The Marriage Mistake_A Billionaire Hangover Romance

by Natalie Knight

I speed past city limits and into open space where I can race and become one with the road. Only then can I begin to sort out a solution.

  Braden

  She arches her back and sways on my lap.

  She grinds down hard, trying to feel the length of my cock forbidden to her.

  She runs her fingers through my hair, and I reach out and touch her tits.

  She's both everything I want―and nothing at all to me.

  Why? Because she's not Jenna.

  A strobe light flashes across the stripper's face.

  She's okay, I guess. But I'm not looking for okay―I'm looking for the best. And I think I might already have her within my grasp. But she's certainly not here.

  We come here a lot. It's called The Laguna. It's an upscale place―private, members only. It's like everything else in my life: a secret.

  I like having access to places like this, ones that no one else can dream of getting into. Normal people wouldn't even know how to find it. It's not like there's a sign hanging out on the street.

  No, this strip joint is deep and dark, hidden inside a towering building downtown. It's super exclusive, and you have to have exclusive access to get in―which I naturally do.

  I already have access to the pinnacle of society, so why not here? It's usually my favorite haunt―a place where you can get nice pussy, drinks, and exclusivity. It all goes together.

  And yet tonight I'm off my game.

  I usually get off on this. Spending time where other people aren't allowed. I get off on my VIP status. Usually, I also get off on the women in here.

  But not tonight. Tonight my mind is on her. She's ever-constant in my thoughts and it drives me crazy.

  The dancers here are the best of the best. They're the most beautiful women in the world who are also willing to dance for money. In most cases, they end up doing so much more.

  I can't say that I haven't had my taste of the women in here. There's a variety to choose from, and tonight all the greats have stepped up. You've got every version of beauty to feast your eyes on―and feast I do.

  I may not want to touch, but I can still delight my senses by looking at the beautiful array of women. It's like a fucking beauty pageant, minus the clothes.

  But something's changed.

  This girl who's giving me a lap dance, her name is Roxie. She's tanned and toned, and she has huge, fake tits and a pretty smile, but something just isn’t driving me wild with desire.

  She's trying to hook me on her line. These dancers are good at what they do. They know exactly how to move to get the best tips, and a few have been known to give the best blowjobs in town.

  But they want me for more than just my money. I'm the one client in this place who could get out of here without paying a penny. Why is that, you ask? Well, I've been known to show a select group of dancers in here a good time. And Roxie seems to be aching for it bad.

  I've never had her before, but she's doing everything she can to make me take her into that back VIP room. She wants me to fuck her in there, to slam her up against the window and make her pussy mine.

  Rumors about the size of my cock have surely spread. Combined with my level of power and endurance, mingled with a rock solid body…and there’s no doubt I have the rumor mill spinning.

  She surely wants a taste of it. By the way she's crushing her hips down on my manhood, I can tell she wants it real bad.

  She pulls out her best moves. She makes sure she’s worth the money.

  She's pushing her tits in my face, kissing my neck, but ultimately it's when she slides her thinly-laced pussy along the length under my pants that I'm made acutely aware of just how much she's yearning for me.

  I stop her with a stern look and zero affection.

  "Hey, Roxie, not tonight okay?"

  She tries to argue, "Come on, baby, don't you want to go back to the VIP room for your usual? You know I can do amazing things in there."

  She licks her lips as if that'll seal the deal.

  Did she not hear me the first time? I'm not used to having to repeat myself.

  I pick her up and move her off my lap, but not before slipping a very generous tip along the band of her small thong.

  She's disgruntled, pouting until she sees the size of the bill I just deposited along the line of fabric that grazes her glittering, tanned hip.

  She's happy with that at least. Roxie shrugs and goes to find a new man. I know she's disappointed that I didn't take her back to that little room, but what was I gonna do? Fuck her absentmindedly while thinking of Jenna?

  I will always give Jenna more respect than that.

  I'm here with the group of guys, some of them racers. We usually go out and get off on this sort of thing. Who wouldn't love to see the world's most premiere dancers giving you a private show?

  Any man would love to be in my position. But my life is too fast for even the most adventuresome guy to handle. When I don't have my head in the books inventing new technology, I'm taking the world by storm.

  Everything's exciting in my life. Great, even. And that's why I'm scratching my head trying to understand this new problem.

  I sip my bourbon and brood on that very problem. It has a name: Jenna. I can't get her off my mind, and I'm not sure that I want to.

  She's so much more beautiful than any of these other women. I've had my eye on her for a long time, and now that it's coming to fruition, I need to make sure I lock it down.

  Jenna's not the type of woman to mess around with. There can be no bullshit involved with her, no games. She knows herself, and she knows her worth.

  She's worth $10 million just for her smarts alone. I'd give anything to have her come to my team. I think about this as a future conversation.

  I try to push her from my mind. Her energy is dominating my force field, and I can't have that. I need to breathe, to forget about her for at least a night.

  The strip club is shrouded mostly in black. No one wants to see the light of day from in here. Good thing it's like three in the morning and none of us care.

  There's tons of plush seating and a beautiful bar. Purple lights are inlaid along the walls and the ceiling.

