Four Billionaires for St. Patrick's Day
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Four Billionaires for St. Patrick’s Day:
An MFMMM Ménage Reverse Harem Romance
Copyright© 2018 by Sierra Sparks and Juliana Conners; All Rights Reserved.
Published by Sizzling Hot Reads.
This book is a work of fiction and any portrayal of any person living or dead is completely coincidental and not intentional. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the author, other than brief excerpts for the purpose of reviews or promotion.
Credits
Cover Design by Cosmic Letterz
Published by Juliana Conners’ Sizzling Hot Reads.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Claire
Chapter 2
Jax
Chapter 3
Brax
Chapter 4
Kenner
Chapter 5
Travis
Chapter 6
Claire
Chapter 7
Claire
Chapter 8
Jax
Chapter 9
Travis
Chapter 10
Kenner
Chapter 11
Claire
Chapter 12
Claire
Chapter 13
Jax
Chapter 14
Claire
Chapter 15
Claire
Chapter 16
Brax
Chapter 17
Jax
Chapter 18
Travis
Chapter 19
Kenner
Chapter 20
Claire
Epilogue
Claire
Two Billionaires for Christmas: An MFM Menage Romance
Three Billionaires for Valentine’s: An MFMM Menage
Sold at the Games: An MMMF Reverse Harem Romance
Tackled by the Team: An MFMM Menage Reverse Harem Romance
Twice the Fun: A Bad Boy MFM Menage Romance
Sold as a Domme on Valentine’s Day: A Virgin & Billionaire Romance
Yes, Boss: A Bad Boy Office Romance
Sold to My Professor: A Billionaire and a Virgin Romance
Just Pretend – A Navy SEAL Fake Fiancé Romance
Dr. Fake Fiancé: A Virgin and Billionaire Romance
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Chapter 1
Claire
It was a few days before St. Paddy’s Day and my bar was on the bubble. Again. The Bad Penny was living up to its name and becoming just that, financially speaking. Oh, I had my regulars and they loved the place, but you can’t run a bar on what McCleary and Stetson drank; even if those two old codgers could drink most of Ireland under the table.
“Another beer, Claire,” ordered McCleary.
“You’re in here a bit early, aren’t ya?” I asked, pouring from the tap.
“Aye, but ya have to be here early to get an eye opener,” countered McCleary as he took his mug.
“If she didn’t close, you’d never leave,” said Stetson.
“You stole that joke from the Simpsons,” said McCleary.
“It’s the best place to steal jokes,” he admitted.
I smiled and shook my head. How many times had this conversation happened? Five? Ten times? The phone rang and I picked up.
“Bad Penny, this is Claire,” I answered.
“Claire, it’s Harriet,” said my night waitress on the other end of the line. “Listen, I got a job downtown as a hostess and I hate to do this to you, but I have to quit.”
“Oh, well, I’m happy for ya. We’ll celebrate your new job tonight when you come in for your shift.”
“Actually, they’re really insistent I start tonight,” said Harriet carefully. “I’m really sorry. But I need the money.”
“But how am I— Ya know, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“You’re sure?”
“No, it’s good. I wish you the best.”
“You too,” said Harriet, sadly. “You were a really good boss.”
“Thanks, I gotta go,” I said, rushing her off the phone.
“What’s wrong, lass?” asked McCleary.
“Harriet just quit,” I revealed. “Guess I’m working the night shift as well.”
“Sorry,” said Stetson. “I liked her. She was the one with the boobs, right?”
“What kind of description is that for a woman that brought ya drinks for two years?” scolded McCleary. “Ya gonna work both shifts, Claire? When will ya sleep?”
“When I’m dead,” I quipped. “But no, this is a blessing in disguise. I won’t have to pay her.”
“The bar’s still in trouble, is it?” asked McCleary, worried.
“Yeah, I’m in the red quite a bit,” I admitted.
“What about your boys? Your brothers,” suggested Stetson. “Surely they could help. This was their da’s legacy too.”
“Yeah, three generations,” I said. “But no, they’re not cut out for the bar business, just drinking in one.”
“Amen to that,” said McCleary, clinking glasses with Stetson.
“I’d invest in this bar,” offered Stetson. “But you already have most of my money.”
This banter could literally go on all afternoon, but banter doesn’t pay the bills so I can’t just stand around listening to it. I started washing glasses. Maybe I could get far enough ahead on the glassware that tonight wouldn’t be so bad.
“What are ya going to do for St. Paddy’s Day?” asked McCleary.
“I hadn’t thought of that!” I said, suddenly remembering.
Saint Patrick’s Day was only a few days away and there was no way this bar wasn’t going to be packed. I would see customers that hadn’t been here for years. Every Irish man and woman would be stopping by for a drink and I was going to be shorthanded. Jesus, no wonder Harriet quit ahead of time!
“Oh, my God,” I muttered. “I haven’t even bought decorations yet.”
