The Proposal Problem: A Billionaire Royal Hangover Romance

by Natalie Knight

  “That only happened once,” he reminds me. “And they were damn good shrimp scampi.”

  “Whatever.” Cue eye roll. “I need you to pretend to be, um, a guy named Mr. Bad Boy. One of my work personas. I pretend to be him online, pick up women for a, uh, work clients. I kiiiiinda based this persona off of you anyway.”

  “He chokes on shrimp scampi too?”

  “No, Ethan, he chokes on pussy. On account of he gets so much of it.”

  “Yeah,” Ethan says, nodding. “Fair. So what do I do?”

  “I agreed to meet this woman, Ms. Winters, back at the hotel bar. She’s…fascinating.”

  “Wait. You’re ditching Aaron for a girl?”

  Okay, I’m not gonna lie. I’m not proud of this, only actually, yes I am.

  I smack him. Oh, I smack him hard.

  But look, he was asking for it. Begging for it, practically!

  “She’s expecting a guy,” I explain as Ethan snickers. “A handsome, wealthy billionaire. And since he’s, y’know, based on your slutty ass, you’re a perfect stand-in.”

  I can see the wheels turning in Ethan’s head as he mulls over the situation. Which honestly ought to be moot, because I’ve already forked over his dirty blowjob money, and he’s already revealed to me way too much about my twin sister’s sex life for me to be comfortable with.

  “Okay,” Ethan says finally. “But I’m not sleeping with her. Cassie would kill me.”

  And look, I’m not gonna lie.

  I smack him again—so hard that he’s still holding his cheek in stunned agony when Cassie returns from the bathroom, lipstick freshly applied. Aaron follows her over, tilting his head toward the door.

  Limo’s ready.

  Time for action.

  “You gonna fill me in on all of that nodding and winking and giving each other meaningful looks earlier?” I ask Aaron as he offers me his arm.

  “Huh?” To Aaron’s credit, when he’s trying to seem oblivious, he almost gets there. But there’s a reason he’s a…whatever he is, and not an actor.

  Unless he is an actor, I guess. That would explain why he doesn’t want anyone to know about it: he’s fucking terrible.

  “There’s something going on, Aaron. Smart girlfriend, remember?”

  “Maybe I’m just trying to get you alone for a little bit,” he says, lowering his hand from the small of my back to the curve of my ass.

  He cups my ass cheek and squeezes it, and I nearly yelp in delight.

  “Are you trying to distract me with your sexuality?” I ask, giggling in accusation.

  “Is it working?” Aaron shoots back with a dirty grin.

  “Might be,” I admit, grabbing him by his tie.

  I drag him back to the limo like that, leading him by his tie like it’s a leash.

  “I’m not your golden retriever, you know, Chloe,” Aaron growls in my ear as we get into the limo. “But when we get back to that room, I might just make you my bitch.”

  32

  Chloe

  “Thank you.” I nod at the cocktail waitress as she hands me my cosmopolitan that I ordered a few minutes ago at the bar.

  “You’re welcome, miss.” She gives me a cheery smile and scurries away.

  I take a nervous sip, drawing the flavor to my lips and tongue but I’m too anxious to actually enjoy and savor the drink.

  I’m parked in a booth as far away from Ethan’s reserved table as I can possibly get, yet still close enough that I’m able to observe their actions and get a decent look at Ms. Winters. I can’t wait to push this through and finally get to meet her—indirectly.

  I drum my manicured nail tips on the booth top, impatiently fidgeting while I glance on Ethan’s side of the room. He has yet to arrive at his previously reserved table.

  Fuck, I hope he doesn’t bail on me.

  No, he won’t. He’s a great guy and always keeps his promises.

  Great, so apparently my mind is opting to go with the total basket case tonight as I fret and worry over something that hasn’t even happened yet. I can’t help it. If it isn’t happening according to plan, then something could still come up and make it all go wrong.

  I love it when my mind loves to play tricks on me and mix up little imaginary yet substantially nightmare-scale scenarios.

