Mr. Grayson: Billionaires’ Club Book 4 (Billionaires’ Club Series)

It was impulsive of me to take Breanne’s hand in mine, but I didn’t give a shit. If she didn’t like the gesture, or me, she would’ve unquestionably pulled her hand from mine by the time we’d walked out to the Uber I’d called.

I was no longer going to pretend that I wasn’t captivated by Breanne. So, what was the shame in any of this? There wasn’t any. Unless, of course, she wasn’t feeling it. I had to think she was because her hand was currently clutching mine in return—for the second time since arriving at this hospital—and it told me this was right.

Holding hands like we were in grade school was pretty standard for me, though. What was entirely out of my arena in the department of emotions was when jealousy struck after she left the room and went to meet Cameron. I wouldn’t have given two shits about any other woman nearly tripping over their feet when they met him, but, in Breanne’s case, this was more about Cameron being attracted to her.

Jealousy—what a fucked-up emotion, especially when you get all fucked in the head and consider your good friend a sudden enemy even though he’d done nothing to deserve the title.

It was apparent that I was twisted up with this foreign emotion when Jim, Avery, Ash, and the kids had shown up to meet baby Alex—giving me the excuse I needed to give everyone some space—and I couldn’t get my ass down to Breanne fast enough.

I thought I’d made a casual exit until Jake came in, who was working on-call in the cardiac ward. As usual, he could sniff out bullshit from a mile away, and me telling everyone I needed to help Breanne, so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed with work, was all he needed to hear to spread a massive smile across his smug face. There was no way in hell I wasn’t going to be roasted relentlessly by everyone later. Again, who gave a damn?

I knew what I wanted, and that was Breanne Stone. This jealousy nonsense could kiss my ass, though. Because of it, I probably looked like an ass to Cam and Breanne for ditching my friends so I could walk through the unit I’d already said the architects could figure out on their own. Yet there I was…all fucking smiles while Cameron probably read me like an open book.

I would certainly have to kick this jealousy out of the way, and the easiest way to do that was to ensure Breanne was mine, off-limits to anyone who might find themselves feeling unexpected emotions toward her fun and snarky personality and those sultry, jade eyes.

“Nice, SUV,” Breanne said as I finished sending a text to Elena to let her know that Breanne and I were leaving, and I told her the remarkable design features that Breanne had come up with on her own. I knew it would blow Elena away. “What happened to the Rolls?”

“I’m sorry. Give me a sec,” I answered her after Elena texted me back immediately.

I glanced down at my phone to read Elena’s text in response to mine.

Elena: You’re kidding, right? Did you tell her about my coma and what I told you about why I drew that butterfly for Baby Jo?

Alex: No. I wouldn’t have sent a text the length of a novel to explain if she knew.

Jake: Dude. Chill the fuck out

Alex: Fuck. Did I just text Breanne’s idea to the goddamn group text?

Collin: It was ducking beautiful. All 500 words of it.

Jim: I will kill you for starting this, Alex.

I smiled, realizing I’d accidentally texted on the group string that Elena had set up a while ago when she and Collin had announced her pregnancy.

With Collin and Jake on this string—both pranksters, knowing that Jim and I hated when these texts blew up our phones once the ladies got going with GIFs and emojis—I knew this would never end. Now, I was at the mercy of my friends, who were well aware that I was leaving with Breanne, and they knew something was up with me.

Alex: No shit. Sorry, I didn’t think I texted on this group string. Either way, now you all know. Breanne nailed it. You’re going to love the concept she pulled out of her ass.

Collin: She pulled that shut out of her ass?

Jake: No shit? Or are we saying shut now?

Ash: I have chills reading it though.

Avery: Me too.

Jake: Me three.

Collin: Ducken-A! Me four.

Elena: You guys can be such idiots

Alex: Has Jim thrown his phone across the room?

Avery: Ha! No, he’s holding the baby, and I muted the text string on his phone.

Jake: Too bad Alex doesn’t know how to mute this shit on his phone. Is Breanne with you, fucker?

