Billionaires Hook Up - A Standalone Novel (A Billionaire Office Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #8) Read online

  "Good morning, Ms. Nichols," he said.

  If I refused to get on the elevator now, everyone would assume I had a reason to dislike him. I did dislike him, I reminded myself, but not because we'd had some cheap office dalliance and he'd moved on. It didn't matter that I was turned off by his casual work attitude or his smarmy path to success. All our colleagues would think was that I was another one of his conquests.

  "Good morning," I said to the group at large. I forced myself onto the elevator and turned around to face the doors, leaving as large a gap between myself and Rainer as I could. The doors slid closed inches from my nose.

  "All right, Rainer, enough suspense. Tell us about the party last night," one of the junior executives said.

  Another one chucked Rainer on the shoulder. "I hear you showed up with two models you met at the product shoot."

  Product shoot? I wondered, ignoring the other lascivious details. My team's application was the only product I knew had been recently promoted in print media.

  "I'd tell you boys, but there's a lady present," Rainer said.

  "Where?" another junior executive joked.

  Rainer stood up straight, and I felt his eyes on my back. "I'd watch out, Georgie. Ms. Nichols is planning to be your boss."

  Georgie jammed his hands in his pockets. "Yeah? Well, I hear she's your boss as of last night."

  Snickers erupted behind me. I refused to move and acknowledge any of them, but I felt Rainer respond immediately. Whatever move he made had George throwing his hands up in self-defense.

  "Hey, we're not stupid," George said. "We all tried to jump on her project too. You just happened to have the best strings to pull."

  Sweat threatened to pop out along my hairline, and I was glad when the elevator doors slid open on our floor. Rainer Maxwell had weaseled his way onto my project? I strode down the hallway, ignoring the parting looks I felt from the elevator. I had precious little time before our big meeting, and I had to find out if it was just elevator gossip or the truth.

  My mind was racing faster than my feet, so it took a moment for my thoughts to circle back to my assistant's desk. A petite woman with her brown hair in a tight ponytail stared up at me.

  "You're Amy?" I asked.

  She nodded and raised an eyebrow, but otherwise did not move.

  I clenched my fingers into a fist. "I'm Ms. Nichols. You're my assistant. Have you read through the binder?"

  Amy jumped up and opened my office door. "Really? I thought you were kidding about that. I mean, that binder is huge."

  "This is your job, Amy," I said. I dumped my things on my desk and put my fists on my hips. "Are there any messages for me about changes to my project team? Specifically concerning the public relations portion."

  "Messages? Like on your voicemail? I don't have the password," Amy said.

  I pressed a hand to my forehead. "The password is in the binder. I don't have time to sort through them now."

  Amy's blank expression was too much. I turned away from her and looked out my office window. The view was bleak compared to the one I had admired upstairs. I faced the gray facade of the neighboring office building and saw only long rows of cubicles through its plain windows. There was nothing to inspire me there, but inspiration wasn't really what I needed. I needed an explanation. How had Rainer been assigned to my project just in time to reap the benefits?

  "Could you please call Mr. Maxwell's assistant and inquire about his morning schedule?" I turned around to face Amy.

  "Why don't you just ask Mr. Maxwell?" Amy blinked a few slow times.

  Somewhere in my usual flurry of voicemails was surely a quick message from Stan or one of my other bosses, telling me why Rainer Maxwell was suddenly on my project. I could give Amy the password, but it would take her too long to decipher the messages and write down any pertinent information. Her wide-eyed expression did not offer any help.

  "Never mind. I'll be attending this morning's meeting by myself. That should give you time to review the binder and get caught up on your daily duties," I said. "Shut the door behind you, please."

  Amy wandered out of my office and had to double back to shut the door. As soon as I was sure she was back at her desk, I raised both hands to the ceiling and mimed a frustrated scream. Then I cleared my throat and picked up my phone.

  "Rainer Maxwell's office; this is Topher."

