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

by Nana Malone

  Kinsley crossed her arms over her chest, gritting her teeth. “Nothing you say will change the fact that you were kissing her Jarred.”

  He swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Can I come in?”

  “No,” she stated, not wanting him in this house. She didn’t even want him on the doorstep.

  “Fine,” he said, looking up at her. There was exhaustion on his face, some of the cockiness she was used to seeing no longer there. Instead, he looked, well, how she felt: hurt, torn, sad. “I did not kiss Susan. She kissed me. She had this sob story about how Baron was treating her and do you know what I told her?”

  “What?” Kinsley asked. Jarred gave her a little smile then, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I told her not to settle.”

  “And she kissed you for that?” Kinsley said.

  Jarred shrugged, sadness in his eyes. “I didn’t kiss her. I would not fucking do that to you Kinsley. You are the only one I want to be kissing.”

  Kinsley tried not to let his words go to heart, but they were. He looked extremely upset, which thawed some of the anger she had built up around her heart, not wanting to get hurt again.

  He stepped forward, his arms at his side. “I can’t make up for the hurt Kinsley, but I’ll tell you, I love you. I love you more than anything on this fucking planet. I literally can’t breathe now unless you are in my presence. You occupy my thoughts. I want to see you in my bed every morning and kiss you goodnight every evening. I want to marry you, have kids with you. I’ve hurt you but I’ll never hurt you again.”

  Kinsley’s eyes welled up with tears as Jarred’s words flowed over her, hearing what was coming from his heart. Did she dare to trust him? “I know it’ll take some time,” he continued, reaching into his pocket. “But I want to spend a lifetime making it up to you.”

  He reached for her hand and pressed a box in it. “You can hold onto that until you are ready. I’ll give you the space you want but I won’t give up. I’ll never give up.”

  A sob escaped her and she ran into his arms, Jarred crushing her against him tightly. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathed into her hair.

  “It’s okay,” she forced out, clinging to him. “I love you, too.”

  He let out a shaky breath, kissing her neck lightly. “God, I thought I would never hear those words.” Jarred pulled back and framed her face with his hands, his eyes searching hers. “I promise you, you will always be happy with me.”

  “I know,” she answered, some of the tension and stress melting away. She believed him. Releasing him, she held up the box. “What’s in this?”

  “Our future,” he said as she cracked open the lid. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a key. “I have a ring,” Jarred added hastily, reaching into his other pocket and producing a gorgeous diamond. “But I thought you would want the key first.”

  Kinsley pulled out the key, turning it over in the palm of her hand. “What’s so special about it?” she asked, looking up at him.

  He grinned. “It’s the key to your flat. I purchased it for us.”

  He had bought her flat, one of the things that had meant so much to her. If that wasn’t an expression of love, she didn’t know what was. With a cry, she threw her arms around him, placing kisses all over his face. “I love you,” she said in between the kisses.

  “And I love you,” he laughed. She hugged him close, her heart overflowing with love for Jarred. It was going to be okay, they were going to be okay. He was where her heart lived.

  “Hey,” he said, kissing her neck once more. “Do you want the ring?”

  “Later,” she said. They had other things to do first.

  Epilogue

  Eight Months Later

  “You look beautiful Kinsley. It’s so funny to be on this side of the fence this time.”

  Kinsley looked at the dress in the mirror and grinned, knowing exactly what Rachel meant. It was hard to believe that just a few months ago she had been a bridesmaid and now she was a bride, about to walk down the aisle to the man who had made her so unbelievably happy over the last few months. She woke up every morning thinking that today she was going to finally hit the peak of her love for Jarred and every night she realized that it was never going to happen. Every day she fell in love with him just a little bit more.

  With a sigh, she turned around, looking at Rachel’s bump that was barely visible under the material of her dress. “Well, I did not have that going on last time.”

  Rachel touched her stomach protectively, a soft smile on her face. “Yeah well things happen on your honeymoon. Don’t forget that.”

