Faking It with the Billionaire Next Door: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Jolie Day

  Not unless I’ve lost my damned mind! I thought to myself, shaking my head at him. I could barely see him past the headlight of his bike.

  “Get on.” He gestured with his hand, his voice harsh through the rain.

  I stepped toward him but hesitated.

  “You’re bleeding. I won’t hurt you. Get on, quick.” This time, his voice was even louder.

  I’m…bleeding? I wondered in surprise, checking myself over to see exactly where. I couldn’t see much. My clothes were muddy from falling, and it looked black in the darkness.

  “I’ll get you to safety. They’re going to come back with their gang. Do you want that?”

  I had no choice. Damn it.

  I didn’t want to die at the hands of two degenerate thugs—or worse.

  Although the biker somewhat terrified me, I forced my feet toward him. Guess I’ve lost my mind after all. I decided I had to embrace that pulsing sense of danger. I swung my leg over the bike and sat my butt down. The feel of the leather seat was soft against my bare inner thighs, and the feeling of the machine vibrating beneath me sent a shiver racing through my body. He kicked down and the engine roared louder.

  That sound. Oh, God.

  He was strong. Firm. Solid. I threaded my arms under his shoulders and laid my palms flat against his chest. That chest was rock hard, and the touch of the wet leather of his jacket under my hands was strangely calming. I bit my lip. The lead biker revved his engine once more and took off, tearing out of the alley. I ducked my head and pressed it against his back to avoid the cold sting of the rain, amplified by the swift movement of the bike. From my position, I wasn’t sure where he was taking me, and I only hoped it was someplace safe.

  When he sped up, I was propelled backward and the speed caused me to lose my breath all over again. I had to lean closer to the biker to keep my grip on him, and now my breasts were pressed firmly against his back.

  I had been worried about so many things—about taking off with a stranger, about riding a fast vehicle, about having no protective clothing. Anything could happen. Maybe I can slip away the moment he slows the bike down, I thought, but I doubted it. I felt light-headed and stunned with shock. Chances were that if I left his bike at any point, I wouldn’t make it two steps before tripping and falling over into a solid face-plant. Wouldn’t that be lovely? I just didn’t trust myself enough to get away to safety on my own. I had to put my trust in the stranger, despite how I felt about the whole situation. But, as the wind snatched the band from my hair and sent it flying out behind me in a wild auburn wave, and the bike beneath me sent regular shudders shooting through my body, I held onto the strong, rigid form of the man in front of me, none of those worries mattered. I’d never felt so free, I’d never felt so excited, and I’d never felt so scared.

  Eventually, the biker slowed outside a large hotel. I looked up from his jacket to see lights welcome us up a winding path toward a massive building. I frowned as the biker revved his motor and coasted up the pathway, wondering if he was sneaking in somewhere.

  The biker headed up the path and stopped outside the hotel’s back entrance. I gazed at the misty lights filtering from the windows. The man switched off the engine, and I carefully climbed off as he pushed down the kickstand.

  I placed both feet on the ground and then swayed.

  The world tilted.

  I fell backward.

  The last thing I felt were two powerful hands grabbing and holding me before darkness consumed me.

  I awoke in an unfamiliar room with an unfamiliar face staring down at me. For a moment I panicked, thinking I’d been kidnapped. The bed I was lying on was massive and adorned with silk sheets and a feather-soft comforter. A deep burgundy canopy surrounded me, and a middle-aged woman was at my side, picking up a bandage wrapper that was sitting on the side of the bed. I blinked and stared in confusion.

  The woman gazed at me for a moment. “I’m Dr. Ward. How are you feeling?”

  I raised my arm to touch my head, but the doctor caught my wrist. “It seems you hit your head, but you’ll be fine. Still, it’s best if you rest. The bleeding was from a superficial wound and didn’t require stitches. You were only out for five-to-ten minutes, give or take. Fainting is common and usually not serious, typically brought on by emotional stress. Emotions like fear, pain, anxiety, or shock can cause one’s blood pressure to drop to the point where they faint. Have you ever fainted before?”

