Mr. Trouble: A London Billionaire Standalone (London Billionaires Book 2)

by Nana Malone

  After placing the groceries on the counter, she picked up the letter once more, hoping that she had been wrong in her first two reads. Nope. Everything was still there. Not only did she have to come up with 100,000 pounds in three weeks, she also had to vacate the place for a few days while they sprayed for bugs. Great. This was just great. She threw the letter on the counter and leaned against it, looking at the space she had leased for three years now. It was the perfect size for her, with one bedroom that overlooked a small walled garden and was close to the tube station, allowing her a quick way in and out to work each day. The neighborhood was quaint and quiet, where everyone waved to her as she walked down the street. She loved the flat and did not want to move. But it was so much more than just a flat. It showed her what she’d been able to do, without anyone’s help. She’d done this. All on her own. She’d built her world and now it was crumbling.

  Slamming a fist on the counter, Kinsley let the tears fall. Now what was she supposed to do? The place was rent controlled. There was no way she could afford to move to a similar place. She paid her rent on time, never complained to the landlord and kept the place in great condition. But that’s not enough is it? Working hard will never be good enough.

  Fishing her cell out of her purse, she quickly found her best friend Rachel’s number and pressed the button, listening to it dial her number in her ear. “Hello?” she said a minute later.

  “Rachel,” Kinsley choked out.

  “Kinsley? What’s wrong?” She and Rachel had been friends since they were little, considering they were also cousins, but she was more like a sister to Kinsley than just a cousin. Many a time Kinsley had wondered what she would do without her in her life. “They’re selling my flat.”

  “What?” Rachel’s voice was calm, even. “What do you mean?”

  Kinsley sighed, tears gathering in her eyes once more. “The flat. The owners are selling them. I have to come up with 100,000 quid by the end of the month or I’m out.”

  “100,000 pounds? Are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately,” she muttered. “They are fumigating too. I have to find somewhere else to stay at the end of the week.”

  “That sucks,” Rachel replied, disdain in her voice. “I can’t believe they would do that. But if you need, you can always come stay with me.”

  “Thank you, I love you, but the commute from North London will kill me. I know I can probably provision a company flat for the time being,” Kinsley said, wiping the tear that had escaped down her cheek unchecked. “But what am I going to do?” She had nowhere else to go. Her job as an administrative assistant paid decently but nowhere near enough to front that kind of money. Besides, Kinsley’s tuition to continue the last semester of her Master’s degree was due and she was so, so close to having it complete. An advanced degree meant new open doors at her job and she couldn’t afford to take a step back. Not when she’d worked so hard.

  “Times like this I wished I lived closer, and that Jamison’s family wasn’t here to stay,” Rachel continued. “I’m sorry Kinsley.”

  Kinsley heard the worry in her cousin’s voice and knew that if she could, Rachel would do anything to help, including letting her stay with her and her fiancé, Jamison. They were currently on the countdown to their wedding day and with Jamison being from Ireland, his family had come to London to stay the rest of the time to help out with the wedding plans. “It’s okay Rach,” she finally said, drawing in a deep breath. “I’ll figure out something.”

  “Maybe you can find another job,” she suggested. “You know, to supplement the extra money?”

  Kinsley snorted. “It would have to be the best paying job in the world.” Flipping burgers wasn’t going to work in a pinch.

  “Okay, well maybe you should just talk to them you know? You’re a good tenant. They will want to keep you around.”

  Kinsley shook her head. While she was a good tenant, she was also the difference between a paltry sum and a payday on an older flat. There was no way they were going to give her an inch. Kinsley was going to be kicked out of the home she had made unless she hit the lotto or had a rich family member that was about to kick the bucket.

  “Don’t give up so soon,” Rachel said. “You have access to the company flats right? Go stay there.”

  “That’s really my only option.” Kinsley thought about the nice flat in the wealthy side of town that was owned by her boss, Maloney Motors. Maloney Motors was one of the biggest automotive companies in Europe, specializing in luxury cars. They even had an F1 team. She worked for the owner of the company, Harrison Maloney, in the company headquarters based here in London as his administrative assistant.

  Part of her job was to keep track of the visitors all over the world and stick them in some of the flats that the company owned for their comfort so naturally she had the keys to all of them. There was one that wasn’t being utilized currently and wouldn’t be for a few weeks at least. Technically, she could move in there temporarily to escape the fumigation. “I don’t know, though,” Kinsley said, biting her lip. “What if I’m caught? I mean, I’ve always been told to take what I need, but this seems like overstepping.”

  “Oh come on, like old Maloney would can you,” Rachel laughed. “Do it and ask for forgiveness later.”

  She looked around her own flat, knowing full well she couldn’t afford to rent out a room for the weekend on her current money, especially if she was going to try and finagle a way to pay for this place. “I’m tired. I’m going to go.”

