It’s Just Business by Lauren Landish, W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic
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Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
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“Nothin’,” Mr. Anderson says, even though the scowl of moral high ground is still firmly in place. “Just⁠—”

“In this city, the word ‘fuck’ is heard more often than ‘thank you’, and I’ve had a rough day, so can you give me some grace?” Finally getting my door open, I step inside, and before he can answer, I slam it closed behind me. The sound is as final as my chances with Sharpe.

Laughter and chatter in the living room stops instantly, all eyes landing on me and my loud entrance. Maggie and her best friend-slash-sorority sister, Ami, are sitting at opposite ends of the couch, wine glasses in hand. They both work remote jobs, based around deadlines rather than hours, but it’s unexpected for them to be here mid-afternoon. It’s like they were waiting on me, ready to toast my new job the moment I walked through the door. Too bad that’s definitely not happening now.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Maggie says, holding a hand up dramatically. “What happened?”

I can’t even begin to process how to explain what happened, so I start by hanging up my bag and slipping my heels off as I mumble to myself.

How could I have been so blind? How could Evan break up with me so… easily? So cruelly? And to twist the knife even deeper, he’s been cheating on me for who knows how long with his secretary? And he did it all today, of all days. I can’t get over that, either. He’s cost me years of my life.

Because instead of getting the job I would be perfect at, I’m offered a fucking date instead. Bullshit!

I wish I were dreaming. I wish this were all a nightmare I could wake up from. I pinch my arm, but no luck. Maggie and Ami both look at me like I’m crazy.

“Raven?” Maggie says, her voice gentled in concern.

“You okay?” Ami asks. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

Ami’s tall frame and straight blonde hair are at complete odds with Maggie’s perfectly curled reddish brown, but both look back at me with matching widened eyes and worry.

“I… I…” I start, but before I can form a full sentence, Maggie’s right there, hugging me.

“Shh, come on, whatever it is, you’ll be okay,” she says, her chin digging into the top of my head. I’m not short by any means, but she’s model-tall so she can tuck me up under her chin in a motherly way I didn’t know I needed right now. “Come here. The couch has a spot with your name on it.”

I nod. "Okay… yeah,” I whisper, and I can see Maggie and Ami exchange looks. Without a word, Ami pours me a glass of her white wine, bringing it over and handing it to me before sitting on the floor so I have room on the couch. “Thanks.”

“We were ready to celebrate, but we can commiserate too,” Maggie says, sitting down next to me. “What happened?”

I take a deep breath, and a sip of wine. It helps, but I set the glass back on the coffee table to tell them everything. “Well, I got to Lionfish with about five or six minutes to spare, and got seated just fine when… Evan showed up.”

“Evan?” Ami asks, her eyes narrowing. Her tone turns harsh. “What the hell was he doing there? He knew how important that meeting was to do on your own...”

“He was there to… he was there to break up with me,” I tell them, waiting for the tears to fall. But for some reason, they don’t. I mean, I still feel like I’ve been socked in the gut, but I don’t feel like crying. I’m more angry than anything else. “He’s been cheating on me with his secretary.”

“That fucker,” Maggie hisses quietly. “I knew he could be an asshole sometimes, but… shit. I didn’t know about Elise, Raven. Swear to God.”

Maggie and Ami are from families that do well, but nothing like Evan’s family, who reign from the tippy-top of the hierarchy. Still, those circles can be interwoven, especially when you take into account that New York City is smaller than people think, and you typically don’t need six degrees of Kevin Bacon to find a connection with anyone.

“I know,” I say, reassuring her. She’s a good friend, and if she’d had any clue about Evan, she would’ve told me right away. “Anyway, after Evan breaking up with me exactly five minutes before my interview, I had to pull myself together. I still felt like a total mess when Mr. Sharpe walked over and introduced himself. It… didn’t go well. He saw everything.”

Ami chimes in, “What the hell does getting broken up with have to do with stocks?” Her tone is full of indignation on my behalf. “It’s about how fucking hard you’ve worked.”

Maggie agrees, and I take a deep breath. Instead of trying to explain more, I pick up the glass of wine and take a small sip, but Maggie upends it, making me gulp down the rest. “Good, now breathe,” she coaches helpfully.


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