Arrogant Boss Read online

  Julian Hunt is a legend. A tech billionaire and a playboy philanthropist.

  He’s not someone you meet, not without a six-month wait. Except I did—and not in that sweet, meet-cute kind of way. I wish.

  No, I manage to run headfirst into Julian Hunt in a nightclub. It’s the spill-my-drink-over-his-suit kind of headfirst, the break-my-heel kind.

  But the arrogant bastard doesn’t leave. No, he carries me to my car. He implies that I fell on purpose to catch his attention—how dare he!—and after I’ve chewed him out, he asks for my number.

  I don’t expect to see him again. After all, lightning doesn’t strike twice. But when I walk into a business negotiation the next day, who’s sitting on the other side?

  Julian Hunt.

  He’s wearing a smirk and a perfectly tailored suit, and he’s not there to play. He dominates. I walk out of the negotiation having somehow been offered my dream job. It’s an offer far too sweet to refuse.

  But if there’s one thing more intimidating than Julian Hunt at a nightclub, it’s Julian Hunt as a boss. A persistent, dominant, sexy-as-hell boss.

  He might have decided that we’d be perfect together, but I won’t be tempted by his broad shoulders and wicked tongue.

  Julian might be a hunter.

  But I refuse to become his prey.

  Contents

  Title Page

  1. Emily

  2. Julian

  3. Emily

  4. Emily

  5. Emily

  6. Emily

  7. Julian

  8. Emily

  9. Emily

  10. Emily

  11. Emily

  12. Julian

  13. Emily

  14. Emily

  15. Emily

  16. Emily

  17. Julian

  18. Emily

  19. Emily

  20. Emily

  21. Emily

  22. Julian

  23. Emily

  24. Emily

  25. Julian

  26. Emily

  27. Julian

  28. Emily

  29. Emily

  30. Emily

  31. Julian

  32. Emily

  33. Julian

  34. Emily

  35. Julian

  Epilogue

  Broken Hero

  Chapter 1

  About Olivia

  Copyright © 2019 Olivia Hayle

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be distributed or transmitted without the prior consent of the publisher, except in case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews.

  All characters and events depicted in this book are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and explicit scenes, and is intended for mature readers.

  Cover by by Sarah Armitage Design

  Edited by CT Edits

  www.oliviahayle.com

  1

  Emily

  “Relax.”

  “I am relaxed!”

  Denise raised an eyebrow. “As if. I can practically feel the tension radiating from you across the table. Tomorrow’s going to go great. Both you and Turner have prepared for this for weeks.”

  “I know. But—“

  “No, stop thinking about it. A night of fun will do you good.”

  I took another sip of my fruity, wildly over-priced mocktail. “Okay, okay, I won’t think about it. You’re right.”

  “I always am. It’ll go great, Em.”

  “I don’t even know what you’re referring to.”

  Denise grinned. "That's the spirit. The only thing you should be concerned about tonight are drinks, dancing, and dudes."

  “Dudes? Since when do we refer to men as dudes?”

  “It was an alliteration. I know how you like slogans and catchy titles. Oh! My co-workers are here.”

  Denise waved at a group of women making their way from the bar. They were dressed to the nines, in sky-high heels and matching clutches, and looked far more used to this scene than Denise and me.

  We were in a packed club in the Financial District, a place with a massive waiting list, all to impress Denise’s new colleagues. She’d been made a full-time writer at the online platform Yas.

  Yes, exactly like that—Yas. We both thought the name was a bit silly, and the platform vapid, but Denise was a brilliant writer and this was just a stepping stone to world domination.

  As the supportive friend I was, I had come along to celebrate her promotion—even if that meant going to a too-expensive club, putting on a pair of uncomfortable heels, and breaking out a red lipstick I’ve worn too few times to justify the price.

  The music was a pulsing beat and bodies were writhing out on the dance floor. The club was packed. Just finding a table for the two of us had been hard enough, and I had no idea how we’d fit three more people here.

  Despite my promise to Denise, I wanted to glance at my watch. Tomorrow was a big day for my brother, and I had to be sharp…

  “Emily.” Denise snapped her fingers in front of my face. “They’re approaching. Look alive.”

  “Sorry!”

  Denise stood. “Hi guys! I’m so glad you could make it.”

  “Me too,” the blonde ring-leader said to Denise. “We were ecstatic to hear that you were joining Yas permanently."

  “Just ecstatic,” a brunette repeated from behind. I shook hands with all three of them and wished I could hear their names over the pounding beat. Their eyeliner was perfect, and I ran a hand through my loose hair self-consciously.

  The blonde took a seat next to me. ”What do you do at Yas?" I asked.

  “I cover holistic beauty and experimental health.”

  “Wow. What does that mean?”

