Playing the Millionaire

by Sandi Lynn

  Playing The Millionaire

  New York Times, USA Today & Wall Street Journal bestselling author

  Sandi Lynn

  Playing The Millionaire

  Copyright © 2017 Sandi Lynn Romance, LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the authors imagination or are used factitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Photo & Cover Design by: Sara Eirew @ Sara Eirew Photography

  Models: Alex Boivin & Pamela Brisson

  Editing by B.Z. Hercules

  Mermaids

  www.whats-your-sign.com/mermaid-meaning-and-symbolism.html

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Books By Sandi Lynn

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Kate

  My eyes were closed, but my mind still planned my next move. My move to leave Seattle and go home. I slowly opened my eyes as I lay there on my side with his arm stretched out over my waist. He was a good man and my time spent with him was coming to an end. Nigel Thorne was a fifty-year-old millionaire who liked to devour younger women. He’d charm them, use them, and then discard them when he got bored. He became bored quickly, which was good for me because I had no plans to stick around. But he said I was different. Great. He said I was a keeper. Shit. For how long, I didn’t know. His first mistake was trusting me. He was a charmer, but I charmed better. He was a seducer, but I had seduced him first. He told me he loved me and I told him not to be silly. We had only known each other a little over two months, just enough time for me to find out his weaknesses and play on them. He bought me expensive handbags and designer clothes, as well as diamond earrings and a bracelet that were worth over twenty thousand dollars.

  A small smile crossed his lips as his eyes opened and locked on to mine. His hand swept through my hair as he leaned in and brushed his mouth against mine.

  “Good morning,” he whispered.

  “Morning,” I spoke with a small smile.

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  “Six thirty.”

  His chest heaved as he let out a sigh and rolled onto his back, folding his hands behind his head.

  “I have a meeting at eight. Don’t forget about the dinner party at the Andersons’ tonight.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” My finger ran down his chest.

  He kissed my forehead before climbing out of bed and hopping into the shower.

  “I’ll go make some coffee,” I spoke as I slipped on my red satin robe.

  “Thank you, darling.”

  He liked his coffee French pressed. Once it was finished, I poured some into his favorite brown mug with one cube of sugar and two splashes of skim milk. Taking it into the bathroom, I set the mug on the counter while he stood in front of the mirror and shaved.

  “What are your plans for today?” he asked.

  “I thought I’d do some shopping, perhaps buy a new dress for the dinner party tonight.”

  “Good idea. Make sure it’s black, tight, and short.” He winked. “Take my credit card and spare no expense.”

  I had no intention of attending that party because I’d be long gone before he even got home from the office. Seattle was nice and all, but my time here was up and I had other prospects to check out. As I was leaving the bathroom, he called my name.

  “Becca?”

  “Yes?” I turned around.

  “I think you should move in with me.”

  Ugh. I hated when they suggested that. Walking over to him, I placed my hand on his back and stared at him through the mirror.

  “We’ll discuss that later. You’re going to be late for your meeting if you don’t hurry up.” I smiled.

  “I’m in love with you, Becca Wright.”

  My lips pressed against his bare shoulder before I walked into the bedroom and laid out his suit. Once he was dressed and headed out the door, he kissed me goodbye. Little did he know that the kiss he gave me would be his last one. As soon as the front door shut, I showered, got dressed, and went into his home office, where I removed the large painting of a hunting dog that revealed his wall safe. His combination was heavily guarded by him and nobody was allowed in his office when he opened it. I had placed a hidden camera amongst the books that sat on the bookshelf across from the painting. 25 left, 10 right, 5 left, 6 right, and voila, it opened. Inside sat piles of cash, two Rolex watches, a diamond ring that belonged to his grandmother, and important documents that pertained to his business. Documents that could ruin him if anyone ever got their hands on them. I placed the three-carat canary diamond on my finger and held my hand out in front of me. His grandmother raised him his whole life and before she died, she was the most important person in the world. I grabbed a few stacks of cash—about a hundred thousand dollars’ worth—and the two Rolexes, and shut the safe. As I was putting the painting back on the wall, my eyes caught sight of his grandmother’s ring. Guilt started to wash over me. As much as I wanted to keep the priceless beauty, I knew it would devastate him if it went missing. He was already going to be devastated enough once he found out I had conned him. So I reopened the safe and placed it back inside the little red velvet box that kept it secure.

  I grabbed the small overnight bag that I packed, shoved the money and the watches inside, and headed out the door back to my apartment, which I rented from week to week, took off my short platinum wig, put on my long brunette one, and called for a cab to take me to the airport.

  When I arrived, I checked in and placed my luggage on the scale. When I handed the short stocky man my driver’s license, he looked at it and then handed it back to me with a smile.

