Tech Titans: The Complete Billionaire Romance Series

by Swann, Marcella

  Something in my voice must have rang sincere to her, because Jenny nodded, accepting those words as truth. “Fine. They didn’t do it. You must have told someone else then.”

  I shook my head in exasperation.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Don’t you see the irony in that? You so easily believe me when I say that Damian, J.D., and Hayden can be trusted, even though you’ve never met them. You take my word for it. But you also think I’m somehow responsible. Are you that desperate to paint me as the bad guy?”

  “The only people that know you want to buy the team are you, Grandpa, and myself. I know I’ve kept the information to myself. So that leaves you or Grandpa. Who do you expect me to blame?”

  “Well, when you put it that way …” I let the sentence hang as I walked to the refrigerator and pulled it open. I looked around for something to eat. Slim pickings.

  “Besides, I don’t appreciate your cocky attitude in the interview. ‘I’ll get what I want.’ What the hell was that?”

  “Wishful thinking?” I said with a small smile as I closed the fridge empty-handed. I started looking through the cabinets, hoping to come across a forgotten bag of chips or some other snack food.

  “It came off as arrogant.”

  Well, so much for lightening the mood.

  “What’s more, Grandpa’s been dealing with this all morning. This is how the team and managers found out that he was thinking about selling. So, his phone’s been ringing off the hook between them, the NFL, and the press.”

  I paused in my foraging for food. I hadn’t considered that at all, which was so unlike me. I wanted this team too much; it was making me sloppy. I turned back the island, giving Jenny my full attention.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Seriously,” I added when Jenny’s expression didn’t soften. “I really didn’t mean for it to go like this. And I definitely didn’t want to step on Bill’s toes with the team. I’ll make it up to him,” I added, sensing that a big part of her frustration was the effect this had on her grandfather.

  “You’d better,” she said, packing away her laptop in her carrying case and standing. “Here.” Opening a side pocket of her bag, Jenny pulled out some beef jerky and held it out to me. “Meat is good for a hangover.”

  “Thanks.” I took it and immediately tore the package open, taking a big bite. It was Cajun spiced, which happened to be my favorite.

  “No problem. You really need to do some grocery shopping,” she said, looking pointedly at the empty shelves she could see because I’d left one of the cabinet doors open. I shrugged.

  “How do you know what’s good for a hangover, anyway? Surely you didn’t do much partying at Yale if you were second in your class?”

  “I’m 30 years old. I’ve had four years since I finished law school to find out what a hangover is like,” she said, giving me an amused smile. I like when she’s not glaring at me.

  “You rebel,” I gave her a cheeky grin. The atmosphere in the room changed as we stood there smiling at each other. The air felt electrified and a heat pooled in my stomach. Jenny clearly sensed it too, because she took a large step backward and nervously tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “Well, I better get out of here. I’ll talk to you later.” Turning on her heel, Jenny fled the room before I had a chance to respond. It made me think of a spooked horse, the way she practically ran from me. I felt oddly upset.

  Don’t be stupid. Your feelings are not hurt.

  Of course, they weren’t. Jenny made the right call. Sexual tension was the last thing we needed between us. Hell, there was hardly any room for it with all the aggression that was already there.

  Swallowing my last bite of jerky, I headed to the bathroom, pulling my shirt over my head along the way. Leaning into my shower, I put it on the hottest setting I could stand and kicked off the rest of my clothing. Stepping beneath the spray, I let out a sigh and closed my eyes. Standing there for several long minutes, I let the warm water relax my tense back muscles. The spray was hitting my shoulders and I rolled them, enjoying the feeling.

  Water droplets ran from my collarbone and down my chest. Without my permission, my clearly addled brain imagined that the light sensation against my skin was caused by Jenny running her hands over me, her nails barely skimming over me as she touched my chest. I felt my blood heat in a way that wasn’t at all related to the steaming water.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I hurried through the rest of the shower, acting like I didn’t notice the evidence of my own arousal. I had a healthy and varied sex life. Why was I focused on the one woman that clearly couldn’t stand me? I must be losing my mind.

  Once I was dressed and fully clothed, I left the house, locking the door behind me. Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling my car up front of an old brick office building. There were only two other cars in the parking lot, which wasn’t surprising for a Saturday, but I knew Alex would be there.

  The elevator was broken, so I walked up the stairs to the second floor. I stopped in front of a wooden door with a glass window. The words Whitaker Investigations had been etched into the glass. I walked right in and found Alex lying face up across a beat-up metal desk, his legs dangling off the side. He was throwing a tennis ball up into the air and catching it while chewing loudly on a piece of gum.

  “Hey,” I called out, closing the door behind myself.

  “Shit.” Alex called out in surprise, jerking to look in my direction too forcefully that he flung himself straight off the desk onto the floor. The tennis ball came rolling in my direction, stopping at my feet as Alex looked up at me from the floor, groaning in pain. “What the hell, man? You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Shouldn’t you have better situational awareness in this business?” I asked as I stepped forward to help him to his feet. He grasped my hand and I pulled, almost overcorrecting and sending him back to the ground. He’s so skinny.