  “Trying a lot of funny-smelling products,” she said with an enviably raised eyebrow. “What do you work with?”

  This was where I wished I had a better answer than the truth. “I work in press and marketing.”

  “No way!”

  “Yeah.”

  “For what company?”

  I cleared my throat. “For Pet and Co.”

  She frowned. “I haven’t heard about that.”

  “It’s a pet and grooming business. Not really too exciting. I think it’s—“

  “Guys?” Elisa, the brunette, shot us all a secretive grin. “Have you seen who’s in the VIP section tonight?”

  Blondie next to me leaned back. “Do you mean the launch of Viper?”

  “Yes. Did you know?”

  She looked superior. “Why do you think we suggested this place?”

  Denise and I shot each other confused glances. “What’s Viper?”

  “Some new app.” She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s not important. Who is in attendance, however, is. Some of the hottest names in tech are here. Rafe Christensen, Danny Stephens, and of course… Julian Hunt.”

  “Hunt is here?”

  “I swear I just saw him.”

  “It wasn’t confirmed if he would attend or not.”

  The three of them craned their necks, trying to see across the club to the VIP section. Even from this distance, I could see the polished suits, the flowing bottles of champagne.

  Denise sidled closer to me. “That’s where we should be.”

  I snorted. “Right. Doing what? We know nothing about tech.”

  “Which is why they would love us! They’d find it refreshing.”

  “Aren’t you dating that blogger?”

  “No, that was ages ago! You have to keep up.”

  I grinned. “I can’t. “You’re impossible, Denise.”

  “Come on, girls,” the blonde
declared. “Let’s dance.” I grabbed my half-finished daiquiri and joined them on the dance floor.

  Nearly an hour later, I was done. I was so, so, so done.

  I could party with the best of them. But the business meeting for my brother’s potential contract was at ten o’clock the following day, and despite my promise to Denise, there was nothing more important.

  I grabbed Denise and gave her a quick hug.

  “I have to go,” I spoke into her curly red hair, hoping she could hear me over the pounding bass. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you for coming. Good luck tomorrow! Tell Turner I’ll be thinking of him.”

  “I will.” I grinned at her. “Don’t go too crazy tonight.”

  She gave me an innocent little smirk. “Who, me?”

  I shook my head at her in mock disapproval. If there was someone who could handle herself, it was Denise. Party until five and then up at nine for work, and do a damn good job as well. It was very unfair, but she’d always been like that. Too much energy for one person to contain.

  I made my way through writhing bodies, my clutch tucked tight under my arm and the last of my daiquiri in my hand. I needed to find a place to leave the glass.

  Too many people. Too loud music.

  An arm wound its way around my waist and I twisted away. A man leered at me, a drink glued to his hand as his other reached for me.

  “Dance with me, sugar.”

  I frowned. “Definitely, not.”

  This, too, reminded me why I didn't go out too often. Denise kept pushing me to go out with more men, and while I agreed that my semi-celibate status wasn't exactly enjoyable, you don’t find your soulmate in a club.

  I was by the exit when it happened.

  I heard a snap, and then I was airborne and tumbling. My hands reached out to try to steady myself and I fell straight into a passing stranger.

  A strong arm reacted but it was too late, and I hit the club floor with a crash.

  Embarrassment flooded through me and I scrambled onto smarting knees.

  “Are you alright?”

  I pushed my hair back and looked up to find the owner of that deep, rumbling voice.

  Cheekbones. Expensive suit. A concerned expression.

  No no no. I recognized this man.

  “I’m fine!”

  He reached down and strong arms fitted themselves under my shoulders. I’m lifted to my feet like a child, only to find that I can’t stand properly. He frowned and looked down.

  I followed his gaze. “Oh. My heel broke.”

  “Occupational hazard.” His voice was smooth, polished. Dark. I cleared my throat and slipped out of my pumps. Barefoot, I only just reached his chin.

  Julian Hunt.

  Of all the men in the world, why did I have to trip into him?

  My eyes traced down the long column of his throat, his white shirt, the top button undone to expose just a hint of tan skin, a giant pink stain on his shirt…

  I clasped my hand to my mouth. “Oh my God. I am so sorry, that was my drink, wasn’t it?”

  Julian Hunt looked down. “I think so. Strawberry daiquiri, was it?”

  “Yes. I’m so sorry.” My cheeks were on fire. “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning.”

  He smiled—actually smiled at that. “Certainly not. I’m just happy you weren’t injured in the fall.”

  I blinked. “No. No, I wasn’t injured. I… where is my bag?”

  We both looked at the dark club floor in silence. We were by the exit, so there was more light, but still not enough. I was also looking at it far closer than I would have liked, being barefoot on this disgusting surface.

