Deal Breaker: Billionaire Bosses

by Tara Leigh

  Finally, the phone clutched in my hand came to life, chirping with an incoming call. The second I swiped to answer, Nixie’s high-pitched squeal hit my eardrums. “Oh my God, Nash. I can’t believe you did this!”

  Catching sight of my reflection in the window, I took a quick step back from the stranger with the shit-eating grin plastered across his face. I’d never seen him before. Turning away, I swiped at my mouth with the back of my hand. “Was there one with eyes sad enough for you?”

  “Yes! I wish I could have taken all of them, but yes. The cutest, sweetest three-year-old little dog. Her owner recently passed away and the kids didn’t want her.” Nixie’s voice dipped, becoming low and husky. “I can’t believe no one would want this little girl. She’s gorgeous, Nash.”

  “Did they bring you food and a leash and—” For the size of the donation I made, the woman assured me she would bring Nixie whatever she needed and then some.

  “Yes! They brought me everything. A leash and collar and crate and food and dog bed and toys. It took me three trips just to get everything upstairs.”

  A knot of consternation settled in my chest. Damn it. I should have thought to send Jay. He could have helped her. I probably should have had Simmons handle things, but I’d wanted to take care of this myself. “Okay, just let me know if you need anything. I can send Jay—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! Leave Jay alone.” Nixie’s high pitched giggle hit my veins like a narcotic. “Aww. I think she likes me. She’s giving me kisses.”

  Fuck drugs. Nixie was a goddamn drug. “Save some for me,” I choked out.

  “You know something, Nash,” my name ended on a higher note, as if she was asking a question. “I think I just might.”

  My cock jerked inside my pants and I bit down on a groan. “I gotta go, Nixie.”

  “Okay. And thank you,” she trilled just before I ended the call. I didn’t want to, but I had to get off the phone. There was only so much of Nixie’s delicious sweetness I could take before I came in my pants like an acne-faced teen discovering his dad’s porn stash for the first time. Swearing under my breath, I realized I needed to work off some of my pent-up sexual energy unless I intended to walk around with a hard on for the rest of the day.

  Just as I changed out of my suit and into workout clothes, the phone buzzed again. My initial aggravation turned to appreciation as a picture popped up on my screen. The dog was cute—black fur with patches of gold, pointed ears above a pair of soulful, dark eyes and a wet black nose—but that wasn’t what stole the saliva from my mouth. The dog was nestled between Nixie’s bare legs, her skin dusted with the barest smattering of freckles, tiny toes painted bright red. Nash: I thought your camera was broken.

  Nixie: It is.

  Nash: ???

  Nixie: For sexting. But for pictures of me and my new pooch, it works just fine.

  Nash: I didn’t realize your phone had a moral code.

  Her answer was another picture, this one a shot of Nixie’s face wearing an openmouthed grin, the dog’s tongue swiping her cheek. Even the damn dog knew she was delicious.

  Nash: You let her have a lick . . .

  Nixie: Maybe when you come back, I’ll let you have one too.

  This girl was fucking killing me. Nash: I fly in on Saturday. I have an obligation until around 8. Can I take you out after?

  Nixie: Can Kismet come, too?

  Nash: Kismet, huh? It suits her. And yes, I’ll pick you both up at your place.

  Nixie: :)

  Nixie

  For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted a dog. Always. Growing up, a puppy had been at the top of every birthday wish list and the first line of every letter to Santa. My parents had finally relented, promising me a dog for my tenth birthday. “When you’re old enough to be responsible for a pet, then we’ll get one,” they had said. Somewhere along the line, they decided that double digits would be the magic number. It was what I’d been thinking about as I blew out the candle set into my special birthday pancakes, filled with M&M’s and topped by a cloud of whipped cream—just two more years until I got a puppy.

  My parents were supposed to pick me up from school that day, but instead I was sent home with a friend. A few hours later, Pappi had shown up, his navy suit caked in a pale gray, chalky dust. That dust was everywhere, in his hair and on his skin. Tears had streaked through the grime on his cheeks like a sad clown. I don’t remember much after that, except that at some point, I’d realized my parents wouldn’t be giving me a puppy for my tenth birthday. That they wouldn’t give me anything at all, ever again. Not pancakes, or a puppy. Not a kiss or a hug or a bedtime story. Nothing, ever.

