Taming the Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle

by Sierra Rose

  “I’m sorry?” I had to clarify. It was absolutely not what I expected him to say. “You said you wanted to go with a stranger? Did you not hear what I just—”

  “You just said that a stranger would be awkward, but professional,” he summarized briskly. “A mutually beneficial arrangement. One with no real emotion, everything would be staged. Am I understanding that correctly?”

  I cringed a bit at the curt way he was talking—already feeling sorry to help facilitate putting him in such a position—but I nodded as well. Yes, that was entirely correct.

  “Good.” He pushed to his feet without another word, dusting off his pants. “In that case, why don’t you come up with a list of names, and we’ll go through them tomorrow. Or better yet,” he suddenly reconsidered, “why don’t you just pick someone for me. You’re better at that sort of thing...”

  He fell suddenly silent, waiting expectantly, and I hurried to push to my feet as well.

  “Uh—yes, of course. I can have someone ready by the end of the day.”

  He nodded once, then started walking away.

  “Excellent. Thank you, Abigail.”

  My jaw fell open as I watched him leave. Watched until he disappeared around the corner at the end of the street. He’d left the Dior bag behind. As well as an untouched cup of coffee.

  ...Abigail?

  Chapter 12

  I SPENT THE REST OF that evening going over lists of names in my apartment back in Brooklyn. My own little agrarian society come to life. The Dior bag sat untouched on the bed beside me, the only thing I’d removed was the purse. The dress itself had been dumped to the bottom of the bag. In a strange act of contrition, I’d refused to even look.

  “A girl for Nick, a girl for Nick...”

  I chanted it under my breath as I scrolled through a list of possible names. I’d cast a wide net and there were a lot to choose from. Actresses. Models. Aristocracy. I’d even thrown in one or two ‘every day trust fund daughters’ just for balance. It was an impressive list.

  More importantly, it was a long list. One that was enough to sufficiently distract me from whatever it was that had happened that day.

  As a woman trained to examine a situation from every possible angle, under every possible lens, I was failing at a spectacular level to understand. No matter how many times I played it back in my head. No matter how many times I reviewed his exact words, I couldn’t get them to make sense.

  The disconnect was in three places.

  One: I had no idea in the world why Nick had suddenly decided to buy me all those things in the first place. Close as we’d become—that couldn’t be farther from our usual dynamic.

  Two: I had no idea what had made him suddenly cave to his father’s pressure, then get so business-like and cold. If there were two things that Nick was not, it was business-like and cold.

  Three: I had NO idea at ALL what had made him go with the ‘stranger’ option.

  Nick hated being scrutinized in this way. It was one thing when he was calling the shots himself. When he was the one parading around and making a spectacle. But when he wasn’t? When he was an openly acknowledged pawn in someone else’s game? He quite simply didn’t allow it to happen.

  And now here he was, agreeing to fake smile, fake kiss, fake date, and fake selfie with some random stranger all to appease dear ‘ole dad? It didn’t make any sense.

  At least, if he had paired up with one of his more tolerable exes, there would have been a genuine spark. Some history, and old feelings to fall back on. He would have felt like he was part of the game as well—fooling the paparazzi, misleading the press—instead of a puppet on parade.

  No, nothing about today made any kind of sense. But for the moment, I didn’t have the luxury to dwell. For one of the first times in history, Nick had given me an ‘assignment.’ I would find a girl for him—and she would be absolutely perfect for the part.

  ...but maybe not perfect for him.

  The idea seized me like a drug. Crushing and empowering at the same time. Knocking down all sense and reason. Sweeping me away before I had the slightest clue that I was even in danger of falling.

  I don’t know what made me do it. I don’t know what made me lean forward with a smile, read the profile in front of me, and pick up the phone to call.

  I have NO IDEA what I was thinking, creating a match like this.

  It was crazy. It was job-suicide. It was borderline cruel.

  All I know, is that I fell asleep that night with a smile on my face. The Dior bag tucked safely beneath my bed.

  Chapter 13

  I GOT TO THE OFFICE early the next morning. A place that I hadn’t been since the afternoon before my tragic date. My team hadn’t even arrived yet, and for a few rare moments, I had the place all to myself.

  It was well-suited to me. The entire floor of an office-building in Manhattan within walking distance of either coffee or alcohol—depending on the day. Designed to fit my tastes.

  Elegant. Professional. With just a touch of flair to add that extra pop.

  In my case, the ‘flair’ was a gourmet espresso machine that I’d written off for tax purposes, claiming it was a necessary tool for my job.

  A little excessive? Perhaps. But that was my life now. It had been my life ever since I’d signed my new contract and come to work that very first day.

  Working with the Hunter Corporation, meant a professional upgrade. And in the land of public relations, a professional upgrade meant you got yourself a team. With the Hunter family behind me, it wasn’t hard to do. For people in my line of work—the Hunters were the dream, and not two weeks after I started working with Nick, I had an office with a full-time staff of twelve people at my beck and call.

