Grumpy billionaire boss.., p.1
Grumpy Billionaire Boss Protector : An Enemies to Lovers Romance, page 1
Grumpy Billionaire Boss Protector
An Enemies to Lovers Romance
E. S. Lynn
Blurb
I never expected my protector to become my billionaire boss.
I’m a runaway bride on my wedding day.
And I run right into the sexiest man alive, wearing my favorite scent.
He saves the day and drives me away.
Then I quit my job and ended up interning at his company.
This is unbelievable!
The ridiculous part is when he runs his hands all over my body.
And then make me run errands to pick up his dry cleaners.
I hate how badly I want him.
But I can’t ruin my career.
Especially when someone causes a scandal.
Will my grumpy, sexy, blue-eyed CEO save the day…again?
Copyright © 2023 by E. S. Lynn
All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission.
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, companies, organizations, places, events, locales, and incidents are either used in a fictitious manner or are fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual companies or organizations, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Contents
1. Mia
2. Carter
3. Mia
4. Carter
5. Mia
6. Carter
7. Mia
8. Carter
9. Mia
10. Carter
11. Mia
12. Carter
13. Mia
14. Carter
15. Mia
16. Carter
17. Mia
18. Carter
19. Mia
20. Carter
21. Mia
22. Carter
23. Mia
24. Carter
25. Mia
26. Carter
27. Mia
28. Carter
29. Mia
30. Mia
More Books by E. S. Lynn
About E. S. Lynn
Chapter 1
Mia
“I think I should have gone with the warm beige shade,” I say, puckering my lips in the mirror to assess whether the mauve matte lipstick I chose is a little too bold.
Considering my wedding starts in less than an hour, it’s too late for any last-minute changes.
“You’re just nervous,” my maid of honor, Ava, says, waving off my concern with a single sweep of her hand.
True. I’ve been worrying over every single detail this morning.
Ava and my three bridesmaids are with me in the master bedroom of the Manhattan brownstone I share with my soon-to-be-husband, Michael. Since the church is only half a mile away, I told everyone in my wedding party to meet at my place. Another attempt to make this all feel like just another day, not the monumental day in my four-year relationship.
I place my hand over my stomach, take a big breath in, and then exhale. Wedding anxiety is common. I’ve read about countless women who have gotten cold feet shortly before the wedding. That’s all this is. I have no reason to worry. Once the ceremony starts and I see Michael standing at the front of the altar, all my nerves will dissipate.
Your dream is coming true, Mia. Enjoy it.
“I can’t believe you’re the first of us to get married,” Sarah says from her spot on the arm of my loveseat. She has one leg crossed over the other, exposing her enviable tan through the slit of her sheath, floor-length dress. I admire her reflection in the mirror and the rest of my bridesmaids. They’re all in the matching dusty rose gowns I picked out when I chose my dress. All sleeveless and ruched, a design I knew would be flattering on everyone despite their different body shapes.
A smile crosses my face, but I look away before I start to shed any tears. My mascara is supposedly waterproof, but I refuse to take any chances.
“And to Michael Albrecht, of all men,” Annabelle says with an envious sigh. “You’re so lucky.”
“Michael’s the lucky one,” Ava corrects. Then, despite standing beside me with both hands on my shoulders, she gazes at my reflection in the mirror like a proud mother. “Mia’s an absolute catch.”
I shoot her a grateful smile. Ava’s always had my back. She’s been incredibly defensive as the wedding has drawn closer, and today she isn’t taking any shit from anyone. She’s genuinely the best maid of honor, and best friend, a woman could ask for.
“You couldn’t have picked a more perfect dress,” she says. Unlike my bridesmaids, Ava’s gown is the same design but in sky blue. I thought it would make her brown eyes and lightly-tanned skin stand out more, and I was right. Blue is Ava’s color.
I give her a gentle nudge. “You look great, too,” I mouth.
My third and last bridesmaid, Kristen, raises a brow as she examines my dress in the mirror with a displeased expression. “It looks a little snug.”
I peer down at my lace mermaid gown. It has a sweetheart neckline and a corset top with a V cutout, but Kristen is explicitly referring to the cinched waistline.
Ava casts a defensive scowl in her direction. “Mia just gets bloated during this time of the month. It isn’t her fault her period fell so close to her wedding date.”
“Like I said during the fitting, form-fitting dresses never really flattered you,” Kristen presses. She lets out a big exhale, then glances at her manicure for any chipping. “Nobody wanted to listen to me, though.”
Ava holds her chin up high. “Because you were wrong.”
I furrow my brows. I wonder what’s gotten into Kristen. She and I have never been the closest within our friend group, but it’s unlike her to make snide remarks like this. It started when I picked out my wedding dress about six months ago. It was subtle then, but I noticed.
