Bad Billionaires Box Set

by Elise Faber

  “Maybe it was my voice,” Hunter said with a grin. “I bet he likes me already.”

  “That’s a guarantee,” I said, head spinning a bit with the speed of Hunter’s conversational U-turns. “What makes you think the baby will be a boy?”

  He lifted his chin. “I know.”

  “Okay,” I said and stood. “Should I go see if we can hurry this process up a bit?”

  “Yes!”

  “Oh. Hunter?” I paused in the doorway. “How did you know about the baby?”

  He gave me a look that was way too mature for an eight-year-old. “I’m eight, Abby. I know things.” A pause. “I hope Uncle Jordan marries you.”

  My breath caught as Hunter began tinkering with the robot again and I left the room thinking the child was right.

  He knew way too many things.

  I made a vow right then and there that he would know less of the adult—less hospitals, less family drama, less pain, and fear. I made a vow to let him get dirty, to help him make friends his age, to play football with him in the backyard, to break windows with foul balls, and stink up the laundry room with his shoes.

  I made a vow to love that little boy like my own.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Five Months Later

  Jordan slid carefully from the bed and tucked the covers up under Abby’s chin. Her brow puckered and he pressed a kiss there, loving the way the lines relaxed at his touch.

  He loved everything about her, in fact.

  Which was what today was about.

  It was Abby’s first Mother’s Day, and he and Hunter had a hell of a day planned.

  Well, it technically revolved around pajamas, cuddling on the couch, and watching cheesy movies.

  Carter whimpered again, and Jordan turned to their month-old son, feeling his heart expand to the size of a watermelon. It was amazing how so much love could grow in a second, with a single glance, with only one touch.

  People who didn’t believe in love at first sight must not have had kids.

  “Shh,” he said softly, scooping him up and slipping from the room before the noise could wake Abby. She’d been up feeding him every two hours the night before and deserved a break.

  As much as he wanted to help her, he didn’t have the right parts. So aside from changing diapers and walking the halls with Carter to get him to settle, he couldn’t do much to relieve the exhaustion that Abby must be feeling.

  Hell, he felt half dead and he had hardly done anything.

  Jordan walked down the hall and into the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on to brew as he smiled down at his son.

  Rosy cheeks, blue eyes that matched his own—he thought they would stay blue, though Abby thought they’d turn hazel—and wispy brown hair.

  He was a squishy faced, chunky, little lump.

  And Jordan loved him more than life itself.

  “You’re pretty special,” he said. “Did you know that?” Wide eyes stared up at him, and he kept talking. Carter was probably hungry, but he wanted to give Abby as much sleep as possible.

  He’d avoid waking her until he had to.

  “You’re so lucky. Your Mommy and I both love you very much, and you have a brother who’s crazy about you.” Jordan touched Carter’s nose, smiling when his son rooted around. His delay tactics may not last long. “Because that’s what Hunter is to you,” he said, blabbering on against the losing battle anyway. “You’re more than just cousins. You’re brothers.”

  “Jordan?”

  He looked up at the sound of Hunter’s voice. It was as sleepy as his rumpled appearance—jammies wrinkled, hair askew.

  “Yeah, bud?”

  “Is that true?”

  Jordan bounced Carter. “Is what true?”

  “Is he really my brother?”

  “Come here,” he said, patting the barstool. “Family is a tricky thing. People get hung up on moms and dads and who is technically related to who. But I don’t think any of that matters.” He held up Carter, who locked eyes on Hunter, the same way he did every time Hunter was in the room. “All I know is that Carter is going to need a big brother. That he’s going to need lots of people in his life to love him.” He wrapped one arm around Hunter’s shoulders. “Just the same as you.”

  “I think I’d make a good big brother,” Hunter said.

  Jordan grinned. “I know you will. Window-breaker.”

  “It was an accident!” Hunter hung his head. “I didn’t realize that it would . . .”

