The Boss Me Series: Complete Billionaire Boxed Set Romance Books (1-3): (A Billioniare Steamy Romance Series)

by Brooke Kinsley

  "Mom, you shouldn't have."

  "It's my last night with you," she sniffs. "The least I can do is make you dinner."

  "I appreciate it. I really do."

  Susan is ominously silent with her arms folded across her chest. Mom sniffs again. I look up and see there are tears in her eyes. She gulps down a mouthful of scotch and slams the glass down on the table.

  "Mom, please. Don't be upset. I'll be home at Christmas and Spring Break."

  "I just can't believe it. My baby going to college across the other side of the world. You won't forget us, will you?"

  "What? No!" I insist as I reach for the potatoes. "We can talk anytime you want for free online. It's really no big deal and I'll send you pictures every day."

  "Make sure you do," she says as she points her fork at me. "Now tuck in."

  The food's good, really good and I'm chewing down on a piece of juicy chicken when Susan blurts out:

  "Make sure you take it easy over there. Don't want you turning into a drunk again."

  "Susan!" mom shouts.

  "But it's true. She was a drunk, a terrible drunk. That's why the baby died inside her."

  I screech my chair back and stand up.

  "Why have you got to ruin everything, Susan? Why! Because you're jealous? Is that it?"

  She sets her knife and fork down and lights a cigarette.

  "Susan, no smoking at the table!" mom shouts as she tries to slap it out her hand. "Now girls, calm down and eat your dinner. This is the last night it'll be the three of us until who knows when."

  I look at my sister's smug, satisfied face. She's enjoying every second of my misery.

  "Fuck this!"

  I storm away.

  "Steph? Come back!" mom calls after me.

  But the tears are tumbling down my face and I'm running up the stairs. I can hear mom arguing as I run.

  "See what you've done. She doesn't need this! She's had a hard enough time already."

  "Shut up, mom. She knows I'm not being serious."

  ~

  The airport is huge, almost like a self-contained city and I'm completely overwhelmed by the situation. Mom is crying and sniveling into a tissue while Susan waits in the car. We're amongst a dozen other people saying their goodbyes by the departure lounge.

  "Come here," I pull mom into a cuddle. "I'm really going to miss you. Are you going to be ok?"

  I can feel her head nodding in my arms.

  "I'll be fine," her muffled voice says.

  She looks up to me, her meager frame seeming so small and vulnerable as I hold her. Her eyes are all bloodshot and as I look down to the top of her head, I see a single gray hair poke out from her scalp. Suddenly, she seems so old and I can't bear the thought of leaving her.

  "Mom, I got to go but I love you."

  "I love you too. Your dad would have been so proud of you. He always said you were the smart one."

  "And Susan got the looks, right?"

  We both burst out laughing and pull apart. Above us, the speakers announce my flight's ready to be boarded and I wipe a tear off my cheek.

  "I feel like I'm about to throw up," I say. "What if I hate London? What if I have a meltdown as soon as I get off at Heathrow?"

  She smiles and rubs my arms.

  "You'll do great. You're the toughest person I know."

  She reaches up on tiptoes to kiss my cheek and we both start crying even harder.

  "I'll call as soon as I arrive."

  "I'll be waiting," she says as she turns away. "Love you!"

  She blows me a kiss and I pretend to catch it. I watch her disappear into the hordes of people before I walk away.

  Twenty minutes later I'm sat in the seat that's to be my home for the next eight hours. I reach over to pull a magazine out of the chair in front of me and I notice my hands are shaking, giving the impression that the tattoo on my wrist has momentarily come alive. The small teddy bear with the words until we meet again jitter and I trace a finger over it.

  Above, the pilot's voice is coming from a little speaker above my head but I'm not listening to a word he says. The engine roars beneath me and a minute later we're in the air, my stomach lurching as I clutch the arm rest and realize I've never been more scared in my entire life.

  Chapter Three

  "Knightswood, eh? I'm always picking up students from there. They love a good party, don't they?"