  “I won’t,” Kinsley laughed, thinking of the wonderful honeymoon that she and Jarred were going to embark on after the reception. She couldn’t wait. It had been a present from her soon to be father-in-law, a chance to tour Europe at their leisure. While the father and son relationship was still a work in progress, Kinsley felt that they had made huge strides in mending their decades’ long feud. With the Formula One season bound to start in another month, she was going to enjoy this time with her husband. Jarred had really taken to the racing team, working on becoming an integral part of the team itself and expanding his role to a more hands-on approach. They had already joked about how she wasn’t going to see him much once they kicked off and he’d assured her that he couldn’t sleep without her. The argument had been quickly solved.

  A knock on the door caused Kinsley to shake out of her thoughts, giving Rachel a brave smile. “Are you ready?” Rachel asked.

  Kinsley nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. “I’ve been ready.” She was about to marry the love of her life, the man that she was destined for. She couldn’t get there fast enough.

  Mr. Big

  You’ve heard the rumors.

  Yes, they’re all true. The women…the bank account…the really big…

  Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m just saying, there’s a reason some call me Mr. Big.

  But none of it will matter to her. I’ve known her since we were kids. And she’s just as off limits now as she was then.

  She’s my best friend’s little sister and when he asked me to give her the grand tour, he did not mean of my bedroom.

  So Mr. Big has to stay under wraps… One problem, she’s the only woman I’ve ever truly loved. But with the secret I’m keeping, she’ll never love me back.

  Preorder Mr. Big Now! Coming your way this March!

  Didn’t read Mr. Cocky? Here’s your chance.

  Read for free!

  BACK COVER - MR. COCKY

  I’m a cocky bastard.

  I admit it. It’s because I’ve got a big d*ck and I know how to use it. And man have I used it. When my life fell apart, I used it even more to forget.

  But I don’t do that anymore. Because my life is back on track. I have a plan. And nothing is going to stand in my way of getting what I’ve worked so hard for. Nothing except for…her.

  23

  Nick Harvey stuffed his books into his backpack and headed for the door, dragging his feet on the polished vinyl as exhaustion settled in his bones. He’d pulled an all-nighter to finish his essay on Operations Management. This master’s course was going to kill him. Actually, no. Working double shifts and doing the master’s was going to kill him. But it was all he had right now. Going back to where he came from wasn’t an option. He’d rather cut off his balls. Liar. Okay, nothing was that drastic.

  “Are you coming for a beer?” one of his classmates shouted after him.

  “Can’t,” he replied. “I’ve got work.” God it would be nice not to worry about adult things and go for a drink with his mates. But you don’t do that anymore. No, he didn’t. Because there were more important things now.

  A few of the girls from the group giggled and gave him flirtatious smiles as he turned to give them a quick wave. Yeah, that’s right ladies, take in the view. Because broke bartender was oh so sexy.

  He was used to the open looks from women. It wasn’t some
thing he usually thought about. They only saw the outer packaging anyway. They didn’t know him. Nor did they want to. They wanted his cocky smile and his big dick for a night. And usually he was more than willing to entertain them. But tonight, he had work to do. Besides with his internship starting in a couple days, he’d have even less time for a relationship. Working at one of Charles Day’s companies was a breakthrough moment for him. He wasn’t going to blow it.

  Charles Day, one of London’s best-known entrepreneurs, had passed away a couple of years ago, but the legacy was still going strong, thanks to his offspring taking the reins. Nick was finally getting his foot in the door at the upmarket cosmetics firm Shades of Chic. He’d be able to cool off on work at the bar if he got his head down and made the right connections during his internship. It was all mapped out.

  Tonight, work was at a bar in the Bellhowe Hotel, just a few streets away from Uni at Kings Cross. He was getting used to this routine—sleep, eat, study, serve, sleep, wake up, work. Rinse, repeat. It was all he had known for the past six months as he tried to finally finish. It had been too long a road. But six more months and he’d be free and back on track. He could do this. All he had to do was stay focused.