  “Wait,” Rachel barked into the phone. “Don’t forget about your fitting tomorrow for your bridesmaid dress. I can’t believe we are getting down to the weeks now. I am so excited but I’m worried I won’t fit into my dress with all of this food Jamison’s mom is fixing.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Kinsley answered, a soft smile on her face. Rachel was going to be the perfect bride and even if she gained two stone, Jamison was still going to love her. They were disgustingly in love with each other and every time Kinsley was around the two of them, it made her question why she hadn’t found anyone yet. “I’ll be there.”

  “You better be,” she said before clicking off. Kinsley placed the phone on the counter, her eyes sliding to the infernal letter that had effectively ruined her day. What was she going to do? Kinsley was the last of the Wells line, her parents dying in a car accident when she was fifteen. The roads had been slick with rain and they had been coming back from a weekend in the country. The police had stated they hadn’t even seen the tree in the middle of the road. She had been moved to her aunt and uncle’s home and she and Rachel had become roommates. After graduation, she had gone to arts college and Kinsley had found the job with the Maloney corporation, able to save up enough to move out and move on with her life. But now, she felt like she was taking steps backward in her life. She was on the verge of acquiring her MBA, which would make her eligible for a manager’s position that had opened recently, but until she got that piece of paper in her hands, there wasn’t a thing she could do. Kinsley was stuck.

  “What have I done to deserve this?” she asked aloud, looking up at the tiled ceiling. It was like fate was messing with her and she didn’t know what to do about it.

  3

  Jarred was forced to wait until the next morning to confront his father about his trust fund. Though he would have preferred to confront him right after Turner had dropped the bomb, his father was out of town and Jarred wanted to talk to him face-to-face.

  He walked to the Maloney headquarters in the heart of the city, the cool air clearing his head and allowing him some time to think about how he was going to approach the old man and tell him his plan was stupid. What was he trying to do to him? Break him? Make Jarred into the man that he was? It wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t his father. Even the half dozen whiskey shots Jarred had consumed at the nearby pub hadn’t calmed his anger or changed the fact that he was never going to be Harrison Maloney. Harrison Maloney was all business. And he was the black sheep.
The unwanted one.

  Walking into the old brownstone, Jarred punched the lift button and stepped in as soon as the doors opened, hitting the top floor where his father’s offices were. While multi-million dollar companies preferred sleeker, modern office buildings, dear old dad preferred old money ways, keeping the same building that Jarred’s grandfather had started the family business in long ago. The cars were made in a facility in the industrial section of the city, but the magic, as his father liked to call it, happened here. The company had one of those sleek buildings of course over in Kinston upon Thames where the majority of the employees worked, but this, this was the hub for most of the senior executives.

  The lift doors opened and he stepped out, his steps muffled by the plush carpeting. His father’s assistant was seated at her desk outside his office, her eyes widening as she saw him approaching. “M-Mr. Maloney,” she stammered, standing abruptly. “Your father is about to go on a conference call. If you would like to wait a moment.”

  Jarred held up his hand, silencing her next words as he stalked past. “I’ll only be a moment.”

  She opened her mouth to object but he didn’t wait to hear what she said, pushing open the door and walking in. His father was seated at his desk, his phone in his hand when Jarred entered, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Jarred.”

  “Dad,” he said tightly. His father’s eyes narrowed at the sound of his name and not the customary father, which gave Jarred slight satisfaction that he was pissed off. Good.

  Placing the phone back on the receiver, he laced his fingers and stared at his son. “Well? What is it?”

  “My trust fund,” Jarred forced out, hating the way his father acted like he didn’t know what was up. He knew why he was here.

  His father leaned over and pressed a number on his phone console. “Kinsley, reschedule my call for ten please.”

  “Yes sir,” she replied before he clicked off, turning his attention back toward his son. Jarred clenched his fists tightly at his side, staring him directly in the eye. “What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

  He laughed. “That is a loaded question Jarred. The same could be said of you.”

  “I’m not you,” Jarred bit out.

  He shook his head slowly. “That is correct. You are far from the way I was at your age. Do you know I was making multi-million dollar deals at age twenty?”

  Jarred hated when his father did that, making him feel like he wasn’t worthy enough to be his son. Jarred had tried to be successful like him once and it hadn’t worked out.

  “Have you heard from Susan lately? You were a fool to lose her.”

  Jarred gritted his teeth, thinking about his ex-fiancée for the first time in weeks. They’d been broken up for four months, but he was surprised at the burn of bitterness in his throat when he thought of her. He should have completely forgotten her by now. She wasn’t anything to him.

  Susan’s family ran in the same social circles as his family did so it wasn’t surprising when they hooked up. Two years later, Jarred had bit the bullet and bought a ring, presenting it to her one night over dinner. It had seemed like the next step. After all, they had been living together. Susan was very involved in the charitable social scene, though Jarred always thought it was because she liked the limelight and not actually helping people.

  He’d loved her. He’d actually thought he could do it too. Be that bloke. The kind of son his father was proud of. And he’d put everything into that relationship. Even when everything in his being screamed that it wasn’t working, that it didn’t fit, he’d forced it. Hell, even Turner had seemed confused that he wanted to marry her. The two of them had never gotten along. But damn it, Jarred had tried.