  The taxi driver hasn't shut up since he picked me up at the airport.

  "So is this your first year?"

  "Yep!"

  "And first time in London?"

  "Yep!"

  "Ah, well welcome to the city! I've lived here all my life. Wouldn't be anywhere else."

  We break at a stop light and to my right sits the Thames with the late summer sun glinting off the water. Tourists cover the sidewalk taking photographs of anything and everything.

  "I always thought I'd quite like to go to university someday," the driver muses as he speaks to me via the reflection in the rear view mirror. His pale, blue eyes are loitering on my neck where my raven tattoo sits. He runs a hand through his gray-streaked hair and sighs.

  "How come you never did?" I ask although I'm not really interested in hearing the answer.

  "Could never afford it," he replies. "Costs a bloody fortune to get a degree these days."

  "I'm lucky. I got a scholarship."

  "You are lucky! You must be a genius or something."

  I look out the window embarrassed. Genius seems like such a pretentious word.

  "What's your accent anyway? American, right?"

  "Kansas," I say. "Just outside of a place called Lawrence."

  "Never heard of it," he says as he pokes out his lower lip in thought.

  "Don't worry. No one has."

  He pulls away from the lights and points into the distance.

  "We're here," he says waving his hand across the windshield.

  Rolling down the window, I poke my head out slightly. As we drive into the campus, I see how large and sprawling the grounds are. It's everything I expected it to be.

  "Know where you're going?" the driver asks.

  "I'm meant to check in at a building called Foxley Halls."

  "I know it!" he nods with a smile. "The number of drunk kids I've brought back there."

  He sniggers and shakes his head.

  "Thanks and think about going back to school, won't you?"

  I pay the driver and he gives me a friendly smile and a wink.

  "Good luck!" he calls out the window as he drives away. "And behave yourself!"

  I'm not alone, standing in front of the dormitory halls with two huge suitcases by my side. There are other girls here who look just as confused as I do except most of them have their parents with them. A girl beside me is practically bouncing up and down with excitement, her long, blonde hair bobbing from side to side.

  Her mother huffs and pulls things out the car.

  "Now, now, Amelia, calm down. We've got so much to do. We have to make your bed and get your television upstairs and unpack all your toiletries..." the mother frowns as she struggles with a large, red trunk.

  This is it, you've made in one piece. Now all you have to do is find your room and...

  "Hello!"

  A willowy redhead with a clipboard walks over.

  "You look a little lost. Are you moving into Foxley today?"

  I nod and look up at her. In my boots, I'm five foot ten and she must be at least four inches taller than me. She's painfully thin too with her delicate wrists adorned in pearls.

  "Here, I got this."

  Pulling out the acceptance letter from my pocket, I'm a little embarrassed to see it's almost falling apart from all the times I've reread it.

  "Let me see."

  She takes it from my finger with a perfectly manicured hand.

  "Floor 3, room, C," she says. "That's easy to remember. I'll take you up."

  Following her inside the building, I'm hit by the chaos of hun
dreds of students milling around the stairwell in varying states of a meltdown. Some are excited and seem to have buddied up with others already while some are simply staring into space while their parents take charge.

  "Okay, here we are!" the redhead sings as she points to my bedroom door. "Now you'll be sharing this floor with eleven other girls."

  "Eleven!"

  What if they hate me? I instantly think.

  "Don't look so worried. Everyone's delightfully lovely," she says.

  If they're anything like you I'll blow my brains out.

  "Well, good luck with everything," she says as she makes her way back down the stairs. "If you need anything my office is on the bottom floor."

  I watch her leave and wonder how she can walk down the stairs so quickly in her heels.

  "So you've met Miss Battersby already then?" a voice says from behind me.

  I turn around and see a short girl with a blue bob and a septum piercing. She's wearing an Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt and holding a coffee that smells incredible.

  "Gingerbread latte?" I ask as I point at the cup.

  "Yeah!You want one? One of the girls brought her own espresso machine. How crazy is that?"

  She leads me inside.

  "I'm Alex by the way."

