by Cora Bell
Wanted by the Billionaire
Cora Bell
Copyright © 2020 Cora Bell
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Summary
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
Newsletter Signup
Saved by the Billionaire Sneak Peek
Chapter 1
Books By This Author
Summary
Nash
My past is full of tragedy and I won’t leave my house. But that doesn’t mean I can’t watch what’s going on in my hotel.
The moment I see Reyna, it’s like my heart is jumpstarted. I feel more alive than I have in years.
I’m in love with a woman I’ve never met, but somehow, I have to make her mine. The only problem is, I have to risk becoming the person I said I’d never become again.
Reyna
Everything I’ve heard about Nash is true. He’s cold and heartless. But he’s also one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen.
Part of me longs to be in his arms. And in his bed. Especially after he makes me an offer I can’t refuse.
But I know if I agree, I will belong to him mind, body, and soul. And I know one thing for certain.
He’ll never let me go.
CHAPTER ONE
Who the hell did he think he was? I shoved the register drawer closed and turned to Stephanie with a decisive nod.
“I’ll quit, too,” I said. “Then he’ll have to see what an ass he’s being.”
Stephanie waved off the request, hauling her purse over her shoulder. “It doesn’t make sense for you to lose your job, too.”
“But it isn’t fair.”
“Life rarely is, doll.” Stephanie rolled her eyes. “I can do better than this fucking job, and one day, you will too. I’m out.”
With that, Stephanie turned for the door and shoved by the security guard who waited to escort her from the building. Nash Holmes hadn’t even had the courtesy to come in and fire her himself.
Stephanie waved at me, flipped the security guard off, and stomped into the lobby, her shoes clacking on the tile all the way to the entrance of the hotel.
I rubbed my hands over my face and leaned against the counter. Now what? Stephanie had taught me to do my job, and now she was gone. I wouldn’t have someone to gossip with in the mornings or get a drink with after work.
Sure, Stephanie had a big mouth and sometimes said the worst possible things to customers, but still—she was a friend.
I walked around the counter, still fuming. Financial reasons? That’s why he’d fired Stephanie? I snorted. Like Mr. Holmes, super rich, super asshole, couldn’t afford to keep her on. And we did good business at the store. We sold paintings every week. The man who did them was a genius, and he made Mr. Holmes a shitload of money, so what the hell were financial problems?
I straightened one of those paintings on the wall, leaning in close to admire the colors. It was bright—one of the brighter pieces from this artist. The back of a woman who had skin like porcelain. It was just the line of her hip, the curve of her buttocks, her arm resting at her side.
Something about it spoke to me. Drew me in. And this wasn’t the only piece. There were others, darker and moodier. Pieces that spoke of a shadowed past. Dark days.
Kind of like my photography. I didn’t tend toward the bright and airy. No, each one had its own story, and that story came from a rough past. But it was my own kind of therapy.
“Ms. Turner,” a voice said.
I whipped around, slapping a hand against my chest. When I saw the security guard who had escorted Stephanie from the building, I narrowed my eyes. “Yes?”
“Mr. Holmes will be sending in a replacement shortly, but he’s certain you’ll be fine finishing the day out on your own.”
“He’s certain?” I asked with a soft laugh. “He doesn’t even know me. I’ve only been working here for three months.”
“He trusts you. However, if you run into any issues, call this number.” He passed over a card.
I thought for a moment it might be Nash Holmes’s business card. A way I could get in touch with him—maybe give him a piece of my mind—but it wasn’t.
Of course, giving the head man a piece of my mind probably wasn’t the best idea considering I needed this job more than I let on. Sure, I’d quit for Stephanie, but damn—I really couldn’t afford to be out of work.
“Have a good day,” the security guard said.
I started to nod, then shook my head. “No, wait.”
I owed it to Stephanie to stand up to Holmes. To let him know he couldn’t just mess with people’s lives.
The guard turned around, giving his head a nod. “Yes?”
“I do have issues. One issue, actually. And I’d like to speak to Mr. Holmes about it.”
His lips curved just slightly. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
“He fired my boss! She didn’t deserve it. And now I’m here alone and—”
“I’m sure Mr. Holmes will be happy to find someone to fill in if you need assistance for the rest of the day.”
“No, it’s not—” I swallowed and tried to choose my words carefully. “Can you give him a message for me, then?”
The guard looked doubtful, but he finally inclined his head.
I drew in a breath and then released it before I lost my nerve. “Please tell him that just because we’re not billionaires like him doesn’t mean we’re not people too. We have problems just like everyone else, and he should really think twice before screwing with people’s lives.”
He kept a straight face, but I swore his eyebrows crept up just slightly. “I think I’ve got the message.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Turner. And don’t hesitate to call that number if you need any help.”