  But the stage is the main focus. And right now, two girls that I know as Bunny and Jade are dancing.

  Their bodies are rock hard, but soft in all the right places. They've got perfect tits and perfect genes. I don't know what I'm complaining about, being in a place like this.

  My buddies are laughing and clinking their glasses together. They're here to celebrate, to party, and to get some action. All of them reminiscing about the past and the good times.

  But I've been running with this crew for a long time. And I guess you can say I'm tired of seeing the same old thing every time I go out.

  Mostly, I'm tired of not seeing Jenna at the places where I am.

  A strange feeling rises in my chest. I feel like she's supposed to be with me, at my side at all times.

  I find myself wondering where she is when we're not together. A part of me wonders if she's okay. Is she protected?

  Another part of me wonders what I'm gonna do if I won’t be able to make love to her soon and get rid of some of this energy. The mere thought of it is torment and it nearly drives me crazy.

  The lust building inside me is so much that I'm almost willing to take it out on one of the strippers, but somewhere inside me, I feel like that would be a betrayal to Jenna. And I just can't do that.

  Fuck. What's happening to me?

  "Hey, Braden," my buddy Tom calls to me as he approaches. "What was wrong with Roxie that you didn't take her back? She was so into you."

  "Yeah, well why don't you take her?"

  "Maybe I will," he says. "If you're not gonna, I will. She deserves to have somebody fuck her tonight, looking like that."

  "Do what you like," is all I say.

  Usually, I have the first pick of the litter because the women in here only want me. But as it is right now, and seeing as how I can't do that, Tommy
Boy might as well take my could-have-been sloppy seconds.

  I sip my drink and watch the dancers do their thing. It does nothing to abate my enamored feelings.

  It frustrates me that Jenna does this to me. Why can't I just let it go? The feeling I have with her, the feeling between us, it’s so impassioned and deep that I know I will never do anything to ruin it.

  I have to feel it again. I need to. It's like an attachment.

  I know. I already know what you're gonna say. I'm a bad boy, right? Underground racing legend―shouldn't that all come with a certain amount of arrogance?

  I know that right now, I'm not living up to my reputation, and quite frankly, that doesn't bother me. Not anymore. I'm sweet on Jenna, and I can't explain how or why. No, I'm not gonna explain it to anyone at all.

  I am, however, gonna get to the bottom of it. She's hiding something, and I'm gonna find out what.

  My friends are going up to the stage, tossing money at all the strippers. We spend a fortune in here quite often. The strippers make most of their money from us. Tonight is no different.

  Another girl approaches me, and she looks fucking hot. She's wearing a simple red piece of lingerie that exposes her tits and her perfect, round ass. She's blonde and buxom and gorgeous.

  "Hey, I don't think I've seen you here before," I say.

  "I'm new. But I've heard about you. You're Braden, right?"

  I look at her salaciously and think that I could so easily take her into one of the VIP rooms and get this done. I want to fuck her. But at the same time, I want to stay loyal.

  "I'm Braden. But it's not gonna happen tonight. Why don't you try that guy over there?" I point to Tom, tossing him a favor.

  She looks forlorn at a missed opportunity, but I don't care. Had she been in here two weeks ago, things might've been different. But for now, I have to make sure I don't do anything I regret.

  She saunters over to Tom, and he casts me a look of gratitude. Then I watch as he pulls her to the back, the special VIP rooms.

  I sip my bourbon, and it goes down strong. And then my phone lights up as I get a text from someone whose name pops up as John.

  The text reads, "The fishers have a new hook. Hook will be looking for some bait soon before the fishers reel her in."

  I smirk at the text and then stand up to leave. I walk to the dancers and drop another thousand dollars in twenties on the stage. This'll give them something to talk about and make it worth their while.

  I finish my drink and leave.

  Jenna

  Wind whips through my hair as the car rushes by.

  I pull my fingers through my thick, black curls and try to focus on the task at hand: getting this car to the finish line faster than any of Braden's tricks.

  I need this to work. I have an ever-present desire to beat Braden. I owe it to myself and to him to show him that a woman can win, and that maybe he shouldn't be too cocky.

  While I'm very proud of our speed, it's almost an impossible feat to beat Braden's supersonic speed. This is likely what the FBI is after. They don't want Braden having access to secret technology that they can't equal. It would look bad for the government.

  Hell, it looks bad for me.

  I'm the best in my field, and it irks me that I can't see what Braden's done to make his car nearly fly.

  I need to understand his methods. It's my new mission in life. And if he won't reveal them, then I'll find out another way. Whether I'll reveal my findings to the FBI is a different story.

  It's something I can't even consider yet at this point, but when I look around at my teams, my people, and I think about how they all have families…I think about what a wretched position the FBI has put me in, making me choose between my honor and having people's lives on the line.

  We're almost up to Braden's super standard. He's always setting the bar for our industry, our underground club. And I'm always trying to beat him.

  I'm worried about Braden, though. What kind of technology could he be using that's illegal? I need to get my hands on it, for my own safety and for his.