Ash: Hey, Av, you and Jim really should start trying for another baby Mitchell again.

Elena: 100% YES!!!!!!

Avery: LOL! And we’ll use this string to announce when we start trying. LMAO

Jake: OMG! LOL! FTS!

Alex: Okay. I’m out

Holy shit, what did I start? My phone would officially be blowing up until tomorrow.

Elena: What does FTS mean, Jake

Collin: He’s ducking with you

Jake: Ducking? Duck? Shut? Dude, fix the autocorrect on your whack-ass phone to spell out ‘Fucking’ and ‘Shit.’ Fucking shit!

Collin: I did. It resets itself. It’s ducked up. Ducking shut!

Jake: Now you’re just fucking with us.

Collin: Yep.

Jake: Dipfucker

Collin: Fipducker

Alex: Are you assholes all texting while sitting in the same room?

Elena: What does FTS mean? Seriously.

Collin: Yeah, we’re in the same room, laughing as we blow your ass up too, bitch.

Jake: It means Fuck That Shit

Avery: LMFAO, yes, we’re in the same room. You still with Breanne?

Ash: Yes. Ha! In the same room.

Elena: They’re all still here, yes

Ash: Yes, are you still with her? I can’t believe she delivered this baby in a car!

Avery: No shit, fucking unreal. Was she just as shocked as you were?

Jake: We heard you acted like a little bitch in the car, Lexi.

Alex: Okay. Breanne and I are leaving. We need to go over stuff.

Jake: Stuff? Like you’re gonna fuck, stuff?

Collin: Alex might not be a cocksucker after all.

Jake: He’s gonna hit that! Ten bucks says he does.

Collin: Doubling up on that wager to say she turns him down.

Elena: FTS

Ash: Idiots

Three dots were loading, and I turned my phone to silent. Collin and Jake would take this to a ridiculous level if the girls didn’t rip the phones out of their husbands’ hands. Jim’s phone was muted, so he was the lucky one. Now, here I was on the ass-end of all the jokes, knowing these men had been long awaiting the day I’d put a woman before anything else—and goddammit, that’s exactly what I’d done.

Holy fuck. I didn’t think I was capable of giving a damn, yet here I was. Breanne was at my side, and my goddamn phone was buzzing like I’d shoved a vibrator up my fucking ass when I put my phone in my back pocket.

I could almost guarantee that the group chat had swiftly turned into an emoji fest: hearts and kissy faces from the girls, and eggplants, peaches, water drops, and middle finger emojis from the guys, and it wouldn’t end until someone’s battery died or my phone broke.

I loved my friends, but if Breanne were looking over my shoulder, I’d be fucked. She didn’t know them as I did, and I could easily see her going into shock when she saw the other side of my personality. Out of all my friends, Jim and I were the two who were too busy to figure out how to mute these fucking group texts, and the rest of the gang knew it.

I glanced over to Breanne as she texted on her phone, knowing she could probably help mute the chat, but the last thing I needed was her eyes on my phone. For one, she’d already prematurely judged me. All I needed was her to believe that my two doctor friends who cussed like sailors actually talked this casually around patients or while in surgery. She’d likely believe their bedside manners were as foul as their mouths.

“Everything okay? Shit,” Bree chuckled, and it was musical. It made me smile at the fact that I enjoyed her on a level I’d never experienced before with a woman. “It looks like you’re dealing with work or something. You’ve been staring at that phone for five minutes.”

“Yes,” I smiled at her, my phone still buzzing and pissing me off, “and I already sent the address to our Uber driver to take us to a dealership to fix your car situation.”

“No, I don’t have—”

“I’d rather not discuss personal things in front of our driver,” I smirked at her. “If Henry were here, that would be different.” I sighed dramatically, trying to remain firm on the fact I was getting this woman into a car, and she wasn’t going to argue.

“Is your car ruined from the delivery of the baby?”

I smiled. This would be a perfect way to get her to sign the pink slip, a new company vehicle. “The Rolls was actually the company car. Now, it’s fucked with afterbirth and will be haunted with residual trauma, shit like that. So, Jim wants you and me to pick up another car to replace it.”

