Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1) Read Online Free

Winthrop building, the spacious lobby greeting me with its gorgeous marble pillars and floor-to-ceiling windows. It was breathtaking. The office space was just as exquisite—wide hallways, natural stone floors, and the perfect amount of light coming in through large windows and skylights. Brooks Media had definitely shelled out some cash for this prime piece of real estate. By all accounts, it was stunning.
    “Morning, Paul. Morning, Brian,” I greeted the front desk security guards.
    “Well, hey there, pretty lady.” Paul smiled. “I see someone is still having issues with getting here bright and early.”
    “Oh, shut it, Paul. Not all of us can look as good as you without a little work in the morning.” I grinned and batted my eyelashes.
    Brian laughed. “She’s got your number, dude.”
    “I wish she had my number,” Paul interjected. “C’mon, Georgia, let me take you out to dinner.”
    “We’ve been going through the same conversation at least once a week for the past two years, Paul. My answer isn’t going to change,” I called over my shoulder as I made my way to the elevator.
    “It will change!” he yelled. “One day, it will change!”
    The elevator pinged and I stepped on, giving Paul a little wave before the doors shut.
    He was an adorable guy: mid-forties, hard-working, and sweeter than honey. But I didn’t mix business with pleasure. And Paul from security wasn’t my kind of guy. One day, though, he’d meet the right kind of lady who’d wash his socks and make him beer-cheese dip for Monday Night Football. He needed a woman who was just as good in the kitchen as she was in the bedroom. I could sixty-nine with the best of ’em, but I was useless when it came to home-cooked meals. Talented chef would never be on my résumé. My oven was better used for storing shoes.
    “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Fashionably late today, Georgie?” Dean winked, passing me in the hallway.
    Shit. My late arrivals were starting to mimic the walk of shame. I seriously needed to get my shit together.
    “I was only trying to impress you with my new A-line skirt,” I called over my shoulder, sashaying my hips a little. “Vintage. Vera Wang. How ’bout them apples, cupcake?” Should I have mentioned I found the skirt at a secondhand shop in SoHo? Designer digs were great, but I refused to pay designer prices.
    “Someone is fierce this morning. Go on with your bad self, little diva,” he teased, snapping his fingers. Dean was one of my favorite people in the office: hilarious, flamboyantly gay, and smart as a whip. What more could a girl ask for?
    He turned in my direction, stopping in his tracks. “Lunch today?”
    I paused at the entry to my office. “I’d kill for a chicken salad sandwich from the deli across the street.”
    Dean grinned. “No homicide needed. We’ll grab it to go.”
    “Let’s eat there. My office, quarter till one?”
    He blew me a kiss. “It’s a date, lover.”
    Another day, another dollar, yadda yadda yadda. My mantra, even though I would have preferred staying wrapped up in my comforter and sleeping until noon. Some days, adulting was too much responsibility. Get up for work. Brush your hair. Pay bills. It was an endless list of too many things and not enough time. The struggle was real, my friends.
    But rent in Chelsea wasn’t a Sunday picnic in Central Park. A two-bedroom space with an elevator and doorman was pricey. Bottom line, I had to adult. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
    I settled into my day, checking emails and making follow-up calls to a few marketing prospects. The TapNext app had skyrocketed in success over the past year. I’d developed an ad campaign that had brought in several companies wanting to advertise within the windows of our app. And these scrollbar ads had become quite lucrative for the company. Businesses not only paid us a nice advertising fee, but they also agreed to some form of promotion for Brooks Media. We scratched their backs,