  My car whizzes by at top speed, and I'm proud. I did this. I'm the brains behind this car that's nearly making sparks off the track for its power.

  A day spent at the racetrack is my favorite thing. I've grown up around it, and it certainly feels like home. I have to pinch myself to remind myself of the fact that, yes, this is my job, this is what I get to come do every single day.

  Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I'm reaching a high that comes from being inside my fast-moving car.

  The only other time I've felt like this is when I'm around Braden, and that scares me.

  I'm not supposed to let a guy get to me like that. I'm a one-woman show, a class act. I pride myself on separating work from pleasure and for being totally independent―and yet here I am pining for a guy.

  I tell myself that I've had a crush on Braden for years and that I could give myself some slack. Don't I deserve some fun?

  I picture those crystal blue eyes and how they turn an overcast shade of gray when he's serious. I picture the way he holds me, and the feel of his body clutching mine. He's charismatic and gorgeous, and yes, fine, I'm obsessing. Who wouldn't?

  He's my dream guy, and it practically stops my heart to think of him―or at least makes it skip a beat.

  I'm up in my head, fantasizing about him.

  "Jenna, hello? Earth to Jenna?"

  I snap to. "Oh, what?"

  "Um, you're supposed to be timing the runs and watching the car specs? Remember?"

  "Oh yeah, right." I've completely spaced out, and now we're behind. Great work, Jenna.

  It's Neil who's interrupted my reverie about everything Braden. And as I look at him, I'm reminded of the grave responsibility I have to this team. Their livelihoods are essentially in my hands, and I'm not sure how to handle that.

  Screw the FBI for putting me in this position. I can't see myself turning against Braden, but I can't hurt my team either. The agents have set this up perfectly so that I'm presented with an impossible choice.

  "I'm sorry, Neil, I'm having one of those days. Can you catch me up?"

  "It's fine. We'll just start the race over. But pay attention for God's sake, yes?"

  "Yes. I promise."

  Damn. I've just wasted everybody's time. But if they only knew what was on my mind, things would be different. If they knew I was thinking of them and their futures, maybe they'd understand why I'm not so present today.

  I can't do anything to jeopardize my team, and yet Braden deserves that same respect. He's the reason this circuit is so successful, and it wouldn't be right to turn him in...

  And well, I care about him. I'm discovering the man behind the mystery, and it turns out he's really great. It's funny how you fantasize about someone, but it turns out that reality is way better than the idea.

  And yet I've put my whole life into this team. We're like family. And there's nothing I can do to betray that. The problem is that in this instance, I'm not sure where the betrayal lies.

  Should I protect them or protect the league as a whole?

  What if the FBI agents were lying, and they're planning to lock us all up with my information? It's a formidable situation to be in, and once again, I curse my luck, having to be the one to deal with it.

  Why, above anybody else, did the FBI have to choose me to be the snitch? They must've been tracking Braden for a while.

  And then I remember what they said about Braden moving fast with me. Is it wrong that I feel that that thought is comforting? Knowing that Braden might be treating me differently than all the other women makes me feel so good and warm inside.

  And then I remember that it's this fact that's led me to my precarious position.

  I need to clear my mind. I need to find my answer.

  Neil pages the driver and has him come back to restart.

  "Hey, what's going on with you, Jenna? You're normally so on point. Is it something you'd like to talk abo
ut?"

  Yeah, I wish. If I could confide in somebody about this, I'd feel so much better. But as it is that's not an option, I need to figure this out on my own.

  I'm trying to hear my internal voice, my intuition, and to see where it's guiding me, but when it comes to betraying Braden or my team, I guess my inner voice is as silent as I am on the matter.

  The driver comes back to restart, and we time him properly. I see the specs, and I see where we can improve.

  Neil's standing with me, and we discuss the improvements that can be made.

  "Hey," he says, "So do you have any new information on Braden's car and how he got it to go so fast?"

  "No. I wish. He's keeping his secrets very close. It's gonna be hard to penetrate his fortress of information."

  "Yeah, well, that's Braden. Part of his success comes from the fact that he's so private."

  "I know." I agree. "We need to maintain that level of privacy with our team, too." I think of how we can keep any industry secrets out of the hands of the FBI. The closer we can pull things in, the better.

  "I know we can beat him even without his new tech. We just have to invent our own. And once we do, we'll be filthy rich."

  I laugh, "We're already rich, Neil."

  "But more is always better."

  "You're right," I laugh. He always cracks me up.

  There is quite a bit of money in this league, and that's why it's caught the eye of the FBI. With this much money and tech at hand, it's no wonder they want to shut us down. That, and the fact that we have a bunch of dirty cops on our side.

  Our car races by, and everything looks good. I think we may even have a chance at winning this thing. I just need to implement some minor details, and we should be all set.

  Our car will at least be a force for Braden to reckon with. He won't win so easily like the last time.

  I do, however, need to get my hands on his secret. Only then can I determine how dangerous it would be to reveal.

  I wish I could tell Braden all of this.

  Once again, my heart is heavy with threats about the future. I don't see a way out of this yet, and even the racetrack can't bring me an answer.