  Of course, I’m being sarcastic. Whoever wants that feeling? I hate it when my mind gets in that mode, but yet here we are.

  Kidding aside, I totally trust Ethan. He’s going to be a great stand in for me. I even think he has a background in theater…Although don’t quote me on that. I could be wrong.

  Either way, he’s taking one for the team like a champ, and I know after tonight, I’ll owe him big even if I don’t necessarily want to do him any more favors. I’m especially grateful that he agrees to help me with my plotting, scheming and devising of my plan.

  I should do an evil laugh in this moment as I visualize everything coming together, but I’m totally not going to. I’m trying to mask myself and be concealed in the dark, remember?

  I probably look like a freak recluse to people who come back here. They’ll probably take one glance at me and wonder why the hell I’m all by myself tucked away into a corner.

  Oh well, I don’t have time to worry myself and care what other people think of me right now. I have a job to do, and that’s to finally reveal the true identity of the elusive and mysterious Ms. Winters.

  Maybe I’ll even find out her first name after tonight, I wonder as I chuckle on the inside. Imagine that. The mystery woman that every man on Thebadboys.net wanted to have, but never got is finally revealing herself to another woman. The woman outsmarting her.

  I’m completely in the clear with Aaron right now too, so it works out perfectly. When we arrive back at the hotel from dinner, I told him that I wanted to check out the hotel spa to determine if it’s worthy of us trying out tomorrow.

  Since we apparently enjoy the spas here, I think it’s a great excuse to slip away for a little while. To my relief, he’s going along with my idea to take a few moments apart. It’s only for a little while.

  After I finally find out the true identity of Ms. Winters, I’ll have all the time in the world to have amazing sex with Aaron while we glance out at the fabulous night time views from our room.

  For now, my goal is to make my boss, the real Mr. Mr. BadBoy, happy and to bring him the results of a well sought-after prize.

  Aaron is currently getting some work done, so at least he has something to entertain him while I’m away. On second thought, it’s work, so it may not be entertaining, but how the hell should I know? He’s so vague about his job that I don’t know much about it.

  I just hope he gets plenty to occupy him, and doesn’t get a wild hair and come down to the bar and spot me.

  I take another sip of my Cosmopolitan, aiming to calm down just a few notches…or twelve. I need to plateau here, and the alcohol will aid in my efforts to remain cool, calm and collected.

  Shit!

  I nearly choke to death on my drink when I notice Ethan walk in. I quickly recover and wipe my mouth with a napkin and clear my throat, brushing my hands through my hair.

  Wait, why the hell am I getting ready? I’m in the back of the bar blanketed in darkness, I don’t need to refresh myself to become presentable. Sometimes I forget that Mr. BadBoy is just an alter ego. No need to get upset or excited about his things.

  I watch Ethan as he walks towards the bar.

  Good. My initial observations of his behavior please me. He appears to be calm and confident. The way Mr. Mr. BadBoy is supposed to be. So, basically the exact opposite of how I’m behaving right now.

  This is very appealing, and relief floods me as I internally note Ethan’s remarkable cooperation here. Everything is going so well. He makes eye contact with me from across the way, but I wave my hand urgently that I need to remain concealed back here.

  I frantically bat my hand at him and he finally understands. He jerkily moves away from me. He stan
ds at the bar and converses with the bartender, ordering a scotch to start his night.

  Remaining hidden as best I can, I slink into the booth while I duck my head.

  I wonder if I can hide behind my cocktail glass. Or if I could drink my way to forgetting I couldn’t hide behind it.

  Oh, shut up. My glass is not that gigantic, although at this point it could be the Nile river and it still wouldn’t be enough to pacify my jitters. My mind begins to climb down from the brink of hysteria when I think about how tonight is finally revelation day.

  This is it! After tonight, I’ll finally be able to paint a picture about the up until now intangible Ms. Winters for my boss, Mr. BadBoy.

  I mentally kick myself for not bringing a pad and a piece of paper to take notes.

