The Big Bad Billionaires and The Student: A MFM Billionaire Professor Menage Romance

by Harper West

  The Big Bad Billionaires and The Student

  A MFM Billionaire Professor Menage Romance

  Harper West

  Contents

  Dear Reader

  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

  Free Preview - The Dom’s Deal

  Also by Harper West

  About Harper

  Dear Reader

  Thanks so much for taking a chance on my word baby! I hope you love them as much as I do!

  I hope you love sexy alpha males, and killer romance, as I’m a huge fan, so that’s what I’m writing about. Oh, and menage. I love me some menage, because it’s all about her, am I right?

  xoxo,

  Harper

  Chapter 1

  Natalie

  I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I’d barely had time to get myself situated for the day, before I was faced with an email that was going to change my life.

  But not the good kind of ‘life changing’.

  No, the one glaring at me from my screen was anything but good. In fact, it was so bad—so horrendous—that I wanted to punch my computer and smash it to pieces. Unfortunately, poor grad students didn’t have the luxury of such frivolous actions.

  Natalie,

  It has come to my attention that many of your students are distracted by your choice of dress. I am speaking in particular about the short blue skirt that you wore to TA the class on November 5th. This skirt is unacceptable to TA a class in. The students need to be focusing on their work, not your legs. Without speaking too bluntly, I expect my assistants to have a certain level of dignity and modesty. Your need to flaunt your assets screams of desperation. If you cannot dress appropriately, please see me and we will discuss our future together.

  - Professor Kennedy

  I read it over a dozen times, my eyes blinking back angry tears at his audacity. Kennedy had always been known as a hard ass, and a backwards chauvinistic pig—so I shouldn’t have been surprised. But still, no one, especially a grown ass woman, expects to be ‘punished’ for her choice of dress. This isn’t Victorian era England after all . . .

  If I wanted to wear a tight, short dress, it was my own damn prerogative. Yet I never dressed like that for work. I knew the outfit he was referring to wasn’t questionable at all. And It was most definitely by no means a miniskirt, landing at least half an inch above my knees. In addition, I had been wearing black tights and flats with it. Nothing scandalous enough to fill him with outrage worthy of firing me over. I had seen TAs wearing much less than me, and I was sure that their professors never complained.

  Mind you, most professors weren’t a million years old, either. Professor Kennedy was a breed of his own, and it was a breed that I did not appreciate. No, I knew what this was about. It had nothing to do with my clothes—and everything to do with my continuous rejections of his not-so-subtle flirting.

  What a sad little man.

  I could report him, but if history and the media have taught me anything, it’s that my entire life would be thrown into chaos and my reputation stained. Not to mention, there were no guarantees anything would come of it.

  I would’ve sat and debated all morning probably, but my schedule didn’t allow for any flippant daydreaming. I had to TA two sessions today, and then I had my own work to do. I’d have to leave it until I had actual time to think about my reply. Time to formulate one that wasn’t scathing with swear words and written all in caps.

  That didn’t mean that I let it leave my mind. When I went to get a coffee in between sessions, Caitlin was there, and I showed her my phone without saying a word.

  Caitlin had been my best friend since we were undergraduates, and the fact that we were both TAs working towards our PhDs had brought us closer than ever. Especially since most of our classmates had tapped out after their master’s degrees. She understood me on a level that many people didn’t.

  When she read it, her eyes widened, “Holy shit. What?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Can you believe him?”

  Caitlin grunted in agreement—of disbelief.

  “The sad thing is, I can,” I said, shaking my head. “I mean, I knew it was coming. It wasn’t like he would’ve let me blow him off forever without getting some kind of pay back. Small men and their rejection issues.”

  “Well, first of all,” Caitlin said as we both got our coffees, “He doesn’t have a right to say a word about what you are wearing. Like, most professors here would be happy if their TA was a little sexy.”

  “Caitlin, that’s sexist—and totally not okay.”

  “No, it’s realistic. And It’s not sexist.”

  “How so?”

  “Because I’m talking about the male and female professors. A little eye-candy can make the slow, long days, much more pleasant. Whether that eye-candy is a TA in a tight skirt, or a pair of jeans that frame their muscular butt.”

  “Well now that you’re being so fair . . .” I trailed off and shoved my shoulder into her’s. “But you do agree, right? He’s out of line?”

  “Hell, yes. However . . .”

  “What?”

  “Well, let’s just say that If I received an email like that from one of my professor’s, I’d show up in their office in an even smaller skirt to argue my case. But that may be because I have the sexiest professors in my department.”

  “Oh my God,” I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

  “You should let me write the reply,” She said.

  “No, I’ll do it.” I set my phone flat on the table and rested my arms on it, “What are you up to tonight?”

  “Why?” she grinned. “Do you have an evil plan? Is vengeance in the works?”