  “Have a safe flight to New York, Miss Greaves.”

  “Thank you.” I flashed my pearly whites at him.

  I entered the plane, set my carry-on under the seat in front of me, and sank into first-class seat 2D. It always had to be the second row and the window seat. If that seat was sold out, I’d have no problem getting the person who bought it to switch with me. Fi
rst row was out of the question because they always made you stow your carry-on. Any rows beyond the second always ran out of the first choice of food before the flight attendant reached you. That pissed me off more than anything. And the window? Always the window. It was all about the view and the peace and serenity that I felt when I saw the fluffiness of the clouds that enveloped the sky. Not to mention the fact that I hated people climbing over me to get to the bathroom or the food carts bumping me as the flight attendants made their way up and down the aisles.

  I laid my head back and took in a deep breath, my brunette wig still in place and my Chanel sunglasses covering my eyes.

  “So you’re the one who booked the window seat?” I heard a man’s powerful voice speak.

  I turned my head and slightly lowered my sunglasses only to find a well-tailored black Armani suit staring me in the face. All six foot two of it. My eyes watched as he put his carry-on in the overhead compartment, shut it, and then took his seat next to mine. Short light brown hair that was cut in a classic crew. Simple. Stylish. All American. A strong masculine jawline with a perfectly manicured five o’clock shadow, alluring lips, and a pair of men’s Phantom Aviator glasses that covered his eyes. He radiated a scent. Warm yet cool. Sophisticated. Sea-like with a hint of patchouli. He reeked of wealth.

  “Excuse me?”

  “When I booked this flight, I was disappointed to see the window seat was already taken.” The corners of his mouth slightly curved upwards.

  A rush of warmth flooded my panties and I swore I’d just had an orgasm.

  “When did you book this flight?” I asked.

  “Yesterday.”

  “Then maybe you should have booked it sooner if you wanted the window seat.” I smiled.

  “Perhaps. But my business in Seattle finished earlier than I expected.”

  “May I get you a beverage?” the perky young flight attendant asked.

  “Tequila with a splash of lime, please,” I replied.

  “And for you, sir.” Her “I want to fuck you” smile widened.

  “I’ll have a vodka cranberry. Light on the cranberry.” He grinned.

  I glanced down at his arm, which was sitting on the armrest, and took note of the Cartier watch that sat proudly on his wrist. Elegant, powerful, and out-of-this-world expensive. He didn’t remove his sunglasses, but neither did I, so I couldn’t very well say something to him. But I was dying to see his eyes. He wasn’t complete until I saw the color of them. Actually, he would never be complete until I saw firsthand what kind of package he was sporting underneath his expensive designer pants. He was the type of man women fell to their knees for, and I could understand why. He was beyond gorgeous. In fact, I don’t think my eyes ever laid on anyone sexier. He looked to be early thirties, thirty-two at the most.

  “Your tequila with a splash of lime.” The flight attendant smiled as she handed me my drink.

  “Thank you.”

  “And your vodka cranberry, light on the cranberry.” Her grin widened as she handed him his drink with a napkin tucked underneath it.

  “Thank you.” He flirtatiously smiled back.

  Rolling my eyes, I brought my glass to my lips. When he set his napkin down, I noticed she had written her phone number on it with a note that read:

  “I’ll be in New York for a couple of days. Call me.”

  I sighed as I set my drink down on it.

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” I picked it back up. “I would hate for the ink to smear.”

  He let out a chuckle. Damn it. Even that was hot.

  “No worries. And if it did, I wouldn’t care.”

  “She’s cute. You wouldn’t want to hit it at least once?” I arched my brow.

  “She’s cute. But she’s not my type.”

  “And what exactly is your type?” I smirked.

  “Brunettes with long wavy hair and,” he reached over and pulled my glasses from my face, “rich brown eyes.”

  I stared at him through his Ray-Bans, speechless and gasping for air. Grabbing my glasses from his hand, I slipped them back on.

  Chapter Two

  Gabriel

  The moment I stepped onto the plane and saw the incredibly beautiful woman sitting in the window seat next to mine, my cock started to rise. Long brunette hair with a hint of wave through it, full sensuous lips, high cheekbones, and a pair of black Chanel sunglasses that framed her face to perfection. Normally, I would ask the person occupying the window seat to switch with me, but something told me that this beauty wouldn’t give it up. It was the way she composed herself in her seat. She radiated confidence and the fact that she kept her sunglasses on indicated she didn’t want to be messed with. As I was putting my carry-on in the overhead compartment, the scent of jasmine and rose overtook my senses. Fresh, seductive, and warm. She had attitude. I liked it. Telling me I should have booked my flight sooner made me laugh inside. She didn’t fumble with her words like most women did in my presence. She was poised and carefully spoken.