  On the other hand, how fucking weird would that be if a lady is hiding in the darkness taking notes on a couple a few feet away? I would look suspicious from a mile away.

  No, mental notes will work just fine for tonight. I hope it’s enough to make my boss proud of me.

  I mean, I’m going through an awful lot to appease him just for a job. I’m new, but I put in more hours than anyone just to push my way up. I get this, I go big. I want to keep this gig and have more flowing my way. It will only get better after I successfully pull this through.

  I flick my eyes to my purse and grab my phone out of it. I almost forgot the most important part! In my reckless state of mind, it completely slipped my mind that I have to actually text Ms. Winters and let her know that I (really in this case, Ethan) have arrived at the bar.

  Silly. No wonder, she isn’t coming yet. We’d be waiting for hours here in vain.

  I push the volume button to vibrate, so that my phone will be silent and won’t call out any attention in the otherwise quiet bar. I hit the conversation screen for Ms. Winters and begin typing away.

  Hi! I’m here at the bar.

  I insert a smiley face emoji to be friendly, but then quickly delete it as part of the message. Guys don’t send smiley face emoji’s, do they? Well if they do, it’s not very often and I have to play the part behind the scenes while Ethan takes care of the rest out on the playing field.

  I laugh to myself about all the trouble I’m going through just for this, but it’s all in good fun. How many people get to say they have this much fun while working on their own projects? Most of my friends sit in a cubicle and get so bored, they have to stare at social media all day, so I feel like I have the advantage and upper hand here.

  I watch as Ethan retrieves his drink and subtly walks over to his table. He sits down and wipes his palms on his pants, then heaves a deep sigh.

  Fuck, I hope he’s not too nervous. The poor guy. I hate to put him through this encounter, but he reassured me that he was happy to help, so I try not to dwell and linger on the subject too gravely. I don’t want to get too worked up on this and end up backing out for him.

  At least he follows instructions well. He doesn’t glance at me at any point, although his eyes do flick from time to time at the entrance to the bar.

  My phone buzzes in my lap, distracting me. I look at it under the table, so the glow of the screen won’t surround me. It’s from Ms. Winters.

  Okay great, I will be there in just a few minutes.

  Holy shit, this is actually going to happen tonight. History will be made; crazy shit is about to go down.

  I can’t wait, I text back.

  Ms. Winters is already a legend on the site. My boss better be fucking grateful when I report back to him with the scoop. I plan to take as many mental notes as I can so that I can paint the best picture for my boss as possible. I’ll make a better report right after this for his benefit.

  Ms. Winters, you’re mine.

  Listen to me, I’m playing the part well too. Mr. BadBoy is really rubbing off on me. Shit, am I resorting to thinking like a man now?

  No, that is a stretch, but I’m enjoying the catfishing while it lasts.

  I know for a fact that Ms. Winters is matched all the time with numerous billionaires, so this is going to be epic for sure.

  Yes, the suspense is killing me and I’m sweating like a freaking pig right now. My heart races as fast as an Olympic runner, and I can hear my pulse in my ears. My throat is closing up and the anxiety is gnawing and tugging at my brain, wreaking havoc.

  I just want this to be over with already, but I’m as excited as a kid on Christmas Eve.

  If my client can be the one to snatch up Ms. Winters, then I’ll be in the running for a huge raise, I just know it.

  33

  Aaron

  Whoever this Mr. BadBoy character is, he couldn’t have agreed to a better spot to meet. Tonight, I’m feeling lucky, and not just because I know that Chloe is going to come back from her spa mission horny as all fuck and desperate to jump on this dick.

  Although, to be fair, that’s a pretty tasty cherry to place on top of this piece of cake.

  I can see and survey the entire bar from where I’m sitting. It’s almost like this table was put here so whoever is sitting in the seat I am right now can keep an eye on things.

  There’s a couple in the corner kissing and giggling to each other, and I can practically guarantee that she’s giving him a hand job beneath the table while he tries to look blasé about it. Across the room, there are two busty blonde women on what looks like a blind date, both awkwardly trying to pass the other one the bill.