  I pinched my nose and did my best impression of Amy's questioning voice. "Ms. Nichols would like a word with Mr. Maxwell. Is he available?"

  "No, sorry. Mr. Maxwell is finishing up the press conference for the GroGreen application. I'm expecting him soon. Can I take a message?"

  Images of Rainer smoothing back his wavy, dark-brown hair and checking his image in the antique mirror flashed through my head like lightning. He had been preening and practicing his lines in the penthouse office when I had stumbled in this morning. Now he was downstairs smiling into dozens of cameras and taking credit for all my hard work.

  I strangled the phone hard, imagining it was him before I hung up. Rainer Maxwell had assumed he'd picked an easy target, but he was dead wrong. I had sacrificed everything for my career and no one, no matter how slick, would stand in my way.

  Chapter Two

  Rainer

  I watched Tasha Nichols march out of the elevator and stride off down the office hallway. Hyperion Industries was a huge corporation, so it shouldn't have bothered me that I didn't know where her office was before today. The detail that struck me was the direction she took to get there.

  All the junior executives had offices on the same floor despite our varied department focuses. It was meant to make us feel like a larger team, in charge of the masses on the multiple floors below. Our floor was supposed to be an equalizer, but as I watched Tasha go, I realized how obvious the hierarchy was structured. Junior executives who fit the part, sucked up to the higher ups, and played the game all had offices on the east side of the building, overlooking San Francisco Bay. Those who weren't as highly favored had their offices facing the gray behemoth building on the west side.

  No wonder I hardly ever ran into Tasha; her office was on the far west side of the floor.

  George elbowed me as he left the elevator. "She looks good, I'll give her that, but I don't think she looks like boss material."

  Our cronies laughed as they made their way down the east side hallway and into their offices. The elevator doors shut, and I savored the few minutes alone. I wanted to prepare myself for the press conference, but I found myself remembering Tasha's penetrating look instead.

  Later, after the buzz and flash of the press conference, I found myself hesitating outside the elevator again. I took two steps down the west hallway but could not come up with a legitimate reason to visit Tasha in her office. And, by now, she knew what I'd done and was probably plotting the demise of my career.

  "What career," I muttered. I dragged myself to my office to wait out the ten minutes before the big product meeting. It wasn't my office role to be early.

  "Mr. Maxwell, congratulations!"

  My overeager assistant, Topher, jumped up from his desk and rushed around to shake my hand. "Word is already going around that you nailed the press conference. What was that line you delivered about respect? I think the GroGreen app should use that as a slogan."

  I slapped him on the back. "All I did was point out that we respect nature and now there's an app to help nature respect our busy schedules."

  "Amazing, sir. I'm so impressed how you memorized all that information and went to that party last night."

  I could tell that Topher was dying to hear some details about the glamorous product release party. He was practically drooling over his own daydreams of tailored suits and palm-greasing business deals. It tied my stomach in a tight knot. "Someone's got to do the hard work," I said.

  Topher laughed and returned to his desk. "I've been reviewing all the product memos, but I'm still not sure I could convince the world to buy it. You really are very tale
nted, sir."

  I thought of Tasha Nichols. All the hard work had been hers, and yet the entire office was ready to put the laurels on my head. I knew it was wrong, but I also knew this was how our business went. Hyperion got ahead on image just as much as innovation.

  "It's got nothing to do with me," I said. "The GroGreen app is going to change the way that people garden. It helps organize ideas, plot out the best use of the garden space, and keep the planting, watering, and everything on a tight schedule."

  "Not to mention how fun the garden simulator is." He held up his phone. "I've already got sprouts popping up in my first rows."

  I glanced at his screen, impressed with the graphics. Tasha's team had an excellent eye for details, and she had made sure the application had everything that a budding gardener might need or want. "Why don't you get a little planter box and plant some real seeds?" I asked Topher.

  My assistant shook his head and adjusted the crisp white cuffs of his shirt. "I wouldn't want to get dirt in here. Virtual gardening is good enough for me. Wait until you see my GroGreen page tomorrow."

