69 Million Things I Hate About You (Winning the Billionaire)

by Kira Archer

  She also added a golf outfit for Tuesday, something for tennis and more casual drinks-at-the-club clothing for Wednesday, a second less-powerful suit for the art gallery opening Thursday, a club-appropriate outfit for Friday. She shook her head and laid out a fresh pair of socks and underwear with each outfit. Okay, the guy was busy, she’d give him that. And she had no doubt it saved him a ton of time every day to just walk into his closet, go to that day’s cubby, and pull out whatever outfit he needed for wherever he was going without having to even think about it. She got it. Really.

  But seriously, wasn’t there a limit to this whole pay-people-to-run-your-life thing? Though, hell, she’d love to have someone take care of her needs half as well.

  Once she got his clothing for the week squared away, she did a quick sweep through the bathroom, making sure he was set for toothpaste, shampoo, soap, and anything else he needed. Then she went back out to the kitchen for her biweekly meeting with Mrs. Ros. The housekeeper was already at the counter, tablet and calendar pulled up and ready to go.

  “I’ve got his dry cleaning ready to be sent out, and everything else is good to go for another week or so.”

  Mrs. Ros nodded and made a note on her list. “Appointments?” she asked.

  “None for this week. He has a dentist appointment coming up next month, but we’ll go over that closer to the day, in case it needs to be moved.”

  Mrs. Ros snorted. His appointments almost always had to be moved at least once.

  “Here are his requests for meals this week,” Kiersten said, handing Mrs. Ros a list. “He won’t be home most nights again, but…”

  Mrs. Ros nodded. “I’ll make sure there is food he can reheat in the fridge.”

  Kiersten smiled. They had this routine down pat. “Excellent. All right then, I think we’re good to go for a few days. Make sure he gets out the door by eight every day. If anything comes up that affects that, I’ll text you, as always.”

  Mrs. Ros nodded then cocked her head, looking at Kiersten. “Are you hungry? There’s plenty to eat in there,” she said, jerking her thumb at the fridge. “I can heat you up something.”

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d say definitely. But my roommates have pizza waiting.”

  Mrs. Ros grinned at her. “Well, get going. I’ll take care of everything over here.”

  Kiersten nodded and gathered her things. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  Mrs. Ros waved her out. Kiersten punched the number for the ground floor and looked at her phone. 9:43. What a freaking long-ass day.

  She hurried to the subway, managed to slip between the train doors just as they were closing, and slumped into a seat. She took a couple of deep breaths and tried to will the stresses of the day to dissipate. It would probably take less willpower and more like a few drinks and half a pint of Ben & Jerry’s to really relax. She wrapped her arms around her bag and leaned back against the seat. She had a few minutes to indulge in her favorite pastime—fantasizing about her boss.

  Not about his incredible smoke-gray eyes with the dark gray ring that had once had her envisioning staring deep into their depths amidst heated, passionate kisses. It should be a crime for such dreamy eyes to belong to such an ass of a man. No, her fantasies were kinkier than that. Like, dumping his coffee on his head the next time he grunted at her with his empty cup. She wondered how quickly she’d be escorted from the building if she gave in to temptation and upended the thing. Or took that pen of his that he loved so much and shoved it up his nose. Or told him exactly what he could do with all the files that were oh-so-important even though he had no idea why.

  Of course, while it might be incredibly satisfying—incredibly—it might inflict serious damage. And she didn’t truly want to hurt him. Most of the time. But it would be amazing to watch him squirm for a minute. Since that was never going to happen, envisioning a little retribution helped pass the time.

  Then again, going through those files he’d given her would be a better use of her time. Maybe if she could find something useful before she hit home, she’d be able to salvage some of her weekend. At least until Cole called her to come find his favorite pen or pick him up a new toothbrush or some other equally irritating task.

  She pulled out the files and flipped through the first couple. Land measurements, building specs, sale histories. What was this stuff for? Cole didn’t typically deal with real estate. He bought ideas and turned them into apps and products. But these were all files on various properties throughout the state. Strange.

