Bad Billionaires Box Set

by Elise Faber

  Had been frozen in place by his kiss. On her cheek.

  Ugh.

  Running her tongue over her teeth and wincing at the furry feeling, CeCe tossed the covers back and stood.

  Who knew what hour it was, but she’d slept enough of her time away in London already. She wanted to go see Buckingham Palace and the Crown Jewels. And if she had time, she wanted to walk through Hyde Park with a coffee.

  Dropping her chin to her chest, she took a moment to stretch out her stiff neck. No matter how expensive the room, hotel pillows still sucked.

  A sigh. One more quick stretch and she headed for the bathroom. Or attempted to, anyway, because she had only taken one step in that direction before she’d tripped over something.

  No. Someone.

  A huge, male someone.

  Her scream caught in her throat, and she sucked in more air, trying to clear it, before she realized the male someone was actually a Scottish male someone named Colin.

  “Shit,” she hissed, heart pounding, hand coming to her throat.

  Colin was sleeping on the floor between the bed and the hotel wall, on the gross, hard industrial carpet. And he had . . . her book? It was resting open on his chest, rising and falling with each of his breaths.

  He had read it?

  Oh, God.

  Heat scorched her cheeks. The book was a steamy one, and of course the hero was Scottish and had broken the heroine’s heart in the past.

  Which was too damned close to home, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from finishing it, from crying at their trials, and then sighing in contentment when they’d finally found their happily-ever-after.

  CeCe reached for the book, wanting to get it far away from Colin. Frankly, she wanted to chuck it out the window, but since that was probably sealed shut, she’d settle for it to be shoved deep down into her tote bag, never to been seen by steely blue eyes again.

  The book’s cover was smooth beneath her fingers, that soft, almost velvet-like feel that some paperbacks had.

  The spine was in good shape, hardly creased, but then again, she was very careful with her books in general.

  Not the point at the moment, yet a nice distraction nonetheless.

  But the distraction wasn’t to last because the moment she caught a whiff of his scent, woods with a hint of whiskey, she was ensnared.

  Enraptured.

  Entranced.

  Her hand slid from the book to Colin’s chest, resting lightly as she shifted her position so her knees were next to his shoulder. And she studied the man, truly looked at him for the first time in years.

  Not quick glances before avoiding his gaze, dodging old memories and pain. Not a flick of her eyes then away because he was so beautiful and hot and sexy and . . . overwhelming.

  She really looked at him.

  And noticed the changes in his face, the faint wrinkles around his eyes, the beard covering his cheeks and chin. It was a deep black, but there were a few gray hairs here and there. Enough of the silvery strands that for the first time she stopped to wonder all that Colin had been through.

  She’d been so wrapped up in what happened to her that she hadn’t stopped to consider him.

  Wow. So that was what guilt felt like.

  Snorting at herself, she turned her eyes back to Colin. A curl of hair had slipped over his forehead, and she smoothed it back before starting to stand.

  “You’re in dangerous territory, sweetheart,” came his rumbling, sleep-laden voice, hand snaking out to wrap around her wrist.

  “C-Colin,” she stammered. “I j-just—”

  “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.

  Or rather whiskey-ed.

  Holy entire bottle of the amber concoction, Batman.

  “You’re drunk,” she said.

  He shook his head, goofy smile on his face.

  “You smell like you took a bath in a distillery,” she told him, slipping her wrist free of his grasp.

  He tilted his head in the direction of his armpit and wrinkled his nose. His face fell.

  That puppy dog expression had always been too much for her. The need to comfort him was compulsory and impossible to resist. “Yours is still my favorite smell in the world,” she blurted.

  Then wished she’d kept her damned mouth shut because it revealed way too much.

  The last bit of sleep slipped from Colin’s eyes. They sharpened, and she quickly stood.

  “I should ask why you’re in my room, but I’m not going—” Her breath hitched when his hand went to her ankle, rough fingers tracing gently on the bare skin there. She cleared her throat. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Want company?”

  Her heart clenched and her . . . well. Suffice to say that she had a lady boner.

  He was fully clothed, touching one of the most innocuous parts of her body, and she had a serious moisture problem.

  Which he could probably see since she was standing almost directly over him.

  His fingers slipped higher, tracing little circles along the back of her calf, her knee, teasing at her thigh.

  “I-I—”

  He leaned up onto one elbow and those fingers slipped higher, until one tip slipped under the elastic of her underwear.

  Just the tip.

  She giggled.

  She couldn’t help it. Bec, Abby, and Seraphina had corrupted her.

  They were bad influences, especially because they would have encouraged her to . . . well, encourage Colin.

  And she wanted to. Really, she did. Forget the past in that moment. She had a sexy Scot with his finger in her panties, and she was wound so tight that it wouldn’t take more than a brush of said finger to send her toppling.

  But he was drunk.

  “You’re going to say no,” he murmured, slipping more of his hand under the elastic and cupping her ass with one rough palm. “I know you are.”

  She nodded. “I’m going to say no.” Then added in a mutter meant for her ears only, “Not that I want to.”