He left before I could make a smart remark about the number. It wasn’t like it was going to help get Stephanie her job back. But at least Mr. Holmes wasn’t going to leave me alone in the store for long. Not that I minded being here alone.
It was sort of peaceful, walking through the open space and thinking of my own version of art. Itching to get my fingers on a camera so I could document the world.
As long as I was behind a camera, I felt in control.
I sighed and smiled at a hotel guest who walked in. Right now, being in control was important to me. But keeping my job was even more important, so I walked up to the guest and tried to do my job.
#
I watched Reyna on the camera after Charles finished speaking to her. She’d looked upset. What had she said to him? Was she standing up for the lady I’d just fired?
That sounded about right. Reyna seemed loyal, and she always had a smile for every single guest who walked into the gallery. That kind of optimism usually put me in a sour mood. But not from her. For some reason, Reyna Turner almost made me optimistic.
I frowned and stood, turning away from my desk and the span of computers to stare out the window. I could see across the entire city and to the water. Places I used to go. Often.
Now, what was really out there for me? I placed my hand over my abdomen, the scar that was barely visible now, but I knew was there. Another reminder that the real world was a horrible place.
The world had crushed my heart and my spirit. Who gave a shit if I was out there or not?
At least this way, I could wear jeans and a t-shirt to a work. Not exactly the image of the high-powered mogul people knew me as, but it was just me here.
Alone.
I walked from the room and turned down the nearest hallway. My studio was on the right, walled in with windows and allowing perfect natural light for my paintings.
I’d started three new ones, but I couldn’t seem to get past the one thing I truly wanted to paint. Reyna.
A long table lined one of the windows, supplies and photographs settled across the surface. I flipped through the pictures, mostly still shots from camera feeds throughout the hotel as well as shots I’d had sent in from my favorite photographers. Coastal scenes, lighthouses, mothers and children on the streets…all I had to do was paint something. Anything.
And all I wanted to paint was Reyna.
The closest I’d gotten was The Shape, the one that was now for sale in the gallery downstairs. I’d gotten hard making that one, thinking about Reyna and what she’d look like naked, the curve of her hip and breast, the smooth skin on her thigh…
Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. “Sir.”
I gritted my teeth, trying to get my cock to cooperate. Not now. In fact, I shouldn’t be thinking of Reyna ever. She was part of the real world. Out there.
And I’d vowed never to have anything to do with the real world again.
I turned to look at Charles. “What is it?”
“The woman has been escorted from the building. I gave the other my card.”
I nodded. I’d seen Charles on the screens, but even if I hadn’t, I trusted the man.
“What did she say?” I asked. “When you gave her the card?”
Charles’s jaw clenched. “She wanted me to give you a message. But I made it clear she could call this number if she had any issues.”
“What was the message?”
“It’s not important, sir.”
I only repeated the question. “What was the message?”
“Verbatim, sir?”
“If you remember.” Which I was sure Charles did. Charles remembered everything—which was why I had brought him on staff in the first place.
“I believe she said, ‘Just because we’re not billionaires like him doesn’t mean we’re not people too. We have problems just like everyone else, and he should really think twice before screwing with people’s lives.’ Or something like that.”
“Is that so?”
“She was quite insistent.”
“And feisty too it looks like,” I said, not sure whether to be insulted or amused. “Anything else? Did you have any problem with the other woman?”
Charles folded his arms, muscles straining against his jacket. “No. I made it clear she’s not to return to this hotel or any other in the city or she won’t be able to get a job around here anymore.”
“Good.” I grabbed another stack of photos. The last thing I needed was dishonesty and disrespect from employees in my own hotel. I dealt with the situation swiftly and firmly.
I couldn’t rid the outside world of all its injustices, but fuck if I’d let it happen in my hotel.
“Will that be all, sir?” Charles asked.
I glanced back to him. “I’d like to speak with Ms. Turner.”
There was a long moment of silence, a silence that said more than Charles could have if he’d spoken out loud. I didn’t have meetings. Not often anyway, and definitely not with employees.
“Right now?” Charles asked.
“Tomorrow morning when she arrives at work.”
“Sir?”
I stared at him. “Tomorrow morning.”
Charles nodded. “Of course. I’ll make sure it happens.”
“That’ll be all.”
I heard Charles’s footsteps fading down the hallway. I glanced at my outfit. I couldn’t dress like this tomorrow. Reyna was the first person from the outside world I’d seen in months—maybe longer. I’d been up here so damned long, I forgot how quickly time passed on the outside.
Tomorrow, I’d show Reyna just how fucked up the world really was. And then I’d see if she still thought I was messing with innocent people’s lives.
After all, was anyone really innocent?
