Drunk on You: an age gap, enemies to lovers, fake engagement, office romance (Love & Whiskey Boo

Chapter Two

Sharp nails scrapedown my back, startling me awake. It takes me a second to remember where I am and who I’m with—at a hotel in Houston with a nameless woman I brought back here last night. Once I do, I stay still, hoping she’ll give up and head out without me having to give the always-awkward this is never happening again speech.

But of course, like all the women who’ve come before her and who’ll come after her, she doesn’t get the hint, choosing to suction herself to my backside while she drags her fingers around my torso and down to my cock. When she gives it a squeeze, I roll away from her and get out of bed, not wanting her to think there’s the slightest chance anything more will be happening between us.

When I picked her up at the club, I made sure she knew the deal—one night, no strings, and tomorrow, we part ways. Women always agree in the moment, hoping they’ll be the one to change my mind, and then I’m stuck being the bad guy when I make it clear there’s no chance of a future.

They’ll start off pouting, hoping to hit me in my feelings, and when that doesn’t work, they bring on the seduction, thinking sex is the way to a man’s heart. And when that still does nothing to change my mind, they’ll get pissed and stomp out, spouting some bullshit about how I sucked in bed to convince themselves that walking away was their choice and not mine.

And I’ll let them say it because I know the multiple orgasms they screamed out in bed the night before weren’t fake, and if it were up to them, they’d latch on like the leeches they are. But that’s not happening.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I say because I can’t for the life of me remember her name. “It’s been fun, but I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

Her pout is instantaneous, and I internally groan, knowing it’s not going to be easy to get rid of her.

An hour later—after being told I suck in bed at least three times and stopping at home to shower and change—I’m on my way to Rosemary Country Club to golf and have lunch with my boss, at his request.

Rosemary is a quaint town about thirty minutes south of Houston, so it doesn’t take long to get anywhere you’re going. I’ve lived here my entire life, but it wasn’t until a few years ago that I stopped renting my small apartment and bought a home of my own in a development I’d only dreamed I could afford, growing up.

After leaving my car with the valet, I head to where I know Samuel will be waiting for me. I’ve only just entered the lobby when he spots me.

“Julian, thanks for coming.” He shakes my hand and then pulls me in for a hug. “I hope I didn’t force you to end your date early.”

He smirks, and I chuckle. When I was leaving last night, I mentioned going on a date—read: picking up a random woman in the club. He told me if it rolls over to morning, then she’s probably the one. If he only knew that I didn’t bring her back to my place, instead opting to check in to a hotel room in Houston so there would be no chance of running into her again.

“I don’t think there will be another date,” I say with a shrug.

“Aww, well, don’t give up on finding love. And once you do find it, don’t let it go.” He smiles at me, but I can feel the sadness in his tone.

Working for Samuel for as long as I have, I’ve watched him go through losing his wife, his daughter moving away—I never knew her personally, but he’s talked about her over the years—and most recently, falling in love again. He’s the smartest man I know, but he’ll be the first to tell you he’s made a lot of dumb choices over the years. Seeing as he privately owns a multibillion-dollar company, I’m going to bet most of his choices were smart regardless of how he feels now.

Still, I nod in agreement since I’m not about to tell him that finding love doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me. It’s not that I’m some man-whore playboy. I’m too busy to have a different woman in my bed every night. Hell, if I were willing to settle down, it would probably mean getting laid more often. But I’ve learned the hard way that it’s easier said than done.

The truth is, the naive, younger me thought by my age, I’d be married with kids, but moving up the ranks in a company this size and this competitive doesn’t happen while you’re out looking for love.

I started off in the mailroom when I was eighteen and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. From there, I was promoted to errand boy, getting drinks and food for the bigwigs.

But then a few years later, Samuel saw something in me and took me under his wing, helping me become the businessman I am today.

I went from the broke guy women wanted to fuck, but didn’t want to settle down with because I couldn’t provide for them, to the millionaire that women only want for my money.

There is one other option—the wealthy women. I tried dating that type because at least they wouldn’t want my money since they had their own, but they were so stuck-up that I couldn’t even handle having a conversation with them, and it was even worse in bed—imagine a dead starfish lying in the center of the bed.

So, for now, I’m just cruising along, focusing on work and my future. I might be getting older, but I figure I still have plenty of time to find the right woman.

“So, I hear congratulations are in order,” I say once we throw our bags onto the back of the golf cart and jump in—Samuel driving. “Retirement, huh?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I was hoping to speak to you before the article was published, but you were out of town on business, and I felt this conversation would be better in person.”

My heart pounds against my chest, as I hope this conversation is going where I think it is. Having been the Chief Operating Officer for the past seven years, there’s only one position higher than my current one—CEO. And since that position has been Samuel’s and I thought it would remain his until the day he died, I never put it into my head there was a chance of me getting it. But now, with him formally stepping down, the position is open.

“A year ago, if anyone had said I’d be retiring at sixty, I would’ve laughed in their face,” he says, driving over to the first hole. He parks, but doesn’t attempt to get out, so I stay put as well. “This business has been my entire life since I started it almost forty years ago.”

I nod in understanding, knowing firsthand how hard of a worker he is—or was, until he met his now wife. Lately, he’s been spending more time with her than at the office.

