Taming the Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle

by Sierra Rose

  I yanked open the door and walked into the living room. An outstretched mocha-chino softened those plans.

  Marcus smiled. “Amanda told me to tell you that she’d see you later. She’s heading to Barry’s.”

  “Oh, okay. You two woke me up,” I said.

  “Well, hello to you too.”

  “But you brought coffee, so you’re forgiven,” I said.

  He glanced curiously around at the surrounding chaos.

  “And before you ask. No, I wasn’t robbed.” I followed his gaze and bit my lip. In the bright light of day, the damage I’d done trying to find a suitable hiding place looked less forgivable than the night before. “If you must know, I was looking for a place to stash that envelope you gave me.”

  He turned around cheerfully. “Let me guess. In a bag inside the freezer.”

  My eyes narrowed, and I took a scalding sip of coffee. “Did I miss the memo? Is something happening today? Because I got your text. The seventeenth is two weeks away.” The caffeine was revitalizing and I was thinking more quickly.

  “I had some business in the area.”

  “Not in this area,” I mumbled, but I don’t think he heard me. What business could he possibly have had in this rundown neighborhood?

  He perched delicately between an upturned toolbox and a stack of past-due library books. “And while the seventeenth is two weeks away, the Los Angeles Diabetes Fundraiser Gala is tonight.”

  I hopped onto the counter and pulled my knees to my chest with a frown. “I’m not following.” Spotting a hair tie, I quickly restrained my mane into a messy ballerina bun, wishing for what was sure to be the first of many times, that when I lifted my arms anywhere above my chin, my junior high tee-shirt didn’t crawl up past my navel.

  His eyes lingered on me for a moment, before he cleared his throat. “I’m here to make sure you dress in something appropriate. Something that doesn’t reflect the weird Flintstones aesthetic you have going on here.”

  I squinted suspiciously. “You’ve never seen the Flintstones.”

  “That’s right,” he answered sarcastically. “I spent most of my youth selecting Afghans and teething on books.”

  “At least he admits it...”

  “Listen, Rebecca.” He stepped in front of the counter, placing his hands on either side of my knees. “we need to keep up the façade until we get to the island. Otherwise, there’s no point.”

  I pursed my lips. “That seems fraudulent.”

  “Of course it’s fraudulent, that’s the whole point. But there’s no reason why we can’t both get what we want.”

  “Not fraudulent in general.” I slid off the counter, forcing him to take a step back, “I meant fraudulent to me. I thought we would spend one weekend together for cash—that’s it. And if you think I don’t know how prostitute-y that sounds, you’ve got another think coming.”

  He ran his hands through his hair and chuckled. “It’s not prostitute-y if there’s no sex.”

  “You know what I mean, Marcus.”

  For some reason, he perked up when I said his name. “I need this, Rebecca. I need to keep this client. If it’s a question of wanting more money to see the whole thing through—”

  “I don’t want more money—there’s only so much my Popsicles can hide.”

  He cocked his head curiously, and I rubbed my temples, praying for the mocha to kick in.

  “Look,” I continued, “I’ll do this for you. It’s a very generous offer of money, and despite the painstaking efforts you take to appear otherwise, I think deep down you might not be a total douche.”

  Okay, so I shouldn’t have called him a douche. But he dated three women at one time.

  “Well, thanks—”

  “Not finished.” I held up my hand. “But you’re going to have to be straight with me. I’m not going to be jerked around like some prize pony. I want to know exactly what we’re doing and exactly what we’re both getting out of it.”

  He nodded slowly. “All right. Well, I’m going to need you to make off and on appearances with me for the next two weeks until we leave for the Caribbean. This town is swarming with paparazzi at every street corner—we’re going to have to commit if we want to sell it.” He paused for a moment, as if waiting for me to object, but when I stayed quiet, he rushed on. “In exchange, I give you the money. And cover all expenses.”

  “Off and on appearances...” I glanced in the mirror and saw a wilted ballerina dressed like a twelve-year-old staring back. “...if you think it will help.”

