by Nana Malone
Bodyguard to the Billionaire
Nana Malone
Contents
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
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About Nana Malone
One
Theo…
The only thing standing between me and everything I needed was through the doors in front of me. All I had to do was follow a few simple rules.
Rule 1: First rule of billionaire fight club was that one did not speak about doubling the billionaire to anyone.
Rule 2: Draw no attention to yourself.
Rule 3: For the next thirty days, be Derrick Arlington.
Rule 4: At no point could I ever reveal who I was.
Rule 5: See the Inline Tech acquisition through to the end.
Rule 6: Follow the script. Do not deviate.
Rule 7: Only call the SOS number in case of dire emergency.
Rule 8: Stay the hell away from the royal family.
If I could manage those few simple rules, I’d have everything I needed for my family. I’d risked so much to be here. Now was not the time to get cold feet. Everything was within my grasp.
I just had to be someone else for thirty days.
"Why did I let you talk me into this again?"
“Because I’m damned persuasive,“ my best friend, Kyle Winters, chuckled. He was the exemption to rules one and four. He’d been there when the whole thing started, so there was no real concealment from him. Besides, he was my right-hand guy and the only person, besides my mother, whom I trusted implicitly.
This is a bad idea. Everyone will see. Everyone will know you're an impostor.
"Your pretty-boy face got you into this trouble, so you’re just going to keep doing what you're doing. Be the billionaire. Feel the billionaire. Besides, you need this. We need this. You pull this off and all our troubles are over. You can take care of your mom. And PhilanthroApp will have the funding it needs. It’s just 30 days. Be the billionaire, man."
I hated that he had a point. I had a damn good reason for being there, for taking this job. “I swear to God, if you say billionaire one more time, I’ll kick you in the nuts."
"Dude, I'm just saying, Derrick Arlington is literally made of fucking gold, and he's hired you as his double to do bullshit events like this. It's all about being him. Because if you don't believe it, no one else will."
Kyle had a point.
"I know. But I'm pretty sure this guy is a grade-A dick. Did you see the workout schedule he left me? Not to mention the list of shit he won’t eat. It was nu—" My brain was suddenly robbed of the processing power it needed to finish my sentence. Damn thing stutter-started when my gaze landed on the woman by the bar...
She was tiny. She might have been five-two, maybe, with hair the color of midnight. And when she turned to smile at whoever it was she was talking to, I couldn’t fucking breathe. It was like her mere presence alone sucked all the air out of my lungs and held them captive. All the blood in my brain headed south, and I couldn’t fucking think.
Kyle snapped his fingers. "Earth to Theo. Let’s grab some champagne. Mingle," he muttered as he ogled one of the bridesmaids.
I shook my head in an attempt to clear it. “Low profile, remember? We need to be seen but not stand out.”
He rolled his eyes and headed for the bar. I didn’t follow. I couldn't seem to find any brain cells to force my legs to follow him. Who the hell was she?
Like you really have time for this shit?
Somehow, it didn’t matter. I mentally willed her to lift her gaze to meet mine.
Oh yeah, genius, what are you going to say? 'Nice to meet you. I'm Theo?'
Fuck.
For tonight and the rest of the month, I was Derrick Arlington, billionaire extraordinaire and one of People magazine’s sexiest bachelors. For all I knew, she hated Derrick Arlington, which meant she might hate me. So any attempts to talk to her would be futile, especially if she knew him already.
Over the last several weeks, Derrick had schooled me in all things related to him. I’d learned his preferences for food, music, sports, all of it. All so I could take over as him for a few weeks.
It felt like a life sentence, but a few weeks and I’d be free. And then I could go back to my life, my family, and the things I needed to get done.
Kyle came back with champagne. “Okay, who has put that look on your face? Tell me it’s the hot blonde, because if she turns you down, maybe I’d get spill over.”
I swallowed hard. "No, not her."
Kyle groaned. "Dude, I don't think you understand how this double thing is supposed to work. You’re supposed to enjoy it. Have fun while you work if you get what I’m saying…"
I had to chuckle as I sipped my champagne. "Yeah, I get it. And I don't think you understand who I am. I’m going to user my doppelgänger powers for good. This is a job, not an excuse to go stupid buck wild and get some ass. Besides, rule two of billionaire fight club is don’t draw attention."
"I know. But I mean, if we're here anyway, you might as well get some ass and have some fun in the process."
Ever since Derrick had approached me back in New York, Kyle had been like a kid in a damn candy store, completely all-in on this my best friend is a double thing.
The whole idea was ridiculous to me. The idea that there were people so rich in the world that they could hire other people to be them for an indefinite amount of time...
Right now, you are one of them.
Six months ago, the real Derrick Arlington had walked into my office with a proposition. He’d found me because of my work with Kyle on the PhilanthroApp, our platform for charitable giving. I first thought it was a joke Kyle had cooked up. He looked exactly like me, minus the beard and attitude. If I was being honest, I’d thought he was someone crazy until Kyle looked him up. He wasn't crazy.