“I could run to the shops and get them for ya,” offered McCleary.
“Yeah, we both could go,” offered Stetson.
“Aw, you guys are the best,” I said.
I got some money out of the register, but McCleary declined.
“Aw, keep it. I’ll do it for a beer,” he said, finishing his drink and standing.
Stetson finished his beer and started to walk out too.
“Wait a minute,” I recalled. “You guys had at least three beers.”
“A deal’s a deal!” said McCleary, skipping out the front door.
I did the math in my head. It probably wasn’t a bad trade, assuming they didn’t just come back with the absolute cheapest green tissue paper decorations they could find at the Dollar Store. Even if it cost me a few bucks, it was worth it since it saved me the time and time was something I never had enough of.
The bar, as always, was a mess. I tried to keep on top of the cleaning, but it had needed the kind of deep cleaning only a professional team could provide. Maybe Robert Irvine would show up to help me. Who knows?
I went back to trying to balance the books. Just below the bar, I had an iPad with my ledger on it. The phone rang. It was Jasper.
“Hey sis,” he greeted. “How’s it going?”
“Fine, terrible, either one,” I said, knowing I sounded depressed.
“What happened now?”
“Harriet quit, so I’m
bit shorthanded. St. Paddy’s Day traffic will be insane and I’ll have to handle it all by myself because after that it will go back to how it always is, with almost no one coming in, so it doesn’t make sense to hire someone new for just one day.”
“Aw, no!” said Jasper. “You gotta sell the bar.”
“Don’t start.”
“What choice is there? I mean, at this point. You’ll be working all day!”
“It saves on overhead.”
“Overhead? You need to be making money! Overhead doesn’t matter if no one goes to the bar!”
“I’m not giving up the bar,” I insisted. “It’s not what dad would’ve wanted.”
“Fine, then take a loan. From us. Spruce the place up— Do some advertising or something,” he suggested.
“I can’t take a loan from you guys,” I countered. “The tattoo parlor just opened. You need the cash flow. Don’t worry, I’m gonna make this work.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Stop worrying. Just come here and drink later. That’ll be thanks enough,” I assured.
“Well, you don’t have to ask that twice. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
Jasper was sweet to offer, but I wouldn’t pull his business down too if the worst happened. Besides, once I started taking money, bars had a strange way of spiraling down financially sometimes. I had to get more feet through the door. If I could just survive Saint Patrick’s Day, I’d be flush. For once, the only green in here wouldn’t be the shamrocks on the walls.
An hour later, my two best customers got back with the decorations. They hadn’t gone with the cheapest option, but they did pick the laziest. They went to the drugstore and picked up a bunch of decorations that were a little sparse. Fortunately, they had eight sets of them, so tied together, they actually seemed to bright up the room a little. Now the only other thing I needed was some green food dye for the beer.
Chapter 2
Jax
We were in the back of the limo. It was another Thursday night full of clubbing. Ho-fucking-hum. The boys were ready for their usual bottle service and overpriced smiles from the staff.
I wanted something different. I was wearing a D&G suit, a watch that probably cost more than most people’s houses and I was looking very Clooney. People said I looked like George Clooney, but I didn’t see it. He was gray and old.
My brother, Brax, was the original stuffed shirt. Not only was he my non-identical twin, he was also not like me in most other ways. I always liked to play things loose and never plan, but I’m sure he was sitting in his bespoke Armani suit planning everything from what he would drink to when he would leave.
Kenner was part of our crew. We were, as usual, trying to get him laid. Kenner never got over his girlfriend’s death three years ago. We still never even mentioned skiing around him. Maybe this would be the night he wouldn’t launch into that sad story trying to make time with the waitress. He really didn’t need to, anyway, since his curly blonde locks and blue eyes could do all the work for him.
Finally, there was Travis. Travis was his own man, which I totally respected. Unfortunately, it usually meant you couldn’t talk him into anything that wasn’t his idea. Fresh from the gym today as every day, Travis worked out like a beast and had muscle on top of muscle underneath his Hugo Boss original. However, tonight, I had the perfect suggestion. One that he would actually support and go along with.
“Gentlemen,” I announced. “I propose that we slum it tonight. Our regular spot has gotten old.”
“I don’t like that term. Slum it? Seriously?” said Travis.
“Don’t take offense,” I assured him. “I’m just saying our usual club has gotten so staid. We all know what’s going to happen, right? Brax is going to spend all night looking at his watch. Kenner is going to— Sorry, not sorry— Tell his sad story. I’m going to hook up and Trav is going to hit on everything in a skirt.”
“And you’re going to go home with the woman that has the lowest standards,” joked Brax. “How could it be any other way?”
“C’mon, I’ve been to this place I’m suggesting we go to now. It’s a bit of a dive, but it has charm, ya know? Bottle service is great, but what are we really getting for two grand a pop?” I pointed out.
“Tits,” said Travis dreamily. “A chick with amazing tits to pour us the drinks.”
