Stubborn Hearted Billionaire (Not Looking For Love #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Asher

"I'll have what he's having."

"Weston Billings, as I live and breathe. Finally gracing us mere mortals with your presence?"

"It's important to mingle with the little people every once in a while, Asher.

" West bows with exaggerated aplomb and grins at me.

Weston Billings is a gazillionaire ten times over, and one of the friendliest guys I've ever met in my life.

There is no one in this world he considers "little," unless you count his new twin babies.

"Hey, Thomas," West greets our other friend who nods but barely glances up from his phone. West turns to me with a furrowed brow.

"He's in love." I shrug, and West chuckles.

"Ah, yes. I thought I recognized the pained face of desperate obsession."

Thomas, West, and I met in our MBA program as twenty-something-year-old bachelors. We played on a polo team together until West got married a few years ago. Now we tend to only run into each other at fundraisers and social functions.

"I'm surprised you're here tonight. Bailey isn't into Valentine's Day?"

West's wife, Bailey Billings, is a spitfire. The perfect snarky yin to West's happy-go-lucky yang.

"She's still working and our dinner reservation isn't for over an hour, so I decided to kill some time."

"I wouldn't want to go home either. Kids destroy a house." The voice of Donovan Elmhurst immediately sours the mood.

West rolls his eyes at me before forcing a smile and turning to address Donovan himself.

"Destroy it, make it worth going home to..." West trails off as he pretends to weigh the two options in his hands.

Donovan lets out a derisive snort and then barks at the bartender.

"Macallan. Neat. Now."

The bartender turns without a word to prepare the scotch, and I clench my jaw hard enough that my teeth creak.

I've known Donovan since grammar school.

Years ago, I even brought him in as a Venture Partner for my company, Rockbuilt Capital, a global venture capitalist firm, but we are at a point in our relationship where I struggle to simply tolerate his existence.

I don't know if he's getting more caustic with age, or if I didn't notice his complete lack of regard for humanity when I was younger, but I've been quietly exploring with my lawyers our options to dissolve his position at the company.

I thought his extensive family connections would be an asset, but the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and several minor scandals, including rumored mob associations, have surfaced over the past year that have made his connection to my company more of a liability.

I'm weeks away from being able to fire him, but Donovan is a loose cannon, so the lawyers have advised I play nice in the meantime to avoid an early counterattack or sabotage.

It helps that he is a raging alcoholic who spends most of his workday passed out on a couch in his office.

At this point, I'm willing to pay him off just to be done, but I'm working a deal with a large investor and want to keep things as calm as possible until that closes.

"Are you meeting someone special later, or hoping Cupid's arrow will strike you right in the ass tonight?" West sits on the stool next to me, strategically choosing the spot as far away from Donovan as he can get.

"Neither." I take a swig of my drink to tamp down the pang in my heart when I think of meeting someone.

"Asher Rockwell giving up on love?" West asks in mock surprise.

The woman I love wants nothing to do with me, a little voice pipes up like a nosy neighborhood gossip. To West, I simply shrug. "My life is busy. Wouldn't want to disappoint anyone."

West starts to say something, but we're interrupted by Thomas' loud voice.

"Fuck off, Donovan."

West and I turn to find Thomas trying to get his phone from Donovan, who shoves Thomas back roughly.

"Whoa, Donovan," I stand up, ready to help, but Donovan turns, shaking the phone in a taunting gesture. The people around us are paying attention to the commotion. Thomas glares at him but seems unwilling to make more of a scene. Donovan grins in triumph and then glances at the screen.

"Dear god, man. You can do better than that cow.

" He throws the phone onto the bar top and reaches for his drink, downing it in one long gulp.

Thomas grabs his phone with a furious scowl, leveling him with a murderous look that Donovan either ignores or is completely oblivious to as he glances around the crowded upscale bar.

"Although, maybe not, judging by the pickings here tonight. "

"It's a wonder you're single, Donny-boy," West pipes up, his good-natured tone laced with an undercurrent of reproach. It's rare to see West's feathers ruffled, but Donovan has a special gift to repel anyone he encounters.

"A fucking blessing, you mean." Donovan holds his finger up to the bartender to signal for another. "Take my advice, Asher. Never get married."

I smile tightly, not trusting myself to respond.

"Some men simply can't be tamed, Donny," West says amicably, but he's already eyeing the exit. This is what two minutes around Donovan does to people.

"I pity the poor woman who ends up with you next, Donovan," Thomas snipes, still pissed. "I can't believe Emma lasted six years."

Donovan swivels his sweaty, red face toward Thomas. "I married down with that one," he barks, and it takes everything in me not to knock his teeth into the back of his throat. Thomas shakes his head, and even West snorts with that little lie.

"Fuck off," Thomas growls. "We all assumed she was pregnant at the wedding. Why else would someone like her marry you?"

"Like she had a choice," he mumbles.

Per usual, my skin crawls with the knowledge that his swollen, meaty paws ever got to touch Emma, but Donovan's words manage to break through my cloud of fury and I turn sharply.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, looky here," Donovan sneers, ignoring me. "Speak of the she-devil."

I follow the path of his narrowed eyes, my heart already racing.

The crowd parts across the bar, revealing several couples occupying the pristine white booths lining the back walls.

In the one directly across from us sits Emma.

Her long, dark, curly hair is loose, and a simple black dress hugs her curves, stopping just below the spot where her knees cross, revealing the softest-looking legs in human existence.

She's talking to a man across the table from her.

He eyes her with disdain, but also ownership.

Like she's a piece of meat he's picked out for his evening meal.

"Uh oh," West says under his breath. "This won't be good."

But I can't concentrate on anything but my own primal instincts thundering throughout my body to the rhythm of one word over and over.

Mine.