The Billionaire With Thirty Dollars

Summary

When I opened my eyes, I was thrust straight into the climax of a toxic alpha-male fantasy.

He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a lit cigar clamped between his teeth, pointing a manicured finger at the illuminated world map on the mahogany wall.

"Finance," he barked, his voice dripping with that manufactured baritone of a man who watched too many Wall Street movies. "I want a hostile takeover of this multinational conglomerate by noon. Money... is no object."

I blinked against the glaring morning light. I looked down at the iPad in my hands, pulling up the master corporate…