Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Epilogue #2
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Secrets Abroad
Romance Abroad Book One
D.G. Whiskey
Illustrated by
Mayhem Cover Creations
Edited by
Valorie Clifton
Contents
Description
Books
Connect With Me
1. Penny
2. Dylan
3. Penny
4. Dylan
5. Penny
6. Dylan
7. Penny
8. Dylan
9. Penny
10. Dylan
11. Penny
12. Dylan
13. Penny
14. Penny
15. Dylan
16. Penny
17. Dylan
Epilogue
Epilogue #2
Afterword
Also by D.G. Whiskey
Shaken: A Football Romance
1. ~Juliette~
2. ~Travis~
3. ~Juliette~
4. ~Travis~
5. ~Juliette~
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About the Author
Acknowledgments
COPYRIGHT © 2017 D.G. WHISKEY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
As a work of fiction, all people, places, and events are fictional or used in a fictional manner.
This eBook is licensed by the publisher for personal use only.
To Cat and a swing on the beach in paradise.
We travel for romance, we travel for architecture, and we travel to be lost.
Ray Bradbury
Description
By the time he broke the kiss, I only held on to reality by a thread.
His touch made me forget that I lost my job. That he offered me an unimaginable sum to be his fake fiancee. That I was falling too fast and too hard for a man with a dark past.
He was using me. Why did it have to feel so good to be used?
Secrets Abroad is a sweet and sexy fake fiancée novella in a new series of standalone books connected by a travel theme. The Romance Abroad series is rooted in real life, using D.G. Whiskey's travel experiences and drawing inspiration from the things he's done, people he's met, and places he's been.
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ROMANCE ABROAD:
Secrets Abroad: A Fake Fiancée Romance
STANDALONES:
Pulse: A Stepbrother Romance
Steal: A Bad Boy Romance
Royal Rogue: British Bad Boy Romance
Shaken: A Football Romance
Fallen: An Angel Romance
Extracurricular
DEVEREUX NOVELS:
Capturing Liberty
Taking Flight
Chasing Charity
Learn more about me and my books at my website.
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Chapter One
Penny
After the bouncy ferry ride, the solidness of the pier underfoot eased the tension in my muscles.
That wasn’t the only reason either. I’d made it after a full day and a half of traveling. It had felt like a waste, spending so much of my vacation time traveling to the far side of the world and back, but now the decision felt more right than anything I’d done in a long time.
The sun was sweltering, beating down with a tropical intensity unmatched by anything I’d ever felt. I paused on the pier, closing my eyes, letting the heat bake into my bones.
No work for two weeks. No deadlines. No meetings. No late-night emergency conference calls.
With a forceful breath, I pushed the pent-up stress out of my body, focusing on forgetting the responsibilities that awaited me back home, at least for the next two weeks.
When I opened my eyes, it was with a fresh appreciation for the surrounding sights. And sights were aplenty. Beach stretched in either direction from the pier, dotted with palm trees in a way that was almost too perfect, as if the view had been copied from a postcard.
No, this is where the postcard pictures are taken.
The water was a clear teal blue, and the waves that had jostled the ferry on the trip from the mainland were nowhere to be found in the protected leeward side of the island. The fresh and clean scent of the sea mingled with sweet fruit. It was paradise, and it was perfect.
Vacationers lay out on the beach, and classic long-tail boats were strung out in a long line just offshore. Further into the harbor, dozens of boats were anchored, the fleet servicing the island’s bustling scuba diving industry.
Unbidden, a smile teased my lips wider than they’d been in years—it felt unnatural, but I couldn’t fight it back, and I didn’t want to. I’d arrived in the Land of Smiles.
I walked along the pier for a dozen steps before coming alongside a long and tall, gleaming white hull. The yacht was enormous, bigger than any I’d ever seen. Not that I’d spent much time around boats. My knowledge extended only far enough to know that this vessel was worth a ton of money. It looked like something that would get posted by the few luxurious lifestyle Instagram accounts I followed to pretend my life could be like that someday.
Even without knowing what I was looking at, my pace slowed as I gaped at the yacht. The thing had three or four levels to it.
How did it even dock here? The water must be deeper than I thought.
“Do you like what you see?” The voice was low and rich, like velvety chocolate cake, and came from above. It also sounded vaguely familiar.
A man leaned on the railing. At least, he must have been a man, but he looked like a god. The sun lit his features like a halo. The coifed black hair, several-day-old beard, and piercing blue eyes made for a unique combination that took my breath away and captured my gaze and imagination for long seconds before I could even look below his strong jaw.