  Julian found it first, grabbing the navy clutch hidden along the dark baseboard. “This it?”

  “Yes. Thank you again.”

  “Anytime.” He cocked his head. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

  For a long moment, all I could do was stare into the curious green eyes looking back at me. Julian Hunt—billionaire playboy, America’s tech sweetheart—was prolonging the moment. Making conversation with me.

  “Yes, it was alright.”

  “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

  Maybe it was the fall, or maybe it was the teasing glint in his eyes, but I surprise myself with my answer. “I don’t know if you heard but there was a launch party tonight for an app. A bunch of rowdy Silicon Valley types were making a lot of noise from the VIP section.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. Sort of ruined the mood for the rest of us, to be honest.” I bent forward, and dear God, but I’m flirting with him. “Don’t let them know, if you see one.”

  Julian’s smile turned crooked. “Oh, don't worry. I stay far away from that crowd.”

  My heart was beating fast. This was too much, and I was too inexperienced at this. This wasn’t a college guy fumbling around. This was a man, a man who was experienced and wealthy and used to perfection and by God was he handsome. I wetted my lips.

  “Thanks again for finding my bag.”

  Julian looked amused. “One of my lesser talents.”

  “Very impressive.”

  “I’m sure.” He looked out towards the parking lot. “Were you heading out?”

  “Yes, I was planning to. My car is parked here.”

  “But now you can’t.”

  My eyes widened. I couldn’t leave? Because now I had met him?

  But then he glanced down at my bare feet. “Because you have no shoes.”

  “Oh. Right. I don’t.”

  He shrugged. “There’s only one thing to do then.”

  Before I could register what he was doing, Julian Hunt bent and put his arms around me. I was lifted up with a very unflattering screech.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You can’t walk barefoot out of a nightclub,” he said, not looking winded in the least. “There might be glass on the pavement.”

  "But… this is weird.“ I was being carried by a veritable stranger—a famous stranger—and I hadn't been carried like this since I was twelve.

  His crooked smile was back. “I’ve never been bothered by ‘weird.’”

  Julian Hunt smelled good. Too good. My arm wrapped around his neck as an employee opened the front door for us.

  “Valet stand?”

  “To the left.”

  People were lingering outside, some in line to get in and others just out for a smoke. All of them watched us walk across to the valet stand. My cheeks had to be on fire, that’s how hot they felt.

  Julian didn’t put me down when we arrived, just looked at me expectantly. So did the valet worker.

  “Oh, right! Let me just find it.” I clawed through my bag in search of the ticket. Seemingly unable to stop myself, I rambled on. “My heel broke, by the way. That’s why… that’s why he’s being chivalrous.”

  The valet worker accepted my ticket with a grin. “I’m sure, miss.”

  He disappeared to fetch my car and I glanced up to see Julian grinning too. He was far too close like this—it was impossible to ignore just how excruciatingly attractive he was. He always had been, on the magazine covers and online interviews. But weren’t famous people supposed to be, well, just less when you saw them in person? Shorter than you expected, or less attractive? They were not supposed to be more good-looking.

  “You can put me down now,” I said. “This will take a while.”

  In a smooth movement, Julian let me slide down. My feet touched the cold pavement and I pulled my jacket tighter around me.

  “Stand in your shoes?”

  I nodded and slipped them on, mismatched heights and missing heels and all. "Thanks for carrying me."

  “Just being chivalrous,” he repeated with a smile. “I have to say, I’ve had a lot of women do interesting things to get my attention, but fake-falling is new.”

  My eyes snapped to his face. “What?”

  “I’m complimenting you on your ingenu
ity. The drink was a nice touch.”

  For a long moment, all I could do was stare at him. Julian Hunt might be handsome but he was surely not humble.

  “You’re serious,” I said slowly. “How arrogant do you have to be to believe I willingly tripped just to get your attention?”

  His lips quirked at my tone, and the fact that he was enjoying my outrage only made me angrier. “You’re unbelievable. Do you think I snapped my heel on purpose? Waited for the right moment when you passed by the exit?”

  Julian’s dark eyes were alight. “You have a temper.”

  “I do when I’m being accused of… of… I’m not even sure what to call it.”

  “Entrapment?”

  “Yes. That.”

  “Are you OK driving yourself home?”

  I blinked at him. “Um, yes. Of course."

  “Are you sure? I could drive you home, if not. My Porsche is parked just over there." He nodded to the front.

  I couldn't help myself—I laughed. This man was unreal. “Was it really necessary to mention the car brand in that sentence?"

  His smile turned bashful, and then a bit teasing. "No. I'm bragging, aren't I?"

  "I think you are."

  "Damn." He ran a hand through his admittedly very thick hair. “You really didn’t fall on purpose, did you?”

  “Absolutely not. It was humiliating.”