Plain Jane and the Billionaire (Plain Jane Series)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Plain Jane and the Billionaire

  T’Monique Stephens

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Also by T’Monique Stephens

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  COMING SOON!

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020 Tracy Stephens

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  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my critique partner, Cynthia. Your sharp eye for plotting and attention to detail has saved my ass many times.

  Also, thanks to Belinda, Karen and Kathy.

  To my drinking buddy, beta reader, and bestie, Charitee, what would I do without you? Don’t answer that question! Your friendship has kept me sane.

  Thank you to my editor, Nadine Winningham and my cover artist Cover by Combs.

  I couldn’t do what I do without all of you! Writing is a solitary endeavor, but it’s not a journey any author takes alone.

  For my daughter Cyré.

  Some of the best moments of my life, I’ve spent with you.

  You continue to be my inspiration and my reason for striving forward.

  For my Mother.

  Decades later and I still miss you.

  Also by T’Monique Stephens

  Descendants of Ra series

  Entrapped Prequel (coming soon)

  Eternity Book 1

  Everlasting Book 2

  Evermore Book 3

  Encore Book 4

  Forever Novella Book 4.5

  Entwined (Book 5 coming soon)

  The UnHallowed Series

  Only Tonight (Standalone Novella)

  Only The Fallen (Book 1)

  Only One I Want (Book 2)

  Only You (Book 3)

  Only One I’ll Have (Book 4)

  Only One Little Sin (Book 5 coming soon)

  Plain Jane Series

  Reading Order

  Plain Jane and the Hitman

  Plain Jane and the Billionaire

  Plain Jane and the Billionaire’s Seduction (July 1, 2020)

  Plain Jane and the Hitman’s Wedding (Coming Soon)

  Standalone Novels

  If I Love You

  Plain Jane and the Bad Boy

  Chapter 1

  “Mr. Morgan! Mr. Morgan! Look this way! Give us a picture!”

  Julius ignored the catcalls and flashing lights, the red carpet and velvet ropes keeping the waiting throng penned like tamed animals, and entered the newest, hottest, most exclusive club on the New York scene. This was what it felt like to be outed on Forbes latest billionaire’s list. Anonymity gone.

  Sooner or later it was bound to happen given the circles he now inhabited, but sunlight wasn’t good when one lived in the shadows. This type of exposure, the glaring, microscopic invasion of the masses that would do anything to get a piece of you, no longer could he avoid it. One article and the privacy he cherished had imploded. Now, his life was on full blast and he did not like it. Not one bit.

  “Good evening, Mr. Morgan.” Eye candy greeted him. Dressed in leather shorts and an iridescent tank top that dipped into her cleavage, she was a shapely package. “I’m Angela. Anything you need tonight, I’m here to assist.”

  “Anything?”

  She pouted prettily, and murmured, “Within reason. Now, please follow me.”

  Julius had no problem falling in line behind the employee. He moved through the club, absorbing the heavy beat of the music, the press of the bodies on the dance floor, the lights. Judging by the crowd inside and the crowd outside, the paparazzi salivating over the Hollywood starlets and rappers populating the place, Harden had struck platinum.

  Julius snorted. Just what the leader of the mob needed, a spotlight.

  Hell, who was he to cast stones when his intimate universe had exploded on the pages of a damn magazine. They even had a picture of him snapped during his trip to Bali.

  The woman led him to the bar, then stepped aside. Harden peeled away from the group of men and women surrounding him. He slapped Julius on the shoulder, snagged a tumbler of bourbon from a passing tray, and pressed it into Julius’ hand. They were the same height, six foot four. Same build, muscular. Hitting the weights was therapeutic for both of them, though Julius had slacked off these past few months in favor of making money. Similar coloring right down to their blond hair. They could pass for brothers, especially since Harden let his grow out instead of its usual buzz cut.

  “Congrats, Mr. Billionaire. I knew you could do it.”

  Julius kept his focus on the crowd. “It wasn’t a goal, Harden.”

  “Bullshit.” Harden grinned and sipped his drink.

  Julius chuckled. Harden was amongst a handful of men who truly knew him. And yeah, it was a crock of bullshit. Seventeen long years, Julius focused on little else. First with JMI Head Funds, then with JMI Capital. Relentless intensity got him to this point, and he was far from done. Why settle at ten billion when he wanted more. Not more money, though what he wanted would cost. Julius basked in the praise until Harden nudged his shoulder, then tipped his head to the VIP lounge on the upper level.

