Billionaire Bad Boy: The Complete Collection

by Chase, Jenna

  Our beautiful moment is spoiled by the bright flash of a light.

  “Daphne!” calls some voice I’ve never heard before. Masculine. Impatient. Go getter. “Daphne DeMarco! Look this way!” Like an idiot I do that, pushing my body from Logan’s as if I can spare us further humiliation. Nope. I’m a deer in the photographers’ flashing headlights.

  The question is coming. It should be no surprise when someone immediately asks me about my father. “What will he think of this, Daphne? Isn’t your family traditional and conservative? How about your mother? Can you comment?” My heart is crashing against my ribcage as the embarrassment consumes me again. I can’t with these paps!

  “What’s going on here, Daphne?” asks the first photographer. “What about your engagement? Does your father know you’re cheating on your fiancé?”

  Logan pushes away from me, shock overcoming him. More questions hurl in our direction. Everything comes crashing around me. The gig is up. Now the whole world knows everything. Logan will never understand or forgive me. Daddy? Daddy’s going to be pissed.

  Fuck. Fuck!

  TAKING THE HEIRESS

  Chapter 1

  DAPHNE

  “What’s going on here, Daphne? What about your engagement? Does your father know you’re cheating on your fiancé?”

  The guards staking the place at my childhood home come out to greet me the moment my driver pulls up in front of the big house. Lividity fuels the fires in my heart, and soon I am choking on the fumes of What has Daddy done?

  When I woke up this morning, I was not an engaged woman. I was not betrothed. I was not promised to any man.

  Daddy.

  Daddy, what have you done?

  I walk ahead of the guards, taking the front steps two at a time, something I’m only able to do when I feel inhuman. I’m so detached from the world at the moment that I’m doing things I normally can’t do.

  Like storm into my father’s office with a scowl on my face.

  If you haven’t been able to tell, I am a total Daddy’s girl. From the time I was born I was Principessa. If Mama was angry at me? All I had to do was go to Daddy and cry hard enough for him to finally relent on any punishment bestowed upon me. Or at least that worked until I hit puberty and sprouted C-cup breasts overnight. The moment my father realized I was a sexual being, I… well, I stayed Principessa, but it was a look in his eye that suggested I put on a chastity belt and follow my mother’s example by being a virgin until the day I married a man of his choosing – or at least grooming.

  He would really love to know how many guys I’ve been with, hm?

  I pass through the hallowed halls of my father’s personal business dealings. The man lives in his home office if he’s not somewhere else. I don’t need the guards to tell me where he is. I know where he is.

  He knows where I am too.

  “Daphne!” His voice echoes in the long hallway. “If that’s you, come in here!”

  I fling the door open to his study. There he is. Marcello DeMarco. Third son of the prestigious DeMarco line. He’s the first one to not have a son, and at no point in my life have I been allowed to learn the family business. Without ever telling me, I quickly learned what my place will one day be. Bartering chip!

  Daddy sits up in his seat, a smile tugging on his lips. Usually I live to see my father smiling at me. I believe he thinks the same about me. But when I storm into his office, my face flushed in anger, all that changes.

  Also, we’re not alone.

  Another man – whom I do not recognize – sits in the room. He has short, dark hair. Nearly black eyes. A hint of stubble on his face. Tailor-made Armani suit straight from the source itself. A hundred bucks says he’s from Italy. I admit I’m struck by how handsome he is. That quickly leaves my head, however, as I face my father once more. I should make this quick and let him get back to his business meeting.

  Before I can open my big fat mouth and demand answers from my father, he motions to the man sitting in front of him. “Daphne, I want you to meet Cristiano Antonetti. I’ve been waiting a long time to introduce you both.” He’s still grinning. “Cristiano, this is my daughter I’ve been telling you all about.”

  “Yes, nice to meet you.” I barely acknowledge the man with a wave. He exchanges a curious look with my father.

  “Have a seat, Daphne. The summer heat has apparently made you incorrigible. There’s ice water on the tray there.”