  Of course, Nick had refused to work with any of them himself. But when it came to crafting a public image, much less an image as convoluted and high-profile as his, there was a lot of behind-the-scenes work that needed to be taken care of.

  For that—I had the team. For everything else—I was your girl.

  “Morning, Abigail!” Jake Harmon, the first person I’d hired after I’d been granted a discretionary budget to do so, interrupted my quiet contemplation. “Didn’t expect you in today.”

  I glanced up at the clock.

  “Thought I’d get an early start. Plenty to do, after all.”

  I’d texted my team late last night. It might have been about two in the morning when I’d made my final selection—but there wasn’t a shadow of doubt in my mind that all twelve of them were still awake and working. If they weren’t—they’d better get awake and working.

  “Yeah,” he chuckled, making a beeline for the coffee maker, “I got your text.”

  I handed him down a mug and took a sip myself.

  Not the best. Certainly nothing like Nick’s. We could do with another upgrade.

  “But that’s exactly why I’m surprised to see you here,” he continued. “I’m working up a full press packet for the girl, but don’t you have to go meet her?”

  I shook my head, shrugged an innocent shoulder, and waltzed into my office with a secret little smile. The same smile that had been dancing around my face since two in the morning.

  The girl’s name was Ella Campbell. And I would be meeting her here. In this office.

  The location might have been seen as a slap in the face by those sensitive enough to take it that way. To an up-and-coming model like Ella, a person with a giant egotistical chip on her shoulder, it would most certainly be taken that way. But considering that of the two people in the equation, I represented Nicholas Hunter—I felt I had the leverage to call the shots.

  And to be frank, a little slap in the face might be exactly what the doctor ordered if I was introducing her to Nick later that day. I wanted her bitchy. I wanted her fuming.

  I circled around my desk and leaned back in my chair with that same little smile. Already, I could hear an argument at the security gate, as I’d failed to put Campbell’s name on the list.
>
  Time to make a little mischief...

  TEN MINUTES AND A LOT of shouting later, there was a tentative knock on my office door. I closed the book I was reading, set down my mug of coffee, and folded my hands upon my desk.

  There was an art to it. This throne-like posture. I had picked it up from Mitchell.

  “Who is it?”

  Alison, my secretary, popped her head inside. A thin sheen of sweat had broken out over her forehead, and her dilated eyes locked nervously onto mine.

  “Ms. Wilder, there’s an Ella Campbell here to see you.” She paused a second, then lowered her voice to a hush only I could hear. “She looks about ready to explode.”

  Perfect.

  I nodded with a little stab of satisfaction.

  “Send her in.”

  Allison disappeared, shaking her head like I’d been spending too much time with crazy-Nicholas. A moment later, the door burst open and two people swept inside.

  One was a tiny little man. Glasses. Tight suit. All the classic indicators of an over-worked manager to an up-and-coming star, the kind who couldn’t yet afford to pay him.

  The second...? Well, the second was different thing entirely.

  The first thing I noticed were the breasts. In fact, they were all I could notice.

  For a split second, my heart froze in my chest. Nick was a breast man. Like all adolescents cast off at an early-age to boarding school, he had developed an almost unparalleled affinity for the wonders of the female chest.

  But then my eyes travelled up to her face.

  My heart continued beating.

  The second I’d seen the picture in her file, I knew I’d found ‘the one.’ There were simply no other candidates—I’d closed my computer soundly behind me.

  She was a dead ringer for Nick’s least favorite ex-stepmother.

  “Emma?” I rose tentatively from my chair, extending out a hand.

  She froze in her tracks, a rather frightening look contorting her painted face.

  “It’s Ella, actually.”

  Already, it was easy to hear that bitchy tone just beneath the surface. The tone of a girl who thought she was better than everyone around her. Better than she really was.

  I warmed in anticipation just at the thought of it.

  “But that’s alright,” she hastened to continue (after receiving a sharp look from her manager), “the two of us just met.”

  I smiled sweetly, and gestured for her to sit down. Damn right she would behave. This meeting was her ticket out. She knew it. I knew it. We all knew it. Even little Allison, eavesdropping outside the door, knew the significance of what was about to happen.

  I was the key to making all that possible. All her dreams. All that insatiable ambition.

  She would play nice. She’d smile until that plastic face of hers cracked.

  “We may have just met, but I already feel as though I know you,” I said in a disarmingly friendly tone. I flipped open the file in front of me, and began scrolling through. “So you signed last week with Ford Models, right?”

  Just like a million other girls.

  She perched on the edge of her chair, nodding with the speed of someone who had spent many such hours on the edge of that chair, just trying to get noticed. “Yes, a one-year contract.”

  I paused and looked up.

  One year in the modeling world was not a good thing. Not when someone was just starting out. They offered longer years to younger girls—trying to get the most out of their age.

  Now this girl wasn’t as young as they got—not by a long shot. She was twenty-four years old. Same age as Nick. Two years older than me. But still—just one year?

  I looked at her manager. Her manager sank an inch or two lower in his chair.

  Yes, everything was riding on this meeting alright. This meeting was making them sweat.

  In a way, I almost felt sorry for her. Then I looked at her fake smile...and I didn’t.

