Christmas Billionaire Read online

  CHRISTMAS BILLIONAIRE

  By Nella Tyler

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Nella Tyler

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  Chapter 1

  Dexter

  Aw Fuck! I thought as I sprinted into the gym and saw that Garrett’s car was already parked in its spot in the lot.

  Of course, he was already there. Why wouldn’t he be? The meathead practically lived at the gym. He had his own parking spot.

  In all fairness, the parking spot wasn’t official, but pity the poor bastard who parked there.

  Garrett was my best friend, but with his brute strength and bulging muscles, there was a Hulk-like anger that came along with it. He knew better than to go green on me, but I was the exception.

  I had known him for far too long, since grade school to be exact, and therefore, I had earned the right not to put up with any of his shit.

  However, I certainly wasn’t good enough to slip past hearing about how I was late for the gym…again.

  Yet, while this was Garrett’s home, sometimes literally, it was my begrudging necessity. I was far too busy and my life was far too complicated to enjoy anything, especially more work.

  “Well, well, well! Would you look at that? The pussy actually decided to show,” Garrett jeered, spotting me from across the room and yelling so that everyone in the gym looked up from what they were doing.

  Thankfully, when they realized who had spoken and whom he was talking to, most the onlookers, either from fear or complacency, returned to their reps without a second thought.

  “Fuck you!” I yelled back as I jogged up to him. “Some of us have other obligations.”

  “Yeah, well, I get my screwin’ and my drinkin’ done too, but I still managed to get to the gym on time.”

  “I’m only a few minutes late, and besides, I do it for your own benefit,” I answered and when his expression grew intrigued, I continued, “You worrying if I’m gonna show is about the only way to get your heart rate up anymore.”

  I took a swing at his chest and hit a solid wall of muscle.

  “You know damn well that isn’t true,” he replied, grinning in a raunchy manner. “There are quite a few things that get my heart rate, among other things, up, but you sure as hell aren’t one of them.”

  I laughed as I turned toward the weight rack and pulled out my allotted poundage.

  I was surprised Garrett didn’t say anything about the fact that I was lifting far less than he was, though I still thought it wasn’t too shabby. I was going for a toned look, while Garrett took pride in nursing the whiskey barrels a that had grown under his skin. While he wanted everyone to know the power he held, I was more modest. I wanted to look good and be healthy, but I wasn’t about to slather myself in oil and win any competitions.

  I wasn’t sure if Garrett ever did something like that, but if he did, that was one aspect of my friend’s life that I wanted nothing to do with.

  “So, how did that deal go?” Garrett inquired after I had completed a set.

  I grunted as I started my next rep and glanced over at him, slightly envious of his clean brow, while mine was already nearly saturated.

  “I’m still not sure yet. My father is all about this deal, and I’m supposed to be his golden-fucking-goose, but I have no idea how to approach them.”

  “I thought you had that meeting last night.”

  “Yeah…I did,” I told him, pretending that the strain I felt was more from the conversation than the screaming in my muscles. I groaned.

  “That good, huh?” he moved an eyebrow upwards and snickered.

  Garrett was well aware of how my father acted as the resident tyrant, not only in my house, but also where I worked.

  I was hired out of college by my old man, and at the time, it sounded like a sweet deal, but now, nearly twelve years later, I realized that I had signed a contract with the devil himself. In all fairness, I should’ve expected as much.

  My father was a grade-A asshole, and everyone who had ever met him knew it. He used money and power, which he had an abundance of after starting his own marketing firm nearly thirty years ago, to control people.

  As a father and husband, he wasn’t much different. Although, he provided for us and in his own way; I’d like to think he cared about us more than his clients and the people he screwed over to make a buck. However, most days, especially on days like this one, I thought that line of thinking might simply be wishful.

  “What happened?” Garrett urged when I didn’t elaborate.

  “My dad’s a dick.”

  “Everyone knows that.”

  “Yeah, well he continues to try to prove it like there isn’t any doubt,” I grumbled, starting to work out my other arm and making the previous one feel like jelly. Through my simmering rage, I might have overdone it a bit, but that’s what working out is for, right? It was hailed as a stress-reliever, and with having to live life with my father, digging his claws into every aspect of it like a flesh-eating parasite, it was either working out or shock therapy.

  “What happened? I thought you were excited to pitch that strategy.”

  “I was until the old man told me it was shit,” I shook my head with betterment, “The worst part is, he was right, so I dodged the bullet and had my secretary reschedule the meeting for Monday. That’s what I was working on, putting a proposal together.”

  “Did you finish it?”

  “Fuck yeah,” I answered confidently, “I owned that bitch.”

  “Good for you! You know if you won this deal, if what you were telling me is true, that bitch would make your children’s children more money than they could ever spend.”