  Harden led the way to the staircase. Julius followed, along with Harden’s entourage of bodyguards and lieutenants in his organization. Julius knew each of them but didn’t engage. His friendship extended to Harden. Not them.

  Harden Gage. New boss of the New York syndicate.

  They had both com
e a long way from boarding school in Switzerland. The only Americans in the Swiss school, they and four other foreigners bonded over basketball, video games, and bloody fists. They kicked ass rather than having their asses kicked. Twenty plus years, thousands of miles apart, or a few train stops, the friendships remained.

  Harden took a seat in a plush leather chair in a secluded, elevated alcove at the rear of the upper level. Dressed in black on black, he blended into the leather. Plexiglass floor, the lower level remained fully in view. Julius sat across from Harden while the bodyguards fanned out, guarding their privacy and their bodies. The lieutenants took other seats. Julius noted the quiet. Sound dampeners, he guessed. One could actually have a conversation here without losing their voice.

  Angela placed fresh drinks on the short table between them. She smiled at her boss, who ignored her presence.

  “The place is fantastic. You’ve struck gold.” Julius saluted Harden, who shrugged.

  “It’s an investment.” To appear legal. Wise, and precisely what Julius had suggested. “One of many planned investments,” Harden stated, then switched the conversation. “So, is it time to deal with your little brother?”

  Julius rolled the tumbler between his hands, listening to the subtle clink of the single ice cube against the glass. He drained the tumbler, enjoying the pause that helped him quell his burgeoning anger.

  Joshua Albert Morgan. Second son of Albert Morgan. Fifteen years junior to his older brother, Julius Morgan. Coddled from the moment he slipped from between the thighs of his twenty-year-old mother, he inherited a company worth eighty billion dollars when he was five years old. Fourteen years later, it’s worth was reduced by half with debts rising, even though Lynda was shedding assets. She’d done a great job running her deceased husband’s legacy into the ground. Julius’ legacy.

  “I didn’t come here to talk about me. I came to have a drink.” Julius sat back. A carefree laugh diverted his attention to the table a few feet away in another alcove. A group of lovely ladies enjoyed a bottle of champagne. One caught his eye. Could have been her straight platinum blond hair brushing the middle of her back. Or her medically enhanced bosom displayed in a low-cut dress. Blond, busty, beautiful, and thin, that’s how he liked his women.

  Harden waited Julius out. He played the long game and had the patience of a serial killer stalking his next victim. Plus, there was the way Harden had muttered “deal with” that caused Julius’ hackles to rise. He had no love for his half sibling, but that didn’t mean he wanted the nineteen-year-old dead.

  “A few things need to fall into place, but plans are in the works. And dealing with Joshua means he’ll still have a heartbeat when I’m done.” Julius made clear.

  Harden and others in their inner circle had the power directly or indirectly to end a life, be it gory or simply vanishing off the face of the earth. The hate Julius nurtured wasn’t directed at Joshua but rested squarely on Lynda Morgan’s shoulders.

  “Of course.” Harden gave a cryptic smile.

  Time to turn the spotlight away from him. “How’s your brother?”

  “Surviving prison. One more year to probation and he’s out.” Harden’s flat tone gave nothing away, but Julius knew. Harden cared for his sibling as much as Julius cared for his.

  “Heard from Emmet?” Julius asked.

  “Not since he went off the grid.” Two months, not unusual for their blood brother, except that he was in the middle of an internal dispute within his tight knit hitman community. Bodies were dropping. As long as one wasn’t Emmet’s.

  Julius glanced at the woman again. He came here to relax, not talk about shit he didn’t want to deal with. She watched him over the rim of her glass. His cock stirred, interest piqued. Knowing him so well, Harden snapped his fingers. Additional chairs were brought over, and the ladies joined them.

  She sat. She smiled. She tossed back her hair in that artful, yet practiced way women had perfected over thousands of years. Her gaze met his and held. An intimate communion took place between two consenting adults. She may want more, but he wanted tonight. Only tonight. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  One night between a long pair of legs. One night buried inside a warm pussy. The perfect stress reliever.

  Movement in the dark corner on his left caught his attention. A shadow broke away from the wall. Female by the cut of the black suit defining her figure. She’d blended into the dark space, completely inconspicuous. How long had she been there? Was she there when they arrived? Did she hear their discussion?