  Incorrigible? Please, Daddy, you’d be incorrigible too if you found out from the paps that you’re engaged! Don’t make it sound like you don’t know why I’m angry, Daddy. I told you weeks ago that I wanted nothing to do with your marriage scheme.

  I sit, but only because I don’t know what else to do. I’m going to get answers from my father, though, I swear. Ice water be damned!

  “Today’s been a trying day for you, I’m sure, Principessa.” Daddy gives me the softest look his stern Italian face can muster. Mama always said that he makes incredible exceptions for me. Example: he never looks at his wife as nicely as he looks at me. I learned a long time ago that there’s been little love between them. A ton of respect, since my father is a successful businessman and she’s a learned mother of his child, but little romantic love. “This whole week. The terrible, nasty things the media is saying about my little girl…”

  “What’s this about, Daddy?” You’d never guess that I took the initiative to come here and drill him with my questions. Then again, my father has that effect on me. “How did you know I was coming?”

  “Your driver called ahead as he has been instructed to do whenever you’re returning home. As it so happened, Cristiano was here to have a chat. I wanted you to meet him.” Daddy gets up from his seat, rounds his large desk, and claps his hands on the stranger’s shoulders. No. No, I do not like how buddy-buddy they are. This is not sitting well with me one fucking bit. “Perfect timing. As I always expect from my girl.”

  My eyes go from meeting Daddy’s gaze to the man called Cristiano. Fuck me. He is handsome. What’s scary is how handsome he is… in a different way from Logan. (You know, the guy I’m kinda-sorta seeing behind everyone’s backs?) Logan is a muscular, all-around American boy with a big smile that kills a girl right in the panties. He radiates his tenacity like this man Cristiano radiates poise and sophistication. I’d dare say elegance. Cristiano is lean and dapper in his Armani suit. His cologne is as Italian as the rest of his getup… and to die for. If Logan is the Hollywood rebel, then Cristiano makes a habit of sipping cognac and blowing his sweet Italian nothings into some woman’s ear.

  “The Antonetti family are friends of ours back home in Italy.” Oh, come on, Daddy! You were born and raised here in America! My great-grandfather was the one who came over on some ship and established the family name in this country. Yet my father has always been enamored with the family legacy, and makes a big deal about how classically Italian we are. It was fun when I was a little girl. Now it’s embarrassing. It’s one thing to have a house in Tuscany, to speak Italian, and to know the difference between great Italian food and what the local restaurant serves… but my father takes it to another level. Marrying my native Italian mother only made it worse, I’m sure. “Cristiano is the second son of the main clan.”

  “Funny. I’ve never heard of these people.” I’m too bitter to care.

  “He’s come all the way from Florence to meet you, Daphne.” Cristiano sends me an apologetic glance. “This meeting has been a long time coming, and you never even knew it.”

  I have a sinking suspicion that I know what he’s talking about, but I don’t want to admit it. I’d rather glare at him. I also glare at Cristiano, although as far as I know he’s an innocent party so far. (Give it time.)

  “Daphne…” You’d think it was Christmas, 1965, and my father was about to get all the toys he had asked for. “Cristiano has come all this way to become formally engaged to you. This is the man your mother and I have decided you will marry.”

  The wor
ds sink in. I mean… I guess. If I’m going to let those words sink in. I’m not in a huge hurry to acknowledge them, truthfully. I’d rather pour myself a small glass of ice water and sip it, letting the icy temperature freeze my tongue so I don’t say something incredibly stupid. Denial is strong within me.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

  So. The day has come. A day I’ve seen lurking on the horizon but had hoped I had missed by making it to the age of twenty without any of these shenanigans.

  Since I was a little girl my parents have heavily implied they wanted an arranged marriage for me. It was the thing “to do” in their families for the longest time. Of course, times change, and being in the modern age, I had hoped they gave up such traditions. Since, you know, last I checked I was a woman of majority and could do whatever I legally wanted. I don’t have to rely on my parents to support me anymore. Not that it’s yet to stop me…

  Then, out of the blue about six weeks ago, my father took me out for dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. Since it wasn’t my birthday I should have known something was coming. Sure enough, we hadn’t made it to the second course when he asked me what I thought about getting married sometime in the next couple of years.

