Hotshot Boss (Alphalicious Billionaires) Read online

  Hotshot Boss

  Alphalicious Billionaires

  Lindsey Hart

  CONTENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  READ THE REST OF THE SERIES

  ALSO BY LINDSEY HART

  COPYRIGHT

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, or transmitted by email without permission in writing from the publisher. While all attempts and efforts have been made to verify the information held within this publication, neither the author nor the publisher assumes any responsibility for errors, omissions, or opposing interpretations of the content herein. The book is for entertainment purposes only. The views expressed are those of the author alone and should not be taken as expert instruction or commands.

  Copyright © Passion House Publishing Ltd 2020

  All rights reserved.

  Graphics used inside the book are from pngtree and pixabay. Cover made by Cosmic Letterz.

  You can contact the team at [email protected].

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Ever met the deliciously hot boss from Hell? No?

  Well, meet Curtis James, jerk of the century born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a golden stick straight up his ass.

  And three words I would never have expected him to say, “I need your help.”

  I am not going to lie, I nearly died of shock.

  My boss with the perfect straight jawline probably inherited from the Gods, with a gift for rapping instructions faster than Eminem, is actually asking for my help...

  To babysit...

  In his freaking mansion…

  It seems like he, unfortunately, needs to keep his sister’s two devil spawn alive for one weekend (his words, not mine).

  So, put yourself in my shoes. Would you have refused when there was a huge bonus involved along with two cute little kids?

  Plus, what could possibly happen in two days that has not happened in two years?

  And to be honest, I hate my boss. So, this is going to be so easy peasy... NOT.

  OMG, why the ever-living hell was Curtis James wearing only a swim trunk!?

  Did he not know that’s a complete blasphemy with that gorgeous rock hard body of his?

  And no, I don’t even care whether that’s appropriate wear to swim in. It totally should NOT be allowed for him.

  And did he really have to flex his pecs like that? Whose eggs is he trying to ovulate?

  And why is he looking at me the same way I look at chocolate.

  Should I just give up and let him have a lick?

  And it’s not like one lick is going to end up with two pink lines on the pregnancy stick. Right?

  CHAPTER 1

  Lexi

  Everyone had their price. It turned out that Lexi Wellington’s was ten thousand. Ten thousand dollars for two days of babysitting wasn’t bad. It worked out to a little over two hundred and eight dollars an hour. Well over the thirty-two dollars an hour she was making as a receptionist to the biggest jerk in Seattle.

  Curtis James wasn’t just Seattle’s most eligible bachelor. He was the head of a multi-billion-dollar corporation that made and sold kitchen implements of all things. She’d grown up with the James name in her household. Actually, three generations had because that’s how old the company was. Broderick James started the whole thing with a hundred-dollar loan and his incredible ingenuity in his garage after his wife complained about her hand-held cake mixer. Patrick James continued his father’s legacy, expanding at an incredible rate, mass producing, and taking the company global. Curtis James got to inherit the whole dang empire when his father retired.

  Just like most entitled, trust-fund brats, Curtis James did absolutely nothing with his life. His friends called him Curt, but Lexi wasn’t one of his friends. She used to call him, at least in her mind, The Big D, which stood for The Big Douchebag, but then she finally realized what else it could stand for- and she certainly DID NOT know anything about him having a big D- she knocked that right off. She settled instead for TFB, Trust Fund Baby, only in her head of course. It was apt, seeing as he rarely showed up at the office and on days that he did, it was to bark orders in meetings and shit all over everyone’s happiness and no- he didn’t shit rainbows and glitter. More the real, gross, nasty kind of shit that no one ever wanted to smell, step in, deal with, or clean up.

  Most of the time she didn’t mind her job. It was those rare moments, the ten percent of the time, when she actually had to deal with the TFB, that she would rather stick a fork in her eye repeatedly and viciously, than show up to work.

  How she let James talk her into her current predicament was beyond her. Oh right. He actually used the word please, probably for the first time in his spoiled, shallow existence, and sweetened the pot with ten thousand dollars- after taxes- if she was willing to show up at his house at seven on a Friday night and stay until four on Sunday.

  And no. None of James’ anatomy was involved in the bargain. She might be his executive assistant. She might have sandy blonde hair and be okay in the looks department as far as she was concerned. She might even wear the occasional pencil skirt and pair it with high heels because she liked to show up to work looking at least semi-professional, but no. She wasn’t a cliché. She wasn’t going to her boss’ house to gamble on her career. She was there to do what The TFB viewed as the impossible: babysit his niece and nephew for the weekend.

  Unfortunately, Curtis James would be there as well. Duh. They were his sister’s kids and for some crazy reason- which he hadn’t fully explained when he called her into his office mid-week to ask her to save his sorry non-rainbow shitting hide- he’d agreed to look after them for the weekend. He’d debriefed her quick. Given her his usual to the point, asshole list, rattled off like he was reading from some actual bullet pointed paper he’d committed to memory.