“We’re going to go buy another Rolls Royce?”

“I’m thinking graphite gray?”

“What’s with you and that color, anyway? I’ve seen you drive two cars painted that same matte gray color.”

I twisted my lips, acting like I was trying to think hard and long on that one. “Simple. I like the color.”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes at me. “Do we need to buy a company car right now?”

“Yes. You need one to drive as an executive on Monday.”

“I’ll call for an Uber, thanks.”

“An Uber?”

“Yes. That or I’ll borrow a friend’s car until I buy one myself.”

Her cheeks flushed, and that was the first time I realized she was giving me her most important tell. I saw her cheeks turn this particular shade of red multiple times when she was caught lying to me. This was the lying Bree look.

“Uber, huh? Okay. And you remember what happened the last time you borrowed a friend’s car?”

Cheeks red again.

“Oh…right.”

“Now that we’ve established that I’m helping your ass,” I stated, “you have to play by my rules.”

Her head snapped over to me, and I arched my eyebrow at her. “What makes you think I’m playing by your rules? I never agreed to you helping me out.”

“Yeah, you did,” I said as the driver pulled into the Mercedes dealership.

Breanne’s face was perfectly unreadable now, but I didn’t give a shit. This woman got to me in ways I couldn’t rationalize. She was the calmest human being on the planet when forced into a labor and delivery situation. Then she blew my fucking mind by visualizing that pediatric ward as if Elena were out there telling her everything Collin and she had gone through in losing the baby and the coma. Their relationship barely survived all of it.

Breanne and I hadn’t had much time to develop any form of attachment for each other, but I loved the way she made me feel whenever I was close to her. I would gladly take the burden of a shitty situation from her and expect nothing in return. Seriously. This woman could ask me to give her the moon, and I knew I’d probably find a way to provide her with the damn thing. Explaining all of that to anyone or even myself was pointless because this shit made no sense. It just felt right and felt good.

“Why aren’t we replacing the company car?” she questioned. “Last I checked, I didn’t see any sort of model made by Rolls Royce on this Mercedes lot.”

I grinned. “Last you checked? You mean when you were here last, turning in the keys to your lease?”

“How do you know about that? Damn it, you really are on a group text with my friends, and Nat probably started it.”

I wasn’t, but I’m thankful you fell for that line of shit from earlier.

“Quiet, sweetheart,” I mocked, and this time when I took her hand, I weaved my fingers through hers. “Act a little bit bitchy. We can’t allow this salesman to think—”

“May I help you?”

The man eyed Breanne and me like we must’ve been lost, so I put my arm around her and pulled her closer to my side. That’s when I realized we both looked like we couldn’t afford a goddamn used car that was totaled in the backlot of a salvage yard. I smiled with the knowledge that we’d rushed out of the house, not ready to go anywhere. I ran my hand through my hair to validate I hadn’t even styled it. We probably had some placenta or something smeared on our shoes too.

Well, this should be funnier than shit. This man had better hope he’s not an arrogant ass, or he’d be losing out on a hefty commission today.

“This is a new car dealership. If you tell me your budget, I might be able to make some calls and see if I can direct you to another car lot that can accommodate you.”

I truly couldn’t believe my ears. It didn’t take a genius to know that, in a sales position, you should never underestimate your customer. We could’ve hit the lottery, and the first place we came was here, but he had the nerve to act as if we didn’t belong. He obviously hadn’t seen the movie Pretty Woman before, and even though I was positive the dealership’s owner had trained their salespeople to know better, I was going to make this guy squirm.

Breanne’s arm reached around my waist, and instead of being mortified, I watched fire light up her eyes. She was sexier than hell when she went to bitch-mode.

“I’m Bree, and this is my fiancé, Logan.” Breanne smiled and extended her hand to shake the salesman’s, forcing him to return the gesture.

“Nice to meet you, Bree. I’m Richard.”

