The Billionaire's Yacht

by Nikki Larson

  The Billionaire’s Yacht

  The California Billionaires Series

  Book 2

  Nikki Larson

  Copyright © 2019 by Nikki Larson

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2019

  Signature Publishers

  California

  Contents

  Join Nikki Larson's Royal Princess Club!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

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  Chapter 1

  “So, you’ve been doing this nanny thing long, have you?” Mr. Lucas Flaire asked as he looked over her application, references, and résumé.

  He was a brooding sort, with intense crystal blue eyes and a disarming grin, when he felt like smiling. Which wasn’t often, she’d noticed. His dark hair was combed back from his forehead in a pompadour, and she had a strange desire to muss it up just a little bit, to bring some strands more appealingly down over his forehead, just to see how he would look. He seemed stiff–so stiff and uncomfortable. Why?

  That’s what Thea Chambers found herself thinking as she sat there in his office on the yacht. And, imagining herself being the one to mess up his ineptly styled hair made her, unfortunately, nearly laugh out loud. To keep herself from bursting out, she cleared her throat and stared at the sleek paneled walls, commanding her smile to dissipate. “Um, yes,” she said, immediately realizing she sounded rather undignified. “I’ve been a nanny for several years now. And I enjoy it immensely,” she added. Her sister, Raven, thought she was meant for more, but Thea was perfectly happy working with children.

  “Hmm,” he murmured sternly. “Several. You mean seven or more? That’s what several means, you know. Seven or more.”

  She skipped right over his unnecessary rebuke and smiled as warmly as she could.

  Why let his criticism bother her?

  She was used to children. She could handle anything.

  “Well, I’ve been a nanny for five years, for three different families, as you can see on my résumé.”

  She nearly added: If you would look more carefully, but she stopped herself.

  She resisted, also, the urge to point out where, exactly, the information could be found on the page. “But I’ve always been around children, ever since I can remember.”

  She’d told him this before, but he must have a memory like a cow. Do cows have bad memories, or not? She wasn’t exactly sure. It was just the first animal that popped into her mind. And from this moment on, she decided to call this gentleman Lucow, in her head, to insult him. Because inwardly she hated him, but outwardly… well, she must admit, the job sounded fascinating.

  “You would need to arrive on the yacht by seven a.m. to greet the children when they awake,” he told her. “And your day would last until the last one goes to bed, whenever that happens to be.”

  He followed his words with what she took to be a snide look, so she automatically responded in kind, with a narrowing of her eyes and a crooked pursing of her lips. She would not be intimidated. But she made sure her rude expression quickly dissipated, and was replaced with a pleasant one, so she would be sure to make a good impression.

  It wasn’t wise to snarl at your new boss.

  Potential boss, that is.

  “That would be no problem,” she assured him. “I’m quite capable of getting children to bed on time.” Her words came out haughtier than she intended. She told herself to tone it down before he noticed and responded in anger. Good thing men, in her experience, weren’t too adept at reading people.

  “Yes, well….” He dismissed her claims with a shrug. “We’ll see about that,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows.

  That’s when she noticed they were bushy and unkempt. She longed to take some tweezers to them, to make them more presentable. But perhaps it was better that they were a little unruly, she considered. They gave him character, and went along with his gruff attitude. He had such a pretty face (when he smiled) that it might not be wise to fix his eyebrows. That might make him look too… dapper.

  The untamed eyebrows made him look like a man instead of a boy, she decided finally, and the conclusion made her smile. He should keep them just as they are. Not that it was her choice, of course.

  And, now that she thought of it, this man looked too young to have four children. What was he–twenty-seven, twenty-eight? At what age did he start? Oh well, she guessed it was possible.

  He just seemed so… immature.

  And now she was judging him.

  Don’t judge lest you, too, be judged. This is what her sister Raven would say, right before she shared all the town gossip with her friends, usually.

  Thea wrinkled her nose in disdain at that thought.

  “What?” Lucas Flaire asked her. “What was that face for?”

  It was then that Thea decided this gentleman (or whatever she should call him) was not always as professional as he strived to be. He was rather–how should she word it? Too up-close-and-personal for his own good. And she was about to tell him so. But what good would that do? She wanted this job, didn’t she?

  And when you want something you will do almost anything to get it.

  Whether it is good for you or not.

  Chapter 2

  This girl was too much.

  Woman, he meant. It was important to be politically correct. To be diplomatic.

  Woman.

  Of course, she was a woman, not a child. That much was obvious. She was in her mid-twenties, he guessed–and exquisitely, distractingly, annoyingly beautiful. With her doe eyes, delicate features, exquisitely sculptured face, and long brown hair with just a hint of red, she was like a dream come true.