Oh, my God.
He wore a simple white button-up shirt, but it was open and the ends fluttered in the light breeze to reveal the hardened abs and strong chest underneath. He looked ready for a photoshoot.
Normal men just don’t look like that.
The man tilted his head to the side and lifted an eyebrow as if to repeat the question, and the flush I’d been sporting from getting caught staring at his boat deepened at getting caught staring at its owner. The way his eyes captured my own unleashed a torrent of heat inside me, and I could barely keep from gasping.
He
was so far out of my league that the very idea that he was talking to me would have been ludicrous if he weren’t staring right at me and the rest of the ferry passengers hadn’t already hurried down the pier. If I’d been another woman, I might have scurried away, but turning shy and withdrawn was not my forte. I tightened my grip on my bags and lifted my chin. “I should ask you the same question. Do you always stand on your boat to creep on the tourists getting off the ferry?”
If I expected the question to put him on the defensive, I was sorely mistaken.
Instead, he grinned. “When there are tourists worth creeping on. What’s your name?”
How did I get sucked into this conversation?
I didn’t want to give this man my name, no matter how magnetic his abs were. I seriously could not stop peeking, and it didn’t help that he saw my eyes dart lower every two seconds. Still, I was nothing if not polite.
“Penny. Penny Price. Yours?”
Again, that look. It filled me with smoldering heat, like he already knew everything there was to know about me and he could fulfill all of my fantasies.
“You don’t know?” His voice was a subtle challenge, a small taunt.
The sense of familiarity was overwhelming. My brain was stuck in the context of this meeting, and I couldn’t for the life of me pin down where I’d heard that rich and layered voice before or seen that proud and perfect face.
“Remind me,” I said, stealing one more look at his abs.
I would remember those.
“Dylan Hunter,” he said with no further explanation, as if anyone in the world should recognize his name.
He had a point. As soon as he said it, the mental barrier broke and I could place him. Dylan Hunter was a notorious billionaire playboy and ruthless businessman famous for coming out ahead in any business deal he engineered. Corporate bankruptcy proceedings were littered with executives cursing his name.
He also had a penchant for putting his name on as much property as he could. There was a Hunter Tower in every major city in the world. Sometimes, two or three.
Egomaniac.
I struggled to match the internalized emotions his name evoked with the very real and impassioned reactions the man brought forth in my body.
“Is this yacht called The Hunter?” I asked. “You like to put your name on everything, right?”
That didn’t appear to be the reaction Dylan expected. He straightened and rubbed his jaw.
“That was a bit of a phase I went through,” he said. “I haven’t named a building after myself in years. We all have things we’re not too proud of.”
Interesting. Why did he bother to justify himself to a random woman passing by his boat?
“So what’s it called?” I pressed.
He shrugged. “Hunting Glory. I never claimed to be perfect.”
That earned a genuine laugh that caught me by surprise. The man was showing more humanity than I expected based on his reputation.
“Well, at least you understand how ridiculous it sounds.”
Dylan cocked his head as he looked at me. “Do you want to come up for a tour? I’d love to show you around.”
The reasoning part of my brain had to swat back the part that jumped like a puppy invited to play. Yes, a freaking billionaire had just invited me onto his yacht. And he was ridiculously handsome, hot as hell, and didn’t seem like a sociopath. But do sociopaths ever betray their true intentions?
Dylan Hunter had a reputation for taking advantage of people and casting them away when they were of no more use, and that reputation was well-earned. I didn't know what he wanted from me, but it couldn’t be what it looked or sounded like.
“I don’t think so,” I said, hoping it was a decision I wouldn’t regret. I took another look at his abs and chest to be sure. Mmm. I could eat him. “I need to go check into my resort, and then I have a date with a lounge chair by the pool, perhaps with a strawberry daiquiri.”
“As you wish.” No sign of disappointment appeared on Dylan’s face, and a piece of me was a little irked by that.
He’s freaking Dylan Hunter. Once you continue on your way, he’ll forget about you in two seconds. He probably has a half-dozen supermodels on the boat taking a nap and he needs a distraction until they wake up.
“Enjoy your day, Mr. Hunter,” I said sarcastically as I turned to wheel my luggage down the pier.
“I hope you find your stay as pleasurable as you desire, Penny Price,” he said. Even though I wasn’t looking at him anymore, just the suggestive lilt of his voice was enough to send another flush of heat through my body.
