Her New Reckless Boss (Dirty Billionaire Club #7)

Chapter One

Zoe

I don't care that it's only nine in the morning - I need a drink.

But instead of motivating myself to get up and tiptoe through the rented cabin without waking my friends and make my way to one of the many bars on this cruise ship, I stare at Jake’s message as my heart squeezes.

It didn't mean anything, you have to believe me.

Joke’s on you, Jake; I don't have to do shit. And I certainly don't have to do anything that you tell me to do anymore, not ever again. You lost the privilege of dictating my actions when you decided to sleep with your secretary.

And for the record, if he can tell me sleeping with her meant nothing, then what does that mean for our relationship if that “nothing” was worth ruining us?

I slip out of bed and take a quick glance around the room at my friends who are all still sleeping peacefully, likely because we all had a few too many drinks last night before bed. Amy’s blonde hair is still up in a messy bun from the night before as she curls under the blankets in her bed. She’s curled in a fetal position wrapped tightly in her blanket.

In contrast, Cassie's red hair is loose and flowing, and she's sprawled out like a cheerleader pretending to be all the letters at a pep rally across her bed. From here I can even see the puddle of drool on her bed and hear her light snoring as she sleeps, and a slight smile creeps across my lips.

Over in the corner bed, Ben sleeps peacefully, and I remember how he’d asked to come with us to get away from his ex-wife, who has been making his life a living hell. He’s one of the few men in my life I consider safe - not only has he never tried to hit on any of us, he's also gone so far as to pretend to be our dates to get us out of awkward, uncomfortable situations where other men refused to take no for an answer. He’s a good guy, but there’s zero romantic feelings between him and any of us, and he’s a great friend. I feel for him; his ex is a nightmare.

I know that I could wake any one of them up and take them with me for a drink, but I want to let them sleep, and I need some time alone to process everything Jake is making me feel. This is supposed to be my vacation, a chance to get away from life and everything he's done to me. But he won't stop inserting himself directly into the middle of everything I do.

It’s infuriating. I'm on vacation, damn it. I deserve to relax and have some fun.

And honestly, I don't think I've ever wanted to hurt someone before, but if Jake were right here... I’d likely kick him in the dangly bits.

I slip into the bathroom and quickly straighten up my hair, splash cold water on my face, and give myself a once-over in the mirror. I'm still wearing my cute black, sunflower-covered sun dress from yesterday, but at this point in time, I don't care. Nothing is going to stand between me and a breakfast of mimosas, not my clothing, not Jake’s words, not the fact that I’m still dressed in yesterday’s outfit. Nobody's going to notice me, anyway - they’re all here for their vacations too.

My phone vibrates and I glance down at the screen. Zoe, talk to me. Let me explain.

I let out a soft snort. How exactly is he going to explain away sleeping with his secretary? What words in what possible order could he say to make me feel better about any of that? Does he really think that there’s some excuse he can make that will make me okay with him cheating on me?

Because there is not. I’m worth more than that. I didn’t deserve to be cheated on. And he’s a dog for doing something so ugly, so callous, so awful to me when all I did was love him with my whole heart.

I sneak out of the bathroom and make my way to the front door of the cabin with his words still ringing in my ear as if he’d said them face to face; Zoe, talk to me. Let me explain.

No, I don't think I will.

I know he wishes we could go back in time before I found out, he wishes that he could just hide his gross cheating a little bit better so that I'd never learn the truth, and I know he wishes that everything could go back to the way it was before I learned what he was up to. But that’s just not going to happen.

And no, I'm not going to forgive him or take him back. As I walk down the long hallway with cabin doors on either side of me, I hold my head high and let a small smile cross my lips. I'm done with him, and this morning over my favorite drink, I'm going to block his number, block him on every social media platform, and blast the truth to the world.

Well, maybe I'll blast the truth to the world first, tag him in every post, wait for him to freak out and demand I stop ruining his life by telling the truth about what he did, then block him.

Yeah, I'm a little bit salty about what he did, and I want him to suffer. I mean, I don't want him to suffer unfairly. I just want him to face the consequences of his bad actions and poor judgment. He deserves that at least, doesn't he? Besides, I need to warn the rest of the world before he does this to the next woman he claims to love.

I make my way into a little restaurant and walk over to the bar. The bartender. A pretty, petite, blonde little thing that would be exactly Jake's type, smiles and asks what she can get me.

