Alpha Billionaire Series
Love to Hate You Chapter 1

CHARLIE Present

Day

Even though it's after 6:00 p.m. and I've been at the office working since 7:00 a.m. this morning, I just finished another can of Diet Coke, and it refreshes me. I'm ready to keep going and don't plan to leave a minute before 8:00 p.m. Chances are, I'll be here until 9:00 p.m. and it doesn't bother me in the least.

As Vice-President of Thomas Beckett Technology, better known as TB Tech, I have my work cut out for me. I'm a woman living in a man's world, and I have to work twice as hard to prove myself. Luckily, I love my job and it keeps me sane. Over the last few years, I've poured my heart and soul into this company, and it shows. Normally, I'm the first one to arrive in the morning and the last one to leave at night. I'm on a friendly, first-name basis with everyone who works here, including the cleaning crew, and can tell you anything about any of their lives.

The CEO and President, Thomas Beckett, lured me over here to work for him a little over three years ago, snatching me up from a rival company. He said he liked the way I blended my forward-thinking ideas while still respecting and maintaining tradition. And then he offered me a ridiculous sum of money to seal the deal. It was an opportunity I couldn't refuse.

Thomas, now 60 years old, has taught me more in the last three years than I think I learned during all of my years in school. I consider him my mentor and, even though he hasn't said it yet, I'd like to think that he's grooming me to take over his company one day. Knowing Thomas, he has no plans to retire any time soon since he's a workaholic, so I expect to learn and work with him for many years to come.

The only problem is when you put so much into a company and your work, it's hard to have anything else in your life. I spin my chair around to face the large window and gaze out over the New York City skyline. I love this city and the power and potential it holds. I've always been a fast-paced, goal-oriented person so working at a Fortune 500 tech company is the perfect place for me. Yet every time I start to wonder what it would be like to run TB Tech myself, after Thomas decides to spend his time golfing and traveling, a wave of anxiety takes hold.

Because here's the thing: Thomas has five children who could step in and take things over. And even though he has repeatedly told me that none of them have any interest in TB Tech, I can't help but worry. Especially about Nash.

I let out a low breath and focus on the lights of the city. Nash Beckett made my life a living hell when he worked here two years ago and it's nothing I'd like to repeat. Thomas' oldest son walked around here like he already ran the place, and we would b**t heads constantly. He had no finesse when it came to anything and half the time, I wanted to smack his arrogant face.

The funny thing is, we had similar viewpoints and ideas, but the way he presented them and wanted to incorporate them always rubbed me the wrong way. His ego was his undoing and when I beat him out of the VP promotion and his own father chose me over him, he lost his shit and quit on the spot.

What a baby, I think and twirl a pen between my fingers.

Although a part of me can understand that he must have felt betrayed. I'll never forget that look in his blue eyes when Thomas announced me as the one who received the promotion- hurt, disbelief and then so much anger.

I get it but, at the same time, he should've handled it better. But no. He stormed off like a sore loser. He also called me a cunt which I will never forget. My eyes narrow and I grit my teeth. His exact words are burned into my mind: "Charlie Langley is a cunt who has you wrapped around her little finger."

And to think I had come down to his office to try to make amends. Asshole.

Standing up, I straighten my shoulders back and decide to go get another cup of coffee down in the kitchen. I should probably order a salad and have it delivered for dinner, but I'm not that hungry. I still have some numbers to go over and I want to study the marketing reports for a new app we're planning to launch.

As I head out of my office and walk toward the kitchen, my heels clicking, I wave to Amelia, the cleaning girl as I pass. "Hi, Amelia," I say and pause.

"Hello, Charlie. How are you?"

"Good, thanks. How's your mom doing?" I ask.

"She started a new medication so we're hoping to see some improvement," Amelia says.

I nod. "That's good." Amelia's mom was diagnosed with heart disease, and she's been keeping me up to date on her progress. "If you need anything, let me know."

"Thank you, Charlie."

My full name is Charlotte, but I made the decision to go by Charlie when I realized that the men in the tech industry give their time and attention to other men first and foremost. When Charlotte Langley left messages, no one replied. When Charlie Langley leaves messages, everyone replies. By the time they realize they're dealing with a woman, it's too late and hopefully I've already dazzled them with my brilliance.

Turning the corner, I pass Thomas' large corner office and catch a glimpse of him still working at his desk. I stop up short and pause in the doorway. "What are you still doing here?" I ask.

"I'm the boss. I'm always here," he replies in a gruff voice.

"Thomas, you said you haven't been feeling well lately," I remind him gently. "You should go home and get some rest."

"Too much work to be done."

Concern fills me and I step inside and walk over to his desk where I see a half-drunk bottle of juice and an empty granola bar wrapper. "The remnants of your dinner?" I ask and arch a disapproving brow. "Didn't have time to go out and get anything," he mumbles, eyes focused on his computer monitor.

"That's why God created DoorDash," I say.

Finally, he looks up at me, blue eyes tired and looking all puffy. For whatever reason, an image of Nash fills my head. Probably because this is what he's going to look like at sixty years old. Still handsome in a dashing sort of way. Also, because they have the same shade of bright cobalt blue eyes. It's a little disconcerting and I merely blink, at a momentary loss for words.