  “I do.”

  “Then I’ll commit and help sell the girlfriend ploy for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just remember. You can’t fix all your problems by writing a check.”

  “I know that. And I’ll never do this again. I’m just so thankful you’re taking this job.”

  “It’s an easy job. And I’m broke right now.” I downed the rest of the coffee, engine revving up as I recapped the game plan. “So you trick people into thinking you’re a half-decent human being, and I get a wad of cash. Sounds reasonable to me.” He shot me a comical look and I shrugged. “I watch a lot of television.”

  “I’m a decent human being. Just because I date lots of women, and have been labeled a playboy, that shouldn’t make you think any less of me. I’m not ready to settle down. I don’t even want a girlfriend. I just want to have fun, be carefree, and run my business. I’m not ready to settle anytime soon. What’s so wrong with that?”

  “It’s okay to enjoy a bachelor lifestyle,” I said. “But I would never date a man who was dating two other women right along with me. I just have more self-respect than that.”

  “Well, you’re in luck. I have just settled down with you. You’ve swept me off my feet, and there’s only you in my life.”

  “The world will think I’ve tamed you...until our Caribbean escapade is over.”

  “It’s a wonderful business arrangement for both of us,” he said. “Once the papers are signed, we’ll casually break up in a big public spectacle.”

  “And you’ll go back to your old lifestyle? Being a billionaire playboy who can’t handle his tequila. Flying off to Vegas and having wild sex.”

  “You’ve Googled me, I see.”

  “You had sex on an elevator with a showgirl.”

  “She was my high school sweetheart. Funny how they leave that out. I went to Vegas to win her heart back.”

  My gaze narrowed. “I take it you didn’t get the girl?”

  “No, I didn’t. Money can’t buy everything.”

  “I suppose it can’t,” I said softly.

  “I could buy anything I wanted. But not her.”

  “I’m seeing another side to you. I’m getting to know the man behind the wallet just a tiny bit more.”

  Money. Women. A good time. They all came easily to Marcus. And maybe there was something deeper out there for him. I knew there was, but he just wasn’t ready for that leg of his journey. Maybe one day he’d grow up. But for now, it was my job to help him keep his client. Marcus told me his client believed strongly in monogamy, so much so that he didn’t want to be associated with Marcus and his crazy antics and outrageous newspaper headings. Marcus told me he had quit drinking and only drank socially now. I would tell his client that I had tamed him, that I had won his heart, and Marcus had given up his old lifestyle. If his rich client believed it, he might give his account back to Marcus.

  I also thought Marcus was hurt from the old girlfriend that he tried to win back. Maybe when he couldn’t win her heart, he just went wild. Maybe he dated and drank too much to get his mind off the woman he loved, the woman who rejected him. Maybe he wanted to numb the grief. I knew I sometimes did that.

  There was a momentary pause as Deevus hopped up onto the counter. He stared at Marcus, then rubbed up against him. Markus petted him, and it was adorable to see him love animals so much.

  “This is a great opportunity for me,” I said. “I was practically ge
tting kicked out of my apartment. So I can’t thank you enough. I’m a good actress, and I’m going to play the part well. I’ll give you an Oscar-worthy performance. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  “There’s more than just a paycheck. You’ll get to travel. Get to shop. Get your hair and makeup done by professionals.”

  I blinked. “Shopping. Hair. Makeup. See...I can’t tell if you’re trying to reduce me to a chauvinistic stereotype or if it’s just really early in the morning...?”

  His eyes widened slightly as he glanced nervously between me and the cat, feeling judged. “I...I wasn’t trying to. Most of the women I know would love to shop.”

  “I’d rather take pictures of the turquoise water and breathtaking scenery. This might be my one shot at seeing a beautiful place like this. I want to soak up and see everything I can.”

  “Surely, you’ll come back again.”

  “I can’t afford to pay my rent. How could I ever afford a tropical vacation?”

