The Billionaire's Package (Thirsty Thursday Book 1)

by Autumn, Kyle

  “That isn’t how an engagement works,” I inform her.

  “What did I say earlier?” she yells, stomping closer to me. “This isn’t real, so stop pretending like it is! I won’t break my promise to be there at your party on Friday, okay? So stop acting like you want to spend all of this time with me!” She pokes me in the chest. “It’s unnecessary and it’s messing with my head!” Then her eyes go wide and she covers her mouth.

  When tears spring in her eyes, I wrap my arms around her, more than curious about this turn of events. She attempts to push me away at first, but I squeeze tighter, determined to comfort her because it breaks my heart to see her this upset. To know that I had something to do with it.

  “I don’t mean to mess with your head, Shiree. That’s not my intention,” I explain to the top of her head. “My intention was to take you to your favorite restaurant tonight and get to know you better. Because, believe it or not, this is very, very real to me, and I’ll do whatever I can to prove that to you.”

  She breaks down even more now. Practically sobbing in my arms. My strong woman is falling apart, and I’d do anything to fix it. But I have to know what’s wrong, what she’s thinking about, and what’s causing her such distress.

  I just pray that it isn’t me.

  ***

  Shiree

  I sniffle against his chest. I’m sure I heard him right, but I still don’t trust that he’s telling me the truth. Honestly, what the hell could he see in me? Why would he, this man who can land any woman in the world, want to be with me, a woman who can’t hold a candle to the women he’s been with before.

  God. When I said I could be happier, this clearly isn’t what I had in mind. I didn’t picture bursting into tears over the night I had against the man I’m outrageously confused over. But that’s what happened. And I don’t think I’m any happier for it. So, what the hell is going on?

  Maybe I’d know if I’d come home instead of going to Chaz’s house to wait for him to come home so we could talk. But no, I went there and waited. And waited and waited. For two hours, until I finally gave up and went home, thinking he must have been out with someone else.

  He dismissed me so quickly yesterday and then didn’t even try to contact me for a full day after that. I talked with Lyra, and she suggested talking with Patti and Zo about this, but I don’t want to bring them in on my drama right now. I just wanted to talk with my best friend, but it made me feel even more confused.

  Lyra continued her story from yesterday—that she thinks he’s being honest and real with me. That men don’t put up as much effort as he is, even for something fake or as pressing. My heart and my gut say the same thing she did, but my gut also tells me I need to protect my heart. And I’m doing a shit job at that right now.

  “Come on,” he says, gently guiding me over to the couch. “Sit with me.”

  I follow him and sit next to him, sniffling the whole way and trying to dry my eyes with the hem of my shirt. When we’re settled on the couch, though, he sweetly uses his thumb to swipe under my eyes and catch my tears. But that only makes me cry harder.

  “Hey,” he coos. “Talk to me. I’m right here.” He puts his arms around me and rubs my back in soothing circles.

  “That’s the problem,” I mumble into his chest.

  “You don’t want me here?” he asks, his chin on the top of my head.

  I pull away and rub my eyes. “I do—and that’s the problem.”

  “I’m not following,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together. “You want me here, but I shouldn’t be here? What exactly is the problem?”

  The problem is that I don’t want to get my feelings hurt. If I could explain why I’m so drawn to this man I pegged as a total asshole, I’d be able to work things out in my head. But I can’t. He’s been attentive and giving, but many men could be that way. He’s also been that asshole I thought he was, but that was more of a misunderstanding. Just his learned way to be around the women he is used to.

  He’s also been kind to me, learning how to communicate with me the way I prefer. He seems to understand that I’m doing him a favor, so he wants to repay me in kind. But what am I really getting out of this besides my life getting flipped upside down? Besides starting to fall for the billionaire playboy and getting my heart blown to smithereens?

