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

by Brooke Kinsley

  "No, Steph, it's okay."

  "No really, I insist."

  I step out into the rain and begin to walk away.

  "See you in class," I say.

  "Steph!" he pleads. "Are you sure?"

  I don't say anything, just purse my lips and give him a weak smile before walking over to the taxi rank. Looking through the windshield, I see him silently mouth the word sorry. All I can do is shake my head and walk away. Reaching for the nearest taxi, I swing open the door.

  "Knighstwood University, please," I say.

  "Sure thing, love," the driver responds.

  Placing one foot inside the car, I hear the rev of an engine and look up to see the familiar Bentley glide past. Penelope's eyes meet mine and she laughs. Then when I feel as though my blood couldn't boil anymore, I see her mouth move with the words:

  "He's mine."

  And they're gone, disappearing into the night as the rain batters the empty street.

  Boss Me Good

  A Steamy Billionaire Romance Series

  Book Three

  Brooke Kinsley

  © 2016 All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses per law

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  "Pornography is about dominance. Erotica is about mutuality."-Gloria Steinem

  Contents

  Description

  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

  Description

  When Stephanie finds herself under suspicion of robbery, she’s angry as hell, but she’s confused too. Who really did steal the money from the safe?

  But she has bigger problems, especially now Penelope is intent on winning Frederick back for good. And with Gibson on her back to improve her studies, she finds herself under pressure. Although she definitely can’t study when Frederick sneaks into the library to ravage her amidst the dusty book shelves.

  Things go from bad to worse when a phone call from home has her booking the first flight back to Kansas. But will she make it? Or will Penelope have other ideas? Ones involving a knife.

  With her life spiraling out of control and one problem coming after another, she finds herself falling deeper in love while knowing she could lose Frederick at any moment. But will he finally discover the truth about Penelope? And will she ever get her happy ending?

  Chapter One

  The two police officers are staring intently at me, unable to hide their suspicion.

  "You were just hanging out the front of the maths department at night, on your own at the exact moment the money was stolen from the safe. The safe that only you and six other people know about?"

  "When you put it like that it sounds terrible but that's what happened. My roommates were having a party and I didn't want to go inside, so I wandered around campus for a while before settling on the steps to smoke."

  One of them begins to frantically scribble notes while the other leans back on his heels with his thumbs tucked into his vest.

  "And you said you saw shadows?" the older one asks.

  I can't help but notice the faint remnants of a black eye that are circling his brow bone in a hue of yellows and purples, the result of breaking up a drunken brawl probably.

  "Yeah, I saw shadows, or like, people dressed all in black. They ran into the bushes then disappeared."

  "And did you see any of them carrying anything?"

  I shake my head.

  "What height were they? Did you smell anything? Hear their voices? See their faces?"

  Again, all I can do is shake my head and look at my feet.

  "Do you think they were white? Black? Asian?"

  "I-I have no idea. All I saw was the shape of their bodies and it was all over in a second. At the time I half thought I was imagining it. I mean, it was kind of spooky."

  "Uhuh, uhuh, kind of spooky," he says as he stabs his pen into the notepad.

  "And if you had to estimate an age, what would you say?"

  "Erm..."

  The constant peppering of questions is starting to give me a headache and I just want my bedroom back. It's hard enough being woken up early let alone by two police officers who clearly think you've got something to hide. Outside, I can hear the girls in the kitchen talking in hushed tones as they try to listen in.

  "Their age, Miss Blomquist..."

  He narrows his eyes and pulls his cap down further over his forehead.

  "I'm sorry, I have no idea," I reply. "They were fast so I guess they were young but that's all I've got."

  He sighs and slams his notepad shut.

  "Okay... We'll be in touch. In the meantime, please let us know if you’re traveling anywhere outside of London."

  "Why?" I gasp. "Am I under suspicion?"

  "Should you be?" he asks.

  Asshole, I think. Cops always love to play mind games but he's not going to win this one. I open the door and gesture out into the hall, a sign that I want to end the conversation.

  "I'll let you know," I say. "But I won't be going anywhere. Not until Christmas."

  "Well, if you remember anything don't hesitate to get in touch."

  I watch them leave and walk through the group girls who are ogling the men in uniform. They march out with their heads high and their chests puffed out, loving the female attention.

  "All cops are bastards," Alex says as she emerges from the bathroom in her pink, Betty Boop bathrobe.

  "Do you like anyone?" I ask.

  "Not really."

  The girls behind us start to return to their rooms now the excitement's over but it's not over for me. They think I have something to do with it! But if that's the case then why didn't they search my room? It's just all so confusing. A headache starts to spread across my forehead and I venture into the bathroom in search of some aspirin.

  "You look like you need a coffee and a hug," says Alex.

  "And a puppy," I add. "I feel like a puppy would be really useful right now."

  She laughs and fills up a tumbler of water for me before sitting on the edge of the bath.

