The Billionaires and The Book Nerd: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance

by Harper West

  There was so much to do.

  And I was already thinking about all of it.

  I took another sip of my coffee, allowing the warmth to comfort me and the caffeine to wake me. As soon as I was finished, the sun was just above the horizon and my phone was buzzing on the coffee table. I set my mug down and tossed my long hair up into a lazy bun. I grabbed my phone to stop it from buzzing, sighing as I held the screen up at eye-level.

  “That's probably Brett.”

  I frowned at the screen: unknown number.

  “Maybe the library gave my personal number to a professor.”

  I dragged my finger over the green button to answer the call, holding the phone to my ear. I waited a moment before saying, “This is Ms. Kirk.”

  “Is this... Brooklyn?”

  “This is Ms. Brooklyn Kirk. How may I assist you today?”

  “This is Cooper from last night. Do you remember me?”

  I arched an eyebrow to the ceiling. How the hell had he gotten my number? “Oh, I couldn't possibly forget. What can I do for you today, Cooper?”

  “Jack and I were rather impressed with you last night.”

  “That's an interesting way to accept rejection.”

  He chuckled into the phone, briefly filling the line with static as he faded into a sigh. “We know much more about you than you think, Ms. Kirk. We've read your literary critiques in just about every published magazine in the vicinity.”

  “Have you?”

  “And we're interested in hiring you for your services.”

  I dropped my eyebrow but kept my guard up. “What kind of services would that be?”

  “We're publishing an article in our fitness magazine about the benefits of flexing the brain. We could use your expertise in the field of critical thinking as well as literature.”

  “What exactly are you playing at?”

  “I assure you that our intentions are purely professional and platonic, Ms. Kirk. We would never take advantage of your delightful brain in a way that would harm you. And we're happy to draw up a contract to assure that and to pay for your time.”

  “I'd like to hear more about this contract.”

  “The basic premise would be to retain your services for a series of interviews. Those interviews would be quoted in our article and you would get the proper credit. I realize that you may have certain feelings of resentment toward us.”

  I rolled my eyes but kept my voice professional. “And what makes you think that, Mr. Cooper?”

  “Please, just call me Cooper. I remember you from college. I remember Jack and I studying in the library when you were merely an intern. Do you remember, Ms. Kirk?”

  “Just call me Brooklyn.”

  “That would be my pleasure.”

  I attempted to hide my shock. I hadn't expected some billionaire bully of a giant to remember me, let alone a very specific encounter in a library from nearly four years ago.

  “I remember,” I admitted. “That's where we met.”

  “We were rude to you. I see that now and Jack sees that, too. We have every intention of treating you as the intelligent woman that you are if you'll allow us to pick your brain.”

  “I would have to think about that.”

  “How about dinner to sway your opinion?”

  “Dinner?” I repeated comically. “Do you think you can buy me that easily?”

  “Oh, I'm willing to try. As I recall from last night, it wasn't difficult at all to engage you in taking a bet.”

  I glowered with anger. That was for me, not for him. Didn't he realize that? Maybe I could take this even further—maybe I could embarrass them on a global scale. “Where would you propose dinner to take place?”

  “At a restaurant of your choice—literally any restaurant in the area. There are none too expensive for us to afford.”

  “Do you always flaunt your money in front of women or is it just me?”

  I heard his hesitation, but he replied, regardless, "We enjoy providing luxury to our peers."

  "That's a funny way to say, womanizer.”

  “Brooklyn, I assure you that this is all business. Whatever our reputation might look like to you, I can say for a fact that we're more than our looks. Just like you are more than your looks and your reputation.”

  He had a point. I rolled my eyes to the ceiling while letting my head fall back on the couch. I had to get up and get dressed soon. I needed to move this conversation along. “Alright, I'll bite. Let's meet for dinner and you can hand me the contract you've drawn up. I'll look it over and give you my official opinion tomorrow.”

  “Where would you like to go?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “That sounds like a trap, Miss Brook.”

  I laughed. “You won't know until you step into it.”

  “Then, I'll gladly jump forward. We'll send a car to pick you up at 7:30 PM, sharp. Dress to your comfort level and let us know if you change your mind about a specific location.”

  “I sure will.”

  “Have a lovely day, Miss Brooklyn. We'll see you soon.”

  Click.

  I tossed my phone on the coffee table, listening to it rattle against the wood.

  What exactly am I getting myself into here?

  I regarded my phone curiously, staring at it with the intention of finding out his intention. Could we really come back from that hot encounter in the closet without it becoming a thing? I mean, I could always use extra money. I wanted to write more books and travel. And these guys were billionaires. That meant what they paid me would be worth more than any awkward recollection of a sexual encounter.

  I was struck by a flash memory suddenly. I could still feel Cooper's lips on my neck, his fingers on my breasts, his breath on my skin… I felt Jack under my dress. I shivered as I gazed at the Cinderella gown hanging up in the corner of the room. It was a physical reminder of my revenge before I gave it back to Peyton. She could never know what I did in it—although she could probably take a guess.