  Since she had no real clue what the man wanted, she arranged the files in order of best to worst purchase option, and then put them back in her briefcase. She’d go over them more at length later. Maybe. It was Saturday night and she’d been working for ten days straight without a real break. She was going to take the next day off whether he liked it or not. She’d known the job would be involved, but if he called her one more time in the middle of the night to ask some question that could easily wait until morning, she’d pull her hair out.

  Her jaw throbbed, and she realized she’d been clenching it again. It happened so often she’d had to get a guard to wear at night so she didn’t grind her teeth down to nubs while she slept. She closed her eyes and did the breathing exercises her yoga instructor had taught her. Breathe in…calm, serene, life is beautiful…breathe out…push the frustrations away. Breathe in…breathe out…

  She continued breathing until she had relaxed enough to save her enamel another grinding and went back to fantasizing over all the ways she could make Cole’s life miserable. If she didn’t want to keep her job, of course.

  Two trains and a brisk four block walk later, she was running up the five flights of stairs to the apartment she shared with her friends. She actually enjoyed the lack of elevator in the building—it was the only workout she got every day. She didn’t have time to hit the gym. Plus, she loved the old world feel of the place. Only one of the many reasons she’d resisted Cole’s offers to install her in one of the apartments he owned closer to his home. The last thing she wanted was to be more accessible to him. He’d never stop calling.

  “You’re late,” Izzy yelled over her shoulder the second Kiersten got through the door.

  Kiersten dumped her bag and kicked off her shoes, accepting the plate piled high with pizza that Cassie handed her with a thankful groan.

  “Food,” she said, inhaling deeply. Her stomach growled in anticipation. Izzy passed her a glass of wine as she slumped onto the couch.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  Kiersten nodded, depositing her glass on the coffee table so she could shove a huge portion of the slice into her mouth. “I ate half a blueberry scone for breakfast and a handful of the leftover crumbs for lunch.”

  Cassie frowned. “Boss Man couldn’t let you out of his sight long enough to let you eat?”

  Kiersten shrugged. “To be fair, he didn’t eat, either.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to be fair to that man. He works you to death. There should be a law against calling you in on a Saturday.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s one of the perks of being the assistant to the big boss. When he works, I work.”

  Izzy snorted. “Yeah, lucky you. He always works. And unlike him, we have plans tonight.”

  “Speaking of,” Cass said, “did you get it?”

  Kiersten nodded and gestured to her bag. “In there.”

  Cassie hurried over and dug through the bag until she found the lotto ticket. Every time the jackpot went over one-hundred million dollars they each kicked in a couple bucks to purchase three tickets, from three different locations, with the plan to split any winnings three ways. Their tickets to freedom.

  Of course, she’d been buying a ticket at least once a month since she’d been old enough to buy one for herself and had yet to win more than twenty dollars. But she remained hopeful.

  Cassie put the tickets on the coffee table. “Please don’t tell me those files I saw are more work for yo
u to do this weekend.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

  “Seriously? He calls you in on Saturday and then gives you work to take home? I don’t know how you keep from shoving his coffee where the sun don’t shine.”

  Kiersten sighed. “That would be incredibly fun. But, aside from coffee enemas being supposedly healthy and therefore a horrible act of revenge, I’ve got three very good reasons why I can’t do that. Bills, rent, and food. I’ve kind of grown accustomed to luxuries like cereal and shelter. So, unfortunately, I need my job too much to give in to my fantasies of paying him back for every miserable second I’ve spent as his assistant.”

  “I’m sure you could find something else,” Izzy said, snagging another slice of pizza.

  Kiersten shook her head. “I’ve looked. While Cole Harrington might be one of the biggest d-bags on the planet, he also pays well and offers killer benefits. And like I said, I have to pay rent. And student loans. And eating regularly is always nice.” She grabbed another slice and held it up in salute. “Don’t worry about me. He’s an ass, but nothing I can’t handle.”

  “At least he’s nice to look at,” Cassie said.

