Billionaire's Bombshell

by Sienna Valentine

  “I don’t know what you were so worked up about,” Parker said to me on the drive home. “Everybody was really nice.”

  “Yeah, now,” I snorted in reply. “You should’ve seen us a few years ago. Incest, drugs, and rock n’ roll were all the rage.”

  Parker rolled her eyes at me, which was a gesture I got used to over the next few months. She and Thom ran their story on me and Senator MacFarlane, and by extension, the illegal fighting rings I’d been a part of. I was a local celebrity for a bit after that, and the senator himself made it a point to have a photo op with me, once my face didn’t look like chopped liver. I heard a few weeks later that there’d been a whole bunch of raids that went down at the same time, a blitz on the underground fighting world. Vic hadn’t been part of it. Apparently, he’d skipped town. Asshole.

  Karma eventually caught up with him, though. Apparently Thom had been keeping his eye out for any news, any new fighting circuits popping up in neighboring states. About half a year after I quit fighting, Vic fucked with the wrong ex-SEAL and got his head bashed in. He was trying to run the same scam he’d run back here, only now that there was a story about it out there on the Internet, his next victims figured it out before he could get them under his thumb. Vic ended up a vegetable rotting in a hospital somewhere, and it took a little while, but I eventually felt sorry for the guy. If he was dead, that wouldn’t have been so bad. But trapped in your body, unable to think, unable to do all the things you used to do, just pissin’ and shittin’ and droolin’ all over yourself day in, day out? That wasn’t living. That was hell.

  I wouldn’t have wished that fate on my worst enemy. But there was nothing I could do. I’d tried to warn him, in my own way. And some leopards just never changed their spots.

  The money I’d saved up, plus what Vic had left me with, gave me some time to think about what I wanted to do with my life. After a lot of thought, I realized that the reason I’d enjoyed my time in the Marines so much wasn’t because I was out there fighting for my life, but because I was making a difference for people back home. I was impacting lives with my service, ensuring that a new generation of Americans could enjoy the freedoms I always had. Or at least, that was what I’d told myself out in the desert all those years. When you were living the reality of a tour of duty, you didn’t really dwell too much on politics. You just towed the line.

  I wanted to feel that way again, and this time, I didn’t want to get anyone hurt or killed. But I was still a fighter at heart, and I always would be. So what could I do?

  Parker introduced me to the idea of teaching others how to defend themselves. And after a little research, I’d landed myself a job as a mentor teaching at-risk youths the fine art of boxing. I had to modify the program a little, of course—some things I was just better off not teaching to kids—but it ended up a huge success, both for the kids and for me. My class was the most popular one the local rec center offered, and my students all seemed to be getting a lot out of it. That was enough for me.

  Shit, though, it was so weird to think of myself as a teacher, when a year ago I’d been convinced I would never do anything but destroy people. Now I was building them up, making them into better versions of themselves every day. I was their rock as much as they were mine. We were all just taking it one day at a time.

  And Parker? Things with her turned out even more amazing than I could have hoped for.

  After she ran the story with Thom, her boss, Melanie Cartwright, had offered her a better position at The Spill. But Parker ended up getting an offer from The Daily Bazaar, a way more upscale news outlet that came with a private office and a damn fine pay raise, too. She missed the hell out of working with Thom for the first few months after she left, but then one of the sportscasters at the Bazaar got canned for putting webcams in the women’s restrooms, and upon Parker’s glowing recommendation, they hired Thom. She’d felt like she owed it to him, she said, but I think deep down, she just missed her friend.

  She got a lot of attention from other places, too. A lot of talk shows and shit wanted to interview her, to talk to the woman who’d exposed the seedy underbelly of underground fighting, and all that bull. Not that Parker hadn’t done exactly that, but the way everyone stalked her for months on end was a little frustrating for both of us. And then some asshole got it into his head that he could get his big break by “exposing” Parker for impropriety—basically alleging that her special relationship with me had tainted her judgment and the facts. I offered to find this fuckwit and make him take it back, but Parker just rolled her eyes and said it was part of the job. Besides, Thom ended up rooting the guy out, and I’m not sure what he said, but whatever it was, Parker was never bothered again. I’d respected the guy before, but he really impressed me that day.

  Everything had really fallen into place. Parker and I slowed down a little and decided to leave the family planning for later. Once we got past the “fucking like rabbits” stage, we saw things a little more clearly. And anyway, there was already going to be a new addition to the family soon. Iris just announced she was pregnant, which kind of almost meant I was going to be an uncle. Slade was too, sort of, and a dad. You can bet I gave him as much shit as possible for that, too.

  It felt so good to move forward. I was a mentor to kids like me now, playing the part of the big brother I’d always wanted, but had to grow up without. I was making a difference in people’s lives, and for once it was a positive one, one that made me feel genuinely good about myself.

