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“I must say, Levi, this project sounds very intriguing.”
“Wait until you see the equipment. You’re going to be blown away.”
“I have a question.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Not that I have any experience, but if I’m not mistaken, crowdfunding campaigns can be tricky.”
“Those campaigns require a certain level of expertise or else it can be an epic fail,” I confirm.
“Is Jules going to manage your campaign?”
“No. Shane was able to convince one of his former tech clients—who leveraged crowdfunding to kickstart his last venture, which he sold for several billions of dollars—to help us out. The guy is now retired at the tender age of thirty-five and living in Ibiza. He’ll manage the whole thing for us. It just so happens he’s in LA, visiting family. We met with him this morning. He immediately wanted to check out the bikes. He’s on board. In fact, instead of a fee, he wants a cut of the profits. He’s so certain, he’s even agreed to take care of the marketing for the first six months.”
“Wow!” Dominika exclaims.
“It’s wild, Dom. When a guy at that level wants a piece of the action, you know it’s good.”
“It’s damn good,” Dom says.
Jules was mildly convinced by my positive outlook of her business. She was excited by the Dennison brothers’ reaction. She was beside herself by Linc’s verdict. But Shane’s guy put dollar signs in her eyes. It’s finally sinking in. As long as Hillary doesn’t change her mind and decide to keep her shares, it should be smooth sailing.
Chapter 25
Jules
I’m high on the euphoria of the last two weeks. Not long ago, Levi Aldridge was a stranger. Now, he’s my boyfriend and one of my incredible business partners. As much as I’d love to spend my days and nights wrapped in his arms, I can’t. In between our hot fuck sessions, I have a business to run. He has two. Speaking of my sexy boyfriend and formidable lover extraordinaire, he’s been in New York for the past four days. Our nightly video chats pale in comparison to being with him—even if they’re dirty as fuck. And, sure, I’m tickled pink by his daily text messages reminding me I’m his filthy girl and he’s thinking about me, but I long to kiss his lips. He should be landing at LAX shortly. Thank God. I’m not ashamed to admit, I miss him like crazy—far more than I expected. I’m counting the minutes until I see him. I already have so many indecent thoughts in my mind, and I can’t wait to get him all to myself. A wave of desire prickles through me, pooling in my belly. God, I’m addicted to this man.
Since Levi, Collin, Shane and I sat in my conference room, it’s been two weeks of brutal work. Thank God Alice agreed to come back. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without her. That’s what happens when you’re well connected. My three business partners tapped into their circles to secure the experts we need to see the crowdfunding through. I have wings knowing I’ll be able to do Daddy’s memory justice. The expertise of Shane’s consultant is mind-blowing. There’s no way I would’ve been able to hire someone with that kind of pedigree. Things are moving so fast, it gives me whiplash. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. Working side-by-side with these savvy businessmen is a huge eye-opener. For the longest time, it was just me. Now I understand why it always felt like I was walking in quicksand. The constant doom and gloom voice that was my only companion is finally quiet. Not being around Hillary also helps a lot.
After a quick bathroom break, I trail back from the small kitchen to the conference room, latte in one hand, a large peanut butter cookie in the other, singing a happy tune in my head. Since I barely took time for lunch, I take a few minutes to enjoy my coffee and indulge in the sugary treat. Once I get my sugar and caffeine high, I get back to work.
So little time, so much to do.
I’m fully immersed in my work when a key slides into the door.
I told Alice not to come in on weekends.
“Oh, yoo-hoo, Jules,” an annoying voice singsongs. Hillary? “Your car is in the parking lot.”
God. What does she want?
I do a double take when she appears.
She’s a redhead now?
I’m not talking about Sydney’s beautiful shade or sexy salon shades I’ve seen other women sport. Nope. Hillary’s hair is eerily similar to the Jack-o’-lantern pumpkin bucket color kids use to go trick-or-treating on Halloween. Not a word of a lie.
“Oh, there you are,” she says, stopping in front of the conference room. “Working hard?” she sneers.
Her voice sets me on edge.
“You came to check up on me? I’m touched,” I mock.
Even though it’s Saturday and it’s as hot as Hades outside, Hillary is decked out in a head-to-toe neon green pantsuit. The sheer blouse she’s wearing is in the same screaming shade. So is her bra. The in-your-face color against her red hair is jarring.
What the hell?