  I have everything I need in this life—except love. Except companionship and passion. I’m not so desperate that I’ll settle for whatever I can get, but I’m not stupid enough to think that being with Charles Masters is settling, either. I won’t get anywhere if I’m not honest though. So I decide to just come out with it.

  After a big inhale, I rush my words out. “The problem is that I want you here but only if you actually want to be here, not because you need me to show your company that you’re a changed man. I want you to actually be a changed man. With me. No more sleeping around, just being with me. But I can’t ask that of you because this isn’t even real and I—”

  But he cuts me off by kissing me. It’s a passionate kiss that feels all too real underneath the salty taste of my tears. Because everything about us when we’re this close—and even more so when we’re naked and closer—feels real. One hundred percent. And that’s the problem.

  His tongue sneaks between my lips as he cups my face with his strong hands. Then he pulls back and looks me straight in the eyes. “Please stop saying that this isn’t real. Because, to me, it absolutely is.”

  ***

  Chaz

  It fucking breaks my heart every time she gives me the “this isn’t real” bullshit line. I’ve tried to tell her that it is. It so is, and it always will be. But maybe telling her isn’t enough. Maybe it’s time I put a stop to this once and for all by showing her.

  I tip her chin up so she’ll look at me. “Did you hear me? This is real, okay? That ring on your finger is really for you—for always.”

  Her watery eyes stab me in my heart. She still doesn’t believe me. And then I realize she isn’t even wearing the ring.

  “Wait. Where is the ring?” I ask her.

  She holds a ringless hand up before I have time to keep interrogating her. “It’s in my bedroom. I know that you said I need to wear it all the time, but I couldn’t wear it to work and have people asking me a hundred different questions. No one knows I was seeing someone, and I didn’t have it in me to put on a happy face about it when I was so sure this wasn’t even real.” On the last word, she hiccups. Then she drops her face in her hands.

  Instead of trying to tell her again, I scoop her up off the couch and start walking toward the bedroom to show her how I feel.

  “Hey. What are you doing?” she questions.

  “You won’t believe me with words,” I explain, “so I’ll let my body do the talking.”

  Her face softens, and she looks like she’s near tears again, so I kiss her cheeks. She’s so light and precious in my arms that I never want to let go, but once we’re in the bedroom, I gently place her on the bed in a sitting position. I unbutton my shirt and let it hit the floor. Then she raises her arms, so I lift her shirt and drop it on top of mine.

  Our pants are next. She goes to undo her bra, but I stop her to do it myself. I slowly slide the straps down her shoulders, allowing myself to memorize the way her smooth skin feels below my fingertips. Then I hook my thumbs in her panties, take those off, and remove my own boxer briefs so we’re completely naked together.

  She scoots back to the center of the bed, but I snake an arm around her middle and straighten her out on the mattress. When I’ve laid us down and I’m hovering over her, I take her lips and tell her the truth. Everything I’ve been trying to say with words comes out in this kiss. Yet, when I pull back, her eyes tell me she’s still not on my page. So I take it a step further.

  I line us up and prepare to enter her. Before I do that, though, I tell her, “I swear I’m clean. I was never that stupid, but I want to feel you. I don’t want anything between us.”

  She blinks her tea
ry eyes, exhales, and says, “Okay,” as she nods.

  That’s all the permission I need. I ease into her inch by inch, not wanting to take this too fast. This time with her needs to be about togetherness. About permanence. Not a quick fuck before we both move on. Once I’m buried to the hilt, I pause and look her right in the eyes. Then I slowly, methodically move in and out of her, taking her hands above her head one at a time. I link our fingers together and press her hands into the mattress as I make love to her.

  For the first time in a long, long time, I’m making love. And it’s never felt better.

  We hold each other’s gazes the entire time, and before I know it, she’s moaning, closing her eyes, and coming all over my cock. That spurs my own release on, and her name leaves my lips in a reverent whisper. Then I bring my head down to her chest to catch my breath while she does the same.

  “Did you feel that?” I ask her once we’re both calm again. “That’s us. What we are together. We’re real. That’s all there is to it.”