  He raised a brow. “Break? If you hit a ball really hard?” Jordan nudged him. “I thought Abby would lose a gasket.”

  Hunter nodded emphatically. “Me too.”

  Instead, all she’d done was smile, shake her head, and tell Jordan to call someone to fix it.

  Carter let out another squawk, this one more determined and louder.

  “I think Mommy’s time is up,” Jordan said. “While Abby is feeding Carter, let’s get everything ready, okay?”

  “Okay!” Hunter nodded and ran off in the direction of the living room. “I’ll get the pajamas!”

  He stared down at Carter, his first biological son but the second son of his heart. “I love that kid.”

  Carter cooed.

  Jordan crossed the kitchen, opened the cabinet above the fridge—the one Abby deemed as unusable because she was so short—and pulled out the little box he’d stashed within.

  Pajamas. Chocolate. Bad movies. Check. Check. Check.

  He stashed the ring in her basket of yarn and set it on the coffee table as Hunter ran like a tornado gathering the pajamas and a cozy blanket and turning on the T.V.

  “Good?” he asked.

  Hunter gave him a thumbs-up and Jordan turned down the hall, cuddling Hunter close as he walked. Carefully, he turned the knob and crept into the bedroom, wanting to wake Abby gently.

  But she was already up, eyes heavy, hair crazy, and more beautiful than anyone else on the planet.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She smiled. “Hey, honey.”

  “Someone is hungry,” he said. “I tried to delay him, but I wasn’t successful.”

  “Tell that to my boobs.” She pointed to the part of her body that had grown to rival Seraphina’s set and grimaced. “They apparently know that Carter is hungry.”

  He set Carter in her arms. “I’m going to take a quick shower while you feed him.”

  In reality, he was taking a quick shower for two reasons: one, boobs—as in, hers were on display and giant and he wanted to touch them, but he couldn’t—and two, he was nervous about proposing.

  Which was ridiculous. They’d discussed marriage. They were planning on adopting Hunter, had just had a kid together.

  It was a sure thing.

  And he didn’t want to screw it up.

  “Okay,” she said, her focus on Carter.

  Probably a good thing, otherwise she’d see that he was a mess.

  Ten minutes later, he was clean and ready. Hunter knocked on the door as he emerged from the bathroom in fresh clothes . . . or fresh pajamas. He glanced at Abby, who nodded. Carter had finished eating.

  “Happy Mother’s Day!” Hunter announced, launching himself on the bed.

  Jordan shook his head. The boy never walked when sprinting would do.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” Abby said, hugging him with her free arm. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Yup. Here.” He dropped the package on the bed. “These are for you. Jordan and I planned a day with your favorite things.”

  Her eyes rose to meet Jordan’s. He nodded. “Chocolate. Hallmark movies. The works.” One side of his mouth quirked. “We’ll even let you have a shower first.”

  “My heroes,” she quipped and slid from the bed. “Or maybe you’re saying that I need a shower?”

  “Definitely.”

  She snorted, rose on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips. “Thanks for that.” A glint in mischievous hazel eyes. “Do I need to bust out the hammer jokes?”

  �
��God, no.” He took Carter from her. “Enjoy your uninterrupted shower,” he told her. “I’ve got the boys.”

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “Right back at you.”

  Shaking her head, she went into the bathroom. Hunter helped him change Carter—or really picked out fresh clothes while Jordan dealt with the nasty diaper business, as Hunter liked to call it.

  By the time they’d gotten Carter settled and Hunter a bowl of cereal for breakfast, Abby was done with her shower.

  Hunter dropped his bowl in the sink when she came into the kitchen. “Come this way!” He took her hand, dragging her into the family room.

  Jordan’s heart skipped a beat and he wiped sweaty palms on his shirt. “This is it, bud,” he whispered to Carter. “I hope she says yes.”

  Carter blinked up at him.