  Once at work he hung up his coat and bag in the narrow staff room, and stripped off his Queens of the Stone Age T-shirt to change into a black short-sleeved polo. Before he could tug his shirt on, Chelsea burst in. Her gaze cemented on his abs and she let out an involuntary gasp. “I’m so sorry,” she said as she placed her bag on a peg. Nick could see her side profile lift as she smiled.

  He laughed. “Look all you want. It’s only skin.”

  “Only bloody perfect skin,” she muttered under her breath.

  Nick smirked, but said nothing. This was easily the fifth time she’d “happened” to join him in the staff room while he was changing. She was cute, and in other circumstances he might have been tempted to shag her, but he’d had too many distractions along the way. A quick shag was one thing. But Chelsea would try to stick and he wasn’t having that. Nothing was standing in is way now. Besides, he knew he needed to keep work and sex separate. Don’t shit where you eat, Nick. He’d already learned the lesson the hard way.

  The bar was pretty quiet. At this time of the early evening there were usually only ever a handful of drinkers. By seven o’clock it would be teeming with business types pouring out of their office blocks and into the pub to unwind.

  As he wiped dust off some whisky bottles on the shelves, his ears picked up some heated conversation at a table in the dark corner. “That bitch should not be in charge,” hissed one guy, taking a huge gulp of amber liquid.

  “Slow down with the drink, Si,” muttered his companion, who seemed like a babysitter. “It’s only afternoon. We’ve got work to do.”

  “You’re right. We’ve got work to do, Dave,” Si replied. “We need to find a way to get her out, to take back what should be mine. He should never have left it to my fucking sister, bloody half-sister—never forget the half.” His face contorted in rage, he added, “Suck-Ass Selena,” then swirled the liquid in his glass. “Always so fucking perfect. Do you see how she struts around? Like she owns the place?”

  Dave sighed. “It’s been three years. She’s done all right, Simon. And she did go to Uni and put in all that work while you were away,” he said, his voice quiet.

  “Are you defending that bitch?” Simon barked. “After all I’ve done for you—giving you this job as my assistant and all that. And all the drinks I’ve paid for.”

  “I’m not defending her,” Dave back-tracked. “Just saying, she’s a natural business woman.”

  “And what am I? A loser, hiding in her shadow? That’s the way everyone has always seen it and I’m sick of it. Dad left her in charge of the company, with me heading up that bullshit sidearm of Daringly So. It’s pathetic. So what if I spent a few years travelling around Europe instead of studying? A guy has to live. And live I did. Some of the stories I could tell you about the parties, and the women.”

  Dave shifted in his seat, staring at the frothy beer in front of him, while Simon waxed poetic about his wild gap year, which turned into three, funded by his father.

  “We need to get my bloody company back. I should be the CEO.”

  After a few minutes of silence, Simon slammed his hand down on the table and bellowed, “Even better. I’ll steal her ideas before she gets them to market and pretend I came up with them. Then who’ll be laughing? I’ll look great, she’ll look shit. She’s been working on something. She thinks I don’t know but I’m not stupid. I just need to find out what it is and get to the market first. That will distinguish Daringly So as a force to be reckoned with and the board will have to consider me as a more viable CEO.”

  “Simon,” said Dave shaking his head firmly, “I’m not sure.”

  “Shut up. Let me think.”

  Nick listened with rapt attention. This was way more interesting than his usual clientele of older men who discussed little more than the weekend’s dismal football games. But eventually, the gin gang filtered in to sip away their work stresses. He called them the gin gang, as he could predict which specialty posh brands each of them would choose and the various ways they would drink it—some asked for apple “to cut through the bitterness,” others had cucumber, some even had strawberry and black pepper in their G&T. Some asked for more than gin. Sometimes he was tempted. Sometimes he wasn’t.

  Nick was getting good at remembering who liked what and had a smooth system running, right down to the two grinds of the pepper mill at the end. The gin gang were mostly businesswomen—gorgeous, fit, and oozing self confidence. They never held back on flirting and Nick was their prime target, especially after the first gins warmed their bodies and loosened their vibes. Not that he minded.

