Read Online Banking Her: A Billionaire Bad Boys Novella (Book 2.5) (Bad Boy Billionaires) by Max Monroe - Free Book Online
Authors: Max Monroe
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waste.”
H ead down with my chin to my chest to protect against the chilly October wind, I moved swiftly from the hired town car to my plane and jogged up the stairs. Tonight, I was headed out to Phoenix for Sunday’s away game.
My personal flight attendant, Janine, stood waiting to greet me as I ducked through the door. “You’re the last one, Mr. Lancaster,” she told me with a smile.
“Well, nothing new there, huh?” I replied easily because it was true.
I knew it wasn’t fair to the people waiting for me, but I’d made quite the name for myself in the being-late department. There always seemed to be just one more person waiting to talk to me about some issue or some phone call to answer. A last-minute email asking for staff approval or a change to the menu at BAD. A fight between chef and sous-chef and what I wanted to do about it, and if I liked the blue or the red lights for the bar makeover.
There was always something that needed attention, and most of the time, I loved it. I loved to be busy and needed, and it made me feel good to put so much time and input into everything I did. But there really weren’t enough waking hours in the day, and because of that, I was always fifteen minutes late. Always.
Three sets of blue eyes hit me like a wave of water as I turned to the cabin and took a step forward.
All three women looked at me in their own way, but they all managed to say the same terrifying thing without actually speaking the words aloud: I’ve been designed to bring a man to his knees .
“Christ. I definitely didn’t think this through,” I muttered with a cheeky grin. “I should have flown commercial.”
Georgia was the first to move, jumping up to greet me with a friendly hug. She laughed through it and then pulled back to look me in the eyes. “Aw, come on, Wesley. Three big, bad girls scare you enough to brave the wilds of commercial air travel?”
“Yes,” Frankie Hart, my GM for the Mavericks, mumbled from the other side of the aisle, but he was smiling when all of our eyes shifted to him. “Just kidding.”
Cassie’s and Winnie’s contempt melted into contentment like chocolate on a hot day.
Georgia’s smile never wavered. She’d known Frankie longer, and she liked him and his good-natured humor enough to call him Uncle Frankie on occasion.
It freaked me out a little, but I think that was mostly because I’d never gotten to know him on anything more than a professional level.
And whose fault is that?
As Frankie put earbuds in his ears and opened his laptop to old game footage, Georgia dragged me over to sit with her and the women. I looked over my shoulder at Frankie and his laptop longingly. He was kind enough to spend only five seconds silently laughing at me.
Janine walked the aisle from the back of the plane to the front and asked all of us to fasten our seatbelts. I settled in and did as she asked, swiping the screen of my phone to unlock it and getting lost in the land of correspondence rather than becoming the fourth hen in the coop.
They filled the silence with mindless chatter about shoes and skirts and hair color and something godawful called Jamberry Nails, as we taxied out onto the runway and turned into position for takeoff. The engines roared as the pilot throttled forward, and I cracked my neck back and forth a couple of times to fight off a kink.
The fall air lifted us up and into the sky easily enough, and a piercing ray from the setting sun hit my eye like a laser.
Winnie didn’t say much, as though she was content to let the Georgia and Cassie duo do most of the talking. I glanced in her direction a couple of times, but I avoided eye contact carefully. It felt safer to follow the line of her silky legs as they disappeared under her skirt or count the number of times her stiletto-clad toe tapped the carpeted floor.
I wasn’t looking to get caught, no matter what I was looking at, so after giving myself the opportunity to make a full-body
H ead down with my chin to my chest to protect against the chilly October wind, I moved swiftly from the hired town car to my plane and jogged up the stairs. Tonight, I was headed out to Phoenix for Sunday’s away game.
My personal flight attendant, Janine, stood waiting to greet me as I ducked through the door. “You’re the last one, Mr. Lancaster,” she told me with a smile.
“Well, nothing new there, huh?” I replied easily because it was true.
I knew it wasn’t fair to the people waiting for me, but I’d made quite the name for myself in the being-late department. There always seemed to be just one more person waiting to talk to me about some issue or some phone call to answer. A last-minute email asking for staff approval or a change to the menu at BAD. A fight between chef and sous-chef and what I wanted to do about it, and if I liked the blue or the red lights for the bar makeover.
There was always something that needed attention, and most of the time, I loved it. I loved to be busy and needed, and it made me feel good to put so much time and input into everything I did. But there really weren’t enough waking hours in the day, and because of that, I was always fifteen minutes late. Always.
Three sets of blue eyes hit me like a wave of water as I turned to the cabin and took a step forward.
All three women looked at me in their own way, but they all managed to say the same terrifying thing without actually speaking the words aloud: I’ve been designed to bring a man to his knees .
“Christ. I definitely didn’t think this through,” I muttered with a cheeky grin. “I should have flown commercial.”
Georgia was the first to move, jumping up to greet me with a friendly hug. She laughed through it and then pulled back to look me in the eyes. “Aw, come on, Wesley. Three big, bad girls scare you enough to brave the wilds of commercial air travel?”
“Yes,” Frankie Hart, my GM for the Mavericks, mumbled from the other side of the aisle, but he was smiling when all of our eyes shifted to him. “Just kidding.”
Cassie’s and Winnie’s contempt melted into contentment like chocolate on a hot day.
Georgia’s smile never wavered. She’d known Frankie longer, and she liked him and his good-natured humor enough to call him Uncle Frankie on occasion.
It freaked me out a little, but I think that was mostly because I’d never gotten to know him on anything more than a professional level.
And whose fault is that?
As Frankie put earbuds in his ears and opened his laptop to old game footage, Georgia dragged me over to sit with her and the women. I looked over my shoulder at Frankie and his laptop longingly. He was kind enough to spend only five seconds silently laughing at me.
Janine walked the aisle from the back of the plane to the front and asked all of us to fasten our seatbelts. I settled in and did as she asked, swiping the screen of my phone to unlock it and getting lost in the land of correspondence rather than becoming the fourth hen in the coop.
They filled the silence with mindless chatter about shoes and skirts and hair color and something godawful called Jamberry Nails, as we taxied out onto the runway and turned into position for takeoff. The engines roared as the pilot throttled forward, and I cracked my neck back and forth a couple of times to fight off a kink.
The fall air lifted us up and into the sky easily enough, and a piercing ray from the setting sun hit my eye like a laser.
Winnie didn’t say much, as though she was content to let the Georgia and Cassie duo do most of the talking. I glanced in her direction a couple of times, but I avoided eye contact carefully. It felt safer to follow the line of her silky legs as they disappeared under her skirt or count the number of times her stiletto-clad toe tapped the carpeted floor.
I wasn’t looking to get caught, no matter what I was looking at, so after giving myself the opportunity to make a full-body
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