Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 316: Control Freak

As the game wrapped up with Darren sinking the eight-ball in a flawless corner pocket, the room fell into a comfortable quiet.

Darren racked the clack of cues and rested on the pool table, face down, lost in thought.

Olivia stretched with a yawn, her lean body arching gracefully, the sunlight from the game room's window highlighting the subtle swell of her breasts over her swimming bra.

"That was fun. Since we've decided on that I think I need a refill on that mimosa," she said, flashing a competitive grin at Darren who only gave her a short glance before returning to his thoughts.

"Really glad you asked for our help in this, Darren," she added. "Nice to know you trust us enough now."

Tamara nodded in agreement, her athletic frame shifting as she poured herself a drink from the bottle of champagne Darren had provided and gulped it down.

"I agree. Hopefully you call us more when you need us," she said with a smile. "I'm always happy to help you, Darren."

She grabbed what was left in the bottle and headed out with Olivia, their ass swaying behind them as they headed back to the pool.

Darren stayed still, his palm flat on the pool table.

Cheyenne was there too. She was leaning against the wall, her lace cover-up barely covering anything up, as her large breasts swelled over her bra.

She crossed her arms under them, accentuating their rounded swell, as she watched Darren struggle with his thoughts.

A brief silence stretched between them. He knew she was there, but he didn't say anything.

Cheyenne didn't particularly mind. He had a very nice body to look at.

"You're really troubled by this, aren't you?"

Darren exhaled sharply, but didn't look at her. "Wouldn't you?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps. But then again, I run a more organized company than you do. This sort of thing would never happen to me."

Darren chuckled, bitterly, running a hand through his tousled hair as he paced a few steps, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

Cheyenne found herself biting her lip at the image.

"Well, that's good for you then? But I'm not just worried, I'm furious, Cheyenne. These bastards—Morrison and Scotland—waltzing into my headquarters while I'm away, trying to carve up my shares like it's a damn buffet."

He paused, shook his head, a hand resting on the wall. "And that son-of-a-bitch Caldwell leading the charge?"

"Oh."

"I always knew he was a slimy opportunist, but then he has the audacity to badmouth me as a 'bad CEO'? I'm really going to deal with that tomato."

Cheyenne smirked. "He does look like a big red ball."

Darren stood still for a moment, hands on his waist, shaking his head.

"Part of me wants to end this break right now, get back to the company, and handle this personally. Ngh! I feel like I need eyes in the back of my head. Or cameras everywhere, intel on every move. I have to know everything, or it'll eat me alive."

Cheyenne's lips curved into a knowing smile. She pushed off the table and approached him slowly, her hips swaying with a seductive edge that made the lace of her cover-up whisper against her skin.

The fabric teased glimpses of her bikini beneath, hugging the generous curves of her full breasts, the narrow dip of her waist flaring into wide, sculpted hips, and the firm, plump arc of her buttocks that commanded attention with every step.

Darren paused when he saw her approaching him, hands folded.

"Oh, Darren, you're such a control freak," she purred, her voice rich, almost even teasing. "Why do you always think you have to shoulder your company alone, like some lone wolf billionaire."

She shrugged stylishly. "I mean, clearly it's about time you stopped taking the full burden of your company on those broad shoulders of yours."

Darren stared at her, his nose filled with the heart catching scent of her perfume.

"You're suggesting shareholders," he said plainly.

She stepped even closer, her voluptuous body now inches from his, the lace brushing against his chest. "Exactly what I'm suggesting. Like every thriving company, it's time for you to formalize your board of shareholders."

Darren didn't like the idea.

"Oh come on! What are you so afraid of? This is how business works. Stop letting those parasitic business associates and sponsors dangle pieces of your company like bait.

"Redistribute those shares to people who actually work for you: the ones with real stakes in the game, like your core team. Loyal employees who bleed for Steele Investments. It lightens your load, builds internal allegiance, and turns potential threats into allies."

Darren's breath caught slightly at her proximity, almost feeling the heat emanate out of her. He did his best to ignore it, and just focus on what she said, because she was right.

'She's so right, damn it,' he thought, frustration mingling with a growing heat.

'But shareholders are how founders lose control of the companies. Boards turning rogue, votes swinging against you.'

His jaw tightened.