It must be because she wanted to be the first of our group to get married. Of course, I can’t help how things turned out for Michael and me. While we both have our issues, we are a good match, I think. Still, marriage wasn’t on my mind when he popped the question a year ago. Honestly, it’s never been on my mind, even after we got engaged.
Ava turns my shoulders so I’m facing her. “Should I brew you some tea?”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. Really.” I turn back to the mirror, ironing out my dress with my fingers, and watch Kristen’s reflection rolling her eyes.
“Mia, the cars just pulled up,” Fred says, popping his head into the room through the half-open doorway.
“Perfect,” Ava responds and peers around the room. “Is everyone ready?”
Sarah and Annabelle nod and rise from the couch. Kristen remains silent as she gets up from the single armchair adjacent to the couch.
“Wait a minute,” I hear my father’s voice say from behind my brother. Within a matter of seconds, he steps into the room and crosses over to me. “We can’t leave for the church without me getting a look at my daughter in her wedding dress.”
“Dad,” I say, happy to see him for the first time this morning.
When my parents and Fred got here, I was already in hair and makeup, so Mom was the only member of my family I’ve seen so far. Both Dad and Fred are in black suits. They never intend to dress similarly, but they always end up looking like twins due to their lack of style. It doesn’t help that they both have the same thick, unkempt brown hair. Fred always has his nose in an engineering textbook, so I understand why he rarely maintains his appearance, but this is simply just Dad’s look.
This morning, though, I requested my hairstylist to give them a good groom before we headed to the church. Both Dad’s and Fred’s hair is slicked back without a strand out of place. I’ve never seen either of them look so dashing.
Mom follows in shortly after him in her purple knee-length satin dress. I think I catch some tears in her eyes, but she masterfully hides them. “You’re the loveliest bride, honey.”
Dad embraces me in one of his big bear hugs. “Mia, you’ve never looked more radiant.”
I eye Fred, who hasn’t uttered a word since he joined Mom and Dad beside me. “Go ahead,” I tell him. “Rip one into me.”
Fred shakes his head. “You look absolutely stunning, big sis. For once in your life.”
I nudge his arm playfully. Fred may tease me constantly, but he’s just as protective of me as Ava is. Plus, he’s my little brother. He’s the only one I allow to crack jokes at my expense.
“We better get going, or you’ll be late,” Dad says, rubbing my arm. He turns to Mom. “Let’s go, Helen.”
“Being fashionably late never hurts, Mr. Barnett,” Ava says. “Not in Manhattan, at least.”
“You’re riding with Mom, Dad, and me, right?” Fred asks.
I shake my head. “Actually, I think I will take a separate car after all. It’ll give me a chance to clear my head before everything.”
My brother tilts his head to the side and analyzes my face with concerned eyes. I hate when he gets like this. Like I’m hiding something from him.
I huff and swat at his shoulder. “Why are
He smiles, but I can still sense his worry. “I know. See you at the church.” He turns around and follows behind my parents, who make their way out of my bedroom and toward the living room. My bridesmaids are next to leave until it’s only Ava and I left.
“I’ll take your bag for you,” she says, picking it off the table and tossing the strap over her shoulder. “Just take your phone in case you need to get a hold of one of us.”
I nod. With nowhere to put my phone—unless I stuff it in my boobs—I hold onto it awkwardly.
As I start for the door, Ava catches onto my wrist. “Do you need anything else before we head out?”
“I’m good,” I say and flash her a big smile.
I attempt to spot anything unusual in her tone just in case she’s pulling a Fred, but Ava seems genuine. My shoulders relax. At least she gets why I’m sweating a bit more than usual. She knows me better than anyone.
“More than good,” she assures me. “You’re well on your way to becoming Mrs. Michael Albrecht.”
We head out to the front of my brownstone, where three black SUVs are waiting for us. It looks like my parents and Fred have already gotten into one while my bridesmaids are climbing into the backseat of the car behind them. The car saved for me is leading the front of the line.
Ava catches onto the train of my gown, escorts me to my car, and opens the door for me. I slide into the backseat while she stuffs my train into the car.
Once I’m situated, Ava turns to the bridesmaids’ car to make sure it hasn’t taken off yet. “I better get going then,” she says.
“Good luck,” I whisper, and we exchange knowing glances.
She shuts my door, then disappears behind us.
I clench my phone a bit tighter as I watch the other two cars leave. The bride is supposed to arrive last, after all.
“Are you ready to go, miss?” my driver asks.
As soon as I nod, he pulls onto the street and starts toward the church. I release an exhale and rest my back against my seat, peering out the window to pass the time.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I jump slightly. When I check my notifications, it appears that someone from an unknown number has sent me a text with a video attached.
“Sorry you have to find out this way…” the text below the video reads.