  Izzy glared at her, and she shrugged. “What? He might be dead inside, but the outside is freaking hot.”

  She wasn’t wrong, though Kiersten had no intention of admitting that out loud. Seriously, though, the rippling muscles beneath Cole’s six-hundred-dollar shirts really did put on a nice show. Too bad the man who owned them seemed determined to be a complete jackass.

  “Well, you’re a stronger woman than I am,” Izzy said. “I’d have introduced my foot to his crotch a long time ago.”

  The girls dissolved into junk-food-and-wine-induced giggles, and Kiersten finally fully relaxed, all the pressures of the day disappearing. At least for a little while and enough that she’d apparently dozed off.

  She awoke to Cassie lightly kicking her hip.

  “Ow, what?” Kiersten said, sitting up with a yawn.

  “It’s time. They’re drawing the numbers.”

  “Oh!” Kiersten grabbed her ticket off the table, and all three girls raised their tickets into the air and said, “Freedom!” in their best Braveheart accents. Cheesy, maybe, but traditions were traditions, and they’d been saluting their freedom tickets since college. They were too superstitious, at least when it came to the lotto, to muck things up by changing now.

  Kiersten chewed on her bottom lip. She knew the chances of winning were probably only slightly better than the chance that Cole would suddenly get her name right, but she couldn’t keep the rush of adrenaline from trickling through her system. Because the what-ifs were too juicy to contain.

  The first number was drawn. Thirteen.

  “Whoop! Got it,” Cassie yelled.

  “Me too,” said Kiersten.

  Izzy sighed. “Not me.”

  Next number. Fifty-six.

  “Got it,” Kiersten said again, her breath coming a little faster. She’d never hit two numbers before. If she hit the Powerball number, too, she might actually win a few bucks.

  “Not me,” said Cassie.

  Izzy shook her head. “Me either.”

  Seven.

  Kiersten’s head spun. “Got it,” she said. The other girls dropped their tickets and rushed to her side, hanging over her shoulder.

  Forty-three.

  “Holy shit,” Izzy murmured.

  “No way we’ll hit another one,” Cassie said.

  Izzy waved her hands. “Shhh. Don’t jinx it.”

  Twenty-two.

  “Oh my God,” Cassie shrieked before promptly slapping a hand over her mouth.

  Kiersten’s hand started to shake. Izzy had a death grip on her shoulder, and she was almost positive Cassie was hyperventilating. Even if they didn’t hit the Powerball number, they were going to win a nice, big chunk of money.

  The announcer pulled the ball. “And the Powerball number is…two.”

  Kiersten’s stomach dropped. None of them made a sound. She wasn’t even sure they were still breathing.

  Then Cassie drew in a ragged breath, and Izzy shot to her feet, her eyes as wide as a Cinnabon roll. Kiersten lurched to her feet, dragging Cassie up with her. They looked at each other, at Izzy, back at the ticket still in Kiersten’s hand.

  “Excuse me,” Izzy said, “but did we just win the fucking lottery?”

  Kiersten’s hand shook. “I…yeah…check the numbers again.”

  They looked back at the numbers flashing on the screen, down at the ticket, back at one another.

  “We won,” Cassie said, her voice almost a whisper. She slapped her hands over her mouth and then squealed like a six-year-old girl who’d just been given free reign inside an American Girl doll store. “We just won five hundred and eighty-five million dollars!”

  Kiersten dropped onto the couch, running the math in her head. “Oh my God. If we take the lump sum buyout, even splitting three ways and paying taxes, we’re still looking at like…sixty-nine million each. Or more. I can’t think straight right now.”

  “Sixty-nine. My lucky number,” Izzy said with a wink.

  Kiersten rolled her eyes. “You’re such a prepubescent boy.”

  “Make that a rich prepubescent boy. Because baby, we just won the fucking lottery!”

  The girls looked at each other, grinned, and then screamed at the top of their fabulously lucky lungs.

  Chapter Five

  Kiersten raised the hair off her neck to try to get some cool air on her heated skin. But there wasn’t any cool air in the press of bodies twerking and grinding on the dance floor.