  Sometimes it was easy to forget that while Marcus and I came from two different worlds, I couldn’t afford stuff like that.

  He blinked in surprise as I headed down the hall to my bedroom, Deevus—bless his mangy little heart—hopping loyally behind.

  “I’m going to get dressed.” I winked. “Don’t steal anything while I’m gone.”

  He laughed.

  I took my time in the shower, washing, conditioning, and then re-conditioning my hair as he waited out in the living room. Hey—if he wanted to come over at seven in the morning, be my guest. Just don’t expect me to “hop to” at the slightest whim or command. After a while, I heard him speaking in a low monotone on the phone. My lips twitched up in a smile as I wrapped myself securely in a towel and skipped across the hall to my room. Bored enough to make work calls? My evil plan was working.

  About forty minutes later, I finally walked back down the hall—wearing a haltered sundress I’d stolen from Amanda’s closet due to laundry day. I threw open my arms and wound up for a rather cutting one-liner I’d been developing over the last half hour, but fell short when I looked down and saw Marcus and Deevus napping together on the couch.

  My arms wilted, and my face softened automatically at the sight. He didn’t look like an international tycoon when he slept. He looked like a little kid—hands curling into loose fists around the pillow he was clutching to his chest as his legs twisted up beneath him. A lock of hair had slipped across his forehead, fluttering slightly with his shallow breaths, and his face was smoothed free of every sarcastic line or mocking dimple. There was no ego. No scheming. No plans of global domination or whatever else occupied his mind. He was just another guy sleeping on a couch in Korea Town on a balmy Los Angeles morning.

  Thinking fast, I hatched a ringtone plot of my own and carefully extracted his phone from his sleeping hand. A moment later, I jumped on the couch in front of him, holding the phone to his ear as select bits of You’re So Vain shattered the silence between us.

  His eyes snapped open, and he caught me automatically by the hips, fingers gripping tightly as he struggled to focus. I froze in place as the lyrics faded guiltily away. He was breathing heavily while I was hardly breathing at all—heart hammering away in my chest as I was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I was basically straddling him.

  Great joke, Bex. Nothing says comedy like a mild heart attack with a sexual follow-up.

  “Sorry,” I breathed as my cheeks flamed red. “I didn’t mean to scare you, just wanted to give you a ringtone of your own.”

  He stared a split second in surprise, and then—to my great relief—his face broke out in a huge smile. His grip loosened ever so slightly as his pulse returned to normal.

  “Interesting choice.” He shot me a rueful grin before his eyes flickered down to my attire.

  It wasn’t his fault that I could feel it as his body stiffened slightly between my thighs. It wasn’t his fault that I could see the way his eyes dilated and lingered in certain places. It wasn’t even his fault that I was straddling him.

  It was mine. The whole thing was a huge misunderstanding. I was trying to be funny and witty, but it had completely backfired.

  “Nice dress,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  His eyes flickered casually back up to mine, and I quickly slid back down to the floor.

  “Sorry,” I said again, averting my gaze as he stood up and straightened his shirt. “And sorry for taking so long getting ready. You all set to go?”

  He held open the front door with an expression I didn’t quite understand. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Chapter 12

  Let it be said—I hate shopping. I always have. I was never one of those girly-girls who looked forward to every Sunday when she’d go to the mall with her mom. I ordered things online. I avoided the looping music, the stench of cologne, and the parasitic sales people all from the comfort of my living room. I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything. I had no ambitions to change.

  But let it also be said...I loved shopping with Marcus.

  I didn’t know what had happened. It was like sometime in between him showing up at my apartment, and me almost giving him a stroke with his phone, he had transformed.

  That uncomplicated, sleeping boy had somehow made a reappearance, and the Marcus with me now was laughing, teasing, and completely unrestrained. I was smitten.

  I also wasn’t sure if any of it was real.