  Seriously, that was a lot of information to process when I’d just opened my eyeballs—and she talked really fast. Was it too soon to ask for coffee? Probably. Sigh. “Um, yes, one or two times—well, rarely, only when I’m overly stressed, though.”

  “Okay, but if you feel your dizziness increase, or if you start feeling sick, or your heartbeat becomes irregular, you should call immediately. I also recommend contacting your doctor to get that checked out, just to be on the safe side.”

  When did I hit my head? I wondered, still feeling groggy. I wanted to ask the question, but I knew this woman wouldn’t be able to give me an answer. She hadn’t been there after all.

  “Where am I?” I asked instead.

  The woman seemed sympathetic to my state. “You’re at the Regal Heights Hotel.” I gave her a questioning expression—I’d never heard of the place. “You were picked up and brought here to safety. I’m a guest, and was down in the lobby when you were rushed in. I was informed that you were attacked about a block from the Sandmeier Museum.”

  I nodded. “Yes. I work there as a waitress. Late shift. I was just trying to get home.”

  The woman stood from her crouched position on the bed, brushing the canopy out of the way, and rose to her feet. “Well, try to take it easy. It’s best if you stay in bed for a few more hours.” She patted my arm. “Get a good night’s rest.”

  “Thank you.” I watched as the woman took her leave out the polished oak door and closed it behind her.

  I sighed, glancing around the room.

  Everything was immaculately kept, but the room was mostly without decoration. There was a large closet directly across from the foot of the bed, and out of the corner of my eye, I took note of a crimson rug positioned on the floor. I wanted definitive answers, other than I was “just in some hotel.” I wanted to know who the man was, the biker who’d saved me last night. Would I ever see him again?

  I took my time, slowly peeling the covers off my legs. Someone had dressed me in dry clothes. I now wore a lacy, long silken nightgown. I guessed it was nice of whoever had gotten me out of my drenched uniform I’d been wearing earlier. I had my panties on but wasn’t wearing a bra—I’d taken that sucker off and stuffed it in my purse before I left work. The underwire popped out earlier in my shift and had been poking me in the side-boob all damn day. Oh, God. Someone had seen my breasts. Awesome. See? All-around crap day. Well, at least I didn’t die…

  I gradually slid my bare feet to the edge of the bed and rose. My head twinged with a slight ache, forcing a subtle pounding to settle across my hairline and around my ears.

  I pulled my hair away from my shoulders and accidentally brushed against the band-aid near my temple. Oww! Don’t touch it, dummy. I stepped to the door and opened it, peeking out into the hall.

  “The persistent type, aren’t you?” The voice startled me—it was deep and familiar.

  I hadn’t expected anyone. Least of all him. I recognized the voice as belonging to the biker from earlier that night. I took stock of the man standing in front of me: white shirt and black leather pants. His powerful arms were folded against his chest. He was tall and extraordinarily well-built. I tried not to lick my lips. I failed.

  “First, you walk past a shady alley in the middle of a rainstorm in the dead of night, and then you get out of bed without assistance, even after I’m sure Dr. Ward told you to stay put.”

  I stepped further into the hallway. “Who undressed me?”

  I was able to see him a bit better now and noticed his eyes. They were the color of
a soul-piercing blue, and surprisingly kind, despite his rough appearance. He had a hard stare, but his face was remarkably handsome. He had a dimple in his chin (one I wanted to touch—down, girl), a long and thin nose and gently arching eyebrows.

  He unfolded his arms as he looked me up and down, his eyes lingering for a millisecond on my breasts. “Dr. Ward. Your modesty is still intact.” He gave me a sexy half-grin. “Are you feeling better? You took a hit.”

  “The doctor said the same thing, but I don’t remember it.” Thank God it was the doctor who’d undressed me and not “Mr. Tall Dark and Yummy.”