  “I know. Fortunately, I’m never going to have kids, so that fortune is all going to be mine. I’m going to retire early and tell dear old dad he can kiss my ass.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Garrett insisted, grinning. “Rotten little bastards. Legacy? What legacy?”

  Even though those around us might think he was teasing me and trying to show me the reasons why having a child might be beneficial to me, I knew better.

  Garrett was aware of the legacy my father built for me, and while it was paved with an obscene amount of money, I would never risk being the kind of father to my child that I had to deal with.

  Besides the obvious, that I had no interest in having children in the first place, even if I did, I would be terrified that I would end up as judgmental and thankless as my worthless father.

  While he might be dripping with worldly possessions and able to literally bathe in his wealth, he was penniless when measured by affection and gratitude.

  My father was and always would be a terrible man. His wealth consumed him until his decisions, both personal, as well as professional, were weighed merely by their weight in gold.

  I was confident, familial ties be damned; the only reason I was still with my father’s company was because my talent shined. I had made him billions, but that meant nothing to my father. Unless I continued to produce, my past achievements would only work minimally toward my severance package. There was no doubt in my mind that if I lost the wrong deal or caught my father on a wrong day, I would be fired on the spot. In fact, I knew that my name would be struck off the company’s payroll faster than a lot of the other employees who had learned to yield to his tirades.

  I didn’t conform, and he hated that.

&nb
sp; Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for me to realize that I possessed a lot of the same qualities as my father. While recognizing my selfishness and greed wasn’t exactly cleansing, it did provide me the ability to take preventative measures.

  I might be selfish, but I am not mean. I genuinely felt that subjecting a child to what my father had subjected me to growing up and throughout my career would be cruel. I hated it, and I was certain that any spawn of mine would be no different. Thus, I had decided a long time ago that reproduction was not something that would suit me or my lifestyle.

  “Hey, dude!” Garrett called as though he had an epiphany, pulling me out of my thoughts and concentration.

  “What?”

  “Since I know you’ve got this, do you want to go out and have a little early celebration?”

  Aggravated and pumping with adrenaline from the workout, I wanted to give a smart-ass answer about how the celebration would be premature, but getting drunk sounded pretty damn good too.

  “Sure. Why the hell not?” I insisted and knew from the grin on Garrett’s face that tonight was going to be something that we would either laugh over or never speak of again.

  Garrett was eager to get started and so, as soon as we had finished our workout routine and hit the showers, he was searching his phone for what he decided would be the best good time.

  In all the years I had known him, it seemed that Garrett had a knack for knowing where a good party was going to be, even with no concrete prior knowledge.

  Granted, there was generally a fine line between fun and trouble, so the two were often synonymous, but I still had to hand it to the guy: he had a knack for finding whatever it was he was looking for.

  Garrett left his car at the twenty-four-hour gym, in his spot, and we headed toward my car.

  With the top down, the black Porsche that I had bought with my last bonus was sleek and sexy: the perfect car for making memories we likely will never remember and getting laid.

  Damn, was it great for getting laid.

  Women loved the car, other men glared at the machine, as well as the tits it attracted, in envy, and I couldn’t get enough.

  After listening to Garrett deliberate about which hole in the wall we should start at for a few minutes, he eventually settled on a local bar that was a personal favorite. The atmosphere was down-home, and the clientele was easy; especially when I was in the mood to dazzle someone of the female persuasion and tonight, I was down for anything.

  I was pissed at my father, but that wasn’t new. Although now, I was also pissed at myself for not being able to come through with the proposal the first time around and incredibly enraged that I didn’t see the problem before my father pointed it out.

  I hated when he caught things that I didn’t because instead of using it as a teaching moment, he always found a way to consider whether he still needed my services.

  We both knew that he did, or he would be losing out on a shitload of money, so I felt secure. Yet, after all these years, still having to prove my worth in addition to excelling at my job was tiresome.

  So, I needed a good night to let loose and get stupid.

  I pulled into the bar and Garrett was practically to the entrance before the car even stopped.

  “If I didn’t know better, I would think that you needed this way more than I do,” I responded as I casually caught up with him.

  Garrett ignored me and headed straight for the bar.

  We started with our regular: Fireball.

  I could afford anything on the shelf, but there was something about Fireball to start the night, or midday, as it were, that started us off right.

  After a few hours of playing pool, drinking, and talking to a few of the people at the bar, either that we knew or got to know with our liquid courage, Garrett started eyeing a girl at the end of the bar.

  I knew I was quickly becoming his wingman and was okay with that since I hadn’t seen anyone that was particularly alluring, and the woman Garrett was eyeing seemed to be alone.

  Unfortunately for Garrett, and subsequently me, after a few moments, a man came up to the woman and stood next to her. They talked for a while and seemed comfortably intimate, but Garrett had decided that she was worth a shot and when he settled on his stance, he was not easily deterred.