  "You don't think his wife has anything to do with it, do you?"

  "Penelope?" I ask as I plop the tablets into my mouth and knock them back with a mouthful of water.

  "Yeah, Penelope. I mean, she's a total wack job, right? And she's back in town, hanging around campus and suddenly a ton of cash goes missing."

  "Hmmm..."

  I rest my hands against the sink and look at my reflection. Dark, purple patches are lying beneath my eyes and for the first time in months, a pimple has begun to erupt on my chin. I splash my face with cold water and turn to Alex.

  "Actually, I did see that her family was bankrupt, but robbery? She's a socialite, not a thug. Besides, if it was her then she must have hired a bunch of people to do it for her."

  "Maybe," Alex shrugs.

  As I brush my teeth I think about it some more. In some ways, it makes perfect sense but then, how would she know the money was there and why steal it when she could probably just ask Freddie for help. They’re still legally married and he is, after all, a billionaire. Not to mention she was once the mother of his child. No matter how much he wanted to be apart from h
er, he wouldn't deprive her if she was desperate.

  "I don’t know," I say as I spit my toothpaste into the sink. "Only a few of us even knew the money was there. I think it has to be one of the boys in the poker analytics class."

  "What like David and Neil? Really?" she asks stunned. "But they're little, skinny weasels! They're not even capable of doing something so crazy. Their idea of a wild night is playing Pokemon."

  "Fair point."

  Tapping my toothbrush against the sink in thought, I run through every conceivable scenario in my head, but somehow my mind won't escape the idea that it was someone in the class.

  "What about Gibson?" I suggest. "He's a bit of an oddball."

  "Nah," Alex shakes her head. "He needs everything to go smoothly with Milton so it reflects well on the maths department and the university. He wouldn't compromise that for twenty grand."

  "True. Anyway, we better get going."

  Chapter Two

  Neil and David are walking in front of me. Alex is right. They're not capable of anything criminal. They look so innocent as they walk alongside one another with their Dungeons and Dragons paraphernalia in their hands. But who else could it be? I couldn't imagine Jenny stealing a ketchup packet let alone money. That just leaves Sebastian, a foreign exchange kid who's somehow even shier than Neil and David, Gibson or Frederick himself.

  I look down at my phone and realize I'm almost late and step up the pace. As I break into a light jog, I see Gibson's lurking on the steps with a cigarette in his hand.

  "Murphy?" he asks as I walk by.

  “Eh?”

  “You in Miss Murphy’s class?”

  "Yeah."

  "You like her?"

  "That's an odd question. Everyone likes her." I say.

  "True," he flicks his cigarette end down the stairs. "So I guess you heard from the police?"

  "They turned up bright eyed and bushy tailed at seven this morning," I moan.

  "They were at mine too."

  We walk up the stairs in silence, secretly accusing each other.

  "Do you think we'll ever find out who did it? Didn't you say there was CCTV footage?"

  He thinks for a moment and pushes his tongue into the side of his cheek as he frowns.

  "Yeah, although it didn't capture anything."

  "Seriously?" I gasp. "Then why have it?"

  He shrugs and moves to open the door for me.

  "By the way, can I talk to you for a second?" he asks.

  "Sure, but I'm already late."

  "Then I'll be quick."

  His voice is echoing around the foyer of the ancient building. A stream of light filters in through a stained glass window on the second floor and illuminates the floorboards in a kaleidoscope of colors. As I listen to him, I watch the dust particles dance in the sun before looking up and seeing the concern on his face.

  "You've been skipping class," he says. "And I understand you're embroiled in somewhat of a romantic situation with... Well, you know who. Also, the last piece of work you handed in..."

  He fidgets with the cuff of his jacket nervously.

  "Did I fail?"

  "No. You got seventy-one, but my point is that I know you should be getting higher than that, much higher."

  "Sorry, I'll try harder."

  "It's not that..."

  He sighs and purses his lips.

  "Just don't get distracted," he says. "You came to England to study, didn't you?"

  I nod.

  "You're a special student. I think you'll leave here and do great things but don't let your heart ruin it all for you."

  He walks away with his shoulders stooped over and his hands thrust into his pocket. I know what he’s getting at. The only reason I came here was to work hard and I've spent most of my time getting mixed up in a billionaire's love triangle. I make a mental vow to study late tonight in the library and to stay away from the girls and Frederick. But the day's not off to a good start. I've been interrogated by the police, got a telling off from Gibson and I'm late.

  I dash up the stairs two at a time until I'm outside Miss Murphy's classroom. Looking through the window, I see everyone's taken their seats already and Miss Murphy is scrawling numbers across the board. Taking a step forward and placing my hand on the door, I take a deep breath and get ready to apologize. Then my phone rings.

  "Urgh... What now?"

  I pull my phone out and see the familiar foreign phone number.

  "Mom?" I answer.