  And things with Parker just couldn’t have been better. Well, I guess maybe they could’ve been a little better, because next week, after Thom and Andy’s wedding, I was going to propose to her. Thom had been ecstatic when I told him. He’d even helped me plan it out to ensure Parker got the most romantic moment she could have hoped for.

  Things were changing. But no matter what happened, as long as I had Parker at my side, I knew I could handle it. With her, I was safe. I was home.

  Life was good.

  Bonus Book 5 - Trust

  This final full length bonus novel is also one I co-wrote with Aubrey St. Clair. However the follow-up novel to it, Silver and Chrome, was written by Aubrey herself and is something you should consider reading if you enjoy this one.

  Chapter 1

  "If I win, I get the girl."

  It was said so matter-of-factly that it didn't register with me until I heard it a second time, after Harrison asked him to repeat it.

  "You're in over your head, kid, that much is obvious," the other man continues, eying the small stack of chips left in front of my boyfriend meaningfully. He had just shoved a large stack of his own chips into the pot that more than eclipsed what Harrison had in front of him. "Instead of risking what you have left, which isn't much, I'm suggesting we change the stakes. You win, you get everything in the pot."

  With the chips he had just added, that would more than cover the heavy losses Harrison had accumulated in the last couple of days. "But if I win, the girl comes home with me."

  This time I knew I heard what he said and it sounded just as ludicrous as it did originally. Obviously he was joking, or crazy, if he thought Harrison would agree to something like that.

  The man lifts the dark sunglasses he's wearing up and off his face as he shifts his gaze up to me. His eyes are a cobalt blue, sitting beneath short blond hair and above a finely chiseled, unshaven jaw. Under normal circumstances he'd be drop dead gorgeous, but the fact that he is calmly trying to negotiate a price for my ass makes him decidedly less so.

  I glance down at Harrison who is also looking up at me. I expect to see a familiar grin on his lips, the one that tells me we are both sharing the same joke. But what I see is something else entirely. One of his eyebrows is raised, and his green eyes are staring at me intently, as if he is either considering this ludicrous proposal or asking for my permission.

  I shake my head slightly with a frown, annoyed that I even need to give my opinion on the matter.

  Harrison lo
oks back at the poker player across from him. "Deal," he finally says.

  It's just a single word, but it's the only one needed to crash my whole world.

  So many things seem to happen at once in the moments that follow, my senses seem to jumble with time itself and I don't even know in what order everything occurs.

  There's a collective gasp that comes from onlookers, both those sitting at the table and others who are just standing around watching. For some reason, a lot of people are drawn to this game, despite the fact that until this particular bet, the stakes haven't been abnormally high.

  Cards are flipped, but I'm no longer paying attention to what they are. Despite Harrison's love of the game, and gambling in general, I've never taken any big interest in poker. The important point is, once the hand is over, the reaction from everyone around us tells me all I need to know.

  Harrison has lost.

  As soon as the cards are turned he's on his feet, explaining the unexplainable. "Unbelievable! There's no way I thought he had a boat there, baby. I thought for sure I had him, and then all of our troubles would have been solved. I'd have won all my money back in one hand!"

  All of our troubles? He convinced me to come with him on this trip using a lie about working on our relationship, but ever since we've landed he's spent all of his time at the poker tables. He lost money yesterday, and I'm pretty sure he went back after I fell asleep and lost some more.

  Harry is still talking, still trying to explain, but I'm too stunned to listen as I stare down at the table and the stranger sitting across from us. The dealer has shoved the huge pile of chips toward him in a messy assortment of hard, plastic, primary colors, but he's ignoring them as if they aren't worth thousands of dollars. Instead, he's watching me behind an expressionless mask of blue eyes and blond stubble. I wrench my gaze away and back to Harrison. He's still talking. Still explaining. I haven't heard much, but I don't need to. I've had enough. I don't need to listen anymore. I've spent too long listening in the past. I can recite the excuses by heart.

  "You gambled me away," I say simply. It isn't any more complex than that.

  He shakes his head, still in denial over what seems so undeniable to me now. We're done.

  "Lila," he begins, but I shake my head again.

  "Don't."

  I can't imagine a single thing he can say right now to change the way I feel. In my mind, the last few months have been leading up to something like this. An inevitability that I've been trying to ignore, but now that it's here, I already feel strangely calm about.

  Of course, in my mind I hadn't imagined it would go down like this. Thousands of miles from home, having my boyfriend of the last seven months casually gamble me away to a complete stranger for the equivalent of a few thousand dollars. Yet in a way, it makes sense. At least in terms of my relationship with Harrison.

  But it leaves me without a plan forward. Our flight home isn't until Monday morning and it's only Friday night. I have no intention of going back to the hotel with Harrison now. It would give him the wrong idea. This needs to end, and I have no intention of letting him talk me out of it again. This betrayal is the final straw. He's hurt me for the last time and, despite being at peace with the decision, I'm still so angry I want to hurt him back.