  Except apparently not quiet enough because Colin’s lips curved and his free hand came up, cupping her other cheek. “I can make you feel good,” he said, and she knew he could. He had.

  But. He. Was. Drunk.

  “Climb into the bed,” she said, pushing his hands down and out of her underwear.

  He scrambled up to his feet in a movement way too fast for someone who was inebriated. His arm slid around her waist and his mouth was on hers before she had a chance to realize what she’d said.

  She’d meant for him to climb into bed. By himself.

  Except she was there. With him. Surrounded by his scent, pressed into the mattress by his bulk. His lips were teasing hers open. His tongue was tangling with hers.

  And fuck did it feel amazing.

  Chapter Eleven

  Colin

  Cecilia was wrapped tightly against him, pressed firmly against his chest, her legs intertwined with his. Colin moaned and pulled her closer, leaning down to press a kiss to the valley of her breasts.

  Then frowned.

  Her skin wasn’t as soft as he remembered, her curves not as lush. It was almost as though she weren’t—

  His eyes shot open when something tightened around his neck.

  He blinked, searching the space around him, abruptly aware of the cold bed. The linens were soft for a hotel but rough when compared to his woman’s skin. And they might have been wound around him, but they were decidedly unlike CeCe’s curves.

  The room was also dark.

  Colin cursed and sat up, tearing away the cotton sheet that had somehow become wrapped around his throat.

  He saw the clock and cursed, seeing that he’d slept the day away.

  And Cecilia was gone.

  He knew that in his bones.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, trying to sift through his sleepy mind, trying to understand how he’d come to wake alone when last he’d remembered, Cecilia had been beneath him on that very bed.<
br />
  His eyes lit on a note faintly illuminated by the clock and propped onto the bedside table. A little bottle of water and some aspirin were positioned next to it.

  Thanks for the lift. Drink the water and take the aspirin. I imagine you’ll wake with quite a headache.

  Have a nice life,

  CeCe

  P.S. Don’t worry, I paid up the room for another day. Take care.

  Colin grunted, starting to crumple the note before stopping and instead carefully folding it and putting it into his pocket. “Have a nice life,” he muttered, getting out of bed and ignoring the pills. He wasn’t a child any longer, and he didn’t have a hangover. Yes, he might have drunk a little more than normal the previous night, but he’d been in full possession of his abilities.

  Except somehow you fell asleep with the most beautiful woman in the world in your arms, you arsewipe, his brain conveniently reminded him.

  Because yes, there was that. He’d had Cecilia in his arms, pliable and warm and delicious and . . .

  That was the last thing he remembered.

  So maybe he was slightly out of practice in the whiskey-bingeing department.

  Sighing, Colin reached into his satchel and pulled out his phone, checking his emails and sending a text to his assistant to clear his schedule for the foreseeable future.

  This was why he’d trained his COO and CFO. So he could have a life.

  And he intended to finally have one.

  Which was why he called his other assistant—the one who specialized in remembering birthdays and selecting the perfect arrangement of flowers for his mother. Joanne had been around the McGregors for decades and had been managing his life since his father died.

  She’d also loved Cecilia.

  “Joanie,” he said. “I have a problem that doesn’t involve an artistic arrangement of lilies. Or well, it might involve them. If she likes those, which I can’t remember—”

  “She?” Joanne asked.

  He pulled on his pants, pinning the phone between his ear and shoulder. “I’m getting Cecilia back.”

  “Finally,” Joanne said, and he could almost hear her smile through the airwaves. “But, Colin dear, it’s yellow daffodils that she adores. Though, I don’t think flowers are going to mend—”

  “I don’t need flowers,” he said. “Though I’m sure I will at some point,” he added, filing CeCe’s preference in flowers away. “For now, I need you to ready my plane for a flight to Finland.”

  “Ohhh.” Joanne’s breath slid out on a sigh. “The northern lights. Colin, that was always her dream. It’s so romantic.”

  “Except she left without me.”

  He heard Joanne’s teeth click closed. “Okay, that’s less so.”

  Colin snorted. “I agree.” He rattled off the name of the resort he’d seen on the brochure that had fallen out of her bag at the airport. “I need a flight as close as possible to there.”

  “And a room?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m hoping she’ll take a poor sod in out of the cold.”

  Joanne huffed. “I wouldn’t be so sure, my dear. After what you and your family did to that poor girl—”

  Colin’s gut tightened. “What Joanie? What did we do?”

  A pause. “You were too drunk to remember?”

  “I was drunk for weeks,” he reminded her.

  She sighed, and the silence stretched between them. “The plane will be ready in two hours.” Another sigh. “But, Colin, if you don’t want your arse to be frozen solid in Finland, I would be prepared to get on your knees and beg.”

  Fuck.

  “It’s that bad?” he asked.

  “My boy,” she began before clearing her throat. “It’s not good.”

  He opened his mouth to press for details before clamping it closed. The person he needed to discuss this with was Cecilia.

  The person he apparently needed to beg for forgiveness was Cecilia.

  Colin shoved his feet into his shoes and hoped there wouldn’t be any snow on the ground because his damn slacks weren’t the least bit waterproof.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cecilia

  Running. So much running.