Am I more of an ass than the famous asshole?
It didn’t matter. It was too late to turn around, and I’d never see him again.
Chapter Two
Dylan
Penny’s curvy figure swayed down the pier, and I watched her go as I resumed my lean on the balcony of the Hunting Glory.
“Sir, Charles Wilton is here to see you. I’ve seated him on the third deck lounge.”
“Thank you, Terry,” I said absently.
Business called, but I refused to turn away until Penny disappeared out of sight at the end of the pier. When I saw her step off the ferry, I knew I had to meet her, and I was ready to chase after her until she conveniently stopped beneath my perch.
She may think she’d seen the last of me, but the only reason I let her go so easily was because I could find her at a moment’s notice any time I wished.
It wasn’t hard to imagine how her soft flesh would yield under my hands, how she would melt into me when I took her mouth with mine, when I…
Focus, Dylan. This is the meeting you’ve been trying to get for a year.
Charles Wilton was a recluse, rarely meeting with anyone face-to-face outside of a trusted social circle. I had to charm my way through a whole series of meetings with Charles’s sycophants and peers before arranging this meeting with the man himself. I wouldn’t let it get messed up with distractions of a woman.
No matter how sumptuous she looked.
My mind was trained to retain laser focus, and it didn’t take long to resettle my thoughts and get all the relevant information I might need to the forefront, easily accessible. By the time I reached the third deck, my business persona was back.
“Charles. It’s very kind of you to agree to meet on the boat. I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience.”
The older man didn’t stand and didn’t offer his hand. Instead, the alert gray eyes beneath a helmet of silver hair narrowed and he nodded. “Dylan. It’s no trouble. You’re the one who came all the way here to meet with me.”
Negotiations were my specialty. My skills in that area were what took me from nothing to everything. Even though I was looking to strike a very different kind of deal from usual, there were certain pieces of the dance I couldn’t resist playing.
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Charles. You aren’t the only one to enjoy Thailand. I own property here. I’ve been coming here for at least a few weeks every winter since I made my first million. It so happens that the timing worked out perfectly to meet and discuss this proposal.”
Charles let slip a small quirk of his lips before hiding it. “Is that right? My apologies for being presumptuous, then. I was under the impression that you’ve been after me for quite some time.”
He’s enjoying this just as much as I am.
It was never wise to go into any negotiation with the impression of chasing the deal. The key to winning was to convince the other side that they had no other choice. If that was impossible, then maintaining an air of indifference would have to do. Charles saw right through my ploy.
“How is your team doing?” I asked, walking to the bar. I didn’t need to ask Charles what he wanted. I’d done my research on the Englishman. He hid it well from everyone but those closest to him, but he had a propensity for Pimm’s No 1. “Last I saw, they were in the hunt this year. The top of the Premier League is a tough nut to crack. It’s impressive how
far they’ve come in such a short time.”
Charles’s eyebrows raised as he took the glass and drank a sip. “You’ve clearly done your research on me. The team has had a bit of a rough patch, but there’s still enough time to turn it around.”
I sat across from him, balancing my whiskey on my knee. “I know the feeling.”
“That’s right,” he said. “You own an American football team, don’t you? Am I correct in hearing they won the championship last year?”
I let my grin speak for itself. The memory of the roaring crowds still held a cherished place in my memory. No red-blooded American man could ever deny that owning a professional sports franchise wasn’t a deeply-held dream. Mine had just come true.
Set the basis of the meeting. Introduce a personal touch with the favorite drink. Bond over shared experiences. Time to pitch.
“You’re a difficult man to get ahold of, Charles,” I said, tacitly acknowledging his point from earlier.
He nodded, sipping his Pimm’s again.
“I won’t waste your time dancing around the issue. I’m sure you’ve heard whispers of my plans. We share certain concerns about the state of the socioeconomic and political climate in the world and what that means for the future of humanity and the planet.”
“The signs are plain for anyone of reasonable intuition to see,” Charles said. “Go on.”
I took another swill of my whiskey and set it on the table between us. “Being a man of intuition, I’m sure you’ve realized that the reason I’m talking to you isn’t just because of your own personal fortune—vast as it is. You are the leader of a consortium of the world’s wealthiest conscientious investors. The pool of capital at your disposal dwarfs any single investment fund on earth, and even the budgets of most countries.”
Secrets Abroad: A Fake Fiancée Romance Page 1