Tech Titans: The Complete Billionaire Romance Series

by Swann, Marcella

  “This won’t take long,” I told her leaning forward and resting my folded hands on the table.

  “What’s up?” she asked with a frown.

  I took a deep breath and looked directly into her eyes. I couldn’t believe that I had found her attractive. “You’re fired,” I said in a harsh voice.

  Her brow furrowed, and she tilted her head in confusion. “What?”

  “I said ‘you’re fired.’ Now get out.”

  “You can’t fire me, you’re not my boss,” she said angrily. “Besides, why would you want to?”

  “Jason Simons,” I said, and her eyes widened. That was the name of the reporter who had written several stories about me over the last few months. She had been feeding him information about me the whole time. I was sure that was the reason she started sleeping with me. It was bad enough to tell the reporter what she overheard in the bar but to come into my home, and my bed, just for a couple of news stories, was disgusting.

  “So, you know about that?” she asked, her tone one of indifference.

  “Yeah, I do,” I replied, shaking my head disapprovingly.

  “Well, that doesn’t matter. You still don’t have the authority to fire me. You don’t even work here.”

  “Well, you’re right about that. I don’t work here. Tim,” I called out and the manager, Tim Burrows, walked out from the back room, where he had been waiting for me to call him.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Sanchez?”

  “I want Mel gone.”

  “Sorry, Mel, but you’re fired,” he said without hesitation.

  “What?” she shrieked. “Why would you fire me just because he says so. I was hired by Chad and he’s not going to be happy about this.”

  “Chad doesn’t own the bar anymore,” Tim explained.

  “Since when?”

  “Since earlier today. He signed it over to Aaron here.”

  “I didn’t know he was selling it,” she argued stubbornly. “I was just with him last night and he didn’t say a word.”

  “He wasn’t,” I cut in. “But I was able to talk him into it.” It took offering him twice as much as the bar was worth, but I didn’t care.

  “Are you kidding me? All of this just because I sold that stupid reporter some information about you?”

  “You used me to get that information.”

  “So, what? I heard you that other day. I’m not the only chick you’re screwing.”

  “That doesn’t make it okay.”

  “Chill out, grandpa,” she said sharply. “Younger people aren’t as uptight about sex these days. Hell, I’ve been sleeping with Chad for higher pay and he didn’t get all butthurt about it.”

  “There’s only eight years between us. I find it hard to imagine that the problem is a generational gap. I think you’re just a shit person.”

  “You know what? Fine. Fire me,” she said, standing. “I don’t give a damn about this shitty job anyway. I made more money telling Jason all about you anyway.” She shot me a smug smile before turning on her heel and striding away.

  I watched her go, filled with regret. I never should’ve let her into my life like I did. She’d done so much damage. That thought led me to my next goal: getting Jenny back.

  Chapter Nineteen: Jenny

  I walked into grandpa’s room with a forced smile on my face. I wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but he needed to know about me and Aaron before he saw the article. That was no way for him to find out how professional I’d been.

  “How you doing today, Grandpa?” I asked, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. He closed the book he’d been reading and took off his reading glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

  “I’m so tired of being tired. This heart attack has really knocked me off my game.”

  I nodded sympathetically and placed my hand upon his on the bedspread. Giving his hand a squeeze, I took a deep breath. “Speaking of being off your game, I need to talk to you about something.”

  Grandpa’s eyes narrowed on me, assessing. “You look upset. What is it?”

  “It’s Aaron,” I began and realized that even just saying his name caused a searing pain in my heart.

  “What happened?” he tried to sit up further, looking concerned.

  “Here.” I rearranged his pillows, so he had better support and we were directly facing each other.

  “Thanks. Now, talk.”

  I stared down at the bed to avoid seeing the disappointment in his eyes. “I crossed a line with Aaron last week, after the Titan’s game. We went back to his place and…” I trailed off, it was too awkward to tell him directly, but I was sure he could figure it out. There was a moment of silence.

  “I see.”

  “I’m sorry, I know it was so unprofessional,” I said, looking up at him so he could see the remorse I was sure was clear on my face.

  “That was last week. Did he do something to hurt you yesterday?” Grandpa asked, his tone dark.

  “Well, I went back to his place again yesterday.”

  I expected him to tell me that I shouldn’t have done it, that sleeping with someone that we were trying to do business with was unacceptable. Instead, he repeated his question. “Did he do something to you?”

  “Aren’t you mad at me?”

  “Of course not. I just need to know why you’re so upset.” Grandpa’s voice was calm and rang with honestly. I can’t believe he’s not angry.

  “Everything was fine until Greg sent me this story,” I opened my phone and pulled up the story, which I had saved as a bookmark, apparently intent on torturing myself. Putting his reading glasses back on, grandpa read through the article quickly, his face expressionless. When he’d finished, he handed the phone back to me with a sigh.

  “What does Aaron say about all this?”

  “What?” This was not at all the reaction I expected.

  “Did you ask him about it?”

  “I was with him when I saw it. He tried to say that it was all a joke, but —”

  “Tried to? You didn’t get his side of this?”