I press play. It’s of a blonde woman spread out on her bed with a man’s face between her legs. The video is pretty poor quality, so her face is grainy, but her body is long and slender.
My eyes widen. Why would someone send this to me? This has to be from some creep sending videos to random numbers.
I’m about to turn it off when the woman cries out, “Oh, Michael.”
I narrow my eyes on the video. Did she just say Michael? As in my Michael?
“Michael, yes,” she moans again, her breaths morphing into helpless panting. “Yes, right there.”
“Do you like that, baby?”
With only a view of the back of his brown hair, I know immediately that this is in fact the Michael I’ve been in a committed relationship with for four years. The man who asked to spend the rest of his life with me.
The bastard fucked another woman behind my back? I shake my head. This can’t be recent. I skip through the video with a shaky finger in an attempt to figure out how long ago this could have been. As far as I know, this could be from his college days before we met.
“Say my name,” the girl gasps as she straddles Michael. He grunts uncontrollably, his fingers digging into this mystery woman’s bare hips.
“Kristen,” Michael calls out and throws his head back in sheer ecstasy.
“What the f—” I start, but I’m interrupted by the honking of a car beside us in traffic.
The more I watch the video the more obvious it becomes that this is Kristen’s bedroom. The walls are the same hideous shade of burnt orange, and I could spot that tacky floral bedspread anywhere.
“Say it again,” she cries.
“Kristen,” he says louder.
I shut off the video. I can’t watch—or listen—to it any longer. My heart feels like it’s racing two hundred beats per minute. I’m riddled with both rage and shame. No wonder Kristen has been such a bitch lately.
No matter what I do, I can’t go there. I can’t show my face at that church.
“Pull over right here, please,” I tell the driver.
“We’re still five blocks from the church.”
“I’m aware. Drop me off here.”
As soon as he pulls over, I’m out of the car and running in the opposite direction. While I have no intention of heading back home, I need to get as far away as possible. Fuck Kristen. Fuck Michael. Fuck this stupid wedding I was never all that excited about to begin with.
And most of all, fuck love.
Chapter 2
Carter
“But do they get together before or after they jump out of the plane?” Howard asks.
“They should make up while they’re on the plane, then leap out together moments before it explodes,” Gary chimes in.
I’m seated with Howard and Gary at our usual table near the back of Per Se to discuss our next romcom-adventure TV series. Although, at this point, I’m only here for the food and champagne. These shows practically write themselves. I’m not sure why these two are pressed to meet up and talk things out like we’re rookie producers.
I let out a long and drawn-out exhale before taking a sip from my champagne. This romcom shit has been done a thousand times. At least this one I didn’t fall asleep at the table.
My phone vibrates in the pants pocket of my all-black cashmere suit. I pull it out and check my notifications from under the table.
The CEO of Foxtail Studios wants to meet with you. Should I arrange a meeting based on your calendar? Amber, my assistant, texts.
I sigh and return my phone to my pocket. If I have to go to another meeting with yet another nepo baby CEO, I might lose my mind. To be fair, I’m a nepo baby, too, but I don’t go around flaunting it every chance I get. I didn’t even go by my real last name when I first started out.
Howard purses his lips together, seemingly imagining the scene playing out in his head. “At what point do they put on parachutes?”
“Leave that for the writer to figure out,” Gary says. “Focus on the big picture for now.”
I huff. Honestly, work is the last thing on my mind right now. What I care most about is how Luke is holding up in the hospital after his car accident a few days ago.
Howard rests his back against his seat and crosses his arms, revealing a silver watch. It looks exactly like the kind my father wears, which isn’t surprising. They aren’t the same age at all, but after so many years in the entertainment industry, Howard has the stale personality of a seventy-year-old man.
“One of the producers keeps pushing for as much action as possible, while the other wants more romance,” Howard says. “Which one should we side with?”
Another notification sends a vibration against the side of my leg. I take my phone out again.
When are you coming over? Lisa texts.
Gary scoffs as if the answer should be obvious. “Whoever’s paying us the most. As long as we cast big stars for the leading roles, it doesn’t matter what we do.” He turns to me, his brown eyes eager for me to chime in at some point. “Carter, what are your thoughts?”
“About?” I slide my phone into the pocket of my jacket. I can text Lisa after the meeting.
“We can afford to push for big stars on this project, right?” Howard asks, his tone irritated. They’ve both grown tired of my complacency.
I shrug. “It’ll be a hit no matter who’s in it. We’re Cogswell Productions. When have we ever had a flop?”
Gary raises his thick, dark brows and makes a face. My answer must have displeased him. I guess I’ve been letting my partners down a lot as of late. “We haven’t had a big hit in a while, though,” he says.
“We’re making money, aren’t we?” I ask.
Howard rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, but it would be nice to make something on a massive scale. It’s been five years since our last huge TV show.”