“I’ve watched you grow up from a lost teenage boy to a hardworking businessman,” he continues, turning to face me. “And I’m so proud of everything you’ve learned and accomplished.”

I listen, waiting and hoping for the words to come.

“A year ago, you would’ve been my only choice for CEO, but I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching the past several months, and I don’t want whoever steps into my position to make the same mistakes I made. You remind me of myself when I was your age, and while that’s a good thing businesswise, it’s also a recipe for self-destruction.”

I say nothing, confused as fuck and hoping he’ll explain what the hell he’s talking about.

“I want someone hardworking to become the new CEO, which you are,” he adds. “But I also want someone who has and understands family values. After all, he or she is going to be the new face of the company. I’m not saying they have to be married, but I’m looking for someone who can take what I’ve created and make it more family friendly.”

He scratches his neatly trimmed beard, looking off into the distance like he’s thinking, so I stay quiet, figuring he’s not done yet. And sure enough, he continues a moment later.

“Did you know that Rhonda in advertising quit after she had a baby? She wanted to be home with her baby and HR told her if she couldn’t meet the forty-hour requirement, she would be let go. I want someone like Rhonda to feel like this company is her family.”

I stare at Samuel, wondering if I’m being punked, but from his expression, I know he’s serious.

“My daughter practically grew up in that office building, yet I barely know her,” he says softly, his voice filled with unshed emotion. “I destroyed my family for this company, and I won’t allow it to destroy anyone else. I need someone who can be not only the face of the company, but also back it up with their actions.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Who is this guy, and what did he do with the man whose mantra used to be, If you’re not in the office before the sun rises and you leave before it sets, you’re not working hard enough?

He goes on, “I want company get-togethers, new maternity and paternity policies, and I’m not sure you’re the right person to do that.”

“Not the right person?” I choke out. As his COO, I’m already pretty much running the company, especially since he hasn’t been around in months. “If you want these changes, I can implement them.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I know you’re capable of running the company I’ve built from the ground up, but you’re almost forty”—thirty-eight, but that’s beside the point—“and you have no desire to start a family of your own. You work as many, if not more, hours than I ever did, and I get it, Julian. You’ve busted your ass to get to where you are, and I’m not trying to punish you for it.

“But not only does appointing a single man who has never settled down in his life look bad, but my fear is that someone like you taking over would mean the company would continue to run in the same manner. And worse”—he locks eyes with me—“I’m fearful that you becoming the CEO would mean history repeating itself, and the last thing I want is for you to miss out on love because of business.

“Now,” he continues, “that’s not to say you’re not in the running. I won’t be announcing the new CEO until the end of the year, so anything can happen. But I just wanted you to know where I stand. I’m hoping to hire from within, so I’ll be making my short list and watching everything going on at work for the next several months before I make my decision.” He pats me on my shoulder and grins. “All right, enough shoptalk. Let’s go hit a few balls.”

He hops out of the golf cart and grabs his bag like he didn’t just light the match that blew up my entire world.

“So, let me get this straight,”my best friend, Ryder, says. “He’s not requiring the CEO to be married, but he’s looking for a family man.”

“Or woman.”

“Or woman,” he parrots. “I don’t know. It sounds to me like now that he’s married and all happy and in love, he wants the person who’s going to take his position to have the same outlook on life.”

“Exactly,” I agree, throwing back my glass of scotch. “And how the fuck am I supposed to compete with that when I’m not even in a relationship?”

“You could meet someone.”

“Yeah, because that’s the perfect way to start a relationship.”

“Well, you could always hire a wife.” He grins and sips his drink.

“Hire an escort?” I hiss. “That’s illegal, and I’m not about to risk jail time to be CEO. Besides, my luck, that shit would come out at the wrong time and explode in my face.”

“Or you could contact one of those trophy-wife agencies. It’s completely legal. Like Match for the wealthy.”

“That’s actually a thing?”

“Of course it is.”

He pulls out his phone—no doubt to text his fiancée, who I’m sure knows exactly how to find a wealthy man. Nora Arnold comes from money, but not the kind Ryder has. It’s enough to run in the same circles—hence how they met—but not enough for her to be rich in her own right.

Unlike my best friend, she doesn’t have a trust fund worth millions of dollars, which means, in order for her to live the lifestyle she believes is owed to her, she’ll have to marry a wealthy man.

Women like Nora were born and bred to marry rich. She went to college, majoring in some bullshit degree because that’s what’s expected, but she’s never worked a day in her life, aside from “helping out” at her father’s company, which stopped the second she convinced Ryder to let her move in with him.

But he says he cares about her, so I keep my mouth shut and hope she never screws him over.

While we wait for Nora to respond, I ask, “You’re not going for the position?”

He’s the CFO, so it wouldn’t be unheard of for him to try for the CEO position.

“Nah,” he says. “I like it right where I am. Nora would probably kill me if she knew I was giving up the opportunity for a promotion, but”—he shrugs—“she won’t find out, so it’s all good.”

I bite back what I want to say and nod. Ryder is a damn good guy despite his partner of choice. We met several years back when he was hired in accounting and have been friends ever since. He doesn’t care that I didn’t graduate from some Ivy League university, like most other people. He still views and respects me as an equal.

His phone beeps with an incoming text, and he slides it over to me.

“Here you go,” he says. “Trophy Wives R Us.”