"Are you going to lecture me, Ms. Langley? Because I don't have time for that."

"I'm here to escort you out and make sure you go home and get some much-needed rest, Mr. Beckett," I inform him and reach for his briefcase.

"I'm not ready to go home yet," he argues. But the fight is gone from his voice.

"Too bad," I say. "The work isn't going anywhere, and you know you can count on me to get more done tonight."

He stands up on creaky knees and reaches for his suit jacket on the back of the big leather chair. "Maybe you should take your own advice," he says and gives me a knowing look.

"Touché," I say, a smile edging up the corner of my mouth. "Don't forget, though, I'm still a spring chicken and your old bones need their rest."

A loud guffaw fills the room as we walk out of his office. "I've always enjoyed your pluck, Charlie. Keeps a man on his toes."

"I try."

"I probably don't tell you this as often as I should but I'm grateful to have you here. Working with you every day is a joy, Charlie. An absolute joy," he mutters and heads toward the elevator bank. "See you bright and early!"

I chuckle. "Goodnight, Thomas." His words make my heart catch. Once he moves down the hall and I'm sure he's actually leaving, I turn back around and look over his impressive office.

The corner office is amazing. All floor-to-ceiling windows with a stunning view of Manhattan, beyond spacious and there's even a full bath attached to it. Hopefully one day, I think.

After a moment of fantasizing about calling this place my office, I turn around, ready to head out, when something snags my attention. Beneath a file, a picture frame hangs out a little over the edge of the desk. I slide the file over and pick the overturned frame up. It's a framed photograph of Thomas with his children. Of course, my eyes instantly zero in on the tallest, oldest son. Even from the distance the picture was taken, I can see his bright blue eyes and it annoys me. He's not smiling, more like smirking, with just a subtle lift of his mouth.

Even in a photograph, the man knows how to irk me.

For as well as I've come to know Thomas Beckett, I barely know anything about his children. Other than the obnoxious, arrogant Nash who I had the misfortune of working with for a year. Before his little temper tantrum when I got promoted over him. I like to remind myself of that fact every now and again.

In the picture, Thomas is surrounded by his four sons and youngest daughter. I know their names, of course- Nash, Tanner, Sawyer, Crew and Sierra- but, other than that, not much else. From what I've gathered, they all had a falling out over the years for one reason or another.

Thomas has made the comment time and time again that his children don't give a fig about his company. He said if it were up to them, the doors would close forever, and they'd sell it off in a heartbeat. I know Thomas would never let that happen and that's why I'm fairly confident that he will pass the reins on to me when the time comes for him to retire.

Nash is the only one with any experience running a Fortune 500 company, from what I know, so if anything, ever happened to Thomas, I can't imagine any of his kids wanting to step in and take over the day-to-day operations.

But I'm not going to lie. Seeing this picture of them all together makes me a little uneasy. I've never seen it before in here and I wonder where it came from and why it's out now?

God forbid anything happen to Thomas Beckett. But, if it did, and he decided to leave TB Tech to his children, even though he claims he wouldn't, the very real fact is I could be left out in the cold, fired and with no job. When I think about all of the time, effort and hard work I've put into this company, the very idea makes me nauseous.

But that's the absolute worst-case scenario. I study Nash a moment longer than necessary and hope his life is miserable. I hate the way he and his father always argued and even more, I hate the way he used to walk around here like he was the second coming of Christ or something. Or God's gift to women.

The women who work here, mostly assistants, used to drool over Nash and flirt outrageously with him. He would eat it up and flirt right back without missing a beat. Especially with Ivy Reeves, Thomas' executive assistant. It was so obvious that she wanted a piece of him. Remembering the way Ivy would talk to him in a simpering baby voice and always manage to replace some sneaky way to touch him makes me throw up a little in my mouth.

I certainly don't miss witnessing the way she and the others fawned over him incessantly. So annoying.

There's no denying that Nash Beckett is handsome but his attitude and the fact that he thought he was so important made him less attractive in my book. Hell, if I had the chance, I'd love nothing more than to knock his a*s off that self-important pedestal he's constructed for himself.

After leaving here in a fit, Nash was quiet on the tech scene for a few months. Then he came bursting out of the woodwork when he announced his own company, N Squared, and since then has developed some successful software and apps.

Nash's company, however, is nothing compared to the giant that is TB Tech. So I hope he's having fun tinkering on his pitiful ideas in his small office while I'm helping his father run a multi-billion dollar corporation and paving the way for future generations and new technology.

I replace the frame exactly as I found it and try to ignore the uneasy twist in my gut. Although I normally listen to my instincts, this paranoid feeling doesn't make sense. I know Thomas Beckett will make sure I'm taken care of and will remain a part of his company. Of course, he will, I tell myself for what feels like the hundredth time.

I believe he sees me like a daughter, a strong asset and that he'd never throw me to the dogs. AKA his children.

I let out a soft sigh and head back down to my office.

You can trust Thomas,I think. But, if that's true, then why do I feel like the rug is about to get pulled out from beneath me?