  “That’s no surprise. You fainted. I’d say you might have a little memory loss—you had a rough night. I mean, it’s possible, but I’m no doctor. Don’t worry, though, I informed the cops. It’s best if you make a formal statement once you’re feeling better. Other than that, you didn’t miss anything major.” He gave me a mischievous smile and winked. “You still remember who I am.”

  “That’s the thing, though, I don’t. I remember you scaring off those thugs, but I don’t know anything about you.”

  “They’re probably a lot more than thugs. I’m Marcus Willingham.”

  “Eleanor Rawson.” I was relieved to finally be able to put a name with his face. “Is this … do you live here?”

  He shrugged. “Sort of.”

  It certainly hadn’t seemed like a place for some rough and tough biker to live. “Who owns it?”

  At this, Marcus dragged his gaze to mine and kept it there. “I do.”

  I drew my brows together in a frown. I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry, it’s just hard for me to pair this place with you.”

  He chuckled. It was low and rich, and actually racked me with shivers. They weren’t from fear, but rather of interest. Marcus had a strange sort of magnetic feeling to him that made me want to step a little closer.

  “Weren’t you ever told you can’t judge a book by its cover?”

  The question should have embarrassed me, but I felt too out of sync with reality to really care at that moment whether I was being awkward in conversation or not. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m still just trying to get over the shock of what happened tonight.”

  “Eleanor—”

  I smiled. “Please, call me Ella.”

  “Ella, we should get you back to bed.” He stepped to the door and rested his arm on my back to escort me inside. His touch sent a shiver of—Holy shit! Desire?—skating down my spine.

  His manly scent was intoxicating.

  Marcus kicked the door shut behind us. Despite still feeling disoriented, I was grateful for his strength. I was craving the man before me, but his strong arms held me in place. As intimidating as he was, there was something very (and I mean very) breathtaking about him.

  Yep, that’s definitely desire for a man I just met. I’m in trouble.

  “I should’ve asked my boss to give me a ride home,” I mumbled to break the uncomfortable silence and to clear my naughty thoughts. “Then I wouldn’t be here burdening you.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not. Tomorrow, you’ll be good as new. For now, I want you to take it easy. Is there anything else you need?” His eyes pierced mine.

  Oh, shit. Was he leaning in?

  “To be honest, I want to … I mean … thank you.” I sounded like a bumbling idiot.

  I felt weak. Oh, those blue eyes. I could get lost in them. So gorgeous and so very deep. For some reason, his gaze sent a hot sensation throughout my body, directly to my center, and I felt a tingle between my legs. God, what the hell is wrong with me? I wondered and wanted to slap myself silly. I hardly knew this man. I’d never in my life slept with a man on the first night, not to mention after, well, being mugged. I fought hard to understand what I was feeling—and why. Okay, so he was freaking panty-melting hot. And he had that ruggedness about him that made a girl want to swoon… But that only happened in movies, right? Nope. I was a goner. I began to feel light-headed, but not from “physical” weakness.

  He brought his arms around me, holding me close to him, and I basked in the strength of his embrace and hardness of his chest. All the pent-up feelings, the excitement and stress, the fear and confusion fell from me.

  I lifted my head, and in response, Marcus dipped his.

  His presence was warm and inviting.

  “You…” I began, feeling small and fragile under his stare.

  “Pssst,” Marcus whispered, tilting and lowering his head.

  I closed my eyes.

  His lips touched mine.

  Our mouths melded together in the perfect dance. They were flawlessly formed for each other. Hell, the only thing I knew about this man was that he’d saved me from God only knew what, and that he owned this hotel. Part of that scared me a little, but then another part—a much larger part—was almost thrilled by the idea. Maybe it was my dark, inner love for danger. No, that wasn’t it. I wasn’t somebody who liked, let alone loved danger. If anything, I was usually a chicken where most men were concerned.

  But why then was I wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and he reacted by pulling me closer to deepen the kiss. He held me tightly against him, staring at me. Before I knew it, he had us stumbling back to the bed. His eyes were fixed on me, like I was his prey, when he pushed me down to my back and onto the bed.

  6 Weeks Later

  Please, please, please, I thought, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. Be negative.