  Suffice to say, I was shocked. And declined.

  No, but don’t you all see? My mother has been flying back and forth between here and Italy ever since I went off to college. To find me a husband among the many connections her family and my father’s family have. Apparently Mr. Antonetti made the cut and agreed to this stupid venture. Whoever he is!

  “The ideal timeline was to announce the engagement by the end of the summer.” My father takes his hands off Cristiano and stands between our seats. He’s not a tall man by any means, so it would be plenty easy for me to reach up, grab him by the tie, and growl into his ear that no means no! “Due to recent circumstances, we all thought it best to go ahead and leak it to the media so they’ll finally stop printing such awful things about you.”

  “You decided? Without me?”

  “We’re looking out for you, Daphne.” He pats my head like I’m a dog. “Now, don’t worry. Of course the wedding won’t happen until after you graduate. So you have a few years to get to know Cristiano and become acclimated to the situation.”

  “Daddy,” I begin, trying my damned best to keep a level head. Ha. Ha. “I hate to point this out, but I don’t even know this fine gentleman.” Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to drag Cristiano along with my father. Because any man who agrees to marry a woman without her even knowing about it? FUCK HIM.

  “That’s not a problem. Like I said, you two will get to know each other over the next several months. How about you two go on a date tonight? That would be lovely!” He claps Cristiano on the shoulder. “You like her, right son?”

  Son. So that’s what this is really about…

  Cristiano looks me up and down. I don’t like the twinkle in his eye. Undressing me with it… is he trying to decide if I’m as worthy in real life as I apparently am in my pictures? I could clock him right now. He’s lucky he doesn’t say anything.

  “Son,” my father says, still looking at me. “Why don’t you wait outside while I talk to Daphne? I’m sure this is a shock to her.”

  “Of course.” Wow. What an accent. I’m used to Italian accents, too!

  He gets up, straightening his Armani jacket before showing himself out – but not before flashing me a wicked grin. I bet he thinks that’s charming. No one gets to win me over with a grin like that except Logan.

  Ugh. Logan. What I would give for him right now…

  “Principessa,” my father says, sitting back behind his desk, “as I told Cristiano, I’m sure this is a huge shock for you. Rest assured that your mother and I have vetted him to the furthest extent possible. We wouldn’t pick a husband who we weren’t convinced would do you justice as a husband and the father of your children.”

  Oh, now he’s the father of my children? How nice of him to assume such things for my womb. I’d say “typical male” but that goes without saying, really. “Daddy, I…”

  “Now listen to me.” Great. He’s got serious father voice. “It’s not just about you, Daphne. It’s about this family. As you know, try as we might, your mother and I were never able to have children aside from you.”

  That’s code for “we never had a son.” The prodigal son that would continue on the family line and name.

  “Cristiano comes from a good family. He’s been trained his whole life to run companies like ours. His older brother will inherit his family’s business. He’s a choice candidate for coming here and taking over for me when I’m gone. The best way to do that is by marrying into the family… which is where you come in.”

  Right. So instead of raising me to inherit the company, some nobody man gets to sweep in and pluck my pussy and my inheritance. What year is this again?

  “He’s also very generously offered to take on the DeMarco name so it can stay in the family. We’ll be adopting him through your marriage, essentially.”

  How nice of him!

  “You’ll get used to the idea in time, Daphne. Meanwhile, the press will grow tired of saying all these terrible things about you. I know you enjoy being in the papers. Hopefully you can go back to being their fashion princess, especially with a high profile wedding in the next few years.”

  He actually thinks this is going to make me feel better. He really, truly thinks that, doesn’t he?

