One Bed with the Boss (The Kingswood Brothers #1)

Chapter One

Max

The moment my coworkers heard that I was heading to London with my boss, their complexions went positively green.

Honestly, you’d think I was about to put on an elegant Regency dress and play Elizabeth Bennet while strolling past Buckingham Palace, Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, my arm linked to Mr. Darcy’s.

But Rhys Kingswood is no romance hero. And the only thing I saw on the two-week-long trip was the hotel, a few streets, and the massive conference room in Beissen Group’s headquarters, where three parties hemmed and hawed.

Everyone knows the acquisition is inevitable.

The sticking point is the final price and control.

Beissen is sad and resentful because it’s being absorbed into one of various portfolios owned and managed by RF Investment and wants to make a fuss to prove that it matters.

But when you’re the lesser partner, you don’t get much of a say, no matter how much you kick and scream.

At least I was offered generous amounts of…

food. Well, since our British counterparts ate it with a certain amount of gusto, I guess it was acceptable for human consumption, although I mostly had no idea what was in it, so I didn’t touch it.

I ate poached eggs on buttered toast at the hotel for breakfast, then chocolate bars for lunch and dinner.

Although one of the Beissen assistants said there were some fantastic restaurants in the city, I never got to go—I had to help Rhys handle matters stateside after our marathon meetings with the Beissen executives were finally over.

So my heart is soaring as I zip up my suitcases.

Ten till seven in the morning and we’re finally heading home!

And as soon as we land, I’m going to scarf down a big, juicy cheeseburger with extra pickles and mustard and wash it down with an icy Coke.

Can already taste the salty patties and the crispy fries dipped in ketchup. Yum.

After checking all the drawers and tabletops to make sure I packed everything, I slide my feet into slingbacks and smooth down my heather-gray knit dress.

Normally I’d put on an old sweatshirt, loose pants and compression socks for a long flight.

But Rhys might want to have a last-minute face-to-face with some business associates before heading to the airport, so I need to look the part.

I go down to the hotel lobby and fail to see Rhys.

Probably busy checking his messages. His brother Finn was supposed to come to London, but there was an abrupt switch literally four hours before he was scheduled to take off.

Maybe because it was so sudden, Rhys still has to do all the tasks he would’ve normally handed off to Finn and others at the firm on a trip like this.

Since I’m not bustling to get ready for a morning meeting, there’s time to notice certain details of the lobby—like the stunning, spiral-shaped chandeliers and the interesting geometric patterns in the skylight.

It being so early and cloudy, there isn’t much light coming in, but it’s still an interesting architectural point.

I should grab some coffee before Rhys shows up, though, since he’s a grumpy bear without proper caffeination.

There’s a small breakfast place a block away that has decent coffee.

My phone buzzes.

–Jeffrey: Hey, just saw your text. You up now? Can we chat?

I blink at the message. My boyfriend and I have been texting back and forth during this trip, but it’s the first time he’s asked me to chat.

–Me: Sure.

He calls, and I pick up. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good, babe. How you holding up?”

“Not bad. Just been really busy and thrilled to be heading home, although I won’t be sleeping in my own bed,” I say, a little dejected.

“I still can’t believe your place burned down. I drove by last week, and it looked awful.” He’s all sweet concern. My apartment complex burned down the day after I took off for London. “Thank God you weren’t there.”

“Yeah.” Although hopefully nothing would’ve happened even if I had been.

My roommate and bestie, Ailee, got out in time, thankfully.

She sounded okay when I reached out. I didn’t bother to say anything to Rhys, since he probably wouldn’t have let me return anyway.

Multibillion-dollar deal versus a fire? No contest.

“I miss hearing your voice so much.” Jeffrey sighs.

My insides turn mushy. “Me too. Won’t be long before we can get together.”

“So you’re coming home today?”

“Yeah. Listen, why don’t we do a getaway to celebrate your birthday? My treat. I feel terrible about missing it again this year.”

“Ah, it’s no big deal. You were busy working.”

I smile at his gentle understanding. This is another sign he and I are meant to be.

As a hectic business consultant, he recognizes the demand of my career and doesn’t expect me to explain my workload or try to make it up to him.