  "Right," I said, vaguely annoyed by his response.

  I moved past Topher's desk and into my office. At a loss for anything productive to do, I headed straight for the window. The view was significantly lower than the panorama of the penthouse office, but I was facing the right way and sure to work my way upstairs. I wondered how Tasha felt in her office overlooking the gray facade of another building. The contrast made me uncomfortable.

  "Sir, you're on!" Topher scuttled into my office and turned on my large flat-screen television. "You're the headline story."

  The business news segment started with a few still shots of me at the product launch party. The news anchor played up the angle of me as the industry playboy, always on the first wave of the best parties and trends. I cringed as I saw myself caught on camera with woman after beautiful woman. Sure, it was just publicity, but it all seemed so ridiculous. My stomach churned as the news anchor went on and on about the amount of champagne that flowed.

  "And Hyperion Industries certainly has much to celebrate as the product sales are quickly outpacing any new app we've seen since PokeGo," the business anchor reported.

  Topher was hopping from one foot to the other in his excitement. All rumors and reports were pointing to a huge success. "I can't wait for the meeting, sir. Can you even imagine the kind of bonus you'll be getting?"

  "The profits get spread out over hundreds of people," I reminded my assistant. "And I just came in on the tail-end to help with public relations. I'm sure the long-term team members will get much more."

  Topher shook his head. "No, sir, I checked. All junior executives are considered equal pay no matter how long they have worked on a project."

  "Speaking of work," I said. "I need a minute to return some calls."

  Topher nodded and trotted back out the door. I sat down at my desk and kicked my heels up on the corner, knowing full well my assistant would look back as he shut the door. The young man grinned, seeing me as the lounging picture of success.

  If only he knew how my stomach worked into tighter knots as I smiled.

  Once my office door was closed, the smile disappeared. I sagged farther down in my chair and stared at my shoes. Stupid, shiny things that I'd paid more for than most people spent on their cars. Those shoes were good looking but lacked a substantive sole. I slammed my feet onto the plush carpet and rubbed my hands over my face. If it was true what people say about judging a man based on his shoes, then I should have been exposed as a fraud a long time ago: I was all polish and no soul.

  I fumbled for the remote and turned the television off. It was too ridiculous to see my smiling face all over the news. I scowled into the sudden silence. I knew there was no shame in playing the game, and it had gotten me far, but I was sick of my own hype. The office playboy who the women loved and the men wanted to be. The public relations man who could spin any situation. The junior executive with the solid gold charm. I was really going places.

  The only reason I had been added to the GroGreen project was my reputation. The top execs knew they had a success on their hands and they wanted to make sure they stamped it with their brand of work. I was to represent Hyperion's old-school style while showing off the latest innovations. How did anyone believe that two-martini lunches, passing the buck, and stealing the credit created the next step in technology? Because I made them believe it.

  It was a cheap trick and reminded me of the shell game I learned when I was little. I robbed my brother of all his quarters before he realized I was a cheat. When he complained to my father, my father only told pointed out that was the way the game was played.

  "Mr. Maxwell? Your brother is on line two." Topher buzzed the call through to my desk.

  "Speak of the devil," I said.

  "Were you?" my brother asked. "I'm glad one of your colleagues pointed out those crow's feet. Television shows all the flaws. You tell them I can fix all that in an hour?"

  I groaned. "What do you want, Evan?"

  "Oh, so now my baby brother thinks he's the best because he was on television?" Evan sighed. "I keep telling you a real reputation can't be built on bottles of champagne."

  "Are you trying to sell me on Botox injections again or what?" I asked.

  "Nope. I'm just calling to show you how a real Maxwell makes the grade. Have you seen my review in the Best of the Bay? All the top critics are calling me the new face of plastic surgery," Evan said.

  I dropped an elbow on my desk and leaned on it hard. "Father must be so proud."

  "Yes, exactly. In fact, the old man's taking me out for a celebratory dinner tonight. You want in?"

