fingers through the ponytail hanging over her shoulder while she thought. “Do you really think you’re too valuable to let go? Because if you’re worried at all, remember that this job pays cash tips.”

  “If you do well enough at it for people to tip you.” I rocked my head from side to side before I grinned. “On the other hand, they might pay me just to have me go away, so there’s that possibility as well.”

  “See? I knew you’d come to see things my way.” She laughed, then glanced toward the kitchen when someone called her name. “I’d better get going. Just keep it in mind? I don’t like to see you stressing, and being a candy dancer could be fun.”

  “It could be, but it could also end with a broken ankle or two.” I winced at the mere thought of it. Pain wasn’t my thing, and having a sprain had been bad enough. At Kari’s pointed look, I surrendered and gave her a firm nod. “I’ll keep it in mind. You’d better get back to work. Ally’s motioning for you now, too.”

  “I’ll have the chef make your regular order,” she said before flitting off toward her friend. I watched her go, wishing she could’ve stayed with me for just a few minutes longer.