  I look over at the other player. He's still watching me with that handsome but expressionless face. Still ignoring the pile of money in front of him. Other people are watching as well, many of them whispering to each other. I just want to get out of there.

  "What's your name?" I ask, finally addressing him.

  The whispering grows louder, a few people exchanging questioning looks as if my question is any more ludicrous than the rest of the last 15 minutes have been. The corner of his mouth curls up into a little half smirk, and his blue eyes continue the smile.

  "Chase," he says. "Chase Anderson."

  "Okay, Chase Anderson. Get me the hell out of here."

  Chapter 2

  "I'm not sleeping with you," I say as I step inside the doorway of Chase's penthouse suite. It's actually the second time I've said that to him, although the first time I remember there being more conviction behind the words. It would be easier if he wasn't so gorgeous. And I wasn't so angry.

  The first time had been in the elevator on the ride up. It was right after I wondered how crazy I was to be alone with this handsome stranger who had essentially just won me in a poker game, and right before two young guys got on and acted like they were in the presence of greatness. What the fuck was that all about, anyway? They knew his name and even asked him to sign the back of a receipt they had on them. Said they were big fans. Of what, exactly?

  Chase's hotel room is bigger than my apartment back home, and clearly the decorating budget greatly eclipsed the $500 that my roommate and I had scraped together.

  The room Harry and I were staying in had a bed and a desk that were fighting for space next to a small window. This room doesn't even have a bed or a desk. Those items must be in one of the other rooms which branch off from here. The only things in this room are couches, carpets and paintings which face a big flat screen television on one wall and curtains lining the edge of another.

  Chase is tapping on a touchscreen pad on an end table, and suddenly the curtains begin to pull themselves back to reveal a breathtaking view.

  "Wow," I breathe. I can't help but be impressed with the sight and take a few steps toward it. The windows are floor to ceiling and we're looking out over the brightly lit Las Vegas strip. The MGM Grand and Monte Carlo hotels are closest, but I can also see the sprawling City Center down below.

  "I never get tired of seeing this."

  I jump at the sound of his voice which is close enough to my ear that I can feel the hotness of his breath as he stands behind me. He's closer than he should be. Closer than he needs to be. I'm surprised that I don't have an overwhelming urge to step away. I should. Harrison and I haven't even been split for half an hour.

  Truth is, things haven't been working for a while. This trip was against my better judgment, but he argued that it would be good for us to get away. That it would bring us closer together. It was obviously just an excuse for him to go and feed his addiction. Things had been headed in this direction for a while. I don't even remember the last time he and I had sex. Even longer since we've made love.

  "Would you like a drink..." he hangs the sentence in midair, as if waiting for me to fill something in.

  I turn to look at him, his blue eyes probing into me immediately as he waits. I suddenly feel my cheeks redden as I realize what he's waiting for.

  "Lila," I finally say. Shit. I haven't even told this guy my name. Where is my head tonight?

  "Beautiful," he smiles. His teeth are straight and white, a traditional Colgate smile. Is there nothing about this guy that isn't perfect? Blond, blue eyed, perfect teeth, apparently rich and possibly famous. What the hell was he thinking trying to buy me in a card game? Or win me.

  Is there a difference?

  "Uh, I'm not sure if that's a good idea. I was just thinking maybe I should go." I wasn't thinking anything of the sort, but that's what I should be thinking. He's still closer than he needs to be. Close enough that I can feel the heat from his body caress mine.

  He raises an eyebrow. "Where?"

  Is it that obvious that I have nowhere to go?

  "You're from out of town, right?" He shrugs as I nod. "Tourists are obvious sometimes. But I assume you've been staying with... your boyfriend, right?"

  I nod again. He has a casual arrogance, like he knows everything already. Problem is, he's dead on so far. He seems to know a lot more about me than I know about him. Although now that I've been staring at his face it is starting to seem vaguely familiar. Certainly not Hollywood A list familiar, but I've seen him somewhere.

  "You aren't going to go back to him, are you? After all, he did gamble you away in a poker game."

  "I recall you being part of that wager," I snap back. I'm not defending Harrison,
but I feel sensitive about it. Embarrassed, really. I take a step back, putting some distance between us. I decide to push my anger back at him. "Do you often make bets to win girls?"

  Chase purses his lips as his eyes flit across the newly created gap between our bodies. "I make a living taking advantage of situations where I know I have an edge. To do that you have to know the value of things, and only take risks with something you can afford, or are willing to lose - generally with the knowledge that what you have to gain is far greater than what you've put at risk.

  "Your boyfriend had lost more money than he could afford. And then he risked something that he shouldn't have been willing to lose to simply get back what he shouldn't have lost in the first place. I was in no such position. I could afford to lose the money, and my potential reward was far greater."