"I've always been wary of shareholders, Cheyenne. They're a double-edged sword. History's full of creators ousted by their own boards; I mean look at Jobs at Apple, or Kalanick at Uber. I distrust the system, distrust people. One wrong pick, and it's all gone."

She laughed softly, a sultry sound that vibrated between them. Then she stepped closer, so close now that the tips of their noses brushed, her full lips mere breaths from his.

"There you go again, control freak. Always assuming the worst, hoarding power like it's your lifeline. But you're smarter than that, Darren."

"Who messed with you so much that you're so terrified of betrayal?"

Darren's eyes narrowed. "Didn't you just watch me get me betrayed?"

"Mhm. I guess that counts. But you know I'm right about sharing the stress, admit it. You know what, since you're growing on my like a handsome tumor, let me help coordinate the meetings."

Darren raised a brow. "A handsome tumor?"

"The two of us, a power couple in the boardroom... and beyond. What do you say?"

Darren's eyes darkened with a mix of frustration and some desire. His eyes kept drifting down to her cleavage, her voluptuous form a tempting distraction from the business at hand.

'She's messing with me, but still she's right. Her reach could make this ironclad.'

"First tell me, what exactly do you have in mind?"

Cheyenne's smile turned triumphant. She seemed genuinely happy to be helping him.

If that was truly his goal, at least.

"Oh, where do I begin? First, selection: We target high-caliber candidates from within and without—your top executives like Brooklyn for operations savvy, but also external power players I can pull from my network."

"Imagine the venture capitalists who've backed unicorns, tech moguls who've scaled powerful tech firms. With my company's reach, I can vet them through private investigators: background checks deeper than the FBI's, financial audits to ensure no hidden debts or rival ties."

"We'll look for alignment: Loyalty metrics, past track records of board service without coups. We wouldn't want yes-men, but no sharks either. We'd go for balanced influencers who see your vision."

The tension simmered as she leaned in further, her breath warm against his ear, her curves brushing his body in a deliberate tease, romantic sparks flying amid the strategy.

"Sounds tantalizing now, doesn't it?"

Darren felt her body pulling him, telling him to touch her waist, but he focused, probing. "So how do we weed out the risks? Interviews can't just be chit-chat."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes locking with his in a seductive challenge.

"Well we could just run the interviews like gauntlets. Multi-stage: First round virtual, grilling on ethics. Let's say hypotheticals like 'What if a rival offers a bribe?' to test integrity. I have psychologists on retainer who analyze micro-expressions.

"Second stage: In-person at neutral sites. My private clubs for discretion. We'll simulate board crises, role-play decisions on your Bitcoin holdings or tech expansions.

"My contacts in global finance? I'll bring in references from titans like the Rothschilds or Silicon Valley whales. These are unimpeachable sources. And planning?

"We stagger them. Week one for internals, building buy-in; week two for externals, ensuring diversity. Vesting schedules lock shares: cliff periods of two years, performance clauses tied to company growth."

She chuckled. "Trust me, Darren. No one gets full voting rights until they've proven loyalty. With my leverage, I can blacklist any rejects from future deals, making betrayal suicide."

Darren's thoughts raced, the business logic was solid, but how she was acting—like she was teasing him, seducing him with her glances and her smile, and her… big… round breasts.

It made him hesitate.

But the system…

Ding!

┏This person is being truthful┛

The system trusted her.

Darren had no reason not to trust her now. Besides, if they were going to work together, this was the first step. Trust.

"It's thorough. And you're right, I should be using your Empire connections a bit more. I'm in. Let's do it."

Cheyenne smiled, a seductive thing, as she looked up at him. "Good boy. I'm happy to hear that."

Darren ignored the remark, but hebheld her gaze for a beat, tension crackling, before nodding.

"Alright then."

He stepped back, breaking the contact with effort, and headed toward the door, his mind already shifting to action.

Cheyenne's voice stopped him cold.

"Wait. I've finally decided what I want from you—to pay your debt."

Darren froze, his hand on the knob, not turning back. "Oh. What then?"

There was a second of hesitation.

But then Darren heard hurrying footsteps.

Cheyenne was storming toward him with purposeful strides. She grabbed his shoulder and she spun him around forcefully.

Their eyes met, hers blazing with desire, his with shock.

Suddenly, she grabbed his head and crashed her lips against his in a fierce, claiming kiss.