  “I know.” Jordan laughed. “I’ll be lucky if she does.”

  He walked into the next room, smiling when he saw Hunter fussing over Abby—arranging the pillows behind her back, positioning the remote at just the right distance. He met Jordan’s eyes and nodded at the basket, a nonverbal cue to get moving.

  “Can I hold Carter?” he asked, moving to the armchair and sitting down, arms extended.

  “Sure, bud,” Jordan said, helping him to settle back and support Carter’s head.

  Abby’s eyes were soft. “They’re so sweet together,” she said, watching Hunter hold Carter.

  “Yes, they are.” He reached for the basket, opened his mouth—

  “And this is sweet,” she said. “You guys are going to spoil me. How did you get these chocolates? I’ve never seen them anywhere except in Switzerland.”

  He shrugged. “I flew them in. Abby—”

  “You flew them in?” She gasped. “That must have been ridiculously expensive.”

  “I wanted to make today special.”

  “It would have been special without chocolate.” Jordan lifted a brow and she grinned. “Okay maybe not.”

  “Abby”—he went down on one knee next to the coffee table—“I wanted to ask if you would—”

  “Oh, my God. Is that new yarn?” She clapped her hands together before reaching for the basket. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “Abby.” He caught her hands before she could grab it. “Shush for a second, okay?”

  She blinked.

  “I’m trying to ask you something.”

  Her eyes drifted from the basket in his hands to his position on one knee.

  “A-are you—?”

  “Yup.” He held up the basket. “I wanted to ask if you would crochet with me.”

  There was one beat of silence before she smacked him in the chest. “Jordan O’Keith, so help me . . .”

  He pulled out the box and set the basket down. “Abigail Roberts. We’ve done this all sorts of backward, but I can’t imagine spending my life without you. Will you marry me?”

  The box made a little creak as he opened it, showing off what was an obscenely sized princess cut diamond ring inside. But he’d never had any restraint when it came to Abby, and he’d definitely not had any when it came to the ring she was going to wear for the rest of her life.

  “No.”

  Or maybe not.

  “What?” He set the box down, took her hand. “It’s okay if it’s too soon. I just—”

  She laughed, yanking him close. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She kissed him. “I would be honored to be your wife.”

  He kissed her long enough to warrant a “gross” from Hunter and pulled back to slip the ring on her finger. “I’m going to pay you back for that one,” he said.

  Her hand came up to cup his cheek. “I hope so,” she murmured. “For the rest of our lives.”

  And he kissed her again, ignoring the retching sound his nephew made.

  He had his happily ever after, dammit, and he was going to enjoy it.

  Bad Breakup

  Billionaire’s Club Book 2

  Chapter One

  Cecilia

  Cecilia sat on the plane, her first-class seat luxurious and insanely comfortable. It might have been the first time in her limited travel experience that she didn’t feel like cattle shoved into the back of a truck, and instead, like an actual person with wants and needs.

  “Your champagne, Ms. Thiele.”

  “Thank you,” she said and took a sip, leaning back into the butter-soft leather with a sigh.

  She’d just closed her eyes when someone sat down in the empty seat next to her.

  Rustling accompanied the movement as the person got settled.

  “Can I get you anything?” the flight attendant asked.

  “A whiskey.”

  Every hair stood up on Cecilia’s neck. Oh, God no. It couldn’t possibly be—

  She clenched her lids tightly, refusing, absolutely refusing to open them. No. She was imaging things. It had been years since she’d heard that voice.

  Too many years.

  “Here you go, Mr. McGregor.”

  Oh, fuck.

  Her eyes flew open, but she didn’t move her head. She couldn’t chance it. But she did risk a peek out of the corner of her eye, and that was enough to have dread twisting her stomach into knots.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  She’d booked this flight last minute, deciding to use the voucher gifted to her by Abby—her friend and employer—after she and her husband, Jordan, had returned from their honeymoon.