  "Stephanie," I reach out a hand awkwardly and she shakes it quite formally while giving me an amused look.

  Why the hell did I just do that?

  Walking down the hallway, I'm hit by a strong girly smell coming out from all the rooms; sweet perfume, coffee, and scented candles.

  "Hey, I think we're a full house now," Alex announces as we walk into the living room.

  Everyone turns to stare at me and I'm suddenly overcome by the feeling of being out of place.

  "I'm Stephanie," I mumble.

  "Woah, is that an American accent?" somebody asks. "Cool!"

  "Kansas," I explain. "Just outside of Lawrence."

  "London girl born and bred," Alex says. "But there's not many of us in here. Jenny here is from Mumbai," she gestures to an impossibly beautiful girl in the corner with eyes that are so large and brown she looks like a Disney character.

  "Hello!" she wiggles her fingers at me.

  "And Gemma here is from Liverpool," Alex points to a petite blonde in an oversized sweater.

  "I keep telling you it's Newcastle!"

  Alex shrugs.

  "Kansas..." Someone else muses out loud. "Isn't that where Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz lives?"

  I see a girl with onyx black hair sitting on the floor rolling a cigarette. I notice her knuckles are tattooed with runes.

  "Yeah... that's right. Are those the Zeppelin runes?" I gasp as I point to her hand.

  "Yeah, I was raised on a diet of twenty-minute drum solos and patchouli," she laughs. "You into Led Zeppelin?"

  "Damn right!"

  "Awesome," she says in an accent I can't quite identify. "You wanna come for a walk?" she asks. "Tale a walk around campus?"

  "Sure!"

  After dumping my suitcases in my room, a small box like space with a single bed, a desk and the smell of fresh paint lingering in the air, Alex, me and rune fingers head outside.

  "You ever get tornados in Kansas?" Alex asks.

  "Sometimes."

  "Crazy," says rune fingers.

  "What's your accent?" I ask.

  "Welsh," she sighs.

  "I've been to Wales once," says Alex. "It pissed it down the whole time I was there."

  "Yeah... that sounds about right. I'm Morgana by the way."

  "Morgana! You must have some weird parents," I joke.

  "I do," she smiles.

  We make our way around the grounds, the campus buzzing and filled with fresh faces.

  "I think we're the odd ones out already," says Alex.

  "I was thinking that too," says Morgana.

  "Me too."

  Everyone seems so clean cut and normal. Whereas the three of us are clad in black despite the warm weather and have tattoos that aren't something cute and meaningless like a lotus flower or a butterfly.

  "Hey, I didn't realize there was going to be a reunion for the cast of The Craft," a voice comes from an upstairs window.

  We look up and see a group of guys laughing at us as they drink beer. Behind them, terrible dance music is playing and I shudder.

  "Okay, so this area is a no-go zone," I say.

  "Agreed," Morgana nods as she fiddles with the piercing in her eyebrow.

  "So are you in advanced mathematics too?" Alex asks.

  "Yeah!"

  "Me too!" squeals Morgana.

  "Awesome! Although I can't help but think I'm a lot older than you two. I'm twenty-one, everyone else here is like what, eighteen?"

  "Nineteen," Alex corrects me.

  "Yeah, eighteen," Morgana smiles.

  I look around the campus to see if there's anyone else who looks about my age and I'm drawn to a boy in a red sweater who's walking his bicycle across the grass. But as he gets closer I see that he looks as young as everyone else.

  "Don't get down about it," Alex playfully punches me in the arm. "You can be the wise one out the three of us."

  "I guess. Hey, you wanna see where the nearest bar is?"

  "Sounds like a plan," Morgana smiles as she begins to roll another cigarette.

  And I realize that I never did get that gingerbread latte.

  Chapter Four

  There's a buzz in the air. People are chattering in hushed voices with their new stationary spread out in front of them. People are whispering and passing notes back and forth while the lecturer screeches his name on the board in chalk.

  "Mr. Gibbons!" he announces.