  I sank onto the floor and wrapped my arms tightly around myself. The tiles beneath my bare feet had warmed by this point, and yet I still felt chilled to the bone. My eyebrows knitted together as I stared at the plastic stick balanced on the edge of the tub.

  My stomach churned, and I felt another wave of nausea. Shutting my eyes, I pursed my lips and took several deep breaths through my nose until the sensation subsided.

  One deep breath.

  A second.

  A third.

  By the fourth, I was ready to pick up the stick.

  My mind went blank as I stared at the plus sign. In a single instant, my life had changed forever.

  I wasn’t sure how long I stared at the pregnancy test, but it was long enough to go from feeling nothing to everything at once. I was torn between bursting into tears and beaming with excitement.

  Being a mom had always been on the list of things I wanted to accomplish in my life. I loved children—always had, and the idea of raising my own had been one of my dreams. Later. Much later in life.

  Jacob would be thrilled. He was a good boyfriend—the nicest man I’d ever dated. He’d even brought up the possibility of getting married, even though we’d only officially started dating a month ago.

  Yes, Jacob would be a good father.

  Then, my smile faded as the memories of six weeks ago flooded to the surface.

  “Don’t question it,” he whispered. “Let yourself go.”

  I let myself give in to his delicate kisses and tender touches, relaxing on the bed. Marcus’s fingers slipped beneath my nightgown, trailing feather-light sensations across my stomach and around my hips. I shifted to allow him to remove the silky nightie, and he tossed it behind him.

  He growled playfully and pushed me back to the bed.

  I gasped as he peered down at me with a dangerous gaze. Slowly he ground himself against me, invoking another gasp from my throat.

  Everything about him invaded my senses: his smell, his sounds, his touch…

  His gaze had turned from playful to serious, and he rested his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place. He pressed heated kisses along my collarbone, trailing them between my full breasts. He stared down at me hungrily, and I felt defenseless and exposed beneath him. It filled my body with intense shudders of desire.

  Marcus’s warm palms closed over my breasts, and his fingers clasped my nipples, his thumbs brushing them over and over. When he pinched them, I twitched and jumped under his touch.

  It was almost too much to handle.

&
nbsp; Our breath had grown heavier under the intensity of the moment, and the anticipation pounded against my ribcage. Marcus paused what he was doing and straightened his back. I watched as his chest rose and fell steadily. He set his fingers to my panties and tugged them down my legs. He exposed the sensitive flesh hidden between my tender folds and lowered his mouth to taste me.

  “Oh, Marcus,” I gasped at his gentle licks and kisses against my clit. He soaked me quickly with his skilled movements. “I want you, Marcus.”

  Even in the darkness of the hotel penthouse suite, I could see his smirk. I was caught up in the moment, my body feasting on and relishing the sensations that he was giving me. With every flick of his tongue, an electric tingle shot through my femininity and into my core. Within a minute, I was wet with want and pounding on the inside, longing to be filled.

  Marcus leaned upward, removed his shirt in one fluid motion, and pressed his thumbs to the button of his pants, popping it open. He unzipped and pushed them down his thighs. His erection stood proudly from his body as he revealed himself, and I felt the throbbing in my center grow stronger as I gazed at his size. Marcus positioned himself between my legs, and I barely felt his tip against my entrance.

  Marcus pushed himself inside me. He was thick, and he stretched me to the point of pain, but it was fleeting. I tipped my head back and moaned from the movement.

  Marcus groaned from my tightness, and he wrapped one hand around the back of my head to support it. He rocked his hips steadily, sliding in and out of me.

  “You’re mine,” he whispered.

  “Ooo…ooo…yes,” I gasped.

  The sensations were out of this world, and I relaxed my body and let him take me. I whimpered his name and fought to cling to him. The throbbing inside me hurt but still felt wonderful, and it was as if my body couldn’t get enough.

  “Oh, my God,” I moaned, head falling back against the mattress.

  He withdrew slightly, only to thrust back in all the way. “Not quite, but close.”