The dude was definitely taken by Breanne, so that was officially the only thing this idiot and I had in common. I smiled when Breanne gave a spicy look in return, and her eyes lit in humor while she brought her hand back around my waist.

“Richard,” she hung onto the word, prompting me to wait and see if she was about to say what I wanted to. “May we call you Dick?”

She read my damn mind. I bit back a smile when Richard’s eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed. He was obviously insulted that Breanne would make such a suggestion. It appeared that Dick didn’t appreciate being called what he was—a fucking dick.

“You’d be the first to do so,” he said, giving into Breanne’s fake-Rolex smile.

“Well, sweetheart…” I sighed, and since all I’d done lately was smile, I gave Dick the best one I could.

“Excuse me,” Richard glared at both of us. “I think you two should consider another dealership.”

This guy was a straight-up fucking asshole.

“Bummer,” she looked up at me and fake-pouted. “I really wanted that showroom car too.”

I studied her fake smile and arched an eyebrow at her. The woman was pissed that the limp-dick salesman had insulted us. She was also seemingly thinking that picking out the hundred and twenty-thousand-dollar AMG sitting in the showroom would get us out of here.

I smirked at her while the moron snickered to himself. This mother fucker is really treating us like we’re trash.

“You really want that one?” I asked Breanne. “I mean, it does seem like Dick could use a long and stiff commission.”

I would’ve been the first to admit that Richard and Dick jokes were corny and probably only funny when I was a kid, but I couldn’t resist clowning this idiot for as long as I could.

“Well, it’s not like we can afford it anyway,” she shrugged, “and poor Dick wouldn’t get that huge commission.”

“That’s what I’m contemplating,” I returned. “Do we pick a car that gives Dick a bit of softy, or help him out by picking up a car that will give him a big, thick one? It will depend on whether you want that showroom car or not.”

Breanne’s face flushed while I worked to pull as many limp-dick jokes from my ass as I could. These gags weren’t my area of comedic expertise, but Bree and I were on the same wavelength, and there was no choice but to roll with it and amuse ourselves.

“We can’t afford it.” She shrugged. “Regardless, I don’t think Dick wants a hard-on—Oh! I mean a hard one. A hard sale.”

“For God’s sake, woman,” I smiled at her as she was beginning to unravel. “You mean Dick wants a big one? Because let’s face it, the commission on that AMG will be ridiculous.” I looked back at dick-face. “Dick’s a man, and all men want a big one.”

“I think I’d prefer to be called Richard.”

Too late. You probably shouldn’t have acted like a dick when you first greeted us.

“I understand that,” she said, seemingly reverting to her business-self. “It’s all too much. We can’t afford what Dick probably needs. Hefty, soft, or firm.” She eyed me with those beautiful, bashful eyes of hers. “Let’s go!” she mouthed with a lethal glare.

I ignored her and looked at the pissed-off salesman, rubbing the red beard on his cheek. “Hold up. Is this true, Dick?” I asked. “Do you want a good, stiff bonus or no?”

“I don’t know where you two came from, but your Uber driver left you.” He looked at his watch as if we were suddenly wasting his time, and I was about to do just that after he sighed in annoyance.

All right, fucker. Let’s play games, shall we?

“Tell me about these cars.” I pointed toward the lot, releasing Breanne to be captured by the younger salesman who was eyeing us and watching her. He’d get our money if he could manage not to treat us like we had leprosy.

After close to an hour of me and this man, sweating it out, me dragging him car-to-car with some stupid reason to keep him out under the hot sun, Dick finally lost his shit.

Breanne was inside the air-conditioned showroom, having coffee with everyone in the dealership, or maybe she’d left—where was she?

“I have to take a piss,” I told the flustered man. “Fire up this C-Class, cool it down inside, and we might take it for a test drive.”

“Listen,” Dick said, pissed off, “I don’t have any more time to waste with you, sir. I’m not firing up this car. You and your lady friend should probably leave.”

I narrowed my eyes at the man. “You suck as a salesman; you know that?”

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes and locked the last vehicle he’d shown me. “And call me Richard. Your crass insults for the name Dick prove why I knew you were a waste of my time since you walked onto my lot.”