  Curtis hated kids. He also made it clear he would never have kids of his own. But he had a sister and apparently, she didn’t hate kids. And unfortunately for him, she’d decided to go and have her own kids. And now, she and her husband wanted to go away for the weekend. When Lexi asked why he’d agreed just like that to be the “sacrificial lamb” here, the TFB said that his sister actually begged, pleaded and even produced actual tears until he agreed to look after her kids. And that she didn’t trust a babysitter.

  He also emphasized to her several times over how much he actually loathed children. Especially the four and two year old variety. He was in deep shit (that was implied, he didn’t actually say it). Would she be willing to help him for the weekend?

  And Lexi wasn’t like Curtis James at all. She actually loved kids. At twenty-seven, she wasn’t exactly read
y for her own yet, but she was actually pretty okay with babysitting not that she had had much chance to do that for the past couple of years. Her brother and sister, both younger, also weren’t ready for settling down and starting families and most of her friends were either single or just getting into that committed stage and didn’t have kids either. But she had done her fair share of babysitting when she was in high school, so she had some experience and was more than ready.

  Curtis James- she usually thought of him in the formal sense and not just because he was her boss, but because he was douchy and spoiled enough to deserve it- didn’t know her at all. If he’d have asked her if she could pull some overtime in the form of babysitting and offered to pay her normal wage plus overtime, she would have actually agreed. She loved kids that much.

  Okay… so maybe there was a little other motivation involved. Maybe she thought Curtis James was hot. So what? He was easy on the eyes. That was just her unfortunate biology acting up. Damn ovaries. She couldn’t help that the guy was walking sex. Lickable to a fault. Even if he was an asshole with a side helping of unwiped asshole assholeness, she still had eyes. And he was still delicious. Maybe that played a small part in her final decision. Maybe. Like, one percent of the motivation. At least twenty percent was the money and the other seventy-nine was the kids.

  Long story short, it was how she wound up in front of James’ sprawling mansion, out of breath, flustered from getting stuck in traffic, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in her skirt and shoulder her duffel bag at the same time. She knocked once. Just a light rap, but it was enough. The door slowly creaked open in front of her. The thing was huge, like fourteen feet high kind of huge. It was a double wood structure that was probably made on the other side of the world and cost a hundred grand alone. It wasn’t carved or anything, past the usual detailing that everyone else had on their normal sized doors, but she knew James’ arrogance would stop at nothing. He probably had to have a fourteen-foot double door because no one else in the ridiculously ritzy, gated community of mansion and billionaires had one.

  She actually expected a butler. Ok, maybe more like a housekeeper.

  She nearly died of shock.

  There was no butler or maid. Nope. That hugely overcompensated door creaked open and there was the TFB himself.

  In jeans and a t-shirt. Looking extremely uncomfortable. Out of his element. Strangely vulnerable. Sinfully, mouth-wateringly, deliciously, ultra-eye pleasing. He was the tastiest of eye candy. Instead of standing there and taking in his full six foot something, bronzed skin, muscles galore, too tight t-shirt clad chest, veiny popping forearms, wicked jeans, tousled mahogany hair, face carved out of diamonds and the tears of angels, Lexi cleared her throat, pursed her lips, raised a brow, and slammed on her best no-nonsense face.

  Oh yeah. She was not currently burning up on the spot. Her ovaries were definitely not hurting either. Nope. Turning into a furnace, internally or otherwise, after a blast of the TFB’s hotness wasn’t on the menu for her weekend.

  “I’m here,” she whisper-yelped. Her voice was all wrong. Too dry. Too thin. Choked up. Of course, the bastard would do something as stupid as not wear a suit in his own house. How freaking dare he be allowed to look like a normal person once in a while? She cleared her throat and tried again. “So? I’m here. Where are the kids?”

  “The monsters you mean?” James’ ultra-delicious, ultra-jerk lips thinned out. “Inside. Tearing my house apart.”

  “You left them unattended?”

  “Only for a minute so I could answer the damn door.” Curtis James stepped out, towering over her, all delicious muscly goodness. He smelled different than he did when he walked into the office, boasting something strong even though it was a scent-free zone. He smelled less like stinky pines and more like unhinged, stressed, sweaty masculinity and sharp aftershave. In essence, he was manly and mysterious and that made Lexi’s legs feel a little watery. Her internal furnace kicked up a few nonsense notches.

  Just then, from out of nowhere, a dark haired, cherub faced blur streaked by the gigantic open door. “Uncle!” The little girl wailed, blue eyes wide, little bow lips quivering, her delicate cheeks stained pink. “Austin got his diaper off and he smeared poop all over the wall!”