  One blonde in her forties stuffed notes of cash into his hand, “A little tip for London’s most handsome bartender,” she said with a wink. Nick laughed and put the cash in the tip jar.

  Darlene, a brunette that looked to be maybe a young forty apologized for her friend. “Sorry about that. She’s just made partner, so she’s lording it over the world right now.”

  “’S’not a problem. I’m used to it now.”

  She studied him. “Yes, I suppose you are, the way you look.”

  He shrugged, skirting the compliment. “Comes with the territory.” He indicated her glass. “You okay then?”

  She nodded. “I’ve already had more than I should. Impending divorce will do that to you.”

  Nick nodded sympathetically. He’d figured as much. A few weeks ago, she’d stopped wearing her wedding ring. He felt bad for her. She seemed a nice enough lady. “You know what? That one’s on the house.”

  “Really?”

  Nick nodded. “Yeah, you tip well. Least I can do.” He glanced up at the clock. “I’m heading on break. Chelsea will take care of you while I’m gone.”

  When he left the bar, the weirdo in the corner watched him with interest and Nick glowered back. What was that bloke’s problem? On his break, he used the opportunity to work through part of his essay in the back hallway near the locker room. But before he could even get into it, Darlene stumbled down the stairs. “Nick.”

  He glanced up. “Oh hey. You looking for the loo? It’s upstairs to the left, down the hall across the lobby.”

  She licked her lips. “Oh God. I’m so embarrassed.” She shuffled forward, clearly not comfortable in her heels. “I just wanted to uh…thank you for being so nice to me.” She looked like she wanted to say something else.

  Nick frowned. Something was off. He hadn’t escaped the estates without learning to listen to his instincts. “It doesn’t cost anything to be nice.”

  She nodded. “I was wondering, would you be willing to be nice to me in other ways?”

  Shit. That’s what this was about. “Look, Darlene. You’re fit and all, but I don’t—”

  “It’s just my friend, Charlotte, she’s been here before. She said, you, u
h, helped her after her boyfriend dumped her at the bar. I thought maybe you were into doing another good deed.”

  Oh fuck. Yeah, he remembered Charlotte. Blonde, late thirties. Big tits. Mouth like a Hoover and wanker of a boyfriend. Nick had tossed him from the bar several months back. He’d consoled Charlotte after. Called her a cab. But not before she’d pressed her breasts into his side, laid her head on his shoulder and her hand on his dick.

  He fucking knew better than to fuck around at his job. But that was the night he’d found out he was a candidate for the Day Internship. He’d called his mother, so excited he might burst, but she couldn’t even muster up the appropriate enthusiasm. Because she was sick. He’d been feeling sorry for himself. So, yeah, he’d taken Charlotte up on what she offered. Which had been a quick shag against the wall in this very hallway. He’d never even seen her naked. Just her firm ass as she’d lifted her skirt.

  His dick twitched at the memory. How long had it been since he’d gotten laid? Probably too long.

  “Darlene—”

  She unwrapped her top, revealing high, firm breasts. “What, aren’t I as pretty?”

  Shit. And this is why you don’t fuck up and sleep with clientele. “That’s not true at all. You are beautiful. You don’t want this.”

  She laughed. “Yes I do. I want to feel desirable, I want to feel wanted. I want to feel sexy.”

  He swallowed. This, was all kinds of a bad idea. And he promised himself. No more of this. Until at lease he got his life sorted. No more banging anonymous women. His dick twitched in protest. But Nick wasn’t listening to that fucker anymore. Most of his mates would count their lucky stars, but he knew better. This chick could be a clinger. He’d had one of those. Had to block her number after a while. Then there’s been the one who was married and only ever wanted to shag in public places. The thrill was amazing, but fuck, she was nutters. And then there’d been the legions who equated a big dick, and multiple orgasms with him being husband material. Now, those, were the worst.

  “You are sexy. You don’t need me to tell you that. Your husband is a wanker if he couldn’t see that. But this—you shagging some bartender in the employee locker room, I don’t think that’s you.”