  I shook my head.

  Silly girl, they just wanted you in the sheets. Now, they want to play professional. If you want to earn their trust, you have to play the same game.

  I had to be careful. This was a different scale, one that could have great consequences if I made the wrong move. I was confident my heart wouldn't get in the way. After all, the interviews were for the magazine. We would probably be in their office. I could leave at any point and call off the contract without fear of repercussions.

  But could I do it? Could I really take my anger to the next level?

  I rose from the couch and went to the bedroom where I gathered my clothes for work. As I peeled off my shorts and tank, I wondered what they could possibly benefit from this interaction. Would they get anything at all? I mean, it was men's fitness, not the Institute for Literature Studies. It was a different ballgame. I could feed them any nonsense and they would believe it.

  But my reputation was at stake. I had to take things easy, feed them appropriate information little by little, and then catch them in the act of womanizing. It would at least embarrass them enough for me to feel sated and no other woman would have to deal with their silly games—ever.

  Chapter 5

  Cooper

  It was business as usual.

  Fridays were typically my most productive days, consisting of all the loose ends needing to be tied up before the weekend began. I gathered the additional pages needing to be added to next month's issue of our magazine and spread them out on my desk, looking them over one last time.

  “Jack?”

  He popped his head into our office with a piece of jerky hanging out of his mouth.

  I rolled my eyes. “Have you not learned to chew your damn food?”

  “Hey, we missed lunch.”

  “Just like any other Friday. Your stomach should be accustomed to it.”

  He popped the rest of the jerky into his mouth and strolled in, sitting on the edge of my desk. “What's up, bro
ther? Are you nervous?”

  “Hardly.”

  “She's even more beautiful than when we saw her in college.”

  “That's not why I called you in here, Jack.”

  “Alright, shoot.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. After another few breaths, I gestured to the pages spread out on my desk. “These articles—can you look them over before we submit them to our department for review?”

  “Of course, buddy. I'll take them out to the--”

  “Not while you're eating. I don't want one of our typists to misspell health because of a chunk of beef jerky that fell from your mouth.”

  He laughed. “Alright, alright. Let me finish eating.”

  “Save your appetite. We have dinner in an hour.”

  “Is it that soon?" He glanced at his Armani watch. "Well, I can look these pages over later."

  “No, it has to be done now, Jack. We're on a tight schedule.”

  “Only because you want it to be tight.”

  I glared at him until he sighed and collected the papers. As he went to find a quiet place to work—somewhere that wasn't his office that I had specifically designed for him—I folded my hands in my lap and rested my head against my plush office chair. I released a slow breath and gazed at the ceiling, wondering about Brooklyn.

  She was beautiful now—there was no denying that. She had always been attractive to me, but something about the years had done something to her skin. The years of experience had softened it. Her delightfully intelligent mind had seeped into her outer shell, displaying confidence that she hadn't held years ago.

  I thought about her delicate hands and how they had felt against me. I wanted to feel them again, to tug her close and keep her close until she couldn't stand the heat. I would tease her until she broke and gave up everything she had ever previously known.

  I licked my lips.

  She's not that easy, though. She hardly broke last night. Jack and I will have to do much more than merely tease her.

  I considered the dinner we were about to have. If she thought we were up to anything funny, then we might lose her entirely. And I wasn't about to take that kind of blow. This was a delicate situation and I intended to handle it as I would any other interviewee for my magazine.

  With a few additions, of course.

  Jack popped back in. “The driver called and asked if he should go pick her up.”

  I checked the clock. Somehow, twenty minutes had gotten away from me. I nodded to Jack. “And remember, no flowers. Leave a practical gift in the car.”

  “What's practical?”

  “A book.”

  He blinked. “What kind of book?”

  “What kind do you think she would like?”

  He hummed as he tapped his chin. After a moment, a sly smile crossed his lips. “I think I could find something practical and entertaining.”

  “Please, don't put your tattered novel on that seat. She might not appreciate it.”

  “Oh, I was thinking of a collectible, something by Amelia Worthington.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “A feminist prose?”

  “Sure, why not? She's very likely read it and the edition is a first—it's worth millions.”

  “Are you sure you want to give that up to her now?”

  “I think it would indicate how serious we are.”

  I shrugged. “Alright, I'll leave that to you, brother. Just make sure it doesn't look too much like a gift. More like an offering.”

  “To a sweet goddess,” he said dreamily.

  I eyed him carefully as he shook his head and came back to reality. “Sorry, I'll get on that.”

  “Please.”

  He disappeared again and I was left alone with my thoughts. I needed to freshen up. I stood from my desk and went to the miniature bathroom in my office, the one I had installed for these moments. I washed my hands, my face, and then fixed my hair, making sure I smelled like a billion dollars before leaving.

  When I met Jack in the hallway, he held up a thumb. “It's done.”

  “Excellent—let's see if she takes the bait. Do you have the contract?”