  It was becoming her specialty, her superpower.

  Cecilia Thiele—world-class sprinter when things got tough and uncomfortable.

  She’d had a lifetime to practice that particular skill.

  “Fuck,” she muttered and then winced and smiled apologetically when a mom with her two young sons slid her a look.

  One of them was about Hunter’s age and whispered, or rather attempted to whisper because somehow when kids that age tried to whisper, their voices ended up carrying. And the shuttle they were in wasn’t large.

  Which meant she heard the little boy’s excited statement with crystal clarity. “Mom, she said the f-word!”

  The younger of the two boys said, “I thought the f-word was fart. She said fu—”

  “Oh look,” CeCe said, leaning over him to point out the window. “That tree is huge!”

  It wasn’t really, but it got the boys' attention off one another and their focus out the window rather than on her unfortunate use of the non-fart f-word.

  The mom gave her squinty eyes for a second before grinning. “Definitely not the first time they’ve heard it, nor will it be the last.” She shrugged. “Just trying to keep that one”—she tilted her head in the direction of the littler brother—“out of the loop for as long as possible. He always saves that kind of stuff for the most inopportune moments.”

  The dad chuckled and slung an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Like the grocery store checkout line.”

  “And the dentist.” The mom grimaced. “And the school play.”

  “I’m sorry,” CeCe said again. “I should know better. I’m a nanny.”

  “Oh!” the mom said, a faintly calculating note in her voice. “Well then, maybe in payment for your huge transgression, we can hit you up for a kid-free night while we’re here. How long are you staying?”

  “Lizzie,” the husband warned. “You’re laying it on really thick. You’re the one who taught Tate his first bad word after all.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Well, at least he used it correctly.”

  “At the dentist. ‘Get the goddammed thing out of my mouth,’ were his exact words if, I remember correctly.”

  CeCe giggled as the woman popped him on the arm. “Shh! I just got him to stop saying it.” She glanced up and smiled. “I’m just kidding about the babysitting,” she said as the shuttle slowed to turn into the resort. “But if you’re ever lonely and want a little company, here’s my cell.” She passed over a card. “We’ll be here for ten days.”

  Cecilia glanced down at the paper and noted the California address for a company she didn’t recognize. She’d known they were from the States, given their accent, but they both had a hint of twang that didn’t scream the Golden Coast.

  “Oh, how funny,” she said, noting the location was near the firm where Abby and Jordan worked, RoboTech. “I live just outside of Marin.”

  Lizzie clapped her hands. “So, we’ve traveled halfway around the world to meet someone who only lives thirty minutes away?”

  “Small world,” the husband said and extended a hand. “I’m Sam. It’s nice to meet you . . .”

  “Cecilia,” she supplied. “Nice to meet you, too. And it’s lovely scenery all the same,” she said to Lizzie. “I hope you and your boys have a fabulous trip. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

  “Text me!” Lizzie whispered as they departed the shuttle. “We can do a spa day! I need some girl time.”

  CeCe couldn’t help smiling at Lizzie’s energy. There was something incredibly infectious about her, like a little old granny whom nobody could deny anything. “I will,” she whispered back.

  Then she gathered her suitcase, which had been delivered to the London hotel overnight, and pulled it in the direction of registration. Thirty minutes later, she was on her wa
y to her very own glass-roofed cabin.

  And it was ah-mazing.

  The first thing CeCe did was drop her bag on the floor and hurry over to the window-encased dome at the end of the cabin. A bed sat beneath the glass, and she jumped on top of it to stare up at the sky. Though it was still daytime, it was already getting dark.

  Would this be the night that she saw the aurora borealis?

  Hopefully. But maybe not. She at least had time. Lots of time, and she would see them, dammit.

  For once in her life, one of her dreams was going to come true.

  Sighing at the oh-so-lovely thought, she pushed off the bed and set about hanging up her jacket and tucking away her clothes. Then she cranked up the sauna—her cabin had a private one—because that seemed like a very Finnish thing to do.

  Later she would walk over to the restaurant for dinner before double-checking the forecast.

  Solar activity was predicted to be low for the next few days, but CeCe didn’t plan on letting that stop her.

  She’d tape her eyelids open if necessary.

  Her clothes ended up in a pile near the bed, but she didn’t bother picking them up. She could be messy for once and not worry that she would potentially be setting a bad example for her charges.

  Naked, she strode toward the sauna and had just sat on the wooden bench, ladle of water in her hand, ready to dump over the hot rocks, when there was a knock on the door.

  “Dammit,” she muttered and spooned the water onto the rocks before standing and reaching for a towel that was hanging outside the door. It was probably a staff member, having forgotten to tell her something important.

  The steam hit her skin and beads of moisture slid down her chest, between her breasts and lower, between her thighs.

  She was hot and wet all over, but that had been a common problem of hers of late.

  “Seriously,” she muttered and headed for the door, throwing it open without glancing through the peephole.

  Which was seriously an idiotic thing to do.

  Because standing on the other side of the door wasn’t a staff member with a forgotten bit of advice or a slightly pesky query.