“A mimosa, please,” I say sweetly, hearing Jake’s chastising voice in my head telling me the drink will make me fat and internally mock him. The dude rocks a dad bod, has no kids, and tells me how I should eat to stay thin. No hate to dad bods, of course - I just think he has no room to tell me what to do and how to take care of myself when he couldn’t give two shits what I think about his appearance. This is a man I had to remind to brush his teeth every night - he surely wasn’t one to give advice on self-care.

“Coming right up,” she says with a smile, before holding up her index finger in a universal gesture asking for one moment, “after you show me your ID.”

“Are you hitting on me?” I ask, hearing how awkward I sound as she lifts her eyebrows. I let out a breathy laugh. “Sorry, I just spilt up with my cheating boyfriend and I guess I’m rusty.” I pull my ID from my pocket and hand it over as she smiles.

“I’m sorry you went through that.” She hands back my ID. “Let me get that drink for you.”

I nod, feeling silly as I sit, wringing my fingers at the bar and cringing internally at my stupid comment. She's just here doing her job; she doesn't need me to harass her, and I’m not into women, anyway - what if she had been hitting on me and responded in kind? What would I have done then? Probably awkwardly laughed it off and made us both uncomfortable.

Trying not to die of embarrassment, I look around the restaurant and notice it's mostly empty. I have no doubt that most people are still sleeping or enjoying the various activities on board, or even the buffet that serves an amazing breakfast... but no booze.

I'd love to be able to enjoy my trip without the influence of alcohol, but at this point, I don't know that Jake is going to let that happen. He seems hell bent on ruining my good time as if that’ll get him in my good graces and persuade me to take him back. Ha. I need a distraction, to have fun, to remember how it feels to be happy, because joy is in short supply lately and it’s driving me nuts.

The bartender places my drink before me with a wink and slight click of her tongue and I smile, glad that my awkwardness didn’t ruin her polite attitude.

And then I see him .

A handsome stranger with the most piercing blue eyes I've ever seen in my life. He walks into the restaurant with a confident stride, wearing a dark suit and tie that make him stand out from the multitude of people I’ve seen on board. With his dark brown hair, incredible blue eyes, and chiseled jawline, he looks like he stepped out of a magazine or movie.

Yes, I know. I'm staring at him. He's the most gorgeous man I've ever seen - of course, I'm staring. He walks right over and sits next to me with a seat between us.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” he says to the bartender as I pull my drink close and begin sipping, watching his handsome profile all the while.

She nods, her gaze sliding from him to me as a slight smile crosses her lips. Obviously, she noticed that I'm staring, but he doesn't seem to have. No, he's too busy with the phone he pulled out of his pocket when he sat down. He's staring at the screen and seems to be quickly responding to messages or emails with a huff of a sigh and a set to his shoulders that warns me he’s busy and frustrated.

This guy's got warning signs and I'm trying to decide if I'm going to ignore them. I'm on vacation on a cruise. I'm never going to see any of these people again, so what's the harm in flirting with him? The worst that'll happen is he won't be interested, I'll feel a little silly, and then we'll probably never see each other again. But what if the best happens?

Of course, I have no idea what the best-case scenario would be. I guess maybe having a hot date with a movie-star attractive guy? I'm so fresh out of a breakup, I'm not even sure what best-case scenarios look like anymore. Just someone that doesn't break my heart and sleep with his secretary seems like such a low bar to set.

The bartender puts his drink in front of him and then glances at me, tilts her head toward him, and lifts her eyebrows in his direction as if telling me to go for it. I like that. That's exactly what the world needs, more women that build each other up and give each other courage to try things, rather than women that sleep with other women's boyfriends like one example I can think of.

But I can’t stop staring. This man is so different from Jake - my ex was lazy, sloppy, boring...

The stranger downs his drink and continues on his phone as the bartender takes and refills his glass, still silently encouraging me to say something to him. I take several deep gulps of my drink, bringing it below half, as I try to decide how to approach this man. I almost hate to interrupt. He seems so busy and important, like he has a lot of things to do and people to talk to. He hasn't even noticed me at all, Which I think I'm grateful for. I have a feeling that if he had noticed me, I wouldn't be able to breathe right now.

I can't help but wonder what he does for a living, where he comes from, and why he's here. I mean, obviously, he's probably here for vacation, but for some reason, my mind seems to think someone like this would go for something a little more glitzy or glamorous for vacation, some remote private island or something... I don’t know what rich people do, but he sure looks like one.

I quickly lose my nerve and look down at my phone, realizing that Jake is still sending me messages. But I'm done with him. I already know that there's nothing he can say to fix this, and everything he says just makes me more upset. So maybe it's time to block his number and move on.