  But he was annoyed with her.

  Well, he’d be annoyed with anyone in her position.

  Maybe it wasn’t her fault.

  Perhaps it was just that he hated doing interviews for his boss, the billionaire. Grunt, people called him.

  Grunt was not his given name, of course. The man’s real name was Gregory Hunt, which, when said quickly, comes out Grunt.

  If you are a four-year-old boy, that is.

  His four-year-old boy. Harley James Hunt.

  And this
was where the deception, the confusion began. People often thought that Lucas Flaire was the father of the four young children under the age of eight, but he was not. They thought that he was the widower of the young and talented former-model-turned-singer, Nichole Tiffington, but he was not.

  The man attached to all said people was actually Gregory Hunt. Hunt was the widower of young Nichole Tiffington, who died tragically in a plane crash on the way back home from performing at one of her concerts.

  Hunt was the father of all four children, unless Nichole had been unfaithful, which Lucas sincerely doubted.

  Lucas himself had been her escort.

  (Not in that way).

  Her companion, let’s say.

  Her chaperone.

  He’d accompanied her so often that surely he would have known if she’d been unfaithful to her billionaire husband.

  Most likely.

  He was pretty sure.

  But, then again, you never know….

  Grunt had arranged for this deception himself. He vowed to stay under the radar, out of the public’s eye, and so he appointed Lucas Flaire to be Nichole’s un-lawfully-wedded husband, her pretend husband, so to speak. (With no benefits, of course–aside from monetary ones.)

  Grunt had appointed Lucas to be the working father of the children, at least in public. It was all a ruse, meant to protect Gregory Hunt and his family. The man was rather senile, and paranoid. Eccentric, some might call him. Hard to work with and for, that’s for sure.

  But Lucas was loyal to him all the same.

  He had to be, if he wanted to inherit a good portion of his money.

  But no, it wasn’t all that.

  Money was not the entire reason for Lucas’ faithful service.

  It was also propriety and a sense of duty that kept him in Gregory Hunt’s entourage. It was the also the natural camaraderie. The old man could be quite the hoot, quite a fun and hilarious chap. The more senile he got, the funnier Lucas thought he was. Sad to say….

  Lucas rubbed his forehead and took another look at the exceptionally lovely female across the desk from him. Her legs were crossed–long, beautiful, shapely legs. Lucas blinked and forced himself to stop looking.

  “Well,” he said. “Congratulations. You’ve got the job.”

  Chapter 3

  On her first day of work, Thea was a wreck.

  A nervous, hot mess.

  She had overslept.

  Of course.

  Today of all days to shut off her alarm because she thought it was a screaming baby.

  She’d been dreaming that a baby within her care was hungry and crying, and no matter how much Thea fed her (and she’d been feeding her oatmeal by the spoonfuls), the child would not settle down. Rather, she screamed all the louder, her mouth hanging open so widely that oatmeal goo was dripping all down her chin and onto the shiny wood floor, which would then have to be re-waxed. After Thea re-washed it, of course.

  So, she’d turned off her alarm, and by the time she woke up with a start forty-five minutes later, she had only twenty minutes to get ready. So it was: Splash water on her face, wipe her underarms with deodorant-scented wipes (Cucumber Breeze, so fresh and sweet-smelling), and throw on some jeans and a t-shirt. In Thea’s mind, it was the perfect nanny outfit. But then she remembered this was a nanny job for a billionaire’s children–Lucas Flaire’s children, to be exact–and she thought she should dress up a little more to look the part. And so she chose a simple, understated maxi dress and flip flops, and stuffed her original, more practical, outfit into her bag in case she ended up needing it after all. She tucked her hair into a messy bun, thankful that messy buns were a thing in California. With one quick glance in the mirror, one quick brush of her teeth with her toothbrush (with lots of minty toothpaste), and a light touch of makeup, she was out the door. The only problem was she forgot her water bottle. And Thea Chambers went nowhere without her Fiji water.

  So she went back inside–Find the key to the house, unlock the door, run back inside, use the restroom really quick due to bladder nerves set ablaze now by stress, open the fridge, grab two water bottles (no, three for good measure)–which resulted in her being exactly thirteen minutes late.

  For her new job.

  She could have cried, she was so humiliated.

  But at least Lucas was nice.

  No, he wasn’t.

  She had hoped he would be; she had hoped he would understand, but there was no plausible explanation she could give him.

  What could she say, I had a dream of a baby crying and…?

  No.

  Just no.

  She couldn’t explain it at all.

  So she’d only apologized profusely and hoped that would suffice.

  “I’m so sorry I am late, Mr. Flaire,” she said in an embarrassingly pleading tone.

  “Don’t call me Mr. Flaire,” he corrected her in a flat monotone which made him seem incredibly… detached and cold. “Just call me Luke.”

  “Luke,” she repeated in the exact same tone he’d used, and she nodded obediently.

  “Are you mocking me?” he said sternly.

  She hadn’t meant to be unkind, necessarily. She couldn’t exactly help it that she mirrored others’ behavior. It came naturally to her. She’d simply have to work on it. Or, actually, she would pray about it. Her strength, and any goodness she ever had, came from God. She knew this. She had to continually remind herself of this, and surrender.

  But the more they talked, the colder Mr. Lucas Flaire seemed. Just about everything he said came out harsh and cold. It made her heart want to rebel against him in the worst way.

  Praying for self-control, she made her eyes as wide and innocent as she could before she replied, “No, not at all,” and all the while her mind was screaming, Lucow, Lucow, he’s a cow without a memory. Just to be mean.

  And all the while God’s voice in her head was telling her, Do unto others what you would have them do unto you. So she squelched her mean thoughts and apologized to God for her rudeness. She was sorry. She was. It was just so hard to always be combating her sin nature.

  Our first response is often the sinful response, she remembered Pastor Rogue sharing. And it had stuck with her all these years. It was undeniable: Her initial reaction to things was often the selfish or angry or rude response. In her head, she was always exalting herself and insulting others, unless she fought hard against it. And fight hard she did. She always would. She always gave it to God in prayer, because she was determined not to let evil win, even the evil within herself.

  Especially the evil within herself….

  “I’m glad,” he said with a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders, then showed her around the yacht. As she followed, feeling like an obedient child, he led her all throughout plush rooms with sleek, beautiful walls, pointing out each of the yacht’s amenities along the way.

  Thea tried to hide her amazement at the luxuriousness of the vessel, at the fancy and expensive furniture, at the beautiful artwork on the walls. At the view! Oh, the view. Everything around her was beauty. And she was actually going to work here, to see it every day. She was more than blessed, and she thanked God for it. But she reminded herself that luxury wasn’t everything. It could easily become a trap. For many people, the love of material possessions kept them from being all they could be for Jesus. Thea vowed that wouldn’t be her. But she could appreciate, all the same, the beauty of this ship, and the port it was docked in. She could rejoice in the blessings bestowed on her, without feeling guilty.

  Certainly, Bonita Mesa was a beautiful place–her favorite place in all the world, perhaps, with its pleasantly mild weather and beautiful beaches, its laidback people and relatively slow pace of life. The skyline was impressive as well, and it was in all its glory as she viewed it from the yacht. With the ocean water, the sunlight reflecting off of it, and the impressive tall buildings, the view of downtown was impeccable. Each building seemed to glow with brilliance.

  She tried not to
let it show just how impressed she really was. She wanted to come across as someone who fit right into this extravagant lifestyle. She’d grown up privileged, sure, but not to this degree. Her upbringing was modest compared to this. She’d have to make sure to act dignified, composed, and professional. Which was awfully hard for her. She was good at working with children, which meant she had a wonderfully childish sense of humor and a no-nonsense view of the world. She could relate to children on their level. She remembered what it was like to be a child, and she remembered the way she wanted to be treated. She tried to treat children well, with large doses of fun and excitement. in just that way. It wasn’t hard. It was fun, exciting, delightful. She thanked God again for giving her this gift. All these wonderful gifts.

  She followed Mr. Flaire down a long stairway, down to the sleeping quarters, where the children were purportedly sleeping. And it was true. Each of the four bedrooms had an angelic-looking, messy-haired sleeping child in it.

  “Aw, they are precious,” she whispered.

  “Yes, well…,” Lucas said noncommittally as he stroked his clean-shaven face. “Let’s take a tour of the rest of the yacht before the children wake up, shall we?”

  Dutifully again, Thea followed him, this time at more of a distance. She couldn’t help but notice his gait. Manly. Dangerously alluring. Tough guy mixed with something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Tenderness, maybe? Nah.

  Assertiveness?

  Yes, that was it.

  Immediately scolding herself, she shook her head to rid herself of this nonsensical, budding attraction.

  In his commanding voice he spoke: “The Rasmussen Langton Design Team has provided the Serena Lee with its own movie theater, formal dining room, seven bedrooms, a spacious kitchen, an entertainment room featuring a baby grand piano, in addition to a spacious upper deck beach club for your swimming pleasure.”

  She had caught up to him, so Lucas was walking casually beside her now, giving her what sounded like a sales spiel, and she told him so.

  “You sound like you’re trying to sell it to me,” she pointed out with a grin. Immediately she was concerned. Perhaps she was being too bold, too personable.