  I never bothered asking Pappi for a pet. For one thing, it would have felt like a betrayal. And for another, I didn’t want anything else in my life that had a high probability of dying before I did. Back then, even cut flowers made me angry. Why? They were so beautiful on the vine, why would anyone take a knife to their stems and condemn them to wither and wilt?

  They say children heal quickly, but for years I trudged through life like an open wound. Pappi did his best, but he worked a lot. It was Derrick who took me to soccer practice at the neighborhood park, insisted I finish my homework before I turned on the television, asked about my friends, and walked me home from after-school playdates.

  Derrick had taught me that it was okay to laugh again. He would use his allowance to pick up my favorite candy from the corner store, and let me tag along with him and his buddies if I had nothing else to do. He’d held my hand whenever we crossed the street.

  And even when things started to go south between us in recent years, the level of trust he’d built up remained intact.

  Until it was shattered with one phone call.

  Kismet nudged my leg with a wet nose, wrenching my mind back to the present. “Hey there, little girl,” I choked out, my voice cracking on the second syllable. Of all the gifts Nash might have given me, this one meant so much more than he could ever understand.

  Although why Nash had given me anything at all was a mystery. It couldn’t just be that he didn’t know how to handle rejection, could it? He’d asked me out, I’d said no. It’s not as if a man like Nash Knight was short on date-night prospects. The man was Wall Street’s version of Fabio, for God’s sake. Great hair, a face that deserved its own billboard in Times Square, and a body that practically screamed “Climb me!”

  Which left me wondering—why on earth was he so determined to climb me?

  Kismet looked up at me with her sweet brown eyes and I scooped her into my arms. My resolve to stay away from Nash was definitely weakening. What was I really risking, after all? A broken heart? Been there, done that. And I’d survived.

  As my new best friend—my only friend, right now—nuzzled my neck, I allowed myself to admit that I was looking forward to seeing Nash again. A lot. Not just because he’d given me something I’d wanted my whole life, although that was certainly part of it. And not just because the thought of kissing him again made my stomach do a series of flips that would have made Simone Biles jealous, although that was part of it, too. No, what really got me was the way he’d insisted that his word meant something. Something strong. Something trustworthy. True, the expression was old-fashioned. But its meaning was touching.

  Nash Knight might be a womanizing billionaire with an ego that barely fit into his designer penthouse, but if honesty and integrity actually meant something to him, I might consider having more than just dinner on our date.

  Maybe not much more. Even billionaires that rescued abandoned dogs shouldn’t expect every female they took out to dinner to fall at their feet. But another kiss . . . Another kiss would definitely be nice.

  I lowered my chin, rubbing my cheek against Kismet’s soft fur. The smile on my face dropped as I took a sniff. “Okay, Kismet,” I cajoled, “I think I have just enough time before class to wash away the stench of the shelter and have you smelling like the furry little vixen I know you are.”

&
nbsp; Her pink tongue lolled from the side of her delicate snout in what looked like a smile. A distinctly contented doggy smile. “Kismet really does suit you perfectly, doesn’t it?”

  As I turned the taps of the tub, an image of Nash popped up in my mind. Maybe some things in life were just fated to be. And maybe even a life that started out as a tragedy could have a happy ending.

  Kismet didn’t seem to mind her bath, and afterward she smelled as nice as I imagined all those Upper East Side purse dogs did. I took her for a long walk, and then played with her while I crawled around my apartment on my hands and knees, looking for electric wires and small choking hazards Kismet might consider edible.

  I was already regretting agreeing to work later. Scooping ice cream wasn’t exactly a tough job, but I hated the thought of leaving Kismet alone for more than just a couple of hours, even though I knew she would probably sleep for most of it. I’d agreed to stop by Dr. Carmichael’s office, too, so he could check on my stitches. “Well, it’s a good thing Nash is taking both of us out on a date tonight. I’ll be back before you know it, and we’ll take a nice long walk before he picks us up.”