  “His side? What are you talking about? You just wanted to kill the guy 30 seconds ago.”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “That makes two of us,” I said sadly, staring at the floor. I could feel grandpa’s eyes on me.

  “You know that I made my first million when I was 33 years old?”

  “Sure.” I said, bewildered. Where’s he going with this?

  “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had my words used against me in the last 40 years? Any off the cuff comment can be interpreted in a way that’s damning. And God forbid you make a joke around the wrong people.” His voice was bitter. “It’s all part of being wealthy, some people thrive on the scandals surrounding you. Maybe it makes us more relatable to them or something.”

  “How can you be so sure that Aaron’s the victim here?” I asked, feeling slightly betrayed.

  “I’m not. I just think that it’s worth hearing him out. I always known him to be a great guy.”

  “Always? I thought you just met him a few weeks ago when he made a bid for the team?”

  “Oh, no. I’ve known Aaron for a long time. Ten years, I think. Ever since we started the Little Titans program.”

  “He was involved in that?”

  “Involved? It was his concept. He wanted those kids to have an experience he could only dream of growing up.”

  “You mean he was…”

  “Poor? Yeah. His dad passed away when he was very young and his mom struggled his whole life to provide for him and his brothers.” Grandpa gazed at me thoughtfully, his expression somber. “He didn’t tell you any of this?”

  “No,” I said, thinking of his determination to take care of his mom and how it had a deeper meaning now.

  “I’m surprised. It’s the reason he wants to buy the Titans. He always wanted to come to a game when he was a kid and when he started playing football himself, but he couldn’t af
ford it. Just watching his favorite football team was a dream for him. Now, he has the means to purchase the team itself. Can you imagine what that must mean to him?”

  I stared at Grandpa, absorbing everything he said. Yes, I could imagine how much that meant to him. Why didn’t he tell me this? Well, you were never exactly willing to hear him out, were you?

  I looked down at the phone in my hand. “You really think he didn’t use me to get the team?” I asked softly.

  “Does it seem like something he would really do, given what you just learned?”

  I simply shook my head, my mind racing. Had I misjudged him?

  I was at home that evening, sitting at my kitchen island with my computer in front of me and glass of wine in one hand, when the doorbell rang. I had been sitting in the same position for nearly two hours, drafting a contract, so I stood from the stool and stretched out my limbs before walking to the door.

  Part of me, a large part, hoped it would be Aaron on the other side of the door. I was disappointed to open it and see Gary standing there, leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin on his face. I hadn’t seen the man in six years, but he looked almost exactly the same. He had a handsome face and a classic blond, blue-eyed look that worked for him. He was around my height and slim. I couldn’t help thinking that he didn’t hold a candle to the man I really wanted to see.

  “Jenny, how have you been?”

  “What are you doing here, Gary? How do you even know where I live?”

  “I have my sources. I wanted to see you.”

  “It’s 9 o’clock at night.”

  “Yes, so you should really invite me in, don’t you think?”

  His eyes scanned my body up and down and he licked his lips. I felt my skin crawl. I was happy that I had put on Aaron’s huge hoodie, so much of my body was covered. I tightened my grip on the door. “No, actually I don’t think so. We can talk here.”

  “Come on, Jen,” I narrowed my eyes. I hated when he called me that and had told him repeatedly back when we had dated, “for old time’s sake?”

  “What do you want?” I asked, fed up with him dancing around the point.

  “Listen, I’m definitely going to buy the Titans now. After your little sex scandal, there’s no way that meathead will be allowed to own it.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you,” I said angrily. The only way for Gary to get the team was over my dead body.

  “Come on, what’s it going to take to get your grandpa to sign off on it? I have money.”

  “It’s not just about money.”

  “What then? Do I need to sleep with you too? Because I can definitely do that,” he said, trying to take a step forward. I planted my feet and refused to let him pass.

  “I’d rather be celibate for the rest of my life,” I said firmly. He scowled.

  “So, you’ll spread your legs for that guy, but —” Gary’s words were cut off as I slammed the door shut forcefully. He was standing too close and it hit him in the face, making him cry out in pain on the other side of the door. I chuckled as I turned the lock and heard his cries of, “My nose. Fuck!”

  I couldn’t believe that I had once dated that guy. Returning to my computer, I reflected that my taste in men had vastly improved.

  Chapter Twenty: Aaron

  Okay, I can do this. Everyone does this. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to.

  Armed with my mantra, I opened the refrigerator door and started pulling out ingredients. I needed something, a grand gesture of some kind, to reach Jenny. She wasn’t the type to be impressed with a show of money and her grandpa was almost as rich as me, anyway.

  No, I needed to show her that I cared about her by doing something. Laying out the notes I had taken down when speaking with my mom on the phone, I tried to decipher my own chicken scratch. Okay, start with the pasta. I picked up the paper I had written those instructions on. Boil water.

  Easy enough. Even I could do that. I got out a large pot and a measuring cup. How much water? I looked at my notes. Did that say 4 quarts? What was a quart?