My ex wasn’t as tolerant of my absence. He dumped me after the fourth canceled date, saying he needed a woman who could be by his side. The one before him wasn’t much better.

Jeffrey adds, “But yeah. I’d love that, as long as it’s quick.”

“It is. A weekend getaway.” I sound a tad wistful.

I’ve hinted that I’d love for us to take a week or two off and have a nice, long romantic trip to Japan or France, but he can never find the time.

He’s always apologetic about it, promising to cut back a little and make it up to me once he gets promoted to manager.

“So where are you going to stay?” he asks. “Did Ailee find a new place yet?”

“No. She moved in with her boss. Did you see that video? The one with that cheating scumbag fiancé?” I hiss. The one thing I can’t tolerate is infidelity. It’s on par with kicking puppies. Ailee deserves so much better.

“Yeah, I think everyone did. Somebody should’ve punched that guy when he disrespected her like that. Anyway, you can crash at my place if you want. I’m in Seattle this week for a project, but I’ll tell the management company about it.”

“Thanks. You’re the best. When are you getting back? Thursday?”

“Yup…unless something blows up with the client. You know how that is.”

Don’t I ever. His clients are as demanding as Rhys. “Want me to pick you up?”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be on a red-eye.”

“I don’t mind. I can’t wait to see you.”

He laughs. “Okay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more, babe. Look, I gotta go. Got an early meeting tomorrow.”

I make kissing noises as we hang up, then drop the phone into my purse.

“How cozy,” comes a near-sneering voice that could’ve been used to say, “Rat droppings.”

Grouchy Bossman alert.

Rhys thrusts a hot black coffee into my face. “Here.”

I accept it and open my mouth to express gratitude—

“Since you were too busy smacking your lips at your boyfriend to do your job and get coffee for us.”

Thank you dies in my throat as my eyes drop to another cup in his hand.

I take a sip—it’s strong, with a hint of sweetness from a packet of Splenda, just the way I like it.

The man can be surprisingly considerate.

It’s just that he rarely bothers—and his thoughtfulness generally comes with some sort of expectation that I put in more hours or something.

He’d be ten billion times more attractive if he kept his grouchiness to himself and just let his presence dominate the space. After all, the man stands tall, confidence radiating like the ever-burning sun, irresistible and awe-inspiring.

And beyond is his stunning beauty. I’d never met a man who could be described as beautiful until him.

His near-black hair is always impeccably slicked back, his complexion perfectly tanned, although it’s a mystery when he finds the time to sun, given his work schedule.

His indigo-blue eyes are sharp and piercing behind gold-rimmed glasses perched on his straight nose.

The glasses should make him look a little nerdy, but the effect is more along the lines of a cool genius.

The only issue is that sometimes his overly calm composure makes me want to ruffle his feathers, just to see if it’s possible.

Also to break the weird tension that’s coiled in my belly on a few occasions when I’ve caught him studying me with an intensity that makes my legs unsteady.

His shoulders are way too wide, his hips too trim. There’s got to be a six-pack underneath his bespoke suit and coat.

But he isn’t my type. His appearance is top-notch, but everything else?

Hell no. He’s the type of guy you have a hot fling with, then forget about the next day because a relationship with him is bound to hit a dead end.

The man is a grouch who only cares about work—and making more money than the GDP of a small country. Anything else? Not on his radar.

However, he must be good at certain activities, since countless hot women are romantically linked to him, even though he doesn’t seem to spend more than he absolutely must on them.

I’ve never had to buy flowers or gifts for anyone, and he’s too busy to do it himself.

He doesn’t remember or celebrate any special occasions, except for his brothers’ birthdays.

Damn. Now that I think about it, he’s getting laid without spending any money or time. What kind of magic dick does he have? If I’m ever single again—doubtful—and accept a job offer elsewhere, I might consider riding that ride just to see if he’s as good as my imagination makes him out to be.

“Sorry”—not!—“if my personal life grosses you out, but I wouldn’t have had to do that if you hadn’t dragged me here on four hours’ notice.

” I shoot him a saccharine smile after taking another sip of the coffee.

“My boyfriend isn’t super clingy, but he does need at least a little connection with his girlfriend. ”

“That’s a nice way of saying he doesn’t care that much about the relationship.”