My Billionaire Boss Triplets (Her Billionaire Triplets #1)

Chapter 1

Remy

The rain is doing that thing where it can’t decide if it wants to drizzle or commit to a full-on downpour, so it hovers somewhere in between annoying and indecisive, like my last relationship.

I pull my rain jacket tighter and duck under the awning of Antonio’s. The mysterious interview is at a restaurant I’ve always wanted to try out, but my budget never allowed it.

Apparently, someone thinks I’m worth the investment.

But the email had been cryptic.

Interview.

Tuesday, 7 p.m.

Antonio’s.

Ask for Sadie.

No company name. No job description. An NDA that made my lawyer friend whistle low and tell me, “Either this is the opportunity of a lifetime, or you’re about to become an accomplice to illegal activity.”

Given my current circumstances, I’m almost willing to risk the felony. Almost.

I push through the door and step into warmth and the scent of expensive food. A hostess in a black dress appears immediately.

“Miss Ray?” At my nod, she smiles. “Right this way. Sadie is expecting you.”

I follow her through the restaurant.

We stop at a door near the back. She knocks twice, then opens it.

The woman sitting at the table looks like she could run a Fortune 500 company or a small country with equal efficiency. She’s older, maybe late seventies, with stylish silver hair swept back from her face.

She rises and extends a hand, with her calculating eyes fixed on me. “Remy Ray. I’m Sadie. Thank you for coming.”

She doesn’t give her last name.

Her handshake is firm, confident, and I like her immediately.

“Thank you for the… mysterious invitation?” I manage. “I have to admit, the lack of details is either very intriguing or very concerning.”

She laughs, a genuine sound that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “Forgive me. In my experience, some conversations are better had in person.” She motions to the chair across from her. “Please, sit. I took the liberty of ordering wine. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

I sink into a chair and try not to look as out of place as I feel. My black pants are clean, at least, and my boots are only a little scuffed. Of course I wanted to dress up, but I did the best I could with what I had available in my closet.

Sadie pours deep red wine into my glass. “I imagine you’re wondering why you’re here.”

I take a sip. It’s really good. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

“I have a job for you. One that requires someone with your particular skill set.” She leans back, studying me.

“You’re an ethical hacker. One of the best, from what I understand.

You’ve exposed vulnerabilities in systems from universities to banks, always with permission, and always within legal boundaries. ”

My stomach tightens. Always ethical, but not always legal. Instead, I say, “Thorough homework. Should I be flattered or concerned that you know my professional history better than I do?”

“I’m always thorough.” Her knowing smile appears. “I’m aware of your recent… difficulties. With your former employer, Dustridge Industries. And you’ve also had a pretty recent break-up. Quite tumultuous, from what I understand.”

And there it is. The part where we address whether I’m too damaged to be useful.

I set down my wine glass carefully. “If you’re referring to the fact that I left my last position, I quit. They wanted me to cross lines I wasn’t willing to cross.”

I meet her eyes, unsettled by how much she seems to know. My breakup isn’t exactly public knowledge. But people with money have ways of finding things out, I suppose.

There is no point in denying what she already knows. “And yes, my relationship ended around the same time. So, if you’re wondering whether I’m too much of a mess to do this job—”

“I’m wondering no such thing.” Her bluntness stops me mid-spiral. “I know you quit on principle. I know that walking away from a six-figure salary because the work didn’t sit right with you tells me everything I need to know about your character. And I know strong women can threaten mediocre men.”

I stare at my wine glass, jaw tight, waiting for the sting behind my eyes to fade. Hearing someone say I did the right thing feels like oxygen. “So, what’s the job?”

“I’m interviewing you on behalf of a cybersecurity firm. One of the best in the country. Recently, they’ve discovered some concerning vulnerabilities in their own systems. They need someone from outside the company, someone with no connections to their existing team, to investigate.”

I lean forward. “So, you’re offering me the job?”

“I have a stake in this company’s success, and I trust my own judgment more than I trust corporate HR departments.” She refills my wine glass. “So, you will still need to interview with the executive team, but they will take my advice. And my advice is to hire you.”

Ominous proposition. But I’m not ready to walk away. I haven’t had a job offer in six months, and my dad needs surgery that insurance won’t fully cover.

Also, the wine is delicious.

“What kind of contract are we talking about?”

“Six months, minimum. Excellent pay. Private office, full access to their systems, and whatever resources you need.”

She slides a leather folder across the table.

“This is a preliminary agreement. Nothing binding, but it outlines the potential offer. Take it home. Review it. Have your lawyer review it. If you’re interested, I’ll set up a meeting with the executive team next week to do a final interview with you.”

I open the folder. The salary number has so many zeros that I have to count them twice. My hands are shaking, but I manage to close the folder.

“This is…” I trail off, because I don’t have a description for what this is.

“Fair compensation for your talents. You’re worth every penny, Remy. I hope you know that.”

The sting behind my eyes is back. I close the folder before I get tears on the expensive paper. “I’ll review it.”

“Good.” She signals to a server, who appears immediately with a takeout bag. “I had them box up dinner for you. Risotto with porcini mushrooms and truffle. You’ll love it.”

I take the bag, feeling increasingly like Alice down the rabbit hole. “You didn’t have to—”

“Nonsense. You came here to eat, and I won’t send you home hungry.” She stands, and I scramble to do the same. “And Remy?”

She places a hand on my arm.

“Sometimes the universe puts us exactly where we need to be, even if the path there wasn’t what we planned. I have a feeling this is one of those times.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m in my beat-up sedan, holding an expensive bag of food and trying to process what happened.

My phone buzzes, and my best friend is just the person I want to talk to.

Jess: How’d it go? Are you rich yet? Am I rich yet by proxy?

Me: Interview was weird but good. Possible job offer. Will explain over food tomorrow.

Jess: You better. I need details. ALL the details.

I stare at the folder sitting next to me on the leather seat.

At the salary number that could solve so many problems. I glance up at the windshield.

Outside, the rain has finally committed—full downpour now, washing the streets clean.

Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe it’s the weather.

But for the first time in six months, I feel hope creeping back in.