Hostile Takeover: Blackwood Billions

HOSTILE TAKEOVER BLACKWOOD BILLIONS BOOK ONE CHRISTINA C JONES CONTENTS 1. Nalani 2. Nalani 3. Orion 4. Nalani 5. Orion 6. Nalani 7. Nalani 8. Orion 9. Nalani 10. Orion 11. Nalani 12. Orion 13. Nalani 14. Orion 15. Nalani 16. Orion 17. Nalani 18. Nalani 19. Orion 20. Nalani 21. Nalani 22. Orion 23. Nalani 24. Nalani 25. Orion 26. Nalani 27. Orion 28. Nalani 29. Orion Epilogue - Nalani What Next? About the Author Copyright © 2023 by Christina C Jones Editing by Trim&Polish All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Things are shifting for me. In ways I absolutely never expected, and absolutely wouldn’t change. This has been one of the hardest books I’ve ever written - not because of the contents, but because of so many adjustments I’ve had to make to me. This book has truly been a labor of love, and I hope you enjoy every moment of Nalani and Orion’s story. Their journey. I have a lot of paths to send thanks down. To God, for obvious reasons. To my husband and children, who have buoyed me through this time. To my friends, who’ve done the same in their different ways. To J, who has held me down and made sure the CCJ brand remained strong when I literally did not have it in me LOL. To my betas, who were patient and talkative and opinionated, all of which I needed. To my patrons, who assured me at every turn I was doing just fine. And to all my readers, especially my OGs who have been down since the very beginning - you’ve helped me build to a place where it was - and is - okay for me to step away when I needed to. I can’t overstate how much that’s appreciated. Again - thank you. I hope you enjoy this book! ONE NALANI Something was… off. I felt it permeating the air as soon as I breezed through the doors of the office suite that kept Nectar running smoothly. Sweet potato latte in one hand, a green smoothie in the other. My cell phone and laptop were both tucked securely in the bag anchored on my shoulder, but the tense vibe I walked into had me wishing I had a hand free to answer my steadily buzzing phone. Maybe it couldn’t wait until I was at my desk like I thought. Unwilling to risk one of my drinks—or the thick white cashmere sweater dress I’d chosen for today’s wardrobe—I put as much speed in my stride as I could in heeled boots, making it to my personal office just as the phone rang again. Once my hands were free, I pulled the device from my bag, trying to catch the call before it ended as missed. Daddy flashed across the screen, causing my breath to catch in my throat. Him ringing my line at barely eight in the morning, when he usually wasn’t even in the office yet until ten, was a major clue. Something was wrong. “Hey, Daddy,” I answered brightly, some part of me hoping my cheery tone would bleed into whatever unappealing news he was about to deliver. “Hey Nala,” he replied with a somber undercurrent that made me hold my breath for whatever was coming next. “You on your way to the office yet?” “I just walked in,” I answered, eyeing the drinks on my desk, knowing one of them was about to go to waste. “Why, what’s going on?” “We need you in the big office.” The big office. Meaning, his office. “Why?” “Does it matter?” he countered, and I pushed out a sigh. No, it didn’t. “I’ll be there in just a moment,” I said, not bothering to formally end the call since the big office was just down the hall from mine. Glancing between my options on the desk, common sense told me to pick the coffee. I had a feeling I was about to need it. * * * Nectar had what some would call limited office space, but it was really all we needed. The store, or market as I liked to call it, took up most of the room. Our footprint was only five thousand square feet, but we’d multiplied that by expanding upward, with four open floors of organic grocery space, and one floor, the top floor, of “Personnel”. Just over half of the floor was dedicated to employee spaces—a well-appointed breakroom, restrooms, showers, and a small daycare I liked to peek in the windows of whenever I passed. The offices were tucked off to the back, with a separate, keycard-access only entrance. In the hall that led to the different offices, one side of the floor was glassed, giving a perfect view of the open spaces below. As a kid, it terrified me, but I loved it now, so much that it was a bit of a source of calm as I navigated my way down to the big office, emotional support coffee in hand. I’d already burned my tongue downing half of it, but I refused to let it grow tepid on my desk like the smoothie would, while I listened to why father needed me in the office. There was no way it was good. That suspicion was confirmed as soon as I walked in. Our accountant, or rather, CFO, was seated at the large conference table that took up a good part of the office, looking grim as usual. He wasn’t my favorite person in the world; I hated being told no, and he employed the word way too often when I was presenting ideas that would help Nectar’s growth. His favorite thing to say was we can’t afford that, but I suspected that had more to do with