  Everyone shuts up and looks down at the cocky yet frail old man in the tweed suit and oversized glasses. He's wearing a bow tie, something I'm not sure is being worn ironically or not. He tweaks at the sides of it as he talks as though it were a mustache.

  "May I welcome you all here. It is, after all, your first lecture here at Knightswood and I can sense the vibrancy coming from all your young minds already. What I would do to be in your place once again."

  I lean over to Alex and whisper:

  "Are all the lecturers here going to be so quaint and eccentric?"

  "Probably," she huffs and starts doodling a skull on the front of her notebook.

  Jenny looks over her shoulder to see who's talking and, seeing it's us, flashes a dazzling smile while tangling a tendril black hair around a slender finger.

  "Are the rumors true?" she asks.

  I lean forward and make sure Gibson isn't looking in our direction.

  "What rumors?"

  "That Fredrick Milton is here."

  "Who's that?" I ask.

  "Milton?" Alex joins in looking horrified. "Are you serious?"

  "He was seen on campus," Jenny says. "Walking toward the maths department."

  "You're shitting me!" Alex gasps. "That bastard better not be here."

  "Erm... Ladies!"

  Gibson pretends to clear his throat and raps his knuckles against the blackboard.

  "Is this lecture interrupting your conversation?"

  "Sorry," I croak.

  "Yeah, sorry," Alex mumbles and resumes her doodling.

  Gibson holds my gaze for a second looking thoroughly annoyed before resuming his lesson.

  "The Golden Ratio..." he tugs at his bow tie as he walks across the front of the room, "All of you will be familiar with it, though many of you won't know that..."

  "Hey," I nudge Alex in the ribs. "Who's Fredrick Milton?"

  "A scumbag!" Morgana says as she leans over Alex's lap. "He's a billionaire, has ties to arms dealers and the pharmaceutical industry."

  "Made his fortune in real estate," Jenny says over her shoulder.

  "And he also funds the conservative party," Alex sneers.

  "He's also insanely handsome," Jenny swoons with her eyes shining at the thought of him.

  "He's a war mongering twat!" Alex rages.


  "He's also a mathematical genius and graduated from this very college," Jenny seethes through gritted teeth.

  "Ladies!" Gibson yells.

  We all jump and look up ahead as though we weren't doing anything.

  "Do I need to send you out?" he asks. "Or can you behave yourselves? This isn't high school, you know."

  "I'm sorry," I say again.

  "Sorry!" Jenny ducks down and starts scribbling away in her notebook as she catches up.

  "So..." he continues, "Now that I have ALL of your attention, I'd like to move on. As many of you are aware," he looks right at us with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We have a special guest on campus, someone who you are all most fortunate to meet."

  "It's true..." Alex whispers as she grips her pencil until her knuckles turn white.

  Meanwhile, Gibson is striding up and down with his chest swelled up with pride.

  "Frederick Milton!" he says. "One of the most forward thinking men on Earth, the greatest rugby player this university ever knew, mathematics prodigy and world Tetris champion! He's also pretty good with money."

  A sarcastic ripple of laughter waves over the room. Then silence. We're all staring down at the old man and waiting for the grand reveal but nothing seems to be happening. Gibson's watching the door to his left as though the more he squints his eyes, the more likely Milton will walk through it.

  "Has he gone mad?" I ask.

  "I hope so," Morgana giggles.

  Soon everyone is murmuring and wondering what's going on. Some of the guys down the front are getting restless.

  "So is he coming or what?" one of them shouts.

  "Calm down," Gibson waves a hand dismissively. "He'll be-"

  "He's not here is he?" someone else interrupts.

  The guys at the front are loving the chaos, jostling each other and laughing.

  "He's stuck on the underground," one of them jokes.

  "Yeah, or his Lamborghini broke down."

  "Gentlemen," Gibson says with a hint of desperation in his voice.

  "Milton!" one of the guys shouts and hits his hands off his desk.

  "Milton!" someone else joins in.

  "Noooo, don't' start," Gibson claps a hand to his forehead.

  Alex starts giggling and shouts out: