Billionaires and Bad Boys: The Complete 7-Book Box Set

by Nikki Chase

  Wendy, keep a close eye on your brother, would you? He just told me he’s having suicidal thoughts. Thanks.

  I fire off the text.

  Fred’s not my problem anymore.

  I should’ve done this years ago.

  Seth

  Fuck.

  I fucked up.

  I thought I was being careful, only coming to The Local every week.

  I’ve been holding myself back. I thought it would be enough to distance myself from Alice, enough to keep them away from her.

  But now they know. They know she exists.

  I have a plan. I just don’t know if it’ll work.

  No, let me rephrase that.

  I know for sure that it’ll work, but Alice will get hurt in the process.

  God fucking damn it. How did I let things get this bad?

  Driving all the way to the city every week, just to have dinner alone at the same restaurant? Sure, that’s not weird at all.

  Fucking idiot.

  I only realized it when I saw one of Walter’s men lurking in the shadows, but it was too late. I already had one foot inside the restaurant.

  There’s a chance this is the first time he’s following me, but it’s unlikely. This is probably just the first time I notice him.

  He would’ve seen—and reported to Walter—that I always come here and talk to the cute chef every week. He might’ve even seen her walk home with flowers, and he could’ve correctly concluded that they were from me.

  Damn it, just thinking about that guy creeping on my Alice makes my skin crawl. I want to run out there, grab him by the collar, and hit him in the face until his brain erases whatever memory is stored there of Alice. Too bad that would risk our entire operation.

  I sit at my usual spot and order the Chef’s Special, like I always do.

  From here, when the door to the kitchen opens at the right time and at the right angle, I can catch a glimpse of her—my angel, doing what she does best in the kitchen, her face full of concentration. I can’t get enough of that laser focus, that absolute serenity on her face when she’s at work. She’s in her element.

  She takes one look at the scrap of paper with my order on it, glances at the clock, and scans the restaurant for me. She has a strange expression on her face when she finds me.

  She knows my routine by now. For five months, I’ve been coming here every Thursday night at seven sharp.

  I remember the moment she first started to look for me when she’d get a single order of the Chef’s Special at around seven on a Thursday.

  My heart stopped, then kicked back into gear with a vengeance.

  At first, she looked annoyed to see me.

  I don’t blame her. I probably made her life harder, with all the complaints I sent to the kitchen.

  But I was just trying to improve her cooking. And, to be honest, I needed excuses to get her cute ass out here so we could talk.

  One night, to my surprise, she started taking my suggestions. The food got even better and, best of all, I knew she wanted my approval.

  That knowledge makes me want her more. I want to push her limits, see how far she’ll go to please me.

  The kitchen door swings open and our eyes meet. She flashes me a quick, small smile.

  I used to lament the fact that we could never be anything more than a chef and a diner. I used to wish we could spend more time together.

  Well, be careful what you wish for—I should’ve learned that lesson a long time ago.

  Now I’m going to spend more time with Alice, for sure. A lot more time. Probably way more time than she expects or wants, but she has no choice now, all because of my own carelessness.

  The food arrives, and I try to live in the moment, to savor what Alice has prepared for me. Her cooking hits my palate at the right place, like it always does these days. It’s delicious, and there are moments when my taste buds pump so much delight into my system that I forget my problems.

  But still, I don’t enjoy it as much as I usually do.

  I’ve already made a plan in case something like this happens, always hoping I wouldn’t have to actually carry it out. As I continue to eat, in my head I play and replay the plan quietly, my heart pounding in my chest.

  I can’t believe I’m actually about to do this to her.

  At the end of the meal, Alice comes out to greet me as usual. This is our own secret routine now, our own private dance.

  She looks radiant today, like there’s a spring in her step. We exchange the usual words. She asks me how the food is; I tell her it’s delicious; she tells me to enjoy the rest of the meal; then she says she has to go back to the kitchen.

  That’s when I do something out of the ordinary.

  “No, don’t go yet,” I say.

  She stops in her tracks at my words. My heart races. Her obedience makes me want to order her to do other things, like getting on her knees and opening that pretty mouth for me.

  I swallow, chasing away my dirty thoughts.

  This is not the time.

  “Can I help you with anything else?” Alice turns around to face me with a smile.

  Yes, I’d like to order one blowjob, please, I think to myself.

  Maybe she’s just being polite, but that smile makes me want to grab her and give her a kiss. I want to turn that smile into an open mouth, panting with desire.

  Instead, I say the words I’ve been rehearsing in my head. “I’m looking for a new chef. Interested?”

  “Oh, you own a restaurant?”

  “No, but I’m very particular about what I eat, as you already know. I live about two hours outside the city. We have fresh air and great views there. It’ll be good for you to escape the city for once,” I say.

  “That’s true. All this smoke and pollution must be killing me slowly, after all.” She grins, her nose crinkling as she does.

  “Well, give it some thought. You’ll get a place to stay for free and you’ll get paid really well.”

  “Oh, where will I be staying?”