  Cecilia’s life had felt stagnant.

  She’d needed to get away, and she’d had the free flight and hotel.

  It made sense to use it, however last minute.

  Plus, everything had worked out. There had been one first-class seat open. Only one cabin at her dream resort.

  And now she was sitting next to Colin McGregor.

  “Flight attendants, arm the doors,” the pilot’s voice chimed through the plane’s speakers.

  A thud signaled her last avenue of escape disappearing.

  She was trapped on a nonstop flight for twelve hours.

  With the man who’d left her at the altar.

  How was this possibly her life?

  “Cecilia?” that masculine voice asked. “Is it really you?”

  And just like all the times before, her eyes were drawn to him. She’d never been able to ignore him. Not Colin. Not even when he’d—

  But this time was different.

  She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t a vulnerable girl in a rough place.

  She’d been through hell and back.

  Colin had no power over her.

  Not anymore.

  Cecilia put in her earbuds and turned her back on the man who’d devastated her world six years before.

  Chapter Two

  Cecilia

  She was going to yell “Bomb!” on an airplane.

  She had to.

  It was the only way to get the plane to turn around, for CeCe to find an escape route from the awful man sitting next to her. He’d been staring at her for three hours twenty-two minutes and forty-six seconds. Forty-seven. Forty-eight—

  Okay. The precise timing wasn’t important.

  But the heavy weight of his gaze was smothering her, a stifling cloud that threatened to make her insane. And it was exacerbated by his smell, all spicy and male. It floated around her, making her toes curl.

  He was the same as before.

  As in, he had exactly the same effect on her body—an accelerated pulse, sweaty palms, a tense quivering abdomen, and heat between her thighs.

  She wanted him.

  Despite it being six years since she’d seen him. Despite what he had done.

  Cecilia’s body still wanted Colin’s with a longing that was so intense it was almost scary.

  Her lady bits wanted her to tug him up from his seat by the tie—a new addition, as she’d never seen the man in a suit—drag him up the aisle, and lock him in the ridiculously small bathroom to have her merry way with him.

  Hence, the bomb threa
t.

  Which, obviously, she couldn’t make.

  It might be torture sitting next to Colin, but there were three hundred other people on this airplane, all with places to be, people to visit, sights to see. She couldn’t ruin that for them.

  Not that Colin McGregor would care he was ruining it for her. He crushed dreams, smashed hearts, tore tender emotions to shreds.

  He was her Godzilla, and she was the decimated city.

  Had been the decimated city.

  Now she was rebuilt. She was stronger, her heart reinforced with rebar and steel, and she didn’t give one damn for Colin McGregor.

  Damns to give or not, she still didn’t want him within arm’s reach and so, shortly after takeoff, she’d risen and discreetly asked the flight attendant if there was any way she could switch seats, only to receive a regretful glance and an apology as the flight was completely full and all the first-class seats were occupied by couples or families traveling together.

  She’d even started to ask about moving back to economy, thinking to make someone’s day by offering them a seat by the gorgeous Scot, but the flight attendant had looked so harried that Cecilia had relented.

  She knew they had a job to do and that she was getting in the way of it, and while she didn’t want to be a pain in the ass, her current situation was truly untenable.

  “You’re even more beautiful than I remember,” he said, and the rough edges of his accent hacked at the words, making them more of a growl rather than a soft sentiment.

  Her breath caught, and she found her eyes drawn to the stormy blue of Colin’s.

  And she stared again, utterly entranced before she remembered how it had all ended.

  Her in a white dress.

  Alone, except for the priest who’d given her a pitying look and invited her to stay as long as she needed.

  But it had always been like this, Colin’s gruff words winning her over. They were unexpected from him—he was typically so reserved and taciturn. And that compliment, freely given as it was, chipped away at any defenses she managed to erect.

  The problem was that his words weren’t always followed up by action. In fact, they were typically trailed by pain for her and fury for him.