  “No,” I laughed, “I just thought we’d get a drink,” I said. “It’s Thursday, practically the weekend. And maybe a shot or two will give me the courage I need to write him back.”

  “Sure, if you want,” she said. “I have no plans, because I have no life.”

  “PhD life,” I said, and we clinked our coffees. “Where are we going?”

  “Hmm. The Blower Bar is always good this time of year. I’ll meet you there after work. I teach until like...6, I think? Or I could let them go early.”

  “No, 6 is fine,” I said. “Professor Chauvinist always leaves at 5, so if we wait until 6, I have no chance of running into him in the hallway.”

  “Don’t you want to run into him?” she asked. “To give him a piece of your mind?”

  “You know I’m much better over email than I am in person,” I said to her.

  “And you are sure you don’t want to take it to HR to complain?”

  “No,” I wrinkled my nose. “Nothing against girls who go to HR. I just think... I can handle it myself, you know?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Girl power.”

  I chuckled, “OK, so I’ll see you at the bar later?”

  “See ya then,” she said, and headed down the hallway. I took my coffee and headed back to my office.

  There was only one other thing that could bring a smile to my face after the shitty day I�
�d had, and that was seeing Tyler Anderson in the hallway. Tyler was also a student here, but he was working on his master’s degree in a completely different apartment. We had met a few times in the cafeteria, and he always brought a smile to my face. He was sort of cute, in a puppy dog way, and he was incredibly smart, which was something I always fell for.

  “Hey,” he said to me. “Americano?”

  “You know it,” I said, and stopped walking. “How is your day going?”

  “It’s going,” he said. “I just have to meet with my advisor and then I’ll be done for the day. How about you?”

  “It’s good,” I lied. “Just one more session and then some office work.”

  “Cool,” he shuffled a bit like he wanted to say something else, so I waited. “So, uh...do you want to grab a drink later?”

  I paused. I could cancel on Caitlin, and I was mildly interested in Tyler. However, tonight, I just wanted a girl’s night out, without any men to impress.

  “Could I take a rain check?” I asked. “Like maybe next Friday?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great,” he said. “Could I get your number and we’ll go from there?”

  “Sure,” I said. There was no harm in that. Even if I changed my mind. It wasn’t that I was fickle or liked to lead people on, so much as the fact that I was so busy, so I had to use my time efficiently. If I found work was too much, I often rescheduled plans for after I finished whatever I was doing. My friends always understood, and I had a feeling Tyler would have too.

  “Thanks, I’ll see you around,” he said, as he finished punching in the numbers before he took off down the opposite direction.

  I headed toward my office, but as I passed the through the hall, I saw the light on in professor Kennedy’s office and his shadow shuffling around. I hurried past, just in case he saw me, and slipped into my much smaller office.

  I was so not ready for that encounter.

  I pulled out my laptop and straightened my shoulders. I had work to do and I refused to let Professor ass-face ruin my reputation among my colleagues and students as well. The day may have started out pretty shitty, but I had plans to end it on a high note— come hell or highwater.

  “He kept giving me this look,” I said to Caitlan as she sat across the mahogany tabletop. “Like EVERY TIME I walked by. Like he expected me to come over and apologize to him.”

  By the time I had gotten to the bar, I was dying for a drink. Let’s just say my plans to avoid him where immediately hampered.

  “Well, you are going to go talk to him,” Caitlin said with a grin. “But apologize is not what you are going to do.”

  “Exactly,” I said, just before I downed my shot. I wasn’t a big drinker, but if there was ever a night to go all out, tonight was it.

  I was five shots in before I got up the courage—or the crazy—to write the email.

  “I got it,” I said to Caitlin. We had moved to a booth and I didn’t think we’d be going anywhere until the bar closed and I’d pulled my laptop out. “Dear Professor Kennedy,” I read aloud as I typed, “I had no idea we were living in the 18th century.”

  “Not good enough,” she said. “Be meaner.”

  “Dear Professor Kennedy, “I paused, “I’ll have you know that there is no dress code at the university, and I can wear whatever I damn-well please.”

  “Awesome,” she raised her drink in celebration. “Keep going.”

  “I conduct my classes with the upmost professionalism and follow university standards to a T. I’m sorry that the feminine form is such a distraction for you. I’ll have you know; breasts and asses have existed since the dawn of time; it should come to you as no surprise that I have them, being a woman myself. And guess what? Woman don’t have to apologize for being sexy or turning on a man by just ‘existing’. That’s your problem not mine. If you ever comment on my clothing again, you tiny-minded chauvinist, I will have your ass hauled to HR so fast that your head will spin. And you’ll be fired before the words ‘I’m sorry’ could even leave your lips. Do NOT mess with me again. I’m not that girl. I’m the woman who will hand you your ass.”