  “All my house staff live on the premises. There isn’t much going on in the area. Most of the people in the nearby town have lived there for generations, and they’re unlikely to have rooms to rent out.”

  “It sounds good, but I don’t know…” Alice bites her bottom lip and her eyes flick to the side as she thinks.

  “Like I said, I’ll make it worth your while. Feel free to say no, of course.” I lie. There’s no option for her to say no. This is not so much an offer as it is a necessity now. She has to come with me, for her own safety.

  “I like the sound of that,” she says, smiling, completely unaware of the danger facing her.

  “I’ll pay you twice whatever The Local is paying you,” I say.

  Her eyes grow wide. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious,” I say, telling the truth this time.

  “I’m tempted,” she says, her teeth stabbing into her lower lip again.

  “If you’re interested, call me.” I dig into my pocket and give her my business card.

  I should stop this conversation before Walter’s guy gets suspicious. He’s probably still watching outside. And with the big windows surrounding us, anyone from outside can clearly see what’s happening inside the restaurant.

  “Just think about it,” I say. “You can save up while you work for me. Even if you hate it and you quit after a few months, you’ll be in a much better financial situation by then.”

  Alice smiles as she drops my business card into the little pocket in her white shirt, where the logo of the restaurant is embroidered.

  I want to rip that logo off her chest and brand her with my name. I’ll get to do that, if she says yes. If she says no… Well, she’s still coming with me, only there probably won’t be any cooking involved, which would be a shame.

  “I’ll definitely think about it,” she says.

  “Don’t take too long. I’m free tomorrow, any time after five in the afternoon. Come see me at the address
on the business card. We’ll sit down and talk. You’ll say yes within five minutes. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

  If you don’t, I’ll pick you up anyway tomorrow, I think quietly to myself. It’ll be a lot more pleasant for you if you come yourself, though.

  “Got it. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Alice says.

  “Good.” I smile. I watch her back as she walks away. Under my breath, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  A few hours later, she texts me to say that she’ll come to see me tomorrow night. I heave a sigh of relief.

  The situation is far from ideal. If I had my way, she’d stay far away from my problems. She’d continue working happily in the city. But now she’s involved, whether she likes it or not.

  I’m just glad I don’t have to drag her kicking and screaming to my place.

  No, at least the first few days will be nice. I’ll stretch it out as long as I can. Because after that, when she finds out, the kicking and screaming will start.

  Alice

  The car reaches a tall, wrought-iron gate. A big man with a solemn face peers at us through gaps in the curved metal, and the gate opens for us. We drive down the long driveway, around the fountain, and stop by the front door.

  “We’re here,” says the driver.

  “Thank you, Anthony.”

  I’m glad he announced it, because otherwise I would've thought this was some kind of contemporary museum. Considering the size, I can probably call it a mansion. The façade, dominated by dark metals and glass, looks modern and imposing.

  I spot several men in the garden, buff men who wear black, like the man at the gate—and, come to think of it, my driver, too.

  I wonder what they do. Are they gardeners? Are gardeners usually this brawny? Are they security? Why would Seth need this kind of security?

  His understated business card simply says Seth Wayne, and lists a phone number and an email address. No mention of his line of work at all.

  The main question pops into my head, the same question that I’ve been asking myself: How well do I really know Seth Wayne?

  The answer scares me: not very well. I didn't even know his last name until he gave me his business card last night.

  To be honest, I have a small crush on him. Just a tiny one. Can you blame me? The guy is hot as sin, even if he’s rude and demanding.

  What can I say? He appreciates good food, and it flatters me that he’d hire me, considering his high standards.

  When he called me back to the table last night, I thought he was finally going to ask me out. Everybody said he was about to do it soon. There was even a betting pool going on in the kitchen.

  Then, instead of a date, he asked me to an interview. Of course a man like him wouldn't go for someone like me. I mean, just look at this mansion! Obviously, the man is some kind of a billionaire. He probably only dates supermodels.

  It's not that I don't like getting complimented on my cooking. Of course I appreciate the compliments; cooking is my art. What's an artist without the people who appreciate her art?

  It was just a rough day for my feminine confidence.

  When I saw Fred at lunch yesterday, I realized I’d been waiting for a loser to change his ways for me for five damn years. Why did I do that? What a waste of precious time!

  It makes me so angry when I think about it, not so much because it didn't work out, but more because it took me so long to realize it was never going to work out.

  Then, I realized I still had no idea who had sent me the flowers. So, when Seth asked for more time, I was hoping…

  Ah, never mind. I was being dumb.

  I shake my head to dispel the negativity brewing inside my brain.

  I’ve decided today is a new day. I’ve obviously been in a funk, and a new beginning is exactly what I need.

  For weeks, I’d been pining for Fred, thinking about how he was finally becoming the thoughtful guy who’d finally treat me right. I couldn't have been more wrong.

  So, I’ve been thinking. Maybe it takes more to really make a clean break with Fred. In the past, whenever I didn't want to talk to him, he’d come to my apartment building and wait for me downstairs. Moving here would solve my problem of having to avoid Fred, removing the temptation altogether.