  “In my case. Did she say where to meet her?”

  “She sent a text suggesting the Italian restaurant on Fourth and Main.”

  Jack wrinkled up his nose. “Really? That place?”

  “Is it not fancy enough for you, Jack?”

  “No, it's just... that's like the smallest Mom and Pop place ever.”

  “We did leave it up to her. Maybe she's testing us.”

  “So, we should dress down?”

  I shook my head and gestured to the elevators. We headed in that direction, waving at our employees as we passed. “We'll show up as if we just came from work. That way, it's not odd to be wearing a suit, but we keep it casual.”

  “So, take off the jacket.”

  “Bingo.”

  Jack shoved the down button for the elevator. I listened to the hum of the machine as the cab came up to get us. I thought about what Brooklyn might be wearing and shivered.

  It's a professional game that I intend to win, I reminded myself. I won't let my heart get involved. Jack vowed to do the same. It's just a deal—nothing more.

  The restaurant loomed before us as we drew up to the sidewalk. I had removed my jacket and was wearing a dark blue dress shirt with the first button undone. I had also removed my favorite watch just so I wouldn't pick up too many stares. We were in a district that we didn't often visit, so I wasn't worried about us being recognized. Although I was sure some of our employees lived in the area, we weren't likely to see them. They were still back at the office working overtime.

  I held the door for Jack and he nodded while walking in. We spotted Brooklyn at a table in the back. She raised her chin toward us with a smile but didn't wave. As we walked past the hostess, the heavenly smell of home-cooked Italian food met my nostrils and prompted my stomach to growl.

  I sat down in the chair across from Brooklyn and hid the fact that I was rubbing my stomach. So, I was starting to feel the fact that we missed lunch—but I wouldn't ever admit that to Jack.

  I grinned at Brooklyn. “This is a nice place.”

  “I figured you would enjoy the food more than the sights.”

  “Oh, we like the sights,” Jack remarked with a smirk. “They're beautiful.”

  She hardly responded, retaining her grin as if she did this sort of thing all the time. She leaned against her hand while planting an elbow on the table. “So, do you have a contract for me?”

  “Why don't we order food first?” I suggested. “We missed lunch today.”

  Jack elbowed me. “This guy hates admitting that.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. Jack could be such a trying character in the presence of a lady, but I kept myself under control. Cool and calm—as always. “Food will help charge us up for our discussion.”

  “I think that's fair. I had a big dinner earlier, so I won't be having much, but I highly suggest the eggplant parmesan. It's incredible.”

  The waiter appeared to take our order. I did my best not to be flashy, ordering a simple bottle of red wine for the table instead of my usual champagne. We ordered a basket of breadsticks and whatever soup of the day they offered. When the waiter was gone, I returned my attention to Brooklyn.

  I studied her features—she was so difficult to read—and tried to discern whether that smile was sarcastic or genuine. Her personality seemed as rigid as it was in college, yet there was something different about it that I couldn't quite place.

  Her smile widened. “So, tell me about this article.”

  “We want to engage our readers to work out their bodies as well as their minds,” I explained. “Vanity can only take a man so far.”

  “And what about pride?”

  I chuckled with amusement. “That takes a man a shorter distance than vanity.”

  “Do you agree that your magazine can often encourage young men to have unrealisti
c ideals about what their bodies should look like?”

  “That sounds like a trick question.”

  “I assure you I'm very serious about my question.”

  Jack leaned forward. “We provide accurate information to our readers about the benefits of keeping the body in shape. This includes a healthy diet that doesn't restrict calories paired with an exercise regime that is suitable to their individual needs.”

  “And how do you determine their individual needs?”

  “We listen to our readers,” I replied. “We ask them what they want to know and then we provide that information. It has made us quite successful.”

  “What would an article discussing brain health do to influence your readers?”

  Jack gestured as he explained, “We project that it would encourage our audience to read more. That would really put you into business, wouldn't it, Cooper?”

  “It certainly would,” I agreed. “Our youth has become easily connected to sources through the internet. I think providing them more sources—like public libraries and book events—would help them to learn, to grow, and to strengthen their bodies.”

  “You have an interesting view on our male youth, Cooper,” she remarked while the waiter set down the breadsticks in the center of the table. “But what about our female youth?”

  “Our publication is for men.”

  “But say a girl did pick up your magazine—what kind of view would she have of boys and men from reading your stories?”

  Jack and I exchanged a look.

  “I ask because you left me quite an interesting piece of prose on the seat of the car that picked me up,” she continued. “And I wanted to know if you even read the book.”

  Jack cleared his throat. “Worthington discusses the influence of the sexes upon each other—how girls impress boys and boys impress girls. She summarizes perfectly the way our culture has enforced gender roles that have long fallen to the past. To truly be equal in the future, our people must work together.”

  “And how would we do that, Jack? How would a men's magazine do that?”

  “By encouraging our readers to listen to the women in their lives,” I responded. “And by prompting them to question cultural norms.”