  I looked at my measuring cup. It had cups listed on one side and milliliters on the other. The quart was nowhere to be seen. Guessing I misheard Mama, I filled the pot with 4 cups of water. That looked like plenty to me. I set it on the stove over high heat and grabbed some vegetables.

  Making a salad for a starter seemed like a simple enough task. I didn’t even need a recipe for this. Tearing the lettuce into chunks, I put it in a bowl. Congratulating myself on the good start, I started cutting tomatoes. Instead of going through the flesh of the tomato, my knife squished the tomato until the sides burst and juice came squirting out.

  What the hell?

  I remembered that mom had said to use a sharp knife. Pulling out the electric knife sharpener that I had never used before, I plugged it in and sharpened the knife. Now, to try this again — shit.

  I had sliced through the tomato with ease this time, but the knife had also gone right through the pad of my thumb. Pressing a paper towel to the wound, which had already left a trail of blood across the cutting board, I hurried to the sink. I rinsed the cut off under cold water, the sting making me wince.

  Ten minutes later, I had a band-aid on my thumb and had swapped out the cutting board for a clean one. Deciding to come back to the salad later, I figured the entrée was the most important, so I should do it first.

  The water was boiling, so I dumped the whole box of fettucine in there. I hoped that would be enough. I consulted the directions for alfredo sauce and put a stick of butter in a pan to melt. Maybe I should have done something easier.

  No, I want to impress her. It’ll take a miracle to get her in the first place. It has to be worth it.

  Now, I needed to start on the meat. I put a skillet on one of the burners and dumped on olive oil in it before turning it up on high. Opening a package of boneless chicken breasts, I put two on the cutting board and read mom’s instructions.

  Pound them out until they are thin. With a sigh, I pulled my phone from my pocket. I dialed my mom’s number and she answered on the third ring.

  “Mama, I really need your help.”

  “Are you trying to cook, mijo?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled. This was just embarrassing.

  “Okay, what can I do for you?”

  “Well, I just started really. I have someone dropping her off in about an hour. But I don’t know how to pound out the chicken.”

  “Just cover it with some plastic wrap and use a meat mallet.”

  “I don’t have one of those,” I said, checking the drawer, just to be sure.

  “Then use a rolling pin.”

  “Come on, mom. You really think I have a rolling pin?”

  “You’re hopeless,” she said with a chuckle.

  “How about a hammer?” I asked, opening my junk drawer. It was full of random items that I threw in there at one point or another.

  “Well, I guess that could work. If it’s clean.”

  Putting Mama on speakerphone, I cleaned off the hammer quickly and returned to the chicken. Raising my arm high above my head, I brought the hammer down on the chicken breast, which promptly went sailing across the room. “Shit!”

  “Language,” Mama said sternly, and I rolled my eyes.

  “The chicken just went flying. What did I do wrong?”

  “Well, I’m not there, so I don’t know.”

  It had been almost ten minutes, so I peeked into the pasta pot. “Uh-oh.”

  “What is it?”

  “Something’s not right with the pasta. It looks a big ball of congealed mess at the bottom of the pot.”

  “Was the water boiling when you put it in?”

  “Yeah but it’s not now.”

  “How much water did you use?”

  “Four cups.”

  “Not four quarts?”

  I felt my heart plummet.

  “Um … no. Is it ruined?”

&nbs
p; “Yes, dear. It is.”

  “Dammit,” I cursed. That was the only pasta I had.

  “Language.”

  “Shit. Sorry! Sorry, Mom.”

  I could feel sweat starting to form on my forehead. How did people do this every day? Turning back to the stove, I saw that the butter had melted. Nothing to do now but continue onward. I’d figure out the pasta problem later. I picked up the bag of flour off the counter, so I could add some to the butter. I had taken one step with it when the side of the bag split open, causing the full bag to spill out down my front and onto the floor.

  I let out a string of curses, ignoring mom’s admonishments about my language. Could this get any worse?

  Looking up, I let out a startled yell as the skillet caught fire.

  “Wow,” a voice came from behind me. I turned and saw Alex and Jenny standing there, staring at me with wide eyes.

  “So, we’re a little early,” Alex said, grimacing at me. I looked at the mess around me, including the flaming pan. Well, this is a disaster.

  Chapter Twenty-One: Jenny

  I felt a laugh bubble up as I watched Aaron try to handle his kitchen disaster. He was covered with flour, as was half the kitchen, and there was food everywhere. I hurried forward and grabbed a metal pot lid, throwing it on the fire as I turned off the burner. I went ahead and switched them all off while I was at it. He had butter sizzling away in a pan and — was that supposed to be pasta? This time the laughter did escape me.

  Turning to Aaron, I saw the sour look on his face and tried to get serious. Then his mom’s voice drifted over from the phone on the counter, “Did you burn the kitchen down?”

  I threw my head back with renewed laughter as he picked up the phone and promised to call his mom back before ending the call. Aaron turned to the man that had brought me here.

  “What the hell, Alex? You weren’t supposed to be here for another half an hour.”

  “I had the impression she’d be hard to convince. She wasn’t,” he explained. Aaron looked at me and my laughter died down. I looked into his eyes and felt my heart bloom.