He’d had an offer for me. Just not the one I expected.
One month of being him.
To pull that off, I’d had to learn everything about him. I’d get all-expense-paid travel to the Winston Isles, an expense account, and two million dollars just to be him for thirty fucking days.
I had said no, of course. Because that shit had seemed insane. Who the fuck said yes to a proposition like that? Give up my life for his?
But then Kyle had reminded me that the stakes were too high to say no.
I had an offer I really couldn't afford to refuse. So there I was at a wedding for an earl and a princess, like I fucking belonged there.
“Listen, Theo, you just need to relax. Try and have some fun."
"Yeah, I hear you.” My gaze drifted back to the brunette and stayed. Again, I willed her to look at me, but instead, her gaze skittered to the right. Then she saw something in the crowd. Something that made her turn around. Something that scared her, or maybe she wanted to avoid someone, because she turned quickly, her hair flying over her shoulder as she shoved her way through the revelers.
My chest squeezed. Was she lea
ving? Something primal in me wanted to find her and drag her back. I found her through the crowd again, and luckily, she wasn't leaving. Instead, she was hiding behind— Wait, seriously? Was she hiding behind the pillar?
Next to me, Kyle laughed. "Oh, I see her. Oh yeah, she's cute. Definitely way out of your league."
"Shut up." I muttered.
"She may be out of Theo Coleman’s reach, but she's definitely in Derrick Arlington's league."
"How many times do I have to tell you we're going to get through this making as few ripples as possible? Hooking up with someone random equals a giant ripple. Besides, what? I'm going to stand by and let her call somebody else's name during sex? That's not going to work out."
Kyle was silent for a moment. "Yeah, you have a point there. But I mean, you could go seriously method with this whole acting thing."
I shook my head, because with Kyle, that's usually what I did. But I also wanted to shake the image of the brunette stepping between the pillars.
As long as I was pretending to be Derrick Arlington, my life wasn’t mine. So I might as well not even go there. Besides, it was only thirty days. Thirty days to do the job and get out. Thirty days to get my soul back.
Two
Zia…
Deedee: 911…
Those three little dots flickered away, letting me know, my sister, DeeDee had a lot more to say about her emergency du jour. But I turned my phone off. I was going to have one night where I didn’t have to worry about her.
Another emergency SOS from my sister. Earlier she’d called me because she was hungry and had somehow run out of money on her campus card that I’d just filled on the first. It was only the tenth. She had two weeks to go before I was going to add more money.
Someone needed to tell my sister that texting 911 would get her nowhere.
Are you sure about that?
I supposed I’d trained her that texting would get me to come running. Whether it be a bird in the flat—though to be fair, that was scary—or a bathtub flood, or a news report of a burglar, prompting a three-night sleepover, I’d taught her that if she asked, I’d run in to the rescue.
Well, not tonight. Tonight, I was not the responsible one. I was not Miss Fix Everything. Tonight, I was going to have fun.
"Christ, those two seriously make you believe in love. And considering I don't believe in marriage or happily ever after, that’s saying something."
I slid Tamsin a happy smile as I sipped my appletini. I knew they were passé, but they were delicious. Was she judging me? "They are perfect. They make it look easy. But remember that whole people were trying to kill her thing from last year? None of that shit was easy."
Neela Reynold's, Jax's wife, raised her glass. "From someone who's also had people shoot at her, that's the truth. If someone is trying to kill you, it sucks. But the heightened adrenaline makes the sex way hotter, so I certainly hope that they are enjoying every dance."
Princess Jessa Winston dragged her new husband across the dance floor. While she looked elegant and effortless, Roone stumbled several times. As it turned out, the Roone Ainsley, all-around badass, earl, and best friend to the king couldn't dance.
Well, you couldn’t win them all.
Tamsin raised her glass. “I know she is. Have you seen that man’s posterior? She is a lucky girl.”
I grinned at my friends. "Here's to a night off. For the love of God, I feel so naked without my gun. I have the tranq gun, but it doesn’t give you the same feel good buzz. You think anyone can tell?"
When was the last time you were naked anyway?
Tamsin snorted a laugh, throwing her head back, her long blonde hair curling behind her. "I forgot my underwear. Which one of us do you think is having a better night?"
I snorted. "You know what? It might just be you. I'm not sure."
Neela started having a coughing fit, and I assumed part of her drink went down the wrong passageway. As if by magic, her husband appeared from nowhere and clapped her on the back gently, murmuring, "There you are."
He crooned low and whispered something in her ear that made Neela's tanned skin flush, and then she gave him a heavy-lidded, let's get out of here and go bone face.
I knew that face. Hell, I have occasionally even made that face to other people. Okay, just the one.