  I should take Chloe down here after this Mr. BadBoy business is wrapped up, honestly. Not only could we people watch all night, but we could also have a hell of a time beneath the table ourselves. Because even though I can see practically everyone from here, the table is positioned perfectly so not a single goddamn soul can see me.

  Which is just how I like it.

  Obviously, I would take care of the bill.

  I couldn’t be more thrilled that I’m finally going to get my thumb on this Mr. BadBoy character. Supposedly a completely spotless billionaire.

  I haven’t even seen this guy make a typo. Not even an awkward autocorrect.

  Nonetheless, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s not who he says he is. If I’m being completely real with myself, it’s practically turned me into one of those tinfoil-hat wearing conspiracy theorists over the last few weeks, trying to guess at who he might really be.

  A politician hiding behind top-of-the-line security technology so his uptight wife and raging constituents don’t find out about what he’s really doing during those long nights at the office. Or should I say, who he’s really doing?

  A media mogul. Old money. Someone with a big name in business with a board of directors breathing down his neck, sneaking around to get his kicks after hours under a pseudonym so his sex addiction doesn’t come out and leave his shareholders bailing faster than lifeboats from the Titanic.

  Maybe it’s the fucking Wikileaks guy. He seems like the type to hide behind some bad code name and conceal his identity, anyway. That’s his whole deal, right?

  I could do this all night. No, really. It’s fascinating to think about, but it’s also the fact that any one of those sounds just as true as the last.

  I’m ready to find out who this guy is once and for all, if not for the company then for my own peace of mind. I’m ready to take off the tin foil hat, put these theories to rest, and take my girl to bed to bang one out in a victory fuck.

  My phone lights up suddenly, and when I dare to glance down, there’s a Mr. BadBoy message glowing on the screen.

  He’s here.

  I look around, searching. I can usually pick the billionaire out of the room in an instant, but this is a pretty high-class hotel. Usually, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel, but right now, it’s like I’m trying to catch one particular mackerel in a barrel of, well, other mackerel.

  He’s probably not the lesbians, I decide. Or, on second thought, maybe they’re bi. Considering that a sleazy guy has just arrived at their table and whipped out his credit card.

 
Hey, maybe it’s his lucky night.

  Probably not the guy getting a hand beneath the table either. Especially since that couple is blowing this popsicle stand.

  They’re probably getting a room. Good for them.

  Ultimately, until Cassie rolls in, there’s no way of telling for sure which of these men in suits our mysterious target is. I ring her up on my cell and give her the go-ahead.

  “Ask for the table reserved under Mr. BadBoy,” I instruct her.

  “Ugh,” Cassie sighs. “The maître d’ is gonna think I’m a jackass, Aaron.”

  “I’m not paying you for backtalk. Come on, Cassie. We’ve got this.”

  I watch Cassie do her best sexy bitch walk into the bar. She chats with the woman at the front for a few seconds, smiling and laughing. I see her mouth the words Mr. BadBoy, at which point they both fucking lose it.

  Then, just like that, she gets led off to a table in the middle of the room.

  His back is turned to me. Son of a bitch. When I played this moment in my head, I could at least watch him in profile during this moment.

  I was looking forward to seeing the expression on this guy’s face when he thinks he sees Ms. Winters for the first time, after all. Now I’ll never know how stunned he is.

  It’s not that I’m sweet on him or anything. This isn’t that kind of story, sorry to crush your dreams. But I’ve been doing a damn fine job posing as Ms. Winters, as far as I’m concerned.

  My dirty talk has improved massively, and it’s obviously been working for me. Especially when I think about the dirty things I’m going to whisper into Chloe’s pretty little ear when I get her back up to our room.

  Chloe, naked in our bed, fresh from the spa and lying uncovered atop champagne-colored silk sheets, the northern lights overhead, and my mouth between her thighs.

  Perfect end to a perfect evening.

  Here’s the thing about Chloe: this girl fucking gets me. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman, plus a bunch of shit I didn’t even realize a man like me was allowed to ask for.