  Kismet put her head on her paws, wagging her tail. At least if I was talking to a dog, she seemed to be listening. Going for broke, I added, “I have a feeling you’re going to like him, too. I hate to admit it, but Nash Knight is pretty darn irresistible.” Then I laughed. “I’m sure he’d tell you himself, except I don’t think he’s the kind of guy that talks to dogs.”

  Nash

  Touching down at New York’s Kennedy airport, I had just enough time to get back to my apartment, shower off sixteen hours of recycled oxygen and the sickeningly sweet perfume of a hovering stewardess, head to the gym for a quick workout, and arrive at Eva’s apartment for our “date.” Of course, my real date would be afterward, when I could finally see Nixie again.

  Sixteen hours in the air had meant sixteen hours of fantasizing about Nixie’s sun-streaked hair spread across my pillow, her lips swollen and puffy from my kisses, not a stitch of clothing on her body as she lay on my sheets. Not that I confined my fantasies to the bedroom. I had an entire apartment to explore. I wanted to thrust into Nixie while she leaned over the dining room table, wrap her thighs around my hips and take her with her back against the wall, slip into the jacuzzi, sprayer aimed at her clit while she bounced on my lap. I was going to show Nixie just how good my word could be.

  I’d also had plenty of time to think about my conversation with Mack Duncan, too. Especially since my trip to Hong Kong had proven the effectiveness—and potential profit—of a joint venture with NetworkTech. I intended to keep a close eye on Duncan. He said he wasn’t in a rush to sell his company, that it was more important that he find the right buyer. According to him, and my own sources, Duncan hadn’t met with anyone he considered suitable. Yet.

  Maybe I’d propose to Greta and send Duncan the marriage certificate.

  NetworkTech would be mine—by any means necessary.

  But first, I needed to see Nixie again.

  See. Touch. Taste. And, if there was any justice in the world—fuck.

  Jay was waiting for me just outside the gate, and as he put my bag in the back of the Navigator, I slipped into the backseat and pulled out my phone. Nash: Hey.

  By the time she responded, Jay was over the bridge already.

  Nixie: Hey. Are you back?

  Nash: Yeah. In the car now. What are you doing? Which was a nice way of asking—what took you so long to text me back?

  Nixie: Talking about you, actually.

  I frowned. Nash: Me? To whom?

  Nixie: To Dr. Carmichael. I’m at his office, which was why I’m just now seeing your text. He says hi, by the way.

  Fighting a wave of jealousy, I tapped out another question. Nash: What does he say about your cut?

  Nixie: I told him you returned his greeting, in case you were wondering, and he gave me a clean bill of health.

  Nash: Good. What are you doing now?

  Nixie: Nothing really, I have work in an hour so . . .

  My workout could wait until tomorrow. Nash: Meet me at my apartment?

  Nixie: Aren’t we seeing each other later?

  Nash: Yes. But you can’t have too much of a good thing, right?

  Nixie: Actually, yes, you can.

  Slow your roll, dickhead. You’re not exactly at the booty-call phase of your relationship yet. And then I mentally chastised the boy scout in my head. Relationship? Watch your mouth, son. Nash: How about coffee? There’s a little shop around the corner that puts Starbucks to shame.

  Nixie: You had me at coffee.

  I texted her the address, told Jay about my change in plans, and made a quick call. By the time I arrived, Nixie had been seated at a corner table, even more beautiful than I remembered, warming her hands around a steaming cappuccino. I waved at the owner, Luca, who also happened to be Reggie’s brother, and joined Nixie, giving her a lingering kiss on her cheek before sitting down. By the time I pulled away, Luca was sliding an espresso over the white tablecloth toward me.

  Nixie gave me an appraising glance, red hair falling softly around her face. “You must be their favorite customer. There was a line at the bakery counter and he left them all waiting to come around the glass and set me up over here.”

  I shrugged, captivated by the spray of freckles that trekked lightly across the bridge of her small nose. “I gave Luca’s son an internship last year and he was one of the brightest guys I’ve ever hired. He’ll be starting full time this summer, and his signing bonus was more than this place makes in a year.”