How long ago was that?
It had been a while. A year, in fact, but I had made that face before, and I was happy for her. Jax loved her in a way that was palpable and tangible. And it was good to see that kind of love existed.
"Hey, we're having a Royal Elite women's congress here."
Jax lifted a brow, his lips tipping into a smirk. Christ on a cracker, the man was handsome. We all noticed. At work, he and Trace were the kind of man candy that made Mondays, and just about any other day of the week, tolerable. Shit, if I were Neela, I wouldn't be able to look at him head-on. He was that pretty.
He chuckled as he kissed his wife. "Want to clue me in on what's so funny?"
I leaned in and whispered dramatically. "We're talking about how awesome Roone's ass is."
Jax stumbled back as if he'd been burned. "Ugh, Jesus. He's my mate. Have you women no shame?" He shrugged. “Besides, my arse is definitely fitter.”
Neela grinned at her husband. "Are you sure sweetheart? I’ll have to do my own inspection. Besides, he is fit, and we're not dead. We can look."
Jax just shook his head. "You recognize that I have seen that bare ass on more than one occasion, right? It's not pretty."
Tamsin shook her head and raised her glass in tribute. "It looks perfectly fine from here."
Jax rolled his eyes. "If you women are done ogling, I’d like to borrow my wife for a moment."
Neela laughed. “I know what borrow means. Borrow means you want to take me into the coat room and—"
She didn't get to finish because Jax leaned in and kissed her shoulder, lingering in the crook of her neck. His lips murmured something that I couldn't hear, but there was another flush from Neela. She drained her glass, slid it back onto the bar top, and gave us a delicate wave.
Tamsin sighed. "God, I need to get laid."
"Me first. I think I've gone without longer than you."
She lifted a brow. "How long for you?"
That question burned.
Ever since I’d been unceremoniously dumped for my boyfriend's side piece, I had avoided romantic entanglements.
It was safer that way. Sure, falling in love was great… for other people, but I’d learned my lesson. Hell, I had avoided a job I was perfectly suited for just so I wouldn't have to see my ex. "It's been a year."
Tamsin's eyes went wide. "Okay, I'll shut up about my six-month dry spell then. That’s outrageous." She leaned in closer. "Come on, pick a guy. Any guy. You look amazing tonight. You're one of those girls who's petite and sexy. You're adorable. Vaguely ethnic looking. Those lashes, I would literally kill you for. You could pull anyone." Her arms stretched out over the crowd. “Do you want me to pick for you?"
I shook my head. "No. You will not be picking my next bone. I know we're close and all, but I don't think we're that close."
"Oh, we're that close. If I can pick you up a box of tampons, I can pick someone for you to do."
I shook my head. "No. Absolutely not. No way, no how."
"What happened to that British guy? You know, the one from London. Roone's cousin? Jessa works for him. I saw him hitting on you earlier."
"Ben Covington?” I laughed. “No thank you. I'm done with playboys." Ben Covington was another hotter than sin and knows it kind of guy.
"You haven't had sex in a year, and you're avoiding a perfectly hard man?"
"I'm avoiding said hard man because his nickname is Big Ben."
Tamsin grinned. "I know. That sounds delightful."
"No, it's not delightful. If that's his nickname, you know full well he had to have earned it. Which means that there are many, many women who have seen the goods. Many women who will attest to the size
, shape, dexterity, and stamina, and I'm not really into that. No playboys, thanks. I want a nice, normal, average dude."
Tamsin snorted. "No thanks. Why take average when you can have billionaire badass? I mean, do those even exist? Romance has taught me that billionaires are beyond hot, with bodies that are sculpted from stone. I know they don't exist, and you know they don't exist, but I will dream and pretend that they do."
I shook my head. "Nope. I want none of that. I just want a normal, nice guy. One who won't leave me for the skanky girl he swears is just his friend."
She winced. "Jesus, I'm sorry."
"Nope, it's fine," I reassured her.
But Tamsin kept talking, and I could only half hear her because something had me looking up and around. I was being watched.
I couldn’t explain it, but the sense was as potent as if someone had reached out and touched me, stroking a finger down the column of my neck into the hollow of my lower back. I looked up and glanced around, but I couldn't find the source. The caress was hot. Powerful. It made me tingle with awareness.
I slid my gaze to the right, scanning the whole crowd and looking for someone watching me, but I couldn't find anyone. When I swung my gaze to the left, I— Oh, fuck. I froze. Oh God.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
"Uh, I'll be right back," I muttered to no one in particular.
I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I had to be away. Away from there. Away from him.
So I ran.
Yes, cowardly, but completely understandable. When you saw your ex, the same one who left you naked in your bed after just telling you that he'd been fucking someone else, you ran. That was the appropriate response. Anyone would run. When you saw the person who had been your commanding officer and who you weren't supposed to be sleeping with in the first place, running was justified.