  Through the shifting kaleidoscope of laser lights, a face appeared. African American. The rest of her remained in the shadows except for her eyes. The color eluded him, but he didn’t miss the speculation and subtle aggression. He doubted anything or anyone had ever intimidated her.

  The woman passed directly in front of their table and caught Harden’s attention. He tipped his chin in her direction. She returned the subtle acknowledgment before focusing on Julius. Backlit by strobe lights, she defied definition, until a flash of light illuminated her features. With her hair pulled back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, her face was all angles, pointed chin, high cheekbones, and a square jaw better suited on a man, yet on her it worked.

  They studied each other, a silent appraisal he found more than intriguing. Who was she? The question formed in his mind, followed by it’s none of his damn business. If she was a part of Harden’s world, then she couldn’t be a part of his. Disappointment pierced his chest when she severed eye contact and continued toward the staircase, and out of sight.

  Julius’ date for the next few hours said something he failed to catch. She gave him the doe-eyed, take me to bed look and found his interest had waned.

  She did this wide-eyed thing, bit her bottom lip, lowered her gaze and nodded. So practiced. As if she’d have a different answer other than “Yes. Please take me to your penthouse and fuck me.” “Want to get out of here?” she whispered, her breast implants pressed into his arm.

  Why not? He had nothing better to do with the night. He’d done the good friend thing and showed up for the opening. He needn’t stay the entire night. Back on task to get laid, he leaned in, wrapped his arm around her chair, and whispered, “Let’s go.”

  He held out his hand. She took it and allowed him to guide her to her feet. He tipped his head to Harden, who saluted him with his drink, but then stood.

  “Make sure the ladies have another bottle of champagne on the house,” Harden said to Angela, and approached Julius’ left. “I’ll walk you out. I’m ready to call it a night.”

  Harden’s bodyguards fell in line around them. Front to back, they were covered. People scattered. The entourage moved through the crowd effortlessly. Few shouted greetings, which were ignored. There was that woman again. More in the shadows than the light, Harden paused to speak to her. She wasn’t a waitress. Those were all dressed in leather shorts and tank tops. So who the fuck was she?

  Julius was intrigued yet didn’t linger. Harden was as close to a brother as Julius would ever have—Joshua’s image popped into his brain and Julius shoved it away—but he wanted no parts of Harden’s business. Which was regrettable because he’d never see that woman again.

  A shame, really, when the blonde exiting with him was a consolation prize. Hand on the small of his companion’s back, he guided her through the crowd, leaving Harden and his men behind. He led her to the rear entrance and valet parking.

  “I’ll have your car for you right away, Mr. Morgan.” The attendant made a call to the garage at the end of the block.

  His date for the night eyed him. Her gaze swept up and down, narrowing on his slacks and shirt. Nothing special about either. He didn’t look like a man newly included on the Forbes list of billionaires, or friend to the head of the Irish mob. She probably expected the valet to deliver a Kia, and this date would be over. He knew it and she knew it. Which was fine. This wasn’t a love connection.

  Hit it and quit it. Back to business in the
a.m. Maybe they’d run into each other again the next time he hooked up with Harden. Or maybe not.

  Her gaze settled on his Breitling, the last gift from his father bequeathed after his death. The watch wasn’t short on diamonds and not his usual style. However, there were times when he needed the reminder of what he’d lost and how far he’d come. The watch was a time capsule of not what was stolen but of what he would take back. By any means necessary.

  His McLaren rolled to a smooth stop in front of them and the valet hopped out. Behind it stopped Harden’s Maybach.

  “You should’ve waited for me.” Harden chastised next to him.

  Julius raised an eyebrow and waited for Harden to answer the silent question. They weren’t headed in the same direction.

  “That magazine painted a bull’s eye on your ass. The world knows you’re a billionaire now. No more hiding in plain sight. That means bodyguards,” Harden insisted.

  They’d had this conversation before, and each time Julius had brushed it aside. Anonymity bred complacency. Harden was right, but the timing wasn’t. He didn’t have time to interview people and couldn’t farm out the hiring. Not with something like having bodyguards in his home, shadowing his footsteps, interfering with his life.

  After the Warren purchase, he’d free up the time to take care of it. He had a lot riding on the purchase to be distracted. He wasn’t the only billionaire in New York. He’d blended in quite well so far. A few more days wouldn’t matter.