I know. That’s why we acted like idiots and worked up every last tacky insult for the name Dick, dick!

I followed him into the dealership to see Bree’s dimpled smile, three men obviously enjoying it as much as I did, and two young women were laughing. The man I’d pissed off snapped at the five younger, college-aged salespeople, prompting them to get their asses back to work.

Where was the fucking manager in this shithole? I wanted to give the young salesman who’d put that smile on Bree’s face the commission, but fuck if I was going to help the dealership out if this prick was running the joint.

“Where’s the manager?”

“The finance manager is in his office; our owner and manager take Saturday off. So, neither would be of use to you,” the jerk-off answered.

I smiled when I walked over to a brochure and realized that this dealership was run and operated by a man I knew. What were the odds that James Faltino owned this one? I’d acquired his wife’s boutique salon on Wilshire Boulevard when I worked at Mitchell and Associates, and the couple were two of the coolest people I’d met in a long time. Too bad that Richard the dick couldn’t just do his fucking job. Then again, I would be doing James a favor by secretly shopping his business and cleaning house on his shitty employee. Breanne might even feel somewhat better, seeing for her own eyes that shady employees happened to the best of us CEOs. The fact I was blessed with luck and also the gift of sniffing this shit out was just a perk.

“This is James Faltino,” James said when I dialed his number.

“Mr. Faltino, this is Alexander Grayson. I’m at your dealership, sir.”

“Oh, Alex, I’m sorry. I don’t pay attention to the caller ID. I’m too old.” He chuckled that raspy sound I remembered from drinks and dinner the night we acquired his wife’s business. “You’re at the dealership?”

“Yes, sir. Fantastic place. However,” I looked up to see all eyes on me, except for the dickhead who’d stormed off, “you and I might need to go over a few things that need tweaking.”

“Now you have me nervous, Mr. Grayson,” he laughed.

“Nothing to be nervous about, but I will need some help getting to your finance manager so I can have the money wired over to buy your showroom AMG. The white one?” I glanced around and chuckled. “The only one.”

“Mr. Nodder should be there. He doesn’t take lunch breaks on Saturday.”

“Do you have a salesman named Richard?”

“Richard Langley?”

Langley? Fuck me to hell. If only I’d known Langley was Dick’s last name an hour ago.

“Excuse me,” I called out to Richard, who was staring at his phone across the showroom, ignoring me, “is your last name Langley?”

“Who exactly are you speaking to?” Richard snapped.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I heard Faltino growl. “Does he know who you are? That man did not just speak to you that way. I’m mortified.”

“Don’t be, Mr. Faltino,” I tried to be as reassuring as I possibly could. “He doesn’t need to know who I am.” I narrowed my eyes at the asshole who was marching over to me. “You can inform him on Monday, though, if you wish.”

“Give me that phone. I don’t believe you’re talking to Mr. Faltino.”

Richard’s phone rang while Lucy Faltino greeted me on my end.

“Do you need to get that, Dick?” I taunted the man while Lucy told me to give her husband a minute to handle the employee who’d just got his own ass fired.

Richard took his phone out while I went back to Lucy. “Hey, Lucy,” I smiled into the phone, “I just needed someone to get me up to financing, and past your little gatekeeper at this dealership so I can get my friend a car and get back to my place for cocktails on the beach.”

She laughed, “Are you still with the one young beautiful lady? What was her name again, Autumn?”

“Summer,” I said gravely. I narrowed my eyes at Breanne as if I saw Summer’s face in hers. “And no, I’m not.”

All the goofy nonsense left the building the second my ex’s name was brought up. She was the biggest fuckup I’d made since leaving the nightmare of my family life in the past. How the hell could I forget who I was and what was I doing?

There was no fucking way in hell I wanted to go down this road again, and Breanne’s smile had already told me that it was too late. Fuck. I’d dragged her in, and now, I would have to deal with it. The difference was that Summer was Jim’s old secretary—Breanne was my goddamn partner.