  “I’m not on the job right now,” he said, straightening his clothes.

  “I see. Well, are you looking for one?”

  “A job? Yeah, for sure,” he said enthusiastically, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Take a seat.” He settled into his own office chair. It was a large, cushioned seat and it served to make him look almost childlike with the way it dwarfed him.

  To many people, Alex might seem like an unconventional choice for a private investigator. But I had found him to be especially effective because he didn’t look the part at all. He was young, I would guess around 24, and wiry. It made blending into almost any environment easy for him.

  Pushing his feet against the floor, he sent his wheeled chair to the right, where he had a mini fridge. Wrenching it open, he grabbed a huge Monster energy drink. “You want one?” he asked, gesturing to the fridge, which was full of the caffeinated beverage.

  “I’m good.”

  Pushing himself back to his desk, Alex popped the top of the drink and took a long sip. “Okay. Lay it on me.”

  “I think someone is leaking information about me to the press. I want you to find out who.”

  “Ooh, a proper investigation,” Alex said, rubbing his hands together with a grin. “I’m on it.”

  “Be invisible. I need to fly below the radar for a while. I don’t want anyone catching onto the fact that I hired a private investigator.”

  “Are you saying I should wear a disguise?” Alex asked, his face lighting up.

  “Do whatever you have to,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just don’t let anyone know what you’re up to. Find out who’s spying on me.”

  Chapter Five: Jenny

  I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes. Seated behind my large mahogany desk, my heels were kicked off underneath and I was wearing a pair of fuzzy slippers that I kept in my bottom drawer for long hours of office work. There was no sense in being uncomfortable in my own space. I had spent my morning chained to my desk, drafting a contract for a fast-growing logistics company that we were going into busi
ness with.

  I had reached a good stopping point in my work. My timing was perfect as my stomach let out an audible grumble. It was nearly lunchtime. I knew I should go grab a bite to eat, but I found myself turning to my computer. My curiosity was undeniable, so I opened a new internet tab and typed in ‘Aaron Sanchez.’

  It’s a good idea to get to know the guy as much as possible, I told myself. It’s not like he’s giving up anytime soon.

  The screen filled with search results and at the top were image results. The first was clearly a professional picture, with a nondescript background and crystal-clear quality. The shot was tight on his face and massive shoulders, and he was looking into the camera with a disarming smile. The information attached to the picture showed that it was taken from SXz’s website. That made sense.

  The rest of the photos were mostly shots that looked like they had been taken by reporters. He wasn’t looking at the camera in most of these pictures and was often accompanied by the same three guys. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that these were his business partners. There were a few pictures of him with various women, mostly of the drop-dead gorgeous variety.

  Deciding I had seen more than enough of that, I scrolled down and found surprisingly little. There were about six news stories specifically about Aaron and five of them had been written within the last few months, including the one about the Titans with the attached video. I double-checked and … yep, those were all written by the same guy. Weird.

  They were mostly sensational stories about his life, covering large expenditures of money that were referred to as obscenely self-indulgent, his playboy lifestyle, and an alleged drinking/partying lifestyle. It didn’t paint a pretty picture, but a closer look made me think the information was meant to be that way. People love a good scandal.

  Outside of those few articles, he was mentioned in dozens of articles about SXz. A quick scan showed that they were generally a passing reference to him as an owner of the company. I was strangely disappointed by the lack of solid information about Aaron but tried not to examine the feeling too closely.

  I was about to close my browser when my eye caught on something interesting at the bottom of the page. Clicking on a piece written by the Stanford Daily, I saw a younger version of Aaron wearing full football gear fill my screen.

  It made sense that he had played college football. When a person was built like him, it was natural to fall into playing sports. As I read the article, I felt my stomach clench. The story was from Aaron’s second year at Stanford, when he had taken a massive hit at the beginning of the season, shattering his knee. Oh, wow. He had been pegged to go pro before the injury.

  Sympathy filled me as I read over the details of his injury. It must have been devastating to lose his chance to play in the NFL. Was this why he wanted to buy the team so badly?

  A knock on my office door startled me and I scrambled to close the article, hiding evidence of my research. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t want anyone to see it, it was perfectly reasonable to read up about the guy. I was supposed to be deciding if he could buy the Titans, after all.

  “Come in,” I called, straightening the paperwork spread across my desk.

  “Hey Jenny, I have that information you wanted about Aaron Sanchez,” Greg, our paralegal, said as he walked into the office with a manila folder in his hand.

  “What?” I asked, my eyes darting to my computer screen, but I only saw my screen saver.

  “The SXz billionaire guy. You asked me to look into his net worth?”

  “Oh right, of course.” I shook off the feeling that I had been doing something wrong. Your interest is professional. That’s all.

  “Here ya go,” Greg said, handing over the folder. “The guy’s loaded. I’m definitely in the wrong business.”

  “Hey, you make a pretty decent money,” I replied as I opened the folder.

  “Nothing like that though.”

