Sleeping with a Billionaire - Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story)

by Nella Tyler

  “He’s a pain in my ass. Wish he’d a stayed in the city. He didn’t bother me when he was there.” I chuckled. “But he came back.” Mr. Flanagan grumbled. “They always come back. ’Cept you. From what I hear, you never left.”

  “No, Sir. I want to stay right here and help the people that I grew up with,” I answered honestly.

  “Who’s the Yankee?” Mr. Flanagan demanded, his eyes passing over me toward Dr. Pierce, whose spine rippled at the name. I guessed that poor Raymond had heard quite a bit of that since he arrived.

  “He’s a very nice man…and a great doctor.”

  Mr. Flanagan grumbled, but didn’t comment. “So, Jenna, what’s the verdict? Am I gonna die?”

  “No, Mr. Flanagan. You are going to be absolutely fine, but Billy was right to get you to come here. You have bronchitis and if you let it get any worse, you might not have had a choice any longer.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m as fit as a…” His words were consumed in another intense round of coughing and hacking.

  “I’m sure, Mr. Flanagan, but in any case, I’m going to write you a prescription for some antibiotics and cough medicine.” I stared at him seriously. “As a physician and as a friend who is looking out for your wellbeing, I would also advise you to quit smoking. The bronchitis is likely due to irritation from the insult that smoking gives your body.”

  “Jenna, please. I have lived this long and if the good Lord wants to take me, He’ll take me, whether it’s from smoking, or gettin’ hit by a bus. When it’s my time, I ain’t gonna be any deader, no matter how I go.”

  Understanding that there was no changing his mind, I grinned and nodded. “Well, can you at least promise me that you will take this?” I asked, handing him a prescription.

  “Yes, ma’am, so long as I can go home.”

  “Yes. Did someone drive you?”

  “Yeah.” He rolled his eyes, and I was satisfied that his son had not only badgered him until he went, he had taken him to the hospital himself. In a strange way, that made me feel better.

  I turned to Raymond. “Dr. Pierce, do you have anything that you would like to add?”

  “No. I believe that about covers it,” he answered flatly, turning to walk out of the room. I followed him. When we were out of Mr. Flanagan’s earshot, Raymond turned around and from the way, I read his expression, I was sure he was displeased with something I had done.

  Therefore, I was shocked when I heard what he said.

  “You did a good job. You seemed to know how to handle him and yourself in there; that’s important.”

  “Thank you!”

  Raymond looked at me as though he intended to say something else, but stopped and turned to walk away. I felt a strange sensation of dread spill heavy into my feet. My heart dropped deep into my chest and the thought that I might get sick once again returned to threaten my gag reflex. My stomach churned nervously and I swallowed hard, hoping that whatever he was withholding wasn’t serious; after all, I was here to learn.

  However, as he walked away and I fell into step behind him, I decided that there was no sense in second-guessing everything that had happened. He’d said I had done a great job. He had praised me, and I was acting as though he had told me I had done something terrible.

  Come on, Jenny! I told myself. Take the compliment and move on! What do you want, a Rose Parade?

  So, that’s exactly what I did.

  I forced myself to put aside the idea that Raymond was treating me like his first patient, simply placating me, and resolved to the idea that I had accomplished something. Whether Raymond thought so or not didn’t matter. I had helped my first patient and that was something to celebrate.

  I was completely confident in what I had told Mr. Flanagan. Thus, I was excited!

  Chapter 3

  Tim

  It was turning into another long and aggravatingly grueling day.

  I hated to be on a deadline and because of that, I generally excelled so that time restraints were not a problem, but with this particular software, problems seemed to creep in from every angle. Sure, it was complicated, but nothing I shouldn’t be able to decrypt.

  Plus, I had Donavan working on the program with me, and therefore the whole project should have been simple. Yet, somehow, we found ourselves completely overworked and overbooked.