  She tugs her hands out of my grasp. Once I let go, she wraps her arms around my neck and buries her face against me. Her closeness gives me strength, so I pull myself out of her sweet warmth and lift us both until she’s scooped into my arms again and I’m lying on my side of the bed.

  “I want this,” she tells me, a small catch in her voice. “I want this to be real.”

  I’ve never seen her so broken down and vulnerable. She’s usually so headstrong and sure of herself. This shaken version of her absolutely brings me to my knees. This is the reason why I’ll change. Why I’ll never go back to who I was. This woman is why I want to be a better man. Because I cannot stomach seeing her in such agony. Not when I have the power to make her strong and sure again.

  “Never doubt that this is real,” I say, pressing the side of her head against me. But then I remember how I should speak to her. We’re equals, so I ask. “Okay?”

  She sniffles and nods. “Okay,” she tells me. Then she kisses me, showing me with her body that she finally believes me.

  Chapter 13

  Shiree

  I’m not sure how this became my life, but it did. I’m sleeping next to Charles Masters at night. I’m waking up to Charles Masters in the morning. And I’m legit wearing Charles freaking Masters’s ring on my finger like I’m legit going to marry him. Okay, so we didn’t talk about what he considers real about us though, so I’m not going to think too hard about the ring. But it’s still on my finger. And, if I have my way, it’ll stay there forever.

  Work on Wednesday goes quickly. No package delivery for Chaz today, but that’s okay because we have a date. A real, honest-to-goodness dinner date. He confirmed that before we parted ways this morning—after he got me off with his tongue and we made love for a second time, of course. Then he retrieved the ring and put it back on my finger before kissing me goodbye.

  But it was only a goodbye for now, which made it sweet instead of sad.

  On my way out of work, I make sure to run into Lyra.

  “Hey,” I say, stopping in front of her locker. “Are we all still on for Thirsty Thursday tomorrow?”

  “Of course we are,” she replies. “I texted with Patti and Zo today, and they’re good…” But she trails off and grins at me. “What’s with that goofy smile on your face?”

  “Oh, this one?” I point to my lips with my left hand.

  She gasps and grabs my hand. “What’s with this ring on your finger?”

  I laugh a little at her antics. She’s my best friend for a reason.

  Somehow, though, no one else noticed it today. Which was good. I still don’t want the questions because I’m not clear on everything. But I do want to spill my guts to Lyra.

  “Jesus,” she breathes out. “Is this from Charles—”

  I cover her mouth. “Shh!” When I uncover it, I nod. “But it’s not what you think.” I pinch my eyebrows together. “At least, I don’t think it is.”

  “Then what the hell is it?” she asks, still staring at the rock of a diamond on my finger.

  “It’s the engagement ring for the party on Friday. Which you have to come to, by the way. To really sell it, we need my friends there too.”

  “Okay…” She tilts her head. “But why are you wearing it to work?”

  “He told me I should wear it all the time,” I reply, smiling. “Just in case.”

  She slams her locker shut. “So, is everything still fake?”

  My smile gets wider as I shake my head. “Nope.” I pop the P at the end.

  “So, you’re really engaged?” she questions, her eyes wide.

  I deflate, my shoulders sagging a little. “Well, no. But we’re really together. The ring is for his company to show them that he’s serious.”

  “Let me get this straight,” she says, walking toward the exit. I follow. “You’re a couple now, but you’re not really engaged, yet you’re wearing his ring around like you are so his company will think you’re engaged—even though you’re really not.” Then she stops and looks at me to make sure she has it right.

  I think about it for a second. “Right.” I nod, uncertain though. “We’re a real couple but fake engaged,” I clarify.

  “So, do you think you’ll actually get engaged, then?” she asks as we start walking again.

  I push the door open so we can get to our cars. “Maybe someday. I don’t care about rushing things right now. I’m just happy that we’re on the same page.”