  “I’m gonna go talk to her,” Garrett told me as soon as the man she was with got up and walked away.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? She looks pretty taken to me,” I answered, trying to grab his bulging arm as he passed but he shrugged me off.

  “Shut up, pussy! It’s worth a shot,” he beamed, “Maybe that woman is only with him because she doesn’t know she has better options.”

  “Meaning you?” I quipped.

  “Hell yeah, me!” Garrett hissed, sounding slightly insulted before he took off in the direction of the woman.

  I sat back and watched. Garrett was a real ass when he was drinking, and even for his size, he had downed a lot in the time we had spent here.

  I was buzzed, myself and knew that it would be wise to call an Uber, but I certainly wasn’t done drinking yet.

  Though, as I watched him approach the woman, something told me that this was the beginning of the end of our night.

  So, while I sat back and watched the show, I ordered a few more shots and downed them easily, before Garrett even stumbled his way over to his mark.

  As I felt the alcohol warm my system, I smirked at him, hoping my intuition was wrong.

  I observed the interaction, which hastily turned sour. I couldn’t hear what Garrett was saying, but from the look on the girl’s face, it was clear that she wasn’t buying what he was selling.

  Yet, not wanting to be deterred, Garrett continued to lay on what I was sure he genuinely believed was charm.

  Though, from the outside looking in, it was blatantly obvious that the girl was trying to let him down easy. I thought about going over there and trying to save Garrett from the train wreck he was spiraling toward, but instead, I decided it would be better to watch him crash and burn. He needed to be knocked down a few pegs, in my humble opinion.

  Eventually, after a lengthy, somewhat desperate exchange, the woman grabbed her drink and strutted away.

  Red in the face, Garrett turned toward me and glowered as I tried not to burst out laughing.

  When he returned to the empty seat next to me, he ordered another round for us both without saying a word about his obvious failure.

  “She wasn’t into it?” I offered.

  “Shut up,” he hissed as the bartender slid our drinks to us.

  Garrett swiped up the drink before it even stopped moving and downed in in one slug.

  I bit my lip to keep from howling with the humor that gurgled in the back of my throat long enough to bring the drink up to my lips and wash down the schadenfreude amusement that overcame me.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Garrett insisted, glowering at me harder as he watched my lips inadvertently curl into a sneer.

  “What? I didn’t say anything!” I insisted innocently, though the expression on my face revealed anything but virtue.

  “You don’t have to,” he exclaimed and turned to order another drink.

  Before it could arrive, however, there was a commotion behind us.

  It didn’t take long for me to realize we probably weren’t going to get the chance to enjoy our new round of drinks.

  “Hey!” a pissed-off drunk guy called, and I watched Garrett tense as a sly grin crossed his features.

  “Yeah?” he demanded as he turned around, narrowly dodging a punch.

  Grabbing the guys hand and shoving it out of the way, he sprang to his feet and rushed toward the man.

  Instantly, a hush fell over the bar as the patrons gathered to watch what was going on.

  “Please tell me you weren’t trying to sucker punch me like a little bitch,” Garrett insisted, now right up in the man’s face as he backed against a high-top table.

  “You tried to pick
up my girl!” the man insisted, narrowing his eyes defiantly at Garrett.

  “Yeah, and she said no. That shoulda been the end of it,” Garrett replied, and I couldn’t tell if he was actually trying to control his anger or if he was simply building up his rage.

  Whatever it was Garrett did caused the man to second-guess his decision to take him on, so he raised his hands in surrender.

  “Alright. Alright, I don’t want any trouble,” the man decided.

  “You shoulda thought about that before you tried to hit me, you son of a bitch!” Garrett screamed, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt and throwing him into the bar.

  That seemed to be the breaking point in the mounting tension because as soon as the first initiation into the fight was completed, all hell broke loose.

  The men who were accompanying the man recovering from being slammed against the bar snapped into action, fighting to come to the man’s aid.

  However, inevitably, one of the moron’s hit the wrong person, and it developed into a chain reaction almost instantaneously.

  One moment, the beef was strictly between the boyfriend and Garrett, but as soon as there was any kind of outside instigation, the whole bar ignited in a raging frenzy.

  I had always known that at its core, humanity was prone to violence, but seeing it in action was always intriguing to me.

  No wonder it is so easy to manipulate people, I thought as I watched the craziness that ensued before me.

  After a moment, I decided that I needed to help Garrett. It wasn’t like he needed the help physically, but I did need to show him that I had his back.

  So, I slunk off the chair.

  When I stood up to help defend my friend, I was hit with the full effects of the alcohol. Instantly, I knew I had consumed far more than I had originally thought.

  However, as the fight started and the buzz I felt previously jetted down into outright drunkenness, I was revving to go.

  I let out a wild laugh and ran toward Garret, who was easily defending himself against the man and his band of pipsqueak friends who were attempting to protect the girlfriend’s honor.