  Still, of all the people I’d worked with when a problem such as this arose, the only person I would want by my side was Donavan. He was a co-worker and friend, or at least as close as I had to a friend out here, and was easily filling the role of my protégé.

  Donavan was intelligent, in a manner that was a little unsettling – so much so that I was happy he had come to work for me and not my competition. Between the two of us, there was nothing we couldn’t decipher, but if we were pitted against one another, it would be a battle of wits that would surely become as distracting as it would be intriguing.

  Thankfully, for both of us, that wasn’t an issue.

  “There!” Donavan exclaimed, pressing the final key to what he believed would fix the problems we were having. I watched as the program finally reacted appropriately and clapped a congratulatory hand on his shoulder.

  “Excellent!” I exclaimed before taking over the keyboard. “Now that it is stable, I want you to show you how to ensure that the program sets up fully without crashing.”

  I stroked a few of the keys and made sure to put up the correct firewalls. I didn’t have to explain any of this to him. I simply had to show him the next step. It was magnificent. Donovan was the perfect student.

  Once I was finished, I turned to see him immersed in the process, retaining everything. “Do you understand? Could you repeat that the next time we need to work with something delicate like this?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Good!” I exclaimed, glancing at my wristwatch as my stomach growled at exactly the right moment. “Well, before we get into anything else, what do you say we have some lunch?”

  I didn’t wait for Donavan to answer, and he didn’t expect me to. Although he was far younger and more modern than I would ever even want to be, he still seemed to understand me. That, too, was nice.

  So often my attitude was off-putting, but Donavan accepted it and went with it. He was a good kid. He had a head on his shoulders, but he was caring and good-hearted. As much as I hated to say it, that was his biggest downfall.

  When we settled into lunch at my favorite café, only a few blocks from the office, I decided to air my only concern with Donavan, in hopes of helping him succeed.

  “You did well today,” I started, telling him the truth that I couldn’t ignore. “You pick up intensely complex directions and information quickly, but more than that, you retain it and are able to apply it throughout a range of different software development techniques. You’re good. Really good.”

  “Thank you,” Donavan replied. “That means a lot.”

  “Yeah, well, I think you could run your own company one day.”

  Perhaps he was overwhelmed by the enormity of the compliment, or perhaps he sensed there was more to what I was about to say, but he tried to stop it by shaking his head. “No. Seriously, I’m not all that good. I’ve still got a lot to learn.”

  “True,” I replied earnestly. “But when you do create your own company – and I say when because I’m confident in your ability – I sure as hell hope I’m not still in business.”

  Letting down his defenses, he grinned. “Oh, come on, Tim. You know I’d never do anything to hurt your company. I would be honored to work alongside you.”

  “I know, which is exactly my point,” I answered, stabbing my fork down into my T-bone steak for effect, causing Donavan’s eyes to flash up into my gaze with confusion. “I would have to destroy you, and I wouldn’t want to do that. Not after I worked so hard to build you up.”

  When Donavan realized that I had actually said what he thought he heard, his jaw hinged and his eyes narrowed. “Tim…”

>   “No. This is exactly my point. Where you see a friendship and a loyalty, I see an opportunity to dominate.” The poor kid looked confused and almost betrayed, but as bad as I wanted to feel, I couldn’t bring myself to soften my resolve.

  “You’re too soft hearted. This is a business, above all, Donavan. If you start having alliances with people who have more experience than you, refusing to take the upper hand if you can get it because you think you owe them something, your career is over before it even begins.”

  “Okay, to hell with you, too, then.” he retorted, but I couldn’t help wishing he meant it more than his voice portrayed.

  “Seriously, Don. Right now, I’m here to help you, but if you ever become my competition, I can’t guarantee that I won’t do whatever I can to stay on top.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the warning…I guess.”

  By now, I could tell that he was getting a little put-off. I didn’t enjoy being an asshole to him, but I felt that it was in his best interest, so that I might stress my point before it’s too late. “That’s more than most people get,” I assured him with cruel, cold intent looming in my voice.