  “What’s your name?” I asked as she took her sunglasses from my hand and put them back on.

  “First names only.” The corners of her mouth curved up into a small smile. “Hannah.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Hannah. I’m Gabriel.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gabe.” She cocked her head as she extended her hand.

  “Not Gabe. Gabriel. I don’t do nicknames.” I placed my hand in hers.

  “Okay. Now that we’ve established you don’t do nicknames, what do you do?” I noticed her brow arch from underneath her glasses.

  “I’m in corporate business. And you?”

  “I’m an entrepreneur.”

  “For what type of business?” I asked, for I was intrigued.

  “Handbags, jewelry, shoes. Anything that makes a girl feel pretty.” She smiled.

  Her smile. Illuminating. Radiant. A one-of-a-kind smile. The kind of smile that would turn even the shittiest of days around. My cock was behaving badly and she would be the perfect woman to punish it.

  “Is your business in New York?” I asked.

  “No. I’m just visiting a friend for a couple of days.”

  “I see. Are you going to keep your sunglasses on the whole flight?” I asked.

  “Are you? Or are you afraid that you will lose your power over me and expose your emotional vulnerability?” A smirk crossed her lips.

  “I’m sorry?” I shook my head. “What?”

  “People who wear sunglasses inside places do it so they can intimidate people. With that intimidation, comes power. And that power is a mask for the emotional vulnerability that you possess. Or it could just simply mean that you want to create an aura of mystery about yourself, leaving people to guess what’s hiding beneath those glasses.”

  Shit. What the fuck?

  “So which is it, Gabriel? Emotional vulnerability or mystery?”

  “I could ask you the same thing, Hannah,” I replied with an arch in my brow.

  She let out a light laugh. “I’m wearing them because I’m tired and the darkness of the shades will help me sleep.

  “Then by all means, get some rest. I will wake you when we land.”

  “Thank you. You still haven’t answered my question.”

  I sighed as I stared at her.

  “And I’m not going to.”

  “I’m going to go with emotional vulnerability.” She reclined her seat and turned her head towards the window.

  Did she even realize to whom she was speaking? Something told me that this one was out of control with her mouth. But yet, I found her irresistible. As she slept, I stared at her. My eyes raked over the gray cardigan she was wearing with the black tank top underneath and tight black pants. I needed to see her standing up. My mind only imagined what was hiding under those layers of clothes. Her face was beautiful and I would bet my life that her body was just as sexy. Once again, my cock started to rise just thinking about me fucking her from behind, gripping her ass as tight as I could while I pounde
d in and out of her, listening to the screams of her ecstasy as my cock satisfied her every need.

  I hadn’t had great sex in a while. Greta, my newly ex-girlfriend, had become unbelievably irritating, always whining and bitching at me for something. She’d bitch when I had to work late and then tell her mom and sister what a horrible boyfriend I was because I didn’t spend enough time with her. We’d been dating for six months, and for me, it was six months too long. Withholding sex was her form of punishment for me. Did I care? Not really. We’d been broken up for twenty-four hours and it had been the best twenty-four hours of my life. I had no choice but to dump her when I was in Seattle. I couldn’t take her calling me every half hour and then blow up my phone with ridiculous text messages asking me who I was sleeping with because I didn’t answer. I’d never cheated on her. I didn’t do shit like that. It wasn’t who I was. Even though I was a rich powerful man, I still respected my relationships with women. It was her own insecurities that led her to think I was sleeping around with every woman in the world. Ha. I wished.

  When I wasn’t in a relationship, which I found I was better off not being in one, I’d have a lot of sex with different women. One-night stands mainly. Women I met at business conferences, bars, restaurants, business trips. All casual, no strings, and absolutely perfect. I got my needs fulfilled without all the bullshit drama. I made a vow that once I got rid of Greta and she was out of my life, I would stay single for a long time. Even if the right woman appeared right in front of me, it didn’t matter. I was tired of all the harping. It exhausted me and work did that enough. Running a multi-billion-dollar hotel and resort chain wasn’t easy. There was too much competition out there and I needed to keep on top of my game if I wanted to remain the best.

  I was the CEO of Quinn Hotels. Our chain was right up there with Four Seasons, Ritz Carlton, and Mandarin Oriental. Last year, Forbes placed Quinn Hotels, also known as “Q,” number four on their list of the ten best hotels chains in the world. I inherited the company when my father passed away a couple of years ago. He inherited it from his father, my grandfather, who started the luxurious hotel chain back in 1929 and quickly became a huge competitor for Hilton Hotels.