  While Curtis James’ face drained of blood and his glacier blue eyes rolled in their sockets, Lexi stepped in, grinning wide. It was funny how a toddler and a bit of poo could take even Seattle’s most eligible douchwad down a couple of notches. Take that, TFB. There was the possibility that this weekend might just, unexpectedly, be the best of her life.

  CHAPTER 2

  Curtis

  She was there. Finally. Fucking. Finally.

  He’d only been waiting for an hour. One. Hour. Lexi Wellington better have a damn good excuse for being late. He’d been through hell since his sister dropped off her two devil spawn. Lexi was supposed to be there a few minutes after. He’d coordinated everything.

  Because she was late, it went to shit.

  Literally.

  Noel ran streaking through the massive living room. The house was five thousand square feet, so she had time to pick up speed. She barreled straight for her brother. The little demon had indeed stripped his diaper off and Curtis could literally feel his stomach spinning and bile bubbling in his throat when he stopped to take in the condition of the once white walls. They were literally smeared with dark brown goo. It looked innocent enough, like questionable mud or maybe chocolate pudding, but it didn’t smell innocent at all. The stench was gag worthy and his reflex was going double time.

  “What the ever-living hell?” Curtis yelled, simultaneously trying not to breathe in. Austin took one look at his uncle. His huge blue eyes got even huger. His chubby cheeks started to wobble. Curtis turned a condemning index finger on Noel, who was supposed to be watching her brother. “Why on earth would you let him do something like that? What the heck is wrong with you both?”

  It took about two point eight seconds for the entire room to break into chaos. Austin’s cheeks went right on wobbling. His lips started going at it a few seconds later. His eyes filled up with unshed tears. He was a mess, his bottom half completely naked, sans shorts or diaper. There was a loaded package a few feet away with more questionable brown goo spilling out of it.

  Curtis tore his eyes from the disgusting diaper and locked them straight on Noel’s face. She was beet-red and went from normal to a banshee right in front of him. She let out an ear-piercing squeal and burst into tears that were probably more crocodile than anything.

  Of course, Lexi fell for it. His damn assistant looked at him like he just tried to murder both kids. Like he didn’t have a right to be angry about his white walls being painted in shit, a shit smeared kid and the brat who let it happen. The wailing hit new levels and Curtis wanted to slap his hands over his ears to keep them from bleeding.

  “You’re an asshole,” Lexi hissed under her breath as she brushed past him. She stopped to hug Noel, patting her on the back. “It’s okay, honey. Your uncle is just out of sorts. He’s not used to dealing with kids. Don’t worry. I’m a friend of his and I’m very excited to meet you. I think we’re going to have a good time, starting with a nice warm bath. How about that? Does that sound like a deal?”

  “R-r-r-really?” Noel sniffed, milking the attention for all it was worth. She’s totally eating up Lexi’s sugary sweetness.

  “Of course.” Lexi dropped Noel’s hand and scooped up the other disastrous demon, carrying him underneath the armpits down the halls and the little shit producer suddenly started laughing and cooing away.

  “First door on the right,” Curtis yelled. He didn’t exactly want to be helpful, but shit. He didn’t want any more shit anywhere else in the house. If Lexi wanted to wash that little beast off, she could be his guest.

  He almost felt bad for her. Ten thousand didn’t seem like enough to deal with that kind of crap. Literally. Then again, he was shelling out ten grand and that was a ridiculous amount, by anyone
’s standards, so instead of tackling the disgusting wall and the sack of shit on the floor, he turned and stalked straight to the kitchen.

  It was just after six. Time to make some fucking macaroni and cheese and send those brats straight to bed. Hopefully, they’d stay there. He’d lined the spare bed with garbage bags just in case Noel had an accident. He wasn’t sure about four-year olds and their potty training. What age did kids start that anyway? Just because she came without a diaper on didn’t mean that she could be trusted any more than Shit Smearer could. Austin, at least, would be contained in the portable crib thing his sister dropped off along with the entire army of other crap that the two beasts apparently needed to stay alive for two days.

  Deeper in the house, the taps turned on and the sound of water echoed softly. A few seconds later, as Curtis was reaching into the cupboard in the kitchen for a pot, his niece’s bubbly laughter followed by her screaming something about the poop washing off Austin, echoed up to him.

  Jesus Christ. How the hell did I get myself into this? Right. His sister invited him out for a beer at her place and while he was half loaded, seeing as her husband was drinking him under the table, she sprung it on him. She needed a vacay. A little time away from the kids. (Fucking obviously!) They needed time for themselves. Adult time. He’d never watched the kids. He did whatever he could to not hang out with them. Didn’t he love them? His own niece and nephew? His own flesh and blood? She’d laid it on thick. It was a simple equation that got him in the entire mess. Half cut plus guilt equaled him agreeing to watch the hell spawns for a few days, even though he knew absolutely nothing about kids. Even though he hated kids. No exceptions. Not even his niece and nephew. People were right when they said that the best form of birth control was making people take care of other people’s kids.