  I don't want to see him when I feel lonely. I’m afraid I’d impulsively decide to get back with him, just so I could cling to something familiar.

  I can’t take that risk; I’ve done that way too many times before. Now, while I’m thinking clearly, it’s time to make sure that won't happen.

  The best way to do that is to move the hell away from the city, go somewhere he won't find me. Like here, in a small town I’ve never heard of.

  I walk up the front steps of the mansion, stop at the door, and press the bell button. A woman opens the door. Her skin is tanned brown, and her hair is dark as night. She gives me a smile, showing off her white teeth.

  “Hi, I’m Alice Webb. I’m here to see Seth Wayne.”

  “Come in, Alice. Seth has been waiting for you.” The woman speaks perfectly fluent English with a thick Spanish accent.

  She gestures for me to follow her with her hand, drawing my attention to her long, pretty red nails. Working in the kitchen as I do, keeping my nails long or painted is not an option. She wears a red wrap dress that skims her figure beautifully, showing off her petite, curvaceous body.

  Who is she? A sister, a girlfriend, a wife?

  I look around me. High ceilings, marble floors, classy interiors—this is the residence of a rich man. To be honest, I had my doubts that Seth could double my salary at The Local. He didn't even know what they were paying me. But now I see he has the money to back up his offer.

  It's hard to say no to that kind of money. If I keep getting work at good restaurants and I make a name for myself, maybe I’ll eventually reach that kind of income level, but it’ll take years of hard work and a lot of luck.

  I have that luck right now, so why shouldn’t I take this opportunity?

  Sure, it's nice to offer my cooking to a large audience, but it's tiring to work in the pressure cooker that is the kitchen at The Local night after night. Working for Seth would allow me to live life at a slower pace and let my creativity run wild.

  With the money I’ll save from my higher salary and non-existent living cost, maybe I’ll even be able to make my life-long dream come true.

  Now, don't laugh at me, but I’ve always wanted to open my own restaurant. I know there will be a lot of business stuff to deal with, but that sounds like an exciting challenge to take on.

  My mind goes into overdrive when I think about my own little restaurant, with a menu that changes every day based on the availability of local ingredients and what I feel like cooking. Ideas start pouring in, and soon I’m restless because I just want to go out and do it.

  In the past, I was never in a financial position to consider it a real possibility. With this job, though, I could actually see myself getting there in a few years.

  The woman looks over her shoulder to check that I’m still following her. She smiles at me, the click-clack of her high heels on the marble echoing in the big, minimally decorated space.

  The hem of her A-line dress swishes around as she walks, making me feel underdressed in my button-down shirt, dress pants, and ballet flats. Working in the kitchen, comfort and practicality are of the utmost importance.

  “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Alejandra,” she says. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  “Um, likewise.” I wonder what she means by that. “So, what exactly have you heard about me?”

  “Oh, not much. Seth doesn't talk much about matters of the heart. We mostly talk about the running of the house.”

  Huh? The heart? What is she talking about?

  I wonder if it's just a language thing, if maybe she's trying to convey something that doesn't quite translate into English.

  Before I can ask, she stops in front of a door. She knocks and smiles a
t me while she waits.

  “Come in,” says a voice from behind the door. The low, authoritative voice sends tingles down my spine.

  Seth.

  Somehow, the idea of seeing him here, in his home, in his own domain, thrills me.

  For months, I’ve been curious about this man. Yet, with every answer I get, more questions arise. Now, I get an opportunity to learn more about him, the mysterious man who came out of nowhere and is suddenly the key to my life-long dream.

  Alejandra turns the knob, pushes the door, and holds it open for me. As soon as I enter, Seth’s eyes are fixated on me. Something darkens his gaze, but he quickly hides it.

  “Hi, Seth,” I say. The door closes behind me, making me jump.

  “Come in. Take a seat.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he gestures at the chair across the desk from him.

  My cheeks grow warm with embarrassment when I realize I’ve been standing still like a statue, distracted by his piercing gaze and intimidating presence.

  There’s something pulling us closer together, like some kind of an invisible stretchy string that's been drawn so tight it's about to snap.

  I felt it even in the busy restaurant, all the way from the kitchen when I was supposed to be working. Now, with just the two of us in a private space, that unseen force hits me in the face, overwhelming me so much my brain stops working for a while.

  I check out the room as I walk across the floor toward his desk. One of the walls is lined with tall bookshelves that almost reach the ceiling. The books look thick and serious—textbooks, perhaps. This is probably a home office.

  “Anthony told me you already have an overnight bag with you,” he says.

  “Yes. I’m sorry if that seems presumptuous.” I take my seat.

  “Not at all. Brought it because you’ll definitely take the job?” Seth raises one questioning eyebrow.

  “Well, that's one possibility. It's also a long drive back to the city and I thought I should be prepared for this interview to end late.” I recall the advice I read on the Internet about how I should avoid appearing too eager to take a job because that would mean giving up my leverage in the negotiations.