Imperfect Match (Elixir Bachelor Billionaires #1)

“Send a reply a day before the event stating that, unfortunately, I can’t make it due to an emergency. And for fuck’s sake, if you make up an emergency like my pet duck’s eggs are hatching and I have to be there to welcome them into the world, you’ll find yourself without a job.”

She spins around and doubles over, her laughter echoing throughout my office. I’m not sure what she finds funnier—my threat or the reminder of the feeble excuse she made last week for my absence at the town hall inauguration. Thanks to her, I’m still receiving congratulatory emails inquiring about my new chicks. But she knows all this since she’s the one sorting them into the “NEED IMMEDIATE ATTENTION” folder.

“Do you think I won’t fire you?” I ask a completely hypothetical question.

Despite all the nonsense I have to put up with, there’s never been a more perfect assistant. She’s not just the best, she’s the best for me.

People call me a workaholic, but compared to Daisy when she started four years ago, I’m practically a slacker. She arrived at the office before me and left after me, never batting an eye when I asked her to rewrite the first client report five times over. Her only request was to work longhand for the first drafts.

What I didn’t anticipate was how her love for paper and Post-its would one day devolve and become the bane of my existence.

She snaps her fingers in front of me. “Hey, you weren’t even listening. I was just saying how I’d never do anything to upset you.” She bats her eyelashes and pouts, which I find inconveniently attractive even when I tell her I don’t.

“Stop with the pouting. You think you look cute, but you just look like a grinning Chihuahua.”

Her response to my teasing is laughter.

As much as I wanted an assistant who wouldn’t turn my office into a paper craft shop, and who feared me a little, every moment with Daisy is refreshing.

“If you’re finished here, leave. And, Daisy…” I pause, waiting for her full attention. “Cancel my invitation. I’m not going.”

This time, she huffs in seriousness. I know she wants to protest, but she also knows some things are nonnegotiable, and me walking into a room full of strangers is one of them.

My driver-slash-bodyguard, Steve, expertly parks the McLaren in my designated spot at Elixir Inc. before Dave, my second bodyguard, opens the door for me.

Leading Hawthorne Holdings and on track to become CEO of Hawthorne Empire in the coming months, I already have my hands full with the family business. But Elixir is special. I’m proud to be on the board of directors in this company.

Years ago, my dad declared that he wasn’t interested in running Hawthorne Empire and left it to my grandma. Instead, he helped his friends establish the Elixir research office in Cherrywood, which now serves as the company headquarters.

It was here that he met my mom, the woman who valued me and my dad over the family wealth, unlike my birth mother. This is also where I bonded with my cousins, who are more like brothers and now either run the company or serve on the board alongside me.

Honestly, I attend these meetings more to see them than the actual work. Elixir is in good hands with Alex as the CEO. As I enter the boardroom, I’m greeted by the familiar faces of the Teager brothers—Alex, Raymond, Rowan, and his fraternal twin, Archer.

“I thought this was a work meeting?” I comment, observing the lack of other important staff and take a seat between Alex and Rowan.

“We’re all on the board and in a meeting room right now, so technically it is a board meeting.” Raymond chuckles, placing a whiskey decanter onto the table.

“Then why does it feel like an intervention?”

“Not an intervention, more like a Charlie-got-a-new-label-and-Jimmy-is-on-his-ass meeting.” Archer grins, waving his phone in the air.

“My ass is alright, brother. But tell me who I have to fire for this breach of information. Is it Jimmy, since sharing a PR manager clearly leaves me with no privacy? Or is this someone from my office?” I have my suspicions on my little secretary.

“Don’t worry, no termination letters are going out today. Mom read some gossip column, and we expected Jimmy to come running to you first thing in the morning,” Archer explains, passing me a glass of Scotch whiskey.

“So are you going to share some relationship wisdom with me?”

“You want relationship advice from us?” Raymond raises an eyebrow, flaunting a smirk the media has labeled a killer smile.

And he’s not wrong.

None of us have had serious relationships, and we can blame our dads for that. They set the relationship bar so high that we’d rather avoid it than suck miserably at it. Besides, I’m certain our moms would never let us hear the end of it if we didn’t meet their lofty expectations. So, we’ve gladly chosen to steer clear of serious commitments altogether.

But unlike me, my cousins don’t have the media constantly hounding them about their bachelor status, treating it like a criminal offense.

“Why don’t you hire someone?” Archer plays with the rim of his glass, the suggestion hanging in the air.

“What’s that supposed to mean? He isn’t hiring staff, Archie,” Rowan signs while raising an eyebrow at his twin.