Page 1 of His Jewel

Chapter One

Josh

New York still freaked him out. Not that he’d admit it. It didn’t matter that he’d lived here for three long years since moving from London, and before that, a tiny village in the heart of England. He looked out of his friend’s skyscraper office building, inspecting the people below, just ants moving around, getting from A to B. That’s how he felt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt content, settled. Probably the last time he was in England, not in London, but back home, back with his parents, his brother and sister. The lonely billionaire. The press would have a field day.

Since going global with his company, Private Housing Corp, earning him the title of self-made billionaire, and the cover of Forbes magazine, he’d never felt more alone. Thank God for Drew, whose office they were currently lounging in, another self-made billionaire, owning his own brand of sportswear and exclusive membership gyms. They had met at a networking event when he’d first moved here and hadn’t looked back since. The man was talking away—he’d certainly got the gift of the gab. Josh turned his attention back to him, surmising that he probably required him to reply soon, or Drew would question whether his heart was still beating.

“Sorry, bothering you, am I? As you sit in my office, drink my coffee, and stare out of my window?”

Josh ran his hand over his face, a three-day-old stubble coating it. He’d just been so busy recently he hadn’t had the time to upkeep his shaving routine. Drew obviously had no such issues. Maybe he should take a leaf out of his book—in a three-piece suit that cost more than most people’s monthly salary, with his red hair perfectly slicked back.

“You need to get out, man.”Don’t I fucking know it. “You know you have people who can take care of business for you. Take a vacation or something. You can use my jet,” Drew offered.

He waved a hand. “Nah, appreciate it, but I couldn’t relax, so much to do.” He sighed.

Drew rubbed the scar covering his left cheek, long and silver. He’d asked him once where it had come from, and Drew had blown him off, muttering something about his past. He’d known not to push him any further.

Drew sat forward on the couch, his hands clasped together. “Okay,” he started, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gold card with black etchings, offering it to him. He took it.

“Club Billionaire,” he read aloud, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What is this?” He passed the card back to its rightful owner and Drew pocketed it with a grin.

“It’s exactly what it looks like, my friend.”

“A club for billionaires.”

Drew clicked his tongue. “Bingo. I knew there was a reason you’re worth the big bucks.”

Josh suppressed the urge to sigh, swallowing it down like a bitter pill.

“What kind of club is it? Are we in the fifth grade or something? Going to sit around and braid each other’s hair?”

“Yeah, we do that on Wednesdays,” Drew said, shaking his head. “Look, we were lucky we met, but at this club, you can make all kinds of friends with the right connections.”

“I’m not sure what my bank account has to do with making friends—it’s not some kind of requirement.” As he said the words, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d had trouble with people wanting him for his money in the past, in business and in his personal life.

No, he refused to think of Clara, the woman he thought he loved, the woman he thought had loved him, but was cheating on him with multiple people, living a life of leisure on his dime. Since then, love had held no appeal. Love made you weak, fragile. He’d seen other women since, mainly through dating apps, using an alias, and it had been purely physical. It was like the spark had gone out of dating and he was perfectly fine with that. Fuck, he didn’t even have the time anymore. Where would they go? His office, in between his meetings, calls, emails, events ... no. He didn’t have the time and wasn’t interested in making the time.

“Isn’t it?” Drew countered. “Wouldn’t you feel so much better knowing they had plenty of zeros in their bank? Chances are high they aren’t going to fuck you over.”

“What does the club do exactly?”

Drew shrugged. “Anything.”

“Anything?” he asked, with a raise of his brow.

“Literally anything, within the realm of the law, of course, we’re not savages.” He grinned.

His face must have been full of the skepticism he was feeling. Drew sighed and clapped him on his back, jolting his coffee precariously close to the edge.

“Look, just come by and meet Alana, the owner and founder. Weren’t you just complaining about not being able to find a decent personal assistant?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Well, Alana can find one for you like that,” he said, clicking his fingers. “She vets everyone to within an inch of their life, for anything and everything. The service you’ll get is second to none.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being indoctrinated into a cult right now?” He ran his hand through his dark hair. What did he have to lose? Maybe he should go. It’s not like he had any plans after work, except more work, and God knows he needed a new PA, preferably someone competent. He’d had to fire his last three, who thought the job would be easy, traveling to exotic locations and attending events. Sure, that was part of it, but what was the point if they weren’t getting any actual work done?

He drained the last of his black coffee, letting the bitterness dance over his tongue and seep into his blood. Drew stood, making his way over to his glass desk, shuffling through various papers, clearly in return-to-work mode. That’s what he liked about him. They were the same.

“Fine.” Then he remembered something. “My driver is off tonight, but I could—”

Drew glanced up, holding up a hand. “I can have Alana take care of that. A car will pick you up at 9:00 PM.”

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