  Nixie took a sip of her frothy coffee. “One of the brightest guys you’ve ever hired . . . Do you hire girls, too?”

  “No.”

  She set her cup down on the saucer with a clatter. “No?”

  I reached out to brush a stray bit of foam from her upper lip with the pad of my thumb, wishing I could lick it off instead. “No. I do hire women, though. Very smart, driven women who are every bit as cutthroat as their male counterparts.”

  With my backing, Reggie had opened a state of the art enrichment and athletic center for at-risk girls and boys several years ago, and I offered college scholarships and internships to everyone who completed his program. Sure, Knight Ventures employed its share of Ivy League grads, but my best hires were always the kids that had come up from the streets, like me.

  Fighters who just needed a worthwhile target.

  “You had me for a minute,” she said, a grin rearranging her delicate features.

  “Rest assured, talent and ambition are gender neutral.” I swallowed a mouthful of my espresso, which was rich and strong, and just slightly bitter. “This is nice.”

  “Your coffee?”

  “No.” I looked around at the clusters of couples seated throughout the small restaurant, realizing I was one of them. “This. Just being here with you. Usually I swing by on Greta’s mornings off for a quick coffee while I read the Journal, or pick up an Americano on my way into the office.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Maybe you should take a break every once in a while.”

  “You mean like stop and smell the roses?” I scoffed. “I don’t do that.”

  “So stop and smell the coffee beans instead.”

  I laughed. “Maybe one day.”

  Too soon, it was time to leave. I waved to Luca and held open the door for Nixie, pointing to the Navigator parked across the street. “Jay can take you wherever you need to go.”

  Nixie just shook her head and leaned in for a light kiss. “Nope. Doc cleared me. Have MetroCard, will travel.”

  I groaned, wrapping her hair around my fist and splaying my fingers against her scalp. I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth, tasting coffee on her tongue, layered with the sweetness of whipped cream and the bite of freshly grated cinnamon. Fucking delicious.

  Nixie’s hands roamed up my chest, curling around the back of my neck, her fingernails sending chills down my spine.
I was on a goddamn street corner, as hard as I’ve ever been.

  Eventually, Nixie pulled away. It killed me to let her, but I managed to hold myself in check by the thinnest of margins. “So, tonight?” Now, who’s the pussy?

  Her light giggle was carried away on the wind. “Yes, tonight. See you in a few hours.” And then she was across the street, red hair streaming down her back, halfway down the block before I could remind her to get in the goddamn car.

  A heavy hand clapped me on the shoulder and I spun around to find Reggie sporting an enormous grin, his eyes tracking Nixie. I groaned. “Lemme guess, Luca called you.”

  “You brought a girl to his place, of course he called me,” he said, as if it was a foregone conclusion.

  I guess it was. I’d just hadn’t brought a girl around either of them since . . . not since Eva.

  “Don’t get any ideas, okay? I barely know the girl.” But I wanted to. I wanted to know everything about Nixie Rowland. Or whoever she was.

  “You don’t have to. I know you, and that’s what matters.” He chuckled, turning to face me, laughing harder as he took in my affronted expression. “And damn if you haven’t met your perfect match. Don’t fuck it up, huh.”

  * * *

  Reggie’s pronouncement was still echoing inside my skull when I stepped out onto Eva’s floor, although my attention was quickly diverted by the two pint-sized bursts of energy careening down the hall. “Uncle Nash, Uncle Nash, Uncle Nash!”

  Madison and Parker were like two frenzied kangaroos—bouncing, panting, squirming. I dropped the shopping bag I was holding and kneeled down, scooping them into my arms. “Hey guys, missed me?”

  “Yes!” they squealed, four arms winding their way around my neck, wet kisses planted on my cheeks. Guilt welled up inside me—it had been nearly two weeks since I’d seen my niece and nephew. Eva was right, I should be around more. I was the closest thing to a father these two had, and I needed to start acting like it.

  Eva was leaning against the open door of her apartment, hands on her hips as she tucked one ankle behind the other. “They nearly mowed you down, huh?”