  “Thanks,” he answered condescendingly before he took the reins of his pride and remembered that I had yet to steer him wrong. “Fine. I’m a pushover. I get it, but how can I be more…worthy?”

  I didn’t like his smart-ass word choice, but I understood what he was saying, so I decided to let it go. “You could start with our clients. I want you to start negotiating deals and proposing more software ideas.”

  “You want me to be more cutthroat with your clients?” he asked with genuine confusion.

  “Yes. I do. I need you to sharpen your edge, focus on being cunning, and get what you want, at all costs. You know what you’re talking about, so convince the clients that’s what they need.”

  “My sales aren’t bad.”

  “But they’re nothing commendable, either,” I hissed. I had to admit, it felt good to tell him this. I had meant to for a while, so it was a relief to finally have it all out in the open.

  Gazing into his eyes, unwavering from his glare, I could tell he hated that he didn’t have a response to what I was saying. I knew I was right, which was why I said it. So, I decided to rub it in a little.

  “Do you want to work for me for the rest of your life? Do you want to be second best?”

  “No…” he replied, narrowing his eyes at me. “I would love to own a company someday.”

  “Well, do you want to keep that company, or do you want it to be commandeered in an underhanded merger?”

  “I want to keep it,” he hissed.

  “You need to learn how to fight for it. Right now, you don’t have a reason, a drive that burns inside your soul to do what you want. Having your own company is a pipe dream, but I’m telling you, if you can find that fight inside yourself and learn a little dirty dealing, you will be perfectly fine.”

  At this, Donavan stopped to contemplate what I was telling him. He huffed and narrowed his eyes. “Fine. What’s your motivation? That…burning inside your soul? You didn’t start off like me, did you?”

  “Hell, no! You have way more resources at your disposal than I ever did.” I almost laughed aloud. “For me, this was a pipe dream and the people back home continually wondered what the hell I was smoking.”

  At the end of my comment, I bit my tongue, hoping to God that damn accent I’d practiced so hard to hide didn’t show back up in my speech. Sometimes, when I lose myself in thoughts or speak direct quotes, I hear myself fall back into my old, terrible linguistic habits.

  I shook myself back into the right frame of mind as Donavan continued, without noticing my slip. “What do you mean? You didn’t grow up around here?”

  “Uh…no. You’ve heard of bum-fuck-Egypt? To get to the small town I grew up in, you go all the way there, take a left, and go about a country mile down the road. You’ll find The Deliverance, and after that, you might find my chew spit-stain of a town.”

  Donavan laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”

  I only laughed, not wanting to give out any more personal information about the geographical location of where I was forced to grow up. It was bad enough I had to spend eighteen years there. Now, the less I had to talk about it, the better.

  “Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of money. My family never starved, by any means, but we also lived well within our humble means, if you know what I’m saying. No one I grew up with had any idea what I was capable of and never understood me. I got out of there as fast as I could and ran to a place where I had a prayer of making something out of myself.

  “Always remember: nobody sets the bar for what you can do – only you do. I work so hard now because I don’t ever want to live that life again. I’ve worked too damn hard and still have too damn much to contribute. I want to die staring at a computer.”

  The last part was a joke, but apparently, Donavan didn’t find the humor in the statement. He was too deep in thought.

  “Oh…” he answered, sounding as though he had more to say, but I was thankful when he decided to change the subject instead. “So, say I do become a cutthroat, cunning son-of-a-bitch and I get my own company before you decide to retire. Then, what?”

  “If that ever comes to fruition,” I thought for a moment as I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back easily in my chair. “I suppose you would be a worthy opponent.”

  As my chair hit the cement, placing all feet back squarely on the ground, Donavan sneered as though he had accepted my challenge. However, before he could reply, my phone rang loudly, disrupting our conversation.