  It would take a sick person to want to do this. A person with absolutely no regard for either themselves or anyone around them. Nick didn’t want to do it. I had effectively guilt-tripped him into it. Jobs were depending on it. His father had forced his hand.

  This girl?

  She’d step on anyone and everyone she could just to claw her way to the top.

  “Congratulations,” I said politely.

  There was no reason to be openly mean. In fact, in the long run, I was actually doing dear Ella the biggest favor of her entire career. Bestowing her a gift that was entirely undeserved.

  “So...Ford Models, what then?”

  It was a standard question. She gave me a standard answer back.

  “Well, modeling is how I’m hoping to get my start, but acting is my one true love. I’d love to branch out into feature films as soon as possible. From there, the sky is the limit. Maybe I’ll transition into music? Start my own clothing line?”

  Yeah, because I’m sure you have the talent for all that.

  My eyes narrowed slightly, but I kept that fixed smile plastered on my face.

  Don’t judge it now, Abby. She’s absolutely perfect!

  I shut the folder with a smile, and slid it across the desk.

  “Let me tell you a little about Nick...”

  Chapter 14

  TWO HOURS LATER, I was convinced I’d found my girl. Everything from the snake-like eyes, to the heavily made-up face, to the cheap blonde dye job. It was perfect.

  She was striking, don’t get me wrong. But striking, not beautiful. The kind of girl that you’d fantasize about once or twice in college, feel dirty for it, then find someone else instead.

  Nick had dated striking, don’t get me wrong. At one point, I’d gotten a panicked call in the middle of the night saying he was in Vegas—about to elope with a porn star.

  But striking wasn’t his type.

  Nick liked the finer things in life. Nick liked beautiful.

  We drove into the city together, scheduled to meet Nick at his favorite place. She texted him on the way and asked to change locations.

  He liked spontaneity—I’d said. (Just not exactly like that.)

  Instead, she’d asked if he’d meet her at a Japanese restaurant.

  He loved seafood—I’d said. (Just not at the moment. Not since the lobster.)

  Nick agreed, as I knew he would. He was a gentleman, after all. And just twenty minutes later, our cab was pulling up against the curb.

  Ella fussed and primped and applied so many coats of lip gloss, I bet she’d added a good half an inch to her face. When she was finally finished, she turned to me for support.

  “What do you think?”

  That same devilish smile started creeping back up my face, but I forced it down—pursing my lips with a professional assessment.

  “I think...it’s going to be a day to remember.”

  Abby Wilder...you are going to hell.

  The cab was dismissed, as we darted through the cold and into the restaurant.

  While Ella started craning her head around the second we walked inside, looking eagerly for the paparazzi, I walked straight up to the receptionist.

  “Colton Breakhard?” I asked softly.

  It was Nick’s alias whenever he went out. Restaurants. Hotels. Falsified travel documents. He’d thought it up late one night, and found himself quite clever.

  The woman flipped through a list, then nodded at me with a secret smile—pleased to be in on the con. In the two years I’d been doing this, every receptionist was the same.

  “He’s at a table in the back. Not a private room—like you asked.”

  Another little con. But one that was easily excusable. The point of this whole thing was to be as public as possible, right?

  “Thank you.”

  I turned back to Ella and gestured her forward. I swear—the girl was checking herself out in the mirror.

  “This should be really easy,” I reassured her. “Just a simple meet and greet—make sure the two of you are compatible
. Now, from what I’ve been told, you don’t drink, correct?”

  It made her perfect for Nick’s image. Terrible for Nick himself.

  She shook her head, taking on the sudden ridiculous expression of a martyr.

  “I have a condition. My body can’t process it. So sad.”

  I stared at her for a moment, wondering where the Southern debutante accent came from, before nodding quickly. “So sad.”

  We wound our way quickly through the restaurant—not speaking—until I saw Nick’s golden brown waves reflected off a mirror in the back. I tugged Ella’s wrist to get her attention.

  “Now remember what I told you,” I whispered in her ear as we came closer, “the man likes bold. And no offence, but girls rotate in and out of his life all the time. Do something to shock him. Do something to make him remember you.”

  Of course, I couldn’t have any idea what the lunatic would actually do...

  As we approached the table, Nick got politely to his feet. His eyes lingered on me for a second longer than they were probably supposed to, so that by the time he turned to meet his new girlfriend, she was already making her tragic move.

  “Nicky,” she crooned, a nickname I might have subtly encouraged, “thanks for agreeing to meet me here. This place is really the best.”

  Before he could say a single word, she reached down and grabbed his crotch.

  “And I can’t wait to get better acquainted.”

  Ooooooh shit. Abby, what have you done?

  Chapter 15

  SOMEBODY GASPED. I’M not sure who it was.

  It could have been me. It could have been the two Japanese families sitting close enough to see it happen. It could have even been Nick, from the utter shock of having a woman he’d never seen before reach out and grab his pants.

  Whoever it was, it clearly wasn’t enough to change things. The three of us stayed perfectly frozen. The hand remained.