  I ground my teeth. It didn't matter that my face was now all over the headline news or that my name was trending alongside the biggest app launch of the year; my father was not impressed. Instead, he was taking my older brother out to dinner to celebrate. And I was being invited as an after-thought. Less than that, I was being invited as Evan's way of rubbing my face in it.

  "I've got plans," I muttered.

  "More champagne? More models? You really do the Maxwell name proud, little bro," Evan said.

  Even my own family didn't see that my reputation was all for show. I couldn't remember the last time I thought they really knew me.

  "Congratulations on the review, Evan," I said. "Tell Father I say hi."

  "Come on, Rainer, don't be like that. Come to dinner and say hi to him yourself."

  I shoved up out of my office chair and glared out over the tremendous view. It didn't matter that I was almost at the top of Hyperion Industries. It didn't matter that I wore custom-made suits and expensive shoes. My brother had worked his way through medical school, paid off all his debts, and then climbed to the top of his field all on his own. Compared to him, I was a parasite. The world thought I could charm everyone, but my father saw through me. He knew I was nothing but a con in a fancy suit.

  "Sorry, Evan, I'm just not in the mood for a family share and compare tonight," I said.

  Evan laughed. "But it's a family tradition. We fight it out until we're sixty and then we see who gets the family fortune. A little friendly, family competition. That's the reason we have the family fortune in the first place. You know Father just barely beat out Uncle Bert. If he hadn't made those real estate deals a decade ago, we'd be sucking up to old man Bert for tiny trust funds."

  "As if you need any more money," I said.

  "It's not for me; it's for future generations," Evan said.

  "I know, I know. 'Maxwells make the family fortune.' You realize our grandfather was a sick man to pit everyone against each other," I said.

  "Sick? How about genius. We've got to make something of ourselves before we get the big bucks. I can't wait to see what my kids do," Evan said.

  "Well, good luck with that. I've got a meeting to get to," I said.

  "Fine, but don't say I didn't invite you. Oh, and don't crinkle up your forehead when you smil
e or you'll get more wrinkles than even I can erase," Evan said.

  I hung up the phone and leaned my forehead against the glass. It was ridiculous to call the expectations in my family a tradition. My grandfather had been dirt poor but made a respectable living as a master stone mason. My uncle had become a corporate attorney and set the bar high. Then my father had cashed in all his shrewd real estate deals and become the patriarch. As a Maxwell, I was expected to contribute to the slowly accumulating family fortune or not receive any of the benefits.

  So, I put on the big smile, trotted out my best jokes, and dodged my way through the murky ranks of Hyperion Industries. It was just the sort of monstrous corporation that allowed men like me (short on tangible talent, heavy on personality) to grease the right palms and get to the top. Even I was sick of the rigged system.

  A rapid knock was followed by, "Mr. Maxwell? Just a few quick items before your meeting."

  I turned from the glass and dragged my mouth into an easy smile. Rainer Maxwell didn't brood out the window. I knew I had it good but wanted more, and I hoped today's meeting would do just that.

  "Tasha Nichols requested a meeting. As soon as possible, she said." Topher smirked and moved that message to the bottom of his list.

  "Tasha Nichols?" I asked. Her name was like a lighthouse in my foggy thoughts, but that didn't fit my playboy persona. "The new coffee girl?"

  Topher chuckled. "No. That's Sasha. Tasha Nichols oversees the GroGreen app production team."

  "How else would I know her?" I asked.

  Topher was eager to show off his assistant skills and his impressive memory for Hyperion personnel. "She's been on the rise for the two years, a favorite of Mr. Eastman."

  "Stan?" I retied my tie in the mirrored wall behind my desk. "His reputation for chasing skirts was worse than mine."

  Topher grinned. "He's taken a particular interest in her this year and has been carefully tracking her progress on this app project."

  The Chief Operations Officer had his eye on her. He was at least twenty years Tasha's senior, but it still bothered me. "So, is she old and silver like our Mr. Eastman?"