  From the minute we’d left the apartment, there had been cameramen on our trail. While this was as common a sight as the power lines to him, it was a completely new experience to me. They swarmed and buzzed like cicadas, getting much closer than I thought could be legally allowed. But before I could amp up to a full-out panic attack, I felt a set of long, cool fingers lace into mine. I glanced up in surprise to see Marcus grinning at me, leaning his head down and pressing it affectionately against mine.

  “I bet you wish you’d worn a longer dress.”

  He winked and slipped on a pair of sunglasses as I smacked him with a smile.

  Once we’d gotten to the store—some designer place I’d never heard of but I bet would have made Amanda drool—the paparazzi had fallen away, but playful Marcus remained. He wandered in and out of the aisles, pulling out some pieces that were ridiculous, and some that made even a girl like me excited to try them on.

  In the end, I opted for a sapphire-blue number that laced up my back in a labyrinth of ribbons and ended a few inches above my knees. When I inquired as to the price, he simply shot me a bored look and headed off to the front counter to pay.

  “Would you like me to ring up the shoes, too?”

  A woman who looked distractingly like Margaret Thatcher had been helping me change and was now pulling out a pair of jeweled stilettos that apparently “went with the dress.” My face blanked as I glanced down.

  “Oh, um, I don’t know.” I looked up to the front of the store, wobbling slightly on the changing platform as I called up to the counter. “Marcus, should I also get the—”

  “Yes.”

  Well, that answered that.

  I gave Thatcher a helpless shrug, and she helped hold me steady as I slid my feet into the towering heels. After she’d laced me in, I did a practice lap around the mirrors—thanking my lucky stars that Amanda and I had practiced walking in heels from the day we decided we’d grace the world of entertainment with our presence. Still—they were really freaking high.

  “How do those feel?” she asked with concern. “Too loose?”

  “No,” I reached out to the mirror to steady myself, “they’re good. Plus, it’ll give me something to do all night—try to stay standing.”

  She laughed as if my discomfort was a complete novelty. “That’s right! You two should probably be getting on your way if you want to get to the gala.”

  I glanced at her curiously. “Marcus told you about the gala?”

  “Everyone knows about the gala.” She laughed again, like I
was trying to pull her leg or something. “Mr. Taylor hosts it every year. It’s the event of the season.”

  That’s right, seasons had events. Wait... Marcus was hosting?

  I nodded distractedly and brightened up in relief when Marcus rejoined us. He gave me a quick once-over, looking genuinely impressed. “You are a vision.”

  “And look how tall!” I couldn’t help but beam as I stepped up next to him, my eyes coming up to his nose. “Almost as tall as you.”

  He took my hand and led me out to where a town car had pulled up outside. “Goodbye, ladies, thank you,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, thank you—” I tried to twist around as well, but the turning radius on my heels was not what I expected. With a gasp, my ankles slipped out from under me, and I went crashing to the ground. Except...I never made it there.

  Marcus caught me just as easily as if we were back on the dance floor. I looked up breathlessly as he cradled my head in his hand—holding me just inches from the ground.

  “You okay?” he asked softly.

  Heels aren’t really my thing. I nodded, and then shot him the biggest smile. “See what you do to me? You make me feel weak in the knees when I touch you.”

  He flashed his dimples right as a flashbulb went off just a few feet away. I gasped in surprise, and he set me gracefully back on my feet.

  “Always looking for attention,” he chided teasingly as another camera went off.

  My eyes narrowed imperceptibly, but I smiled, ready to play along. “Well, sometimes people need to make a bit of a statement to get your attention.” I laughed delicately, to the delight of the cameras.

  “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he said.

  I gazed into his eyes. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

  I heard a chorus of “awwwww” all around me.

  Our eyes locked and we stared into each other’s eyes. Whether we wanted to admit it or not, we had this amazing connection, this amazing chemistry.

  I kissed his lips. I showed all those flashing cameras that the flames of passion were still burning brightly for us. Markus couldn’t have hired a better actress for the part. I was giving the performance of a lifetime.