  “Mm,” Caitlin said. “Me likey. Send it.”

  “No, No. I was just screwing around.”

  “No, you have to send it,” she leaned forward with the kind of seriousness in her gaze that could only be brought on after several drinks. “You have to.”

  My subconscious screamed, Send it, bitch. But my rational mind was fighting back. “If I send it, I’ll be fired.”

  “You have to show him who’s boss.”

  “Technically, he’s ‘boss’,” I replied.

  “Yeah, but this is the modern world,” she said. “Send it. Send it. He needs to learn he can never do this again. If you let him get away with it, he’s just gonna pull that crap on his next TA.”

  I sighed. The booze was soaking through my brain, and as I re-read it, the text blurred in front of my eyes. “You know what? You’re right,” I said, and Caitlin cheered. “I’ll send it.”

  I copied the message from the notepad app and went into our university messaging system. I had never sent an email like this in my life, but Caitlin was right. It was time to stand up for myself, and for women everywhere. Rah! Rah!

  “And send him a picture of you in an even shorter skirt,” she said, making me almost choke.

  “That’s a bit much, I think I’ll stick with my original idea”. I grinned and clicked send. “Done,” I said, and then showed her my screen.

  She looked at the message and then burst out laughing.

  “Oh my God,” she said. “That’s awesome.”

  I gave her a confused look. “What’s awesome? I sent it, and I told you exactly what I said.”

  “Oh, you sent it,” she said. “But you didn’t send it to Professor Kennedy.”

  My eyes widened in a panic. “What?” I tugged my computer back to myself and stared down at the screen.

  Sure enough, Caitlin was right. I had not sent it to Professor Kennedy. Somehow, my drunken fingers had typed in the wrong contact.

  Instead of it going to the cantankerous old bastard I had intended it for, I had sent it to the one every woman on campus had wet dreams about.

  Reed Barron. Professor Reed Barron.

  Fuck my life.

  Tall, dark and handsome, he had a smile that would light up a room and dampen every set of panties from here to Timbuktu. And he had just gotten my email. I had been overconfident, drunk and careless, and now my world was going to come crashing down.

  “Oh my God,” I said and put my hands on my face. “Oh my God. What have I done?”

  “Maybe it’ll be fine,” Caitlin said with a drunken giggle.

  She was most definitely not processing the seriousness of this situation. But I knew there was no way this was going to be fine. Things like this don’t end up fine.

  I was screwed.

  Absolutely. Positively. Screwed.

  Chapter 2

  Reed

  “Professor Barron.” I said, as I picked up my office phone.

  Instead of a reply, a massive, high-pitched scream greeted me in return. I was five seconds from handing someone a verbal ass-lashing for this little prank, when a familiar loud chuckling replaced the other obnoxious screeching.

  “What the fuck, John,” I snapped at my best friend. “Are you ever gonna grow the hell up?”

  “I thought that you were complaining the other day about how your job was boring,” He said. “I was just trying to spice up your day.”

  “That was spicing up my day?” I raised an eyebrow. “More like giving me a heart attack.”

  “We’re too young to have heart attacks,” John said, and I could practically hear him grinning down the phone line.

  “OK, mate, what’s really up?” I asked. “You knew I had office hours, so you just wanted to call and harass me for kicks?”

  “I mean, pretty much. What’s up with you?”

  “Work,” I answered. “And you�
��re supposed to be running a company.”

  “I am running a company,” he said, “But when you’re the CEO, you can pretty much do whatever you want.”

  “Do you do actual work?” I asked him.

  “No. I just tell people what to do.”

  “Must be the life,” I said.

  John had been my best friend since we were kids, so I was used to his antics. He regularly called me up and did things like this. He often claimed he was relieving me of the ‘tawdry boredom’ of my career choice. I, obviously, disagreed. My job required concentration, focus, determination—but yes, it was a lot less thrilling than John’s high-powered business. Being a professor, especially one of the younger professors on staff, came with it’s own barrel of problems.

  “Reed,” John said. “Let’s do something exciting.”

  “When?” I asked. “I’ve got crap to do.”

  “Let’s go out for drinks or something.”

  “I…” My voice trailed off as I scanned the emails hitting my inbox.

  I usually checked them on my phone, but recently, I had tried to have more of a work/life balance. At least, I thought I did. I usually stayed awake thinking about work, so that wasn’t the best. Mind you, I didn’t really have anyone else to stay awake over. I mean, getting girls was never a problem for me. And the sex was hot, but usually, the conversation wasn’t great, so I kicked them out. Physical attraction was absolutely important to me, but I liked my girls smart, too. Driven, spunky, and strong enough to be an equal partner.

  “Holy shit.” I said, said as I read over the last email.

  “What?” John asked.

  “I just got an email meant for Professor Kennedy,” I said. “At least, it’s written to him.”