  “Another round of champagne,” Cassie yelled, holding her glass over her head.

  The strobe lights of the club glinted off the remaining amber liquid in her glass that sloshed dangerously close to the edge.

  Izzy and Kiersten laughed and pulled her back into her seat. “Take it easy there, princess. We aren’t rich yet. We still need to claim this baby.” Kiersten patted her left boob where the ticket was wrapped in a plastic baggie and riding cozy in her bra. No way was that little slip of paper leaving her for a second.

  “Ah, come on. Let’s live a little. We just won the—”

  “Shhh.” Kiersten leaned in. “Remember, no telling anybody until this is a done deal. We’ll have the crazies coming out of the woodwork.”

  That finally got through to Cassie. “Ugh. You’re right. Well,” she said, perking up again, “we can still party our asses off without people knowing why.”

  “Hell yeah, we can.” Izzy said, holding up her glass. “To freedom.”

  “Freedom,” they all shouted, clinking their glasses.

  Kiersten’s phone went off. They all looked at it like it was a snake getting ready to strike.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Izzy said. “What, does the man have some sort of fun radar that goes off any time you aren’t working your ass off for him?”

  Kiersten picked it up.

  “What are you doing?” Cass asked.

  “Seeing what he wants.” Kiersten swiped open her screen, but Izzy yanked the phone out of her hands.

  “You don’t need to be at his beck and call anymore, remember?”

  The knot twisting in Kiersten’s gut at the need to see the text lessened a bit. “I…oh my God,” she said, laughing. “I seriously forgot. It was a total reflex to just pick it up and do whatever. You’re right. Though, I haven’t told him yet, and it’s not really fair to him when he’s counting on me…”

  Izzy groaned. “Fair to him? And when is he ever fair to you?”

  Izzy was right, but the anxiety at not doing her job ratcheted up a notch, and Kiersten tried to force it back down. She didn’t have to be at Cole’s beck and call anymore. She didn’t have to work for him at all, ever again. Or work for anyone else.

  Still, she couldn’t help wondering what he wanted her for that late at night. Nothing fun, that was for sure. She snagged the phone back from Izzy. “Let’
s see what Boss Man wants me to do tonight.”

  She opened the text and scanned it.

  “Well?” Cass said.

  Kiersten shook her head. “The man is unbelievable. It’s almost midnight on a Saturday, and he wants me to run down to the office quick and check a file he left there.”

  No way did she want to leave her celebration to do what Cole asked. But it didn’t stop her stomach from plummeting at the thought of saying no. She’d never said no to Cole. No one did.

  “Tell him to kiss your ass, and let’s get back on the dance floor,” Cass shouted, already bouncing in her seat to the music.

  “I can’t do that,” Kiersten said with a nervous laugh. She’d love to say that, but even if she didn’t need her job anymore, that just seemed so…rude.

  “I will,” Izzy said, plucking the phone out of her hands again before she could say anything. Izzy’s thumbs flew over the screen, hitting send before Kiersten could grab the device back.

  “Holy shit,” she muttered, reading the text Izzy had just sent. It had, in essence, told Cole what he could go do with himself. “He’s going to fire me for sure.”

  “Good riddance.” Izzy took another swig of her champagne. “Actually, it’ll be perfect. He can fire you, and then Cass and I will march out of there in solidarity. It’ll be a real Hallmark moment.”

  The phone buzzed in her hand again. “It’s him.”

  “So,” Cass asked. “What’d he say?”

  Are you drunk?

  Kiersten laughed. “Well, he didn’t fire me yet.” She wrote back.

  Yup. Having a hell of a time, too.

  Izzy hooted with laughter. “Oh my God, you are so getting fired.”

  They only waited a few seconds before the next text came through.

  I take it this means you can’t bring me the file I need.

  Kiersten shook her head.

  Nope. Sorry. Busy getting my groove thang on.

  “‘Groove thang?’” Izzy asked. Cassie was almost doubled over on the table, laughing.