Billionaire Daddy (Daddy Knows Best Book 4) b- Kelly Myers Page 0,2

from Lyon Street to Divisadero Street is better known as Billionaire’s Row and I live there because I own and run Carson Industries, an extremely successful company that deals in mergers and acquisitions.

I literally have the best of everything that money can buy. But, lately, I feel like something’s missing. Maybe I’m just jaded, I think, and take a sip of my drink. I’m 45 years old, as fit as though I were still 25, but now polished and desired. Men want to be my ally, women want to sleep with me. According to the ladies, I’m told it’s the striking combination of my dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. Whitmore’s wife said the moment she saw me, she creamed her knickers.

She’s British, by the way.

I don’t know about all that, but I do know that with one look, every pair of La Perla silk panties drops. I’m not complaining, but at the same time, it’s become so easy and predictable. No one challenges me anymore. They see Drew Carson, San Francisco billionaire, and bend over backwards to please me whether in the boardroom or in the bedroom.

Jesus, Drew, stop whining. No one feels bad for you.

Actually, I feel bad for me so why can’t I sit here and sulk for a bit? I pay enough in membership dues every year to this damn place so if I want to keep drinking their Macallan and have a pity party then who’s going to stop me?

No one is going to stop me. Because no one cares. Not really, anyway.

As I contemplate lighting up one of the club’s fancy Cuban cigars, I spot my prey.

James Douglas, the current CEO of JD Unlimited, walks into the room and pauses to greet a group of men. Hmm, he’s not a member so I wonder who invited him? Not that it matters. When he finds out I’m a member here, he’ll never join the Pacific Club since he hates my guts.

A few weeks ago, I decided to target and acquire JD Unlimited, a technology company. James Douglas wants to stay independent and so far has put up a pretty good fight. But, not all M&A’s are peaceful and he’s about to learn the hard way that once I set my sight on a target, it will become mine. One way or another.

Shit. He sees me. I swallow the rest of my drink, set the glass down and head for the exit. I don’t need a confrontation in front of the other members. But, he’s on my heels and the moment I step out the brownstone’s front door and onto the sidewalk, he calls my name.

“Carson!”

I take a deep, annoyed breath and slowly turn around. James Douglas is 32 and conducts business like the California surf bum that he used to be. Laidback and easygoing. It’s a wonder the company is so successful with that kind of attitude.

“Douglas,” I say, my voice cool, not in the mood to do this now.

“Nice try, but my board of directors and shareholders aren’t interested in being run by Carson Industries. They’re not selling their stock to you, so you can take your tender offer and shove it up your ass.”

This punk really pisses me off.

I mistakenly thought that a public bid for a large chunk of their stock at a fixed price, higher than the current market value, would encourage the shareholders to sell their shares to me. Didn’t happen. Oh, well, so now it’s cutthroat time. And, I was going to relish ripping the company out of this asshole’s hands.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got other ways to accomplish a takeover.”

Before I even realize it, the normally laidback James Douglas throws a punch and I feel my face slam sideways. I come back around and, eyes blazing, take him down in a tackle. As we roll across the sidewalk, I can only imagine what the uppity members standing outside the club are thinking.

Tacky Nouveau Riche, no doubt.

I don’t care enough to stop, though. I grew up fighting on the South side of Chicago so if anyone takes a swing at me, he’s going down. Fucker, I think, and slam my fist into his jaw.

“Break it up!” a voice yells.

A moment later, I feel someone yank me off Douglas. He scrambles up and we glare at each other, breathing hard.

“I’ll go bankrupt before I sell to you,” he threatens.

I move my jaw back and forth, making sure it’s not broken. My eyes narrow, as emotionless and black as a shark’s.