With trembling fingers, I quickly write up a social media post about what he did so that everyone in our lives can know the truth. I'm not embarrassed. I don't feel responsible for the bad choice he made, and I sure as heck don't ascribe to the ideology that if I had just kept him happy, he wouldn't have cheated on me. He made a choice, and he can live with the consequences of everyone he knows finding out about what he did.

The second I hit send, I block him, then turn my phone off and sit back, a slight smile on my face as my attention strays back to the handsome stranger. Ah, what the heck - I deserve to be happy. Why not make a move? I already know that the worst that could happen is that he could not be interested in me. And that's fine - there's plenty of other fish in the sea; we're on a freaking boat in the ocean, after all.

I can only hope and pray that I am one hundred percent less awkward with him than I had been with the bartender. I decide I'm going to take a chance and talk to him. Maybe he'll be interested in me. Maybe he'll make me forget about Jake for a while. Heck, maybe this will just be an enjoyable way to pass the time.

“Excuse me,” I say to him.

He hesitates, as if he can't believe that someone is speaking to him before looking up from his phone to meet my gaze. Everything about him is intense and captivating, and he raises his eyebrows slightly.

“Yes?” he asks. His deep voice is rich and velvety, and I feel fluttering in my belly as I clear my throat, trying to remember what it was I was going to say.

Unable to remember what witty remark I was going to make, I glance at his drink, my pulse thundering in my ears and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Don't you think it's a little early to be drinking?”

I see the bartender plant her elbow on the bar and put her head in her hand.

The stranger glances slowly at my drink before his gaze slides back to me. The corners of his lips tilt ever-so-slightly upward as his brows rise another inch. “I could ask you the same thing.”

I'm so stupid. How could I forget that I'm sitting here drinking first thing in the morning before breakfast too? What kind of dumb comment did I make? How stupid must he think I am right now? How stupid am I?

I can't hold back an awkward, nervous laugh. “I guess you got me there.” I take a long drink of my mimosa, nearly finishing the beverage while trying not to feel stupid.

But the guy seems interested now and rotates his stool, leaning back against the bar, his eyes on me. “What brings you here?” he asks.

“To the boat or the bar?” This seems like a loaded question through no fault of his own.

He chuckles softly, leaning in closer to me as he lowers his already-gravelly voice. “Both.”

My cheeks begin to warm up under his stare. “An ex has me drinking this early, and I'm on vacation.” I lift my new drink in his direction and his face lights up with a smile.

“I’m on vacation too.”

I take a moment to look him up and down, lifting an incredulous eyebrow. “Really? You don't look like you're on vacation.”

He lifts a shoulder and takes another drink of his whiskey. “I'm always working, even when I'm not.” The tone of his voice sounds almost sad, and I can't help but feel for him.

“What do you do?” I ask, curious.

He leans in even closer, and speaks in a low, conspiratorial voice. “I'm a hitman, “he says casually, a sparkle in his eyes as he spreads his hands and glances down at his suit. “Why, what did you think I do?”

I laugh. “I figured you were a cowboy or something. But hitman makes so much more sense.”

“What about you? What do you do?” he asks, swirling his ice and whiskey with a deft flick of his wrist.

“I’m a vet tech.” I can't help the warmth flooding me with his genuine interest and curiosity.

“You’re an animal lover, then,” he says, matter-of-factly.

I nod. Who doesn't love animals? Nobody I’d trust, that’s for sure. “I do! Caring for animals is my passion.” I’m happy where I am in life, and it’s good to feel validated and seen. “So how is the hitman life?” Of course, that's not what he really does for a living, but I'm happy to keep this joke going. He doesn't owe me any answers, and I’m not about to demand any.

He lifts his shoulders, ducking his head back and forth. “It definitely has its ups and downs.”

That visual makes me laugh and I continue my drink. My friends have always told me I have a dark, morbid sense of humor. Jake didn’t get it, but this guy seems to effortlessly understand me and that’s... a good feeling.

“What do you do when you're not taking care of animals?” he asks, his eyes flicking to my face from his drink.

Here is where I would typically make a joke about taking care of another kind of animal - meaning my ex - but I don’t have to do that anymore. I’m free of Jake and all his strings, his bullshit, and his annoying double standards. “Bold of you to assume I have free time,” I joke, and he laughs.

He laughs a real, genuine, hardy laugh that draws my attention but makes me feel warm and happy. I glance at his lips, wondering what they’d feel like on mine.