  "Sweetheart, how are you?"

  Deciding my first lesson of the day is a write-off, I sit halfway down the staircase and get comfortable.

  "I'm fine, mom. Why are you up so early? It must be four in the morning over there?"

  "Half four," she says before erupting into a fit of spluttering.

  She coughs some more and I have to yank the phone away from my ear for a second.

  "Geez, mom. You ok?"

  "Just a little sick. Like a chest infection or something. I'll be fine, though. Anyway, I dreamed about you and..."

  "And?"

  "I just miss you," she says.

  "Aw mom, I miss you too!"

  She coughs again, this time louder.

  "You need to get that checked out," I say.

  "Seeing the doctor today," she reassures me. "No doubt they'll tell me I'm dying," she laughs.

  "Don't say that!"

  "Ah well, as I said. It's probably just a rickety old chest infection.”

  Again, she coughs and splutters.

  "Jesus, you sound like a typewriter falling down the stairs."

  She makes a throaty noise that I guess is a laugh.

  "Anyway, enough about me. How are you?"

  "I'm late," I say. "But apart from that, I'm great. I love it here."

  "That's terrific, honey. We're so proud of you."

  "How's that sister of mine?" I ask.

  "She's, erm..."

  I can almost hear her fumbling for the right words.

  "She's a challenge," she finally answers and we both laugh.

  Looking up behind me, I see Miss Murphy in the doorway. She taps at her watch and shakes her head.

  "Sorry, mom. I have to go. Gotta get to class. Promise me you'll let me know what the doctor says."

  "I promise. Call you later."

  Chapter Three

  It's dark outside and the library is deserted. At the far end, the librarian sits at her desk and sleepily leans back against her chair before yawning and flicking open a magazine.

  Meanwhile, I'm at the other end on the computers. I know I should be studying and working on an assignment that's due in tomorrow but I can't stop all this crap swimming around in my head. I think about my mom, about the missing money, about Freddie and Penelope.

  Penelope... I'd slap that smug look off her face if I could. There's something so insidious about her, something so hostile and cruel. I wonder what someone like Freddie ever saw in her or me for that matter. He could have anyone in the world but he obviously likes the troubled type.

  In front of me on the screen sits a celebrity blog that I would usually rather be dead than seen looking at. But I'm staring at a paparazzi shot of Penelope taken on the beach in St Tropez and trying to figure out why she doesn't have a baby bump. Although I guess the photo could have been an old one. I try to find a date to coincide with the photo but can't find it and decide it's probably an old picture that's been recycled and pumped along the celebrity rumor mill.

  Pulling up another blog, I eventually do find a photograph of her with a bump. Taken in London two weeks ago, she's standing on Carnaby Street in an elegant, camel colored coat with shopping bags draped from her arms. Most of them are from designer brands I've never heard of, but then there's a more ordinary plastic one hidden amongst the mysteriously expensive black, paper bags. It's small, plastic and white and tucked away up at her elbow bearing the logo of a well-known drug store. Surely a woman like her doesn't get their toiletries from the high street, not un
less it was some sort of emergency and she happened to be passing by.

  I zoom in on the photo until the screen is filled with a white, opaque haze. I'm trying to see inside and for a fleeting moment, I feel like a mixture between Miss Marple and Kathy Bates in Misery. I'm fully aware of how creepy I'm being but there are doubts niggling away at the back of my mind and they won't leave me alone. There's something so strange about Penelope and I can't shake the feeling that's she's hiding something. Of course, if there's something worse than stalking your ex online it's surely stalking someone else's ex.

  Feeling like I'm turning into some bunny boiling nutcase, I decide to get back to work and put this Penelope nonsense to bed. I knuckle my eyes and rub at my temples before reaching for the mouse to click off the website. But then I see it. I'd been staring at it for so long that I couldn't really see it. Deep inside the plastic bag sits an inconspicuous blue and green box with white writing. Although meaningless to most people, I know what it is because I have the same box in my bedroom. It's...

  "Stephanie!"

  Freddie's at the top of the library and waving frantically with a grin on his face. I click off the internet and pretend I've been working on quadratic equations all along.

  "I've been calling you," he says as he hurries over and gives me a peck on the cheek.

  "Sorry, Gibson's been on my ass."

  "Getting behind already?" he asks.

  "And skipping class."

  "Ah, that's not good."

  He looks at the blank screen and the books strewn across the desk before glancing up at the librarian to make sure she's not paying attention. Then he leans in closer and kisses my neck.

  "Hey, stop that," I giggle.

  "I've missed you," he says while grabbing my thigh. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

  "Really?"

  "I was worried you were ignoring me," he says with a childish, playful pout.

  He pulls me into a hug and I nuzzle my head into his neck and take in a deep breath. I have to admit that I'd missed him more than I'd care to admit. I revel in the moment, pushing myself up against his warm body and breathing deeply.