by Lisa Oliver
The One Thing Money Can’t Buy
Custom Solutions #1
By Lisa Oliver
The One Thing Money Can’t Buy (Custom Solutions #1)
Copyright © Lisa Oliver, 2019
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover Design by Lisa Oliver
Background images purchased from Shutterstock.com
Model – Courtesy Paul Henry Serres Photographer – license MD1_141
First Edition February 2019
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, Lisa Oliver. [email protected]
No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without permission from Lisa Oliver. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights and livelihood is appreciated.
The One Thing Money Can’t Buy is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Books By Lisa/Lee Oliver
Dedication
To all my lovely online friends who pick me up when I’m down and remind me every day through their posts and comments, that they haven’t forgotten me. Words can’t express how much that means to me.
To Pat and Amanda, as always, your comments add polish to my prose.
To Phil – hang in there.
Author’s Note
This book was originally going to be part of the Alpha and Omega series, as it started as a short story for Stormy Glenn’s Manlove blog competition. It was always going to be a bit different, because in this book paranormals are “out” among humans and live together side by side. In my A&O series, shifters still hide who they are from the humans around them. But then, as the story progressed, a good friend of mine suggested that I turn this into a series. Dolph and Christian have a lot to say, and then there’s Parker… LOL. I am not giving the game away and I can’t say when the next book in this series will be written as I do have a few other series I want to finish up first, but you will hear more about the men in this book, in later stories.
I do hope you enjoy it.
Hug the One You Love
Lisa
Chapter One
Caractacus Bartholomew Hudson kept one eye on the clock, one on the television screen, and one on the ticket clutched in his hand – which was a lot more difficult than it sounded, given he only had two eyes. But Caractacus was nothing if not thorough. He’d known a week ago he should’ve scheduled his regular weekend drinks with Lucy fifteen minutes later than usual, but she would’ve laughed at him, joking about his incessant need to actually watch a lottery draw he had tickets in, instead of finding out the results online later.
Tonight, there was a huge prize – one point six billion dollars. Of course, no one actually won that sort of money. Anyone who came close to the winning numbers would probably have to share that amount with twenty other winning tickets. But there would be big winners, it was a guaranteed draw. The huge pool, which had jackpotted for months had to be won, tonight. Which was why Caractacus, or Cari to his friends, had dipped into his savings account and purchased a ten line ticket.
Gods, will they ever stop waffling. The regulation chiseled man with a broad smile in a suit, and a blonde who had legs for miles and not enough dress to cover them and her chest, were laughing in that oh so funny way people did when a camera was on them. Cari risked a glance at the clock. 8:17. If he didn’t leave in three minutes, he was going to be late which would be intolerable. Already he could feel the prickles on the back of his neck rising and soon his lungs would start working overtime.
“And now to the draw. Roll the numbers please.”
“Finally,” Cari burst out, ignoring the clock for now. He couldn’t do anything about the build up of anticipation in his gut. He knew the statistics. He had more chance of being struck by lightening in a meteor storm on the fourth Tuesday of November than he had of winning the prize pool, but still he watched anxiously as the brightly colored balls tumbled about in their huge plastic bowl. Finally, one slipped out, rolling down the specially designed tube to rest in its designated spot.
“Twenty seven,” the presenter said, quite unnecessarily in Cari’s opinion. Anyone with eyes could see the large number painted on the side of the ball. Unless they were blind, Cari reminded himself and immediately felt guilty for his slight against the vision impaired. He looked down at his ticket. Five rows had that number, so he marked them off.
“Twenty four.” Hmm, only three of his marked rows had that number, but Cari dutifully drew a line under each 24.
Seventeen, thirty seven, nine, forty, two, thirty two, twenty eight and… “the final number is one,” the man announced with a flourish while the pretty blonde clapped and jumped up and down on the television screen. Cari barely noticed, his eyes fixed on line seven of his ticket. Every number had a neat pen line under them. There was just one number blank on the right hand side of the ticket – the power ball number. For line seven, that number was five.
“Congratulations, everybody, there are going to be some lucky people around the country tonight. Remember folks, if you have all the numbers ticked off on one line then you’ve automatically won Ten Million Dollars. If you’ve got the power ball option, you will be in to win your share of one point six billion dollars if you have this last number. Set the machine rolling, Daisy, let’s see what the power ball number will be.”
“Five,” Cari whispered, almost afraid to watch the screen. But he had to watch it, he had to know. Come on, five. Five. Five. Five.
“And the number is five,” the presenter said with a flourish and the sound of applause filled the room, although everybody knew the lotto draw was conducted on a closed set. “Hang onto your tickets, everyone. Our super-fast computer system is now tallying the results, which we will have for you in a few moments. Remember these results…”
Chapter Two
Two days later and Cari was wishing he’d never bought a lotto ticket. It turned out there was only one winner for the huge power ball draw and the media were on a frenzied hunt to find out who it was. Someone rising to instant billionaire status was big news. Cari’s hyper senses were on overload as the lawyer, recommended by his therapist, ushered him into the main conference room of the lotto commission.
“Don’t say anything,” Barry the lawyer whispered urgently. “Let me handle this.”
Cari wasn’t sure he liked Barry, but when he’d called the lotto commission, they’d told him he needed someone to protect his interests. With none of the members of his prickle talking to him, and unwilling to burden his social acquaintances with his problems, Cari had turned to the only person who knew the most about him – his therapist, Douglas Fanshaw. Fanshaw, being a pack wolf, immediately recommended Barry, another pack member, assuring him, in an overly friendly fashion, that the pack would take care of him.
Cari hadn’t thought to question the motives behind the suddenly friendly gesture until Barry pushed ahead of him, shaking the hand of the lotto commissioner. “Let’s get this paperwork sorted, shall we, and then we can leave you to get on with your day.” Opening his briefcase, Barry shoved a handful of official looking papers into the commissioner’s hand.
“Are you Caractacus Hudson?” The commissioner looked down at the business card Barry had included with his papers.
“No, that’s me.” Cari sketched a little wave, conscious that his bow tie and hand knitted vest might not be appropriate garb for a prospective billionaire. “We spoke on the phone.”
“I’ll be handling all of Mr. Hudson’s affairs,” Barry broke in rudely. “We’ve arranged a trust for the finance…”
“Excuse me, Mr. Fanshaw,” the commissioner had clearly dealt with pushy wolves before. And then Cari gasped. Barry had the same surname as his therapist. Why hadn’t he noticed that?
“Mr. Fanshaw, it is the Lotto Commission’s policy to speak privately with any winner of a large sum of money, to ensure they aren’t being coerced out of their money and are aware of all their rights. Winning such a large amount can be unsettling for some people who are not used to handling the responsibility.”
“This is a pack matter,” Barry the lawyer had quite a glare on him, but the lotto commissioner didn’t seem to notice. Cari was starting to think he had an ally in the tall, staunch man in his expensive suit. And then what Barry said hit him.
“I’m not a member of the pack,” Cari said, seeing Barry in a whole new light. “I’ve simply retained your services as a lawyer, because the lotto commissioner said I needed support.”
“We’ll deal with semantics later,” Barry snapped, and Cari stepped back at the sudden flash of wolf in his eyes.
It seemed the lotto commissioner saw that flash too. “Mr. Hudson, did you sign the back of your ticket?”
“I did.” Cari drew himself up to his full height of four foot eight. “It was the first thing I did when I realized it was a winning ticket.” Something Barry had been grouchy about when Cari told him.
“That is very wise, Mr. Hudson,” the lotto commissioner nodded. “You’d be amazed at how unscrupulous some people can be when large sums of money are involved.” The look he threw Barry spoke volumes. “If you’d like to come with me…”
“Hey,” Barry snarled, “that’s my client you’re trying to disappear with. I have papers here that need signing to facilitate the transfer of the funds and I don’t have time to wait around all day. I have another appointment in half an hour.”
“You may be delayed.” The lotto commissioner frowned as he studied the papers in his hands. “These papers claim that Mr. Hudson completely forfeits all rights to his money and that the winnings are to be paid into a wolf pack trust account. Is that what you intended, Mr. Hudson?”
“What?” Cari knew standing with his mouth open wasn’t an attractive look for him, given he had small sharp pointy teeth, but he couldn’t help myself. “I haven’t even seen those papers. I’ve got my bank account details and my tax number all here, just like you told me to bring.” He patted his small satchel still stuck under his arm.
“You didn’t give the Fanshaw pack full power of attorney over your finances?” The lotto commissioner arched a meticulously groomed eyebrow. Cari wondered what type of shifter he was. He clearly wasn’t human if he could withstand the glare Barry was throwing at him. “Is this your signature?”
Cari edged around Barry and squinted at the squiggle on the bottom of an officious looking page. He knew he should put his glasses on, but even without them, he recognized the scrawl. “That’s my therapist’s signature. He’s been helping me….” Damn it, Cari wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. Some things should just be kept private. “He’s been helping me negotiate a possible return to my prickle. I’ve been seeing him for about three months.”
“I see.” The lotto commissioner’s voice spoke volumes and Cari’s heart sank, realizing maybe he wasn’t going to get his winnings after all. The lotto commissioner would think he was mentally incapable of handling so much money because he had a therapist, and would probably agree to give it to the pack. It doesn’t matter, he reasoned with himself. I got by without the money before. I have my job, and my little home….
“Mr. Fanshaw, I’m sure you’re aware there are laws protecting clients against fraud and embezzlement.”
Cari’s heart perked up a bit.
“The pack took him in when his prickle didn’t want him. All members contribute to the pack in every way they can.” There was a spot of uneasiness underneath Barry’s bluster, Cari noticed and that gave him the courage to speak up.
“Since when have I been a member of the pack?” Cari asked with a bit more spirit. He might not be getting his money, but he wasn’t going to let Barry get his hands on it either. “I petitioned to join when I first came into town, but the Alpha said they don’t take runts. He ordered me to stay away from pack territory and told Douglas, my therapist, to make sure if I couldn’t go back to my prickle, then I was to, quote, ‘stay the fuck away from him’. I’m only a hedgehog, you see.” He added to the commissioner with a shrug. “Not many predators want little guys like us around.”
“I guessed what you were from your use of the word prickle,” the lotto commissioner said kindly. “From what you’ve said, it is clear to me, the Fanshaw pack planned to take all your winnings under the guise of a pack tithe. A tithe you don’t have to pay because you don’t get any of the pack benefits or protection, isn’t that right Mr. Fanshaw? I take it the Alpha is a relative of yours?”
“He’s my cousin,” Barry scowled. “It doesn’t make any difference anyway. A runt like Hudson won’t survive five minutes with all that money once the world gets a whiff of who and what he is. The pack is doing him a favor.”
“By taking his money off him completely. I don’t think so, Mr. Fanshaw. You can go. Tell your Alpha to expect a visit from the council auditors and enforcers within the week. Our lawyers will investigate this situation, including the papers you’ve tried to enforce, and determine if any charges will be laid. Gentlemen, escort him out.” The lotto commissioner waved to two solid men who’d been guarding the door. Cari hadn’t even noticed them, but he appreciated their muscles as
Barry screamed and cursed as he was dragged kicking and wriggling from the room.
“I see this far too many times,” the lotto commissioner said sadly, watching them go. “Money makes people drop their morals faster than a hooker’s knickers.” He gave himself a shake, and indicated a chair with his hand. “How about we sit down, and you tell me how you plan to manage this money of yours, and then we’ll see about getting it into your account. By the way, I didn’t get to introduce myself, but I’m Ernest Poullon. I’m a lion shifter.”
Perching on the seat offered, Cari nibbled at the inside of his lip. “Do people have to know it was me that won all that money?” he asked.
“You do have the right to anonymity,” Ernest agