Mister Billions: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Fake Marriage Billionaire Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 1)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

He isn't amused. “Three of my tenants called me last night in tears, because the bailiff served them eviction notices. And since I know I didn’t file the paperwork, this has your name written all over it.”

  I knew Dad wouldn’t be happy with me taking matters into my own hands yesterday. But I was also aware that nothing would change unless I intervened.

  My dad is a good guy. He's got a big heart. But that shit has no place in business.

  “Well, expect more tearful calls," I say unapologetically. "because I’m still working my way down the list.”

  Sally lingers outside the door, pretending to rummage through a filing cabinet. I catch the discreet scowl she sends in my direction. It's the same scowl she's been wearing since I tasked her with coordinating the remainder of the evictions with the bailiff yesterday afternoon.

  I get up from my seat and shut the door in her face. She scoffs.

  Sally doesn't like me. Sally thinks I'm an asshole...Sally might be right.

  I can't bring myself to care.

  I grab a sheet of paper out of the stack in front of me, shaking it. There are at least two dozen names on this list. “Dad, how could you let all these people get away with not paying rent? For months on end?!”

  Dad trudges past me and collapses into a chair across from me. “Cannon. Don’t.” Suddenly, he sounds like his tired self again.

  “The company’s cash flow is shit. And you’re selling off inventory like crazy. Two properties on Elgin Street. One at Town Square. Half of the buildings on Promenade Boulevard are up for sale. The acquisitions department is practically inactive..." I stand and plant both fists on the table because I'm tired of him beating around the bushes. "What the fuck is going on here, Dad?”

  My cellphone dings and I steal a peak down at the screen.

  Carl: My savings bonds from Aunt Edna? Really???

  Carl: Those were a gift for my bar mitzvah! You know how much they meant to me!

  Carl: Me and Margot are TOGETHER Cannon and you have to accept that. Acting like a child is not the way to win her back. She loves me.

  Margot? Really? The same Margot who has now resorted to sending me selfies of her genitals every chance she gets?

  Congratulations to you, Carl. You've found a keeper.

  My father wearily drags both hands down his face. “Cannon, I don't have time to chase down tenants for rent payments, and if I’m going to keep paying the few employees we have left, I need to unload some properties as soon as possible." He pins me with hard eyes. "This family is falling apart, so I could care less about running after a few dollars.”

  His words punch me in the gut. “What do you mean the family is falling apart?”

  “Ever since your brother was convicted, everything has been shit. And not just here around the office. At home, too. Eli’s wife dumped their daughter at the house and then she just took off. Your mother has been worried sick. She's having fainting spells. And I’m struggling to balance that drama with running a business that I practically retired from two years ago.” Dad pinches the bridge of his nose and I recognize the gesture as pure frustration, a mannerism I inherited from him. “I’m sorry if this is a surprise, but when it comes to family, the business doesn’t even come in a close second.”

  Silence settles in the room, crushing my chest. I collapse into my chair. “Why didn’t you say something to me?”

  He shakes his head and sighs. “Son, I tried talking to you. More than once. But I gave up because every word I say to you goes right over your head. You’re so busy doing whatever the hell you’re doing with your life..."

  "That's not fair!"

  "You’ve been in town for how many days now, and you still haven’t come to see your mother.”

  Shit. I haven’t forgotten. I’ve just been...distracted.

  And in all honesty, I’ve been delaying the avalanche of worry that will sweep her up when I have to come clean to her about my failed relationship. Mom wants me to settle down and it always bothered her that my conjugal shitshow with Margot didn’t seem to be headed in that direction.

  Back to the issue at hand, my parents shouldn't have to handle this all by themselves. My drama with Carl and Margot should come second to this. To them. “Let me take some stuff off your plate, Dad. Let me get some managers in place to run the business—”

  “I’m closing the business,” he says abruptly, cutting me off.

  What?! How? I think my jaw is hanging open.

  “You can’t close the business.”

  “I have to.”

  “You can’t!" I slam my palm down on the tabletop. "This is Gramps’s legacy. He built it with his bare hands, from the ground up.”

  My grandfather could barely put food on the table when a rundown guesthouse and the surrounding farmland went up for sale on the edge of the Parkroad River. My grandmother instantly fell in love with the place and Gramps knew he couldn't pass it up. He had to find a way to buy it for the love of his life. The place was practically crumbling, but he bought it, using all of his savings. He fixed up the building by himself, working evenings and weekends, until the couple could finally open up the space to guests. It took him two years to finish.

  Eventually, the inn began profiting. Then Gramps used that profit to invest in a couple more places around town. An old auditorium. An apartment complex. He slowly added new assets to his name.

  But the man bit off more than he could chew. He was working all the time. My grandmother felt neglected. One day, she up and left him. Gramps couldn't take it when his wife walked away. He hit a rough patch and was on the edge of losing it all. That's when dad stepped in. After my parents got married, my father helped Gramps turn the business around. Together, they turned Kingston Realties into a multimillion-dollar small town real estate dynasty. The dynasty that inspired me to build my own fortune and become the man I am today.

  And now it’s crumbling before my eyes.

  I can't let this happen.

  “Cannon, this is what I agreed to when I took over the business from your grandfather. I promised him that the company would always be run as a family venture, and that if I couldn’t keep that promise, I’d shut it all down and distribute the proceeds amongst you and your brothers.”

  I don’t believe this crap. Gramps would never agree to something so stupid. “That’s bullshit. Let me see the acquisition documents," I demand. "I'll send them to my lawyer. I'm sure Frank can find a loophole.”

  Dad shakes his head. “It’s not in the acquisition documents, son. But I gave him my word.”

  Popping up out of my chair, I start pacing the dirty low-pile carpet. I grate my fingernails across my scalp. “I can’t even process what you’re saying right now.”

  “This business tore your grandparents' marriage apart,” Dad says, speaking slowly. “Your grandfather worked too much. He neglected his wife, and she left him. Losing her almost drove your Gramps crazy. So when he handed the company to me, the deal was that I would never let the business tear the family apart again. We would run it as a unit and if we couldn’t, we would let it go. That was his one condition.”

  I laugh, but the sound is bitter and hollow. “This is insanity.”

  “My intention was always to leave it in the hands of Eli and his wife. But he went and got himself in trouble. Then Gabby dumped your niece and ran off. The rest of you boys aren’t married so..." His shoulders heave when he exhales. "I have an outside investor coming in thirty days. I'll keep the guesthouse and Walker's farm but the investor is willing to buy up the rest of Kingston Realties’s entire portfolio in one quick deal.”

  I scoff. “For pennies on the dollar, I'm sure.”

  Dad’s haggard expression tells me he doesn’t even care anymore. “It would be good for the family. It will allow me the time to take care of your mother and your niece. They're my number one priority. Not this place.”

  I still can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s like I woke up in a bad network dramedy two weeks ago, and now I’m th
e butt of everyone’s shitty jokes. What the fuck is going on?

  But I can’t let this happen. I can’t let my father just sell off the business and hand me a check. Saving Gramps’s legacy is far more important than money, and I will do whatever it takes to protect my grandfather’s decades of hard work.

  Gramps taught me so much. Every life lesson I learned, I can tie back to him. The biggest one was loyalty, and my loyalty to my grandfather is unwavering.

  The second lesson he taught me was resourcefulness.

  No problem is born that doesn’t possess a satisfying solution.

  I flop back in my chair, silently seeking out a way to untangle Kingston Realties from this dilemma because I'm not going down without a fight. My eyes distractedly scan the list of non-paying tenants in my hand.

  My gaze hooks on Alexia Robson’s name, and instantly, the wheels start churning. The scheme slams into my brain so fast I almost need a neck brace for the whiplash.

  “Well, Dad, as a matter of fact, I’m about to be a family man myself." My father looks up, confusion in his face when I make the announcement. "I am getting married.”

  Alexia Robson is about to be my satisfying solution.

  Whether she likes it or not.

  9

  Lexi

  When I yawn and stretch out across the front counter, I feel the back of my blouse pop out the waistband of my skirt. I groan. So not in the mood to adult today.

  I only managed to squeeze in a few hours of sleep early this morning before throwing myself into a hot shower and getting my butt to the boutique.

  I spent most of the night at Iris’s sandwich shop, helping her pack up everything that wasn’t bolted down. Who knew you needed so much shit to make deli sandwiches?

  Iris did a good job of keeping herself together for the first few hours of packing but eventually she broke down into violent sobs. Penny took her home. Who could blame the girl for cracking? She's still coming to terms with the reality of her crumbling marriage. Now she has to deal with losing her business, too?

  I couldn’t walk away and leave all her supplies to be forcibly removed and auctioned off. Not when she’s in such desperate need of money. Jessa stuck around and helped me for a bit but she took off when she thought I was almost done. Then I discovered a surprise supply closet that added two extra hours to my night. Now, I'm exhausted.

  I can’t decide who I hate more. Iris's two-timing bastard husband or Mr. Kingston, our scoundrel of a landlord. The man's timing couldn’t be shittier. Hasn't he heard the rumors floating around town about Iris and Kirk's divorce? Why would he pull the rug out from under her when she’s already struggling to get her footing?

  Mr. Kingston always seemed so understanding. Apparently I pegged him all wrong. Hell, I better come up with my own rent—and quickly—or I’ll be packing my own shit up next.

  Anyway, now I’m sipping on my third latte of the morning, but the caffeine isn’t even making a dent in my exhaustion. Instead, I just feel jittery. And I have to frigging pee again.

  I should be stitching up the bodice of the lacy empire-style gown I got in stock this morning. But I just want to curl up under the cash register and take a nap.

  I drop into the swivelling chair behind my desk and thumb through a personal development book I borrowed from the library.

  After a few moments, I close my heavy eyes. Why not? I don't have any bridal appointments until this afternoon anyway and it's not like I'd actually fall asleep here. I just need a few seconds to rest my sore feet and my burning eyes.

  But before long, I'm suspended in a state between sleep and wakefulness. I register the sound of the bell above the door. Faintly.

  The heavy shadow stretching over me a second later wakes me the hell up, though. My eyes flick open.

  Cannon Kingston.

  My spine snaps straight and I wipe drool from my mouth with my forearm. Icy dread washes over me. "Why are you...? What are you doing here?" I slide my book into a desk drawer.

  It feels like I'm trapped inside a nightmare. He looms above the front desk, staring down at me with a predatory smirk. "Napping on the job? You should write a handbook on your groundbreaking business practices, Stormy. It would revolutionize the industry."

  I grab the edge of the counter and pop up to my feet. This is the asshole who insulted my little sister the first time he met her. He’s part of the rich, apathetic family who evicted my best friend. And now he’s mocking me straight to my face. I'm really in no mood to play.

  But god—he does look good. In that rumpled, rebellious way of his. His button-up's sleeves are pushed back to his elbows to show off his tattooed forearms. His narrow tie is the slightest bit off-center. I want to reach up, wrap my hand around the fabric.

  And pull.

  “Wow,” I start, my voice dripping with disgust. “I was expecting the bailiff to walk through my door. But I guess you showing up in person makes sense, too, Mr. Billions. Did you convince your dad to send you down here to evict me now? Are you here to do the honor yourself, just so you can enjoy the look on my face when you hand me my notice?”

  I struggle to keep my true emotions clear of my face. I won’t let him see how terrified I am by the idea of losing this business. My bridal boutique is practically all I have. I don’t have a husband. I don’t own my house. This shop means everything to me. It was my ticket to independence, my one-way voucher out of the life I grew up in. And I refuse to give up on it now.

  Cannon's nostrils flare when he speaks. “My father has nothing to do with the eviction notices.”

  Is this guy for real? He's going to try and paint his dad as an innocent party here? “What are you talking about? I think I would know if Mr. Kingston sold the building. There are laws in this state that—"

  “I sent those eviction notices.”

  Fuck. I should have suspected his hand in this from the beginning. Sadism definitely seems like this man's style.

  “You are a bastard, Cannon Kingston.” I seethe, shaking my head in disappointment. “There’s a name for assholes who find pleasure in watching other people suffer. You’re a frigging sociopath.”

  There’s this half smirk on Cannon’s face. It's dirty and it's evil.

  And a dirty, evil part of me kind of wants to lick it clean.

  “Let's cut the dramatic rhetoric, shall we? Yes, quite a few of your business neighbors will be getting evicted. They broke the terms of their leases by defaulting on their rent. Period. It's nothing personal. It's business."

  He plants an elbow near my cash register and his musky, testosterone-heavy scent fills my head.

  I hate that I'm getting a little hot and bothered for the son of a bitch.

  My anger wars between wanting to hate myself and needing to lash out at him.

  The latter wins out as I snarl at the man leaning against my shop counter.

  “But you have a choice, Stormy. I have a very reasonable alternative for you. Maybe you don’t have to lose your place...” I want to ask what the hell he’s playing at, but I can tell he’s baiting me.

  “I feel so special,” I deadpan. I wait for his next words with a thudding heart. My knees feel like they're packed with cotton. It's getting harder and harder to play it cool.

  “You should." His fingers curl around the edge of the counter and they go white. "You just have to marry me. Be my wife and I’ll save your shop.”

  10

  Lexi

  Cannon Kingston.

  Rich. Gorgeous. Clearly out of his mind.

  Wild laughter bursts from the back of my throat at his ludicrous statement. "Marry you? What makes you think I'd marry you? You, my friend, are certifiable."

  He smiles, too. It’s an abrupt smile. Almost patronizing. “This is serious, Alexia.”

  “Well, then you can seriously take a hike. I’d never marry you.”

  His voice brims with frustration. “I admit, this situation isn’t...typical. But this will be a mutually-beneficial arrangement. Because
if I don’t find a wife—like yesterday—my father will shut down Kingston Realties. The whole business, gone.” He presses his fingertips together then pops them apart, making an explosion gesture.

  I almost roll my eyes at the dramatics. “How is that my problem?” A billionaire losing a few rundown buildings in a backwoods town? Hold on. Let me grab my tiny violin.

  “I'll explain something to you, Stormy. If some outside investor buys up the Kingston Realties portfolio, we are all in trouble. You included."

  "Oh, I'm already in trouble. You're the one standing in front of me, waving eviction threats in my face. You’ve already kicked some of my friends out of their businesses, torn their livelihoods away from them.”

  He shrugs, like none of those people matter to him. “Kingston Realties is not a charity. If a tenant wants to keep their unit, they have to pay the rent. Simple as that."

  “So, how would you be any different than an outsider buying the buildings?"

  He sighs like I'm an exasperating little girl. "I’m willing to keep all the buildings in tact. Hell, I’m willing to repair them. I’m not trying to rip the whole of Crescent Harbor down to the ground. But an outside investor? There’s no way they'd pour in the funds necessary to rehabilitate all these crumbling buildings around town. They will systematically demolish each and every building in Crescent Harbor. Then, they'll put up a big-box chain store on Elgin Street and a factory to dump pollution into the river. Hell, they'll probably flatten Town Square and put in a golf course just for the fuck of it. Anything to turn a profit." His voice goes soft and I think I hear a flicker of compassion woven into his tone. "If an outsider comes in, you and all your friends will lose your businesses. This town will never be the same."

  His words sink in and cold bumps prickle the surface of my skin. I hate to even consider it, but what if he's right? What if some outsider strips this town to its bones? I didn't grow up here but this place has become home and the idea of it being taken over by some big, ruthless corporation...I don't even want to imagine what that would mean.