I tossed the photos back on the table with a growl. Reyna. She was the one person who seemed to believe in people, believe that there was still good in the world. And while I wanted to show her it just wasn’t true, part of me also wanted to lose myself in it.
And in her.
CHAPTER TWO
I didn’t even wait for the cab to stop at the curb before I hopped out. Damn it. I’d overslept. After a terrible night of sleep, I’d finally dozed off at four am and didn’t realize until after I’d woken late that my alarm had broken.
“Shit,” I hissed, hustling toward the hotel entrance as fast as I could on heels. I smiled at the bellhop as I passed but didn’t slow down.
I stopped just before running into a woman. I was about to apologize when the woman’s purse slid off her shoulder and to the ground, dumping its contents all over the floor.
“Oh, no…” The woman’s eyes went wide.
I gave her a sympathetic smile but tried to maneuver around her. Then I stopped, grumbled a few curses and turned back. I couldn’t leave the woman to clean it up on her own.
I knelt next to the woman. “Let me help.”
She gave a grateful smile as I started scooping up handfuls of junk to return to her purse. Now I was definitely going to be late.
Once the purse was filled again, I stood. “Have a good day.”
“Wait—sweetheart. What’s your name?”
“Reyna. Have a—”
“Do you work here?”
I nodded, my fingers squeezing tight on the strap of my purse. “In the store. I should—”
“Please, let me thank you for this.” The woman dug into her purse again, searching for what I assumed was her wallet.
“No. Please—” I started, checking my watch.
Damn it. I should have just run past the woman. I was already a few minutes late and I couldn’t afford to get fired. Not right now. Mr. Holmes was no doubt looking for an excuse to get rid of me, too.
The woman shoved a bill at me. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“Oh, no. Please. It was my pleasure.”
“Take it,” the woman insisted. “You deserve it.”
“I—” My mouth dropped open when I saw it was a hundred.
She physically wrapped my fingers around the bill and nodded, her eyes glinting with a smile. “Buy yourself something nice.”
I almost choked. Yes, I’d pay rent with this. That was always nice—having a roof over my head. But I couldn’t—
The woman gave another nod and walked away while I stared, dumbfounded and one hundred dollars richer. Then I shoved the money in my own purse and rushed to the gallery. Just my luck, Mr. Holmes would somehow find out I’d taken money from a guest and use that excuse to fire me. No matter what, I’d be screwed.
When I rounded the corner, breathless, I almost broke my heels skidding to a stop. And then my heart clutched.
The man from yesterday, the security guard—or at least I’d assumed he was—stood just inside the entrance to the store with another woman who looked close to my age, but far more professional. Her pinstriped suit screamed rich! and made the Benjamin I’d just shoved into my purse look like pocket change.
Shit. This was it. I was being fired and she was my replacement.
“Ms. Tu
rner,” the man said.
My throat dried. I cleared it. “Yes.”
“Layla is going to be working here for a little until we find a replacement. She already has experience so the transition should be smooth.”
I didn’t know what to say. Who cared if the transition was smooth if I was fired? “Oh. I mean, good. Yes. I’m glad you were able to find someone so quickly.”
He gave a small smile, looking far less intimidating today than he had yesterday. “She’ll also be covering for you this morning.”
“Covering for me?”
He nodded. “Mr. Holmes would like to see you.”
Fuck! I knew something was wrong. They’d found someone so quickly because I was out. I didn’t have a job anymore.
I squeezed the strap on my purse. “I know I was late, but it wasn’t my fault. There was this lady and—”
“Mr. Holmes’s expecting us,” the security guard said, reaching out for me. “We don’t want to be late.”
I glanced at the woman, my eyes wide. I probably looked like an animal caught in the headlights. She only gave me a gentle smile and turned to the counter.
No, no, no… I knew I’d said I’d quit work yesterday, but it had been a whim. A stupid whim at that. I needed this job.
“This way,” the guard said.
Heart racing, I followed him out of the gallery and across the wide lobby, my heels clicking on the tiled floor. One mistake—one, and I was out. Then it occurred to me I hadn’t just made one mistake.
“Did you give Mr. Holmes my message yesterday?” I asked.
He nodded as we reached the elevators. “I did.”
“Shit,” I said under my breath.
The guard’s lips quirked, but I didn’t find it funny. I’d insulted Mr. Holmes and I was late. Insubordination and tardiness. So maybe I did have a reason to be fired. But just a small one. And today wasn’t my fault.
We stepped inside, and the guard slid a card into the panel before pressing the button on top. The penthouse suite.
My mouth dropped open. What the hell was this? Why were we meeting him up there? As far as I knew it was just one large suite. Maybe there was a meeting room instead. Maybe—