“The waitress at this place was pretty nice,” I said carefully.
“Wait a minute,” said Kenner, realizing. “Are we just going to this place to be your wingmen?”
“Yeah! How many wingmen do you really need?” asked Travis.
“Well, maybe she won’t be into me,” I countered.
“Oh, yeah,” said Brax dripping with sarcasm. “So many blue collar girls in dive bars see young billionaires and go— No, sorry, not for me!”
“Can we please just try it? If it’s lame, we can always hit the club up later. Right?” I offered.
“Fine,” said Brax, relenting. “I honestly find the entire enterprise boring. The club girls are so shallow. Are there any women out there not absolutely obsessed with themselves?”
“That’s the spirit, brother,” I encouraged. “Try something different.”
Brax hit a button and told the driver we wanted to go to the Bad Penny. The driver was a bit shocked and asked again. I gave him the address.
When we pulled up, I had to admit, the place looked more run down that I remembered. Kenner got a little nervous.
“Are you sure this neighborhood is safe?” he said, looking a little worried.
“Oh, grow a pair,” I teased. “This is the life blood of the working man. We’re about to rub elbows with the common clay.”
“Or get our asses kicked,” say Brax dourly.
“Not a chance!” Travis responded, kissing each bicep. “I got your backs!”
We went in. The place was pretty dark. Here and there, someone had hung Saint Patrick Day’s decorations. The decorations were so new and shiny that it kind of made the rest of the bar look a little more run down and sad. The place was about one third full, with two old guys at the bar drinking and talking animatedly. I pointed to a booth and the crew and I sat down.
“Woah, seriously?” said Kenner. “This looks like the kind of place they would pull our bodies out of after the fire trapped us.”
“Yeah, really,” agreed Travis. “This is like, old school depressing. Where dudes come to drink themselves to death.”
“I should call the club and reserve our usual spot,” suggested Brax.
“Now hold up,” I insisted. “You have to give this place more of a chance than that. At least get a drink and relax a few minutes. C’mon.”
“Fine,” said Brax already bored. “Just pick up the waitress and we’ll take her with us.”
“Well, she’s not going to be dressed for the club,” pointed out Travis. “She’s like, a waitress.”
“We’ll stop somewhere and buy her some clothes,” assured Brax. “It’ll be a rags to riches story… with tits.”
“Where is this chick, Jax?” asked Kenner. “Let’s at least put our drink order in.”
I looked around, but I didn’t see Harriet. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, someone walked up to the table. She was a tall redhead with curly hair that went past her shoulders. Her smile was like a bolt of lightning hitting my brain. How did I not see her the last time I was in here?
“Hey fellas, I’m Claire,” she greeted. “What can I get you?”
“I’d like a bottle of Macallan V5,” ordered Brax knowingly.
“Uh, that’s a little out of our price range,” Claire smiled. “Normally, our customers here don’t order bottles that cost 2K. Best I can do is the Macallan 12-year-old bottle, but it’s only $60.”
“Well, I can just pretend you charged me more?” joked Brax. “I’m Brax, by the way. This is Kenner, Travis and my twin brother, Jax.”
“You guys are twins? You don’t look alike.”
Meh.”
“Aw, that’s mean,” she said. “I think you all look very nice.”
“Very diplomatic of you,” complimented Kenner. “These savages are just trying to impress you. I would like the only thing you should ever order in an Irish Pub, a Guinness, please.”
“Well, I had a good work out today,” said Travis flexing a little. “I’ll have a Guinness too. I deserve it.”
These guys were all flirting with her, when they didn’t know this wasn’t the one I was talking about. Some wingmen! More like stab-you-in-the-back men.
“What do you recommend, Claire?” I asked.
“Well, if you don’t want a beer, I’d say you can’t go wrong with a shot of Jameson.”
“Is that your drink?”
“Sometimes,” she smiled.
“I’ll have that then. You seem like you know what you’re doing,” I said, smiling back.
“Coming right up, gents.”
She walked away, and I immediately glowered at the crew.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” I demanded.
“What?” asked Kenner.
“What? You’re all blowing up my spot. I told you I was into this girl!” I insisted.
“First off, she’s just a waitress,” said Travis. “Second off, didn’t you say she was a blonde?”
“Okay,” I admitted. “Technically, this is a new waitress working here, but still. I had dibbs.”
“You can’t call dibbs on another human being,” said Brax. “That’s just ethically wrong.”
“You’re ethically wrong! I saw you flirting with her. Bros before hos, man. You violated ethics on that one.”
“Brother, you are getting way too upset,” said Brax. “You must really like this girl.”
“Well, I— I just met her,” I stammered. “But just— Just everyone back off, okay?”
A little while later, Claire came back with our drink order. In the process, she brushed against my hand. I felt the spark again. It was like fucking magic. I had to push my luck.
“Hey, you wanna dance?” I asked, boldly.