  “But are you? Do you want to be fake engaged even though you’re in a real relationship? Isn’t that still using you for his own endgame?”

  We reach our cars, and I’m confused again. I thought his acceptance of our relationship would have put me at ease. And it had until Lyra made me look at it differently. Can I be happy with being in a real relationship with him even though we’re fake engaged? How long does this engagement have to be? Will it ever be a real engagement? Does he even want to get married someday?

  Shit. The answers to these questions would help. And, now that I’ve been honest with him, maybe I can ask him at dinner. It’ll help settle this whole thing if we talk it out.

  “I agreed to do this for him before all of this. Plus, I’m a willing partner. My boyfriend needs help, so I’ll help him out. I’m sure he’ll be willing to help me when I need it.”

  She unlocks her car. “Maybe you should tell him you need to get fake married for your job. See what he says.” She laughs like she’s joking, but I nearly consider the idea.

  Nah. That’s not honest. Bad idea, Shiree. Don’t go there.

  “I was kidding,” she confirms. “Do whatever makes you happy. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “I don’t want to get hurt,” I tell her as I open my car door. “But you’ll be invited for ice cream and a movie marathon in case I do.” I wink at her. “I’ll be fine. We’re going to dinner tonight. I’ll talk it over with him then. Because, you know, we do that sometimes. Talk.” I wink again.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she mocks playfully. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun tonight!” Then she gets inside her car, starts the engine, and backs out.

  I do the same, excited to get home and get ready for our date.

  ***

  Chaz

  I decide to leave the office a little early so I can go home and get ready for a real, honest-to-goodness date. The first one I’ve had since Shannon. Because, after her, I gave it up entirely. But Shiree brings that romantic side of me out again. I’ve almost missed that part. I hope it’s still sharp. We’ll find out tonight.

  On my way out, I pass Blake near the reception desk.

  “Taking off so early?” he asks, checking some reports in his hands.

  “Yep. It’s date night,” I say loud enough for Janet to hear.

  Her head perks up, but she pretends like she’s not listening. I know she heard me though, and that’s good if we’re really going to sell our engagement as real to the board. They may not think it’s real because they
set this whole thing up, but they’ll be proved wrong—and I’ll get to keep my company—when they realize how real we are.

  Blake stops in his tracks. “Seriously?”

  “Yes,” I tell him as I start walking again. “I’m taking her to dinner.” Then I push the down button on the elevator.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks, his voice hushed and his eyebrows raised. “Should you risk spending this much time with her? You might piss her off for good, and that’d be really, really bad.”

  “Man, it’s fine. We had a talk last night—then we had some between-the-sheets, no-talking time.” I straighten my suit jacket. “This is legit. She’s not going anywhere.”

  Now, only one of his eyebrows is up. “You really think, just because this is real now, that she’s not going to leave when you go all caveman on her? Because that’s how you are. And she happens to hate that. What’s going to happen then?”

  I let that settle for a second. But then I fold my arms over my chest. “Why are you discouraging this? She was your idea. You sent her to me. And I have to do this to keep my company. But I’m finally feel like I have something real and you’re warning me against it?” I return the eyebrow raise. “What’s really going on here?”

  “Nothing, man.” He shakes his head. “I would hate to see this go sideways. You’ve been burned in the past, and you have a whole fucking lot at stake here. Just don’t fuck it up, okay?”

  “That’s the plan. To not fuck it up with her. She’s really great, and you’ll see that when you get to know her.”

  He nods, but he doesn’t seem sure. Then he backs away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I nod back, and the elevator dings. Once I’m inside, I hit the button for the first floor, but Blake’s words sink in. I do need to be on my best behavior, but not just for tonight. No, I don’t want to piss her off to the point where she’ll decide not to come to the party, but I also don’t want to piss her off period. She’s likely the best thing to ever happen to me, and I’m not taking it lightly. If this will be forever, then I forever have to treat her right. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.