  But it wasn’t long after he’d proposed that he’d seen the chinks in her armor. The way nothing he did was ever enough. The way she spent money like it was water. The way she envied her other friends with their even richer husbands. Sure, he was a drunken sod now, but he’d had plans. He wanted to take over his father’s F1 team. He had a lot of ideas to make them a major contender. But that hadn’t been enough for her. She’d said it was common.

  Even for his own fiancée, he hadn’t been enough. She’d left in the middle of the night, the sparkling diamond on the empty pillow beside him, with a note that said, “I’m worth more than this. I can do better.” Not even a month later, she was attached to someone even richer than his father. Her leaving had been part of his alcoholic binge and another black mark on his record according to his father. “This isn’t about her,” Jarred said through clenched teeth.

  His father smirked. “I saw her the other night. She’s looking great, too much of a woman for you apparently.”

  His family hadn’t even asked what had happened. They’d assumed he’d fucked up. That was an admission that burned in his gut. Turner though. He’d known. But he’d also been happy to see her go. “Just give me back my trust fund and I’ll get out of your sight.”

  “It’s not that easy,” his father said, leaning back in his chair, lacing his hands over his suit clad stomach. “It wasn’t just my call, Jarred. The stakeholders in this company, the ones that keep the lights on and production running are concerned with your behavior and the future of this company. To be frank, I was forced to make a decision, son, and it’s for your own good.”

  “By cutting me off?” he asked. “What will they say now when I’m living on the streets and begging for scraps?”

  He laughed. “You are far from being a beggar on the streets Jarred. God, you are just like your mother, a consummate actress when she wants to be.”

  “Sod off,” he muttered even as the blood boiled just under the surface.

  “Tsk, tsk,” he said, shaking his head at his son. “There are conditions to getting your trust money back, Jarred. He left you an out, of course. Every business dealing should have an out. All you have to do is show me that son I know is hiding under that booze fueled outer shell.”

  He heard his words over the dull roar of his anger. “Outs?”

  His father nodded. “Two to be exact. If you take care of both of them, then I’ll reinstate your money. Actually, I’ll double them and vow to never touch them again. How does that sound? I’ll even sign a contract.”

  “What are they?” he asked, eyeing his father. In his warped mind, they could be anything but he was willing to at least listen and find out. After all, he needed his money back. He was right, though, as much as Jarred hated to admit it. It would be months before he would need to worry, but the trust fund monthly was his cushion, one less thing he needed to worry about until now. It’s also your prison. Jarred shoved the thought to the back of his mind. He needed that money. After all, he was the ne’er do well son. How could he stay in his role if he actually had to work? Maybe finally do what you want? No. Not going to happen.

  The old man looked almost gleeful as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “First, you must become involved in this company in some capacity. He didn’t work his ass off to make a future for you to have you throw it all away. This is our family’s legacy Jarred, your legacy, and I expect you to be involved. Hell, even if it’s with the stupid Formula One team you love so much. I don’t care. But either way, you’re going to work.”

  Jarred sighed inwardly. He hated the idea. He didn’t want to do what his father did day in and day out. It was boring, grueling work with very little return if you took the money out of it. His father spent half of his life in this office and he didn’t care to do the same. “I can pick?” Jarred asked finally.

  He nodded. “Anything you want to get involved in Jarred will be better than what you are doing currently.”

  “Fine,” Jarred said, seeing no other way. There would be something he could get involved in with very little impact on his current life. “What’s the other condition?”

  The elder Maloney looked at his son with a gleam in his eye. “You have to settle down.”

  Jarred swallowed. “What exactly does
that mean?”

  “Find a girl, a decent girl,” his father responded. “Someone that you wouldn’t mind marrying one day and having a brood of kids. If you can find one that is willing to stick with you. I mean, you had a gem in Susan and you let her slip through your fingers.”

  Jarred knew he shouldn’t want to impress his father, but right now, he could punch the smirk off of his face and not feel one ounce of remorse for doing so. He wanted to show the old man, he wanted to prove to himself that he could be so much more than the man that his father made him out to be. He wasn’t this loser, but a man who wanted to live more, see more, experience more than just these four walls and a shitload of work that went with it. More importantly, he didn’t want to become this man before him. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to be pushed into another relationship. “I already found someone.”

  His father’s eyes widened. “What? When did this happen?”

  “A few months ago. We’ve been keeping it under wraps.” Jarred said quickly. Hey, it could have happened. He just couldn’t remember any of the women he’d met over the last week to say definitively that he hadn’t met the woman of his future. “She’s great, exactly what you are talking about.”

  “Well,” his father replied, apparently buying the story, “then I have to meet this paragon of virtue. Bring her over to the house next week for dinner. We will celebrate your relationship.”

  Jarred’s jaw clamped shut. Great. If he attempted to get himself out of this, his father would know immediately that he was lying. “Yeah sure, we will be there.”

  The elder Maloney eyed him for a moment. “Good,” he finally said. “Can’t wait to meet this woman.”

  Jarred wanted to say he couldn’t either but put on a tight smile. Now he had to find the woman that would agree to this mess. Should be fun times.