  I yanked the cellphone out of my pocket and rolled my eyes as I recognized the number. Speak of the devil, I thought, deliberating whether I should answer the call from my father.

  “Everything all right?” Donavan inquired, peering at me with concern.

  “Yeah,” I replied, finally ignoring the call and sliding the phone back into my pocket. “It’s no one I need to talk to right now.”

  Or ever again, if I can help it, I thought but didn’t dare say something like that aloud.

  That would be, as they would say back where I’m from, ugly and I wouldn’t want to give such a sour impression to the only person out here I could genuinely consider a friend.

  Chapter 4

  Jenna

  Three days into my rotation and my nervousness finally started to settle.

  I wasn’t completely put at ease, but I was defiantly working on not having perpetual anxiety. I even started to believe that I was coming into my own.

  Dr. Pierce wasn’t watching me like a hawk anymore and had even left the room a few times today. I hoped that was due to the confidence he was gaining in my medical abilities and not because he simply couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me any longer.

  Although everyone else told me that I was doing great with abundant sincerity, I found that keeping Raymond’s approval was a priority. After all, I Raymond was there to teach me. He had made it clear that being my friend was not his first priority and that was fine. I was more concerned with continuing to impress him than I was about making friends anyway.

  I respected that and wanted to earn his respect. I was certain that I could and so, I went to work every day, striving to achieve that goal – in addition to doing what was best for my patients, of course.

  Towards the end of the day, Dr. Pierce left me alone for a moment to stitch an abrasion that a local boy had gotten from barbed wire. His mother was sitting with him on her lap while I was giving him the numbing agent. The boy closed his eyes tightly as the second shot after the tetanus shot was administered.

  “What a brave boy, Hunter!” I exclaimed, beaming brightly.

  Once he realized it was over, Hunter slowly opened his eyes. “That one hurt less than the first one.”

  I made a face in agreement. “Yeah, that tetanus shot is nasty…but this one is going to numb your arm, so you won’t feel a thing.” Being reminded of h
is injury, he glanced down at the still bleeding gash.

  “What happened? I hear you got stuck on some barbed wire?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the little boy responded, biting his lip as though he thought he was going to get in trouble.

  “Yes, tell Dr. Barnes what you did,” his mother urged, sounding more teasing now, than angry, or even worried. I could tell that she was pleased that Hunter was taking this ordeal so well and frankly, so was I.

  Hunter’s cheeks reddened and he rolled his eyes up to his momma, pleading with her not to make him say it again.

  “No, Hunter. You need to tell the nice doctor what happened.”

  Sighing, Hunter turned back to me and started his tale as I picked up the needle and started to prepare it for suturing the wound.

  “Well, my brother dared me to go steal an apple from old man…” He stopped abruptly as his mother’s eyes settled hard on him. “I mean, Mr. Brenton’s yard, and so I did, but I thought he was comin’, so I ran and tried to get over the fence too fast. My arm got caught and was ripped back. When I got back over to my yard, my brother saw the blood.”

  “Ouch! You didn’t feel it at all?” I asked, sounding amazed, even though I wasn’t all that surprised.

  “No, ma’am,” Hunter answered before his face reddened again. “That is until I saw the blood.”

  “I reckon that’s when I heard him scream and cry from the end of our back forty,” Hunter’s mom, Sherry, interjected, pulling her son back to face her, noticing that I was about to start stitching.

  “Mom…” he grumbled, as though he was trying to make himself sound courageous.

  “Don’t worry, Hunter,” I said, effortlessly threading the needle through the child’s arm, closing the large, deep gash. “I would have cried, too, if I saw something like this on my arm.”

  He giggled. “No, you wouldn’t have. You’re a doctor, so you must like blood.”

  At this, both myself and Hunter’s mother laughed out loud. “Hunter!” his mother exclaimed through her humored expression, while Hunter looked between us, as though he couldn’t figure out why what he was saying was so funny.