  I came in here fuming in rage, having known that my father did something like this, but not wanting to admit it to myself. Now I feel… defeated. Not only is my father fucking with my fate, but in the process he may have made me lose Logan, the only man I’ve given enough shits about in recent years to count as a real potential boyfriend. Whatever that means.

  God, I’m glad Daddy never found out the truth about Logan. He probably thinks the playboy insulted me and I unleashed my Italian rage. Hence the slap. The truth? I want to… love him, I guess.

  “Marcello!” My mother’s voice breaks through the door. So does she, holding a tablet opened to The Daily Social’s real-time blog. “It’s Daphne!”

  She notices my presence. My father notices the tablet. I notice that I never drank my water. Seems like as good a time as any to have my drink. I’m gonna need it.

  Chapter 2

  DAPHNE

  I’m used to being on a team of one. It helps that I learned to live on my own as soon as I started college and decided I should have my own apartment to reflect my new adult life. (That and it made it so much easier to bring boys home to sleep with, paps aside.) But I have to admit that I feel even more defeated than before.

  Let’s start with the media. Daddy was right about one thing. The press no longer cares about my dalliances with Logan. They’re all about delving into who Cristiano is. It’s safe to say they are 100% on board with him as my fiancé. Going on about what a handsome couple we are… even though they have to splice photos of us together since we’ve only met for five minutes!

  The press is so heavy on the announcement of our “engagement” that I daresay even Ashleigh was fooled for a while. Logan? He must definitely be fooled, because no matter how many times I call him and no matter how many messages I leave saying it’s all a lie, that I had no say in it, he won’t return my calls. I guess you could say that the tables have been turned, I’m getting a taste of my own medicine, etc. etc. clichés.

  Finally, there is my family.

  My father raged in ways I had never seen before. Not only did he not know who Logan is (and when he looked him up, he raged harder) but seeing us in such a passionate kiss sent off every sensor that declared his little virginal girl was hardly virginal. You know, one of my main selling points to a prospective husband, besides being pretty and rich.

  He won’t look me in the eye anymore. My mother had the audacity to take me aside and have a “talk” with me. Did you know that boys will fuck anything that moves? That by “giving a
way my precious pearl” I am turning into a useless oyster? Where do people get these disgusting analogies? I’m surprised she didn’t compare me to toilet paper or a gym towel.

  I flat out told her that I had fucked close to five different guys in my life so far. I even used the word “fuck” to drive the point home. Then she proceeded to fake a stroke.

  When Daddy decides to start talking to me again a few days later – he claims he had to take time off to attend the big Cole wedding, but I know he was too busy fuming – it’s to pester me about Cristiano. Don’t I understand how good he is for me? Do I mistrust his and Mama’s judgment? Why don’t I go out on one date with him? One date. Since I’m such a big girl, he won’t insist on a chaperone. Gee, Daddy, how sweet of you.

  This persists for several days. I don’t even get to enjoy the fireworks on the Fourth of July because he’s blowing up my phone, saying Cristiano is in town again and that I “owe” him my time because he came out to get to know me.

  Fine, Daddy. If this will get you off my back for a while, I’ll go on a date with Cristiano. One date. It’s not like Logan is returning my calls anyway, and Ashleigh swears she doesn’t know anything. The man I would much rather be with is done with me. I’m starting to accept this.

  It was a fling. I’m not saying anything about Cristiano, but I’ll at least humor my dad for one night. It kinda helps that he off-the-cuff threatens to cut off my trust fund if I don’t go on a single date.

  Flash forward to a somber Friday night. I say somber because I’m cooped up in some Italian restaurant with Cristiano, who has managed to spend the first half hour of our “date” talking all about himself and his family. Not once has he asked me about myself. About my schooling. What I like. What my ambitions for the future are. The only times I’m allowed to speak are in carefully placed intervals where I am expected to agree with him or stroke his ego. “Yeah, your parents sound cool.” “Oh, you studied abroad at Oxford? Wow.” “I had no idea a family from Florence could make that much money.” “Oh, is that what that scent is? I thought it smelled good.” Barf.