  I couldn’t argue with him. Aaron definitely had the financial means to purchase the team on his own. He wouldn’t even need partners to help with the hefty price tag.

  “Is he really buying the Titans from Bill?”

  “Not if I can help it,” I said with a sigh. I closed the folder and pushed my chair back. Switching my slippers for shoes, I stood. “I’m going to grab a bite to eat.”

  “You want company?” he asked as I shouldered my purse.

  “I’m just picking up a sandwich and coming right back. I have a ton of work to do today. Here,” I handed him the contract I had spent the morning working on. “Make two copies of this and send them to grandpa. Then file the original. I’ll be back.”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, looking dispirited suddenly. He turned and walked out of the office, leaving me wondering what was wrong with him.

  I decided to stop by grandpa’s office on my way out of the building. I knocked twice before pushing the door open and peeking inside. He looked up from his desk with a grin.

  “Hey there, Lil’ Bit. Come on in,” he said, pushing aside the papers he had been reading as if they were unimportant and giving me his full attention. I settled down into a chair on the other side of his desk. The office seemed unusually dark and I could see dark grey clouds through the big windows behind his desk. It looked like rain was coming.

  “I’m heading to lunch, but I wanted to stop in and give you this. It’s a rundown of Aaron’s financial situation,” I said, holding out the folder for him to take.

  “How does it look? He have the money to make this happen?” he asked, taking the folder but not opening it.

  “Yeah, more than enough. I’ve looked into the value of the team and it’s about 2.6-billion-dollars. So, we can’t let it go for less than that.”

  “So, you’ve decided to let Aaron buy the team?”

  “What? No. Why would you say that?”

  “Just the way you were talking. It seems like you’re planning to sell,” he said, looking at me shrewdly.

  With a jolt, I realized that he was right, my language did sound like I was planning to let him buy the Titans. What the hell is that? One story about his bum knee and I just let him take what’s rightfully mine? I don’t think so.

  “I’m just doing basic research. I like to be thorough.”

  “So, he hasn’t convinced you yet?”

  “Not at all,” I scoffed. Scooting forward to the edge of my chair, I leaned forward and put on my best persuasive smile. “Why don’t we just go ahead and tell Aaron that it’s not going to happen. You can let me take over ownership instead.”

  Grandpa looked at me thoughtfully. “Can I be honest with you here?” he asked after a moment, his tone serious.

  “Please do.”

  “I don’t think you’re ready to take over the team, yet.”

  His words felt like a slap and I reared back in shock. Grandpa had always been my biggest fan and his lack of faith in me caused an empty feeling to form in my chest. He stood up and walked around the desk, taking a seat in the chair beside me and grasping my hands.

  “No, don’t be upset. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said soothingly, concern clear in his voice. “Just hear me out.”

  “Okay,” I said softly, turning to face him fully.

  “When I bought the team, I wasn’t much of a football fan. Your grandma, she was the one that was crazy about the game. Her enthusiasm for it was contagious and I grew to love our team over the years. We ran it together, you know. You’re grandmother loved the Titans.”

  I stayed silent. My grandma had died nearly ten years ago and he hardly ever talked about her. It had bothered me when I was younger, but now I knew that it was a painful topic for him.

  “Maybe I’m just a sentimental old man, but I want you to have the same experience. I want you to share your love of the game with someone else. And the responsibility of running a team … it’s massive. I can’t watch you shoulder that weight on your own.”

  “I know I can do this,” I said.

  “I�
�m sure that you could. But would you be as happy doing it alone? Because I’m certainly not.”

  Looking into my grandpa’s lined face, I saw love reflected back at me. His concern was touching and I considered his words carefully.

  “Maybe it would be hard, but do you really think the best idea is to sell the team off? Shouldn’t it stay in the family?”

  “Perhaps it should. But your parents have no interest in it. And I won’t sell to just anyone. Aaron would take care of the team. It’s important to him.”

  “It’s a business opportunity to him,” I said scornfully.

  “I think there’s more to it than that,” grandpa said with a knowing look in his eye.

  I wondered if he was right. Aaron can buy a different team, then. This one is mine.

  “We’ll see,” I said to grandpa, but only to appease him.

  “Yes, I’m sure we will,” he agreed, patting my knee before standing. “Now, you go to lunch. Maybe you’ll get lucky and miss the rain.” With that, I took my leave from his office, my mind swirling with doubt.

  Chapter Six: Aaron

  The owner’s luxury box at the Titan’s stadium was over the top with its extravagance. I wouldn’t have expected anything less. I opened the door and froze in the doorway, looking around. The suite was enclosed in glass, including a door on the right leading to an attached deck with … was that a pool? Wow. Now that’s something I’ll have to make use of in the future.

  Inside the suite, there were hardwood floors and to the left was a small kitchenette where the heavenly smell of cooked meat was emanating from. There were tall, round tables surrounded by barstools in front of it. The wall opposite the kitchen area was inlaid with a fireplace before plush chairs that looked incredibly comfortable. There was a TV above the fireplace that was playing the televised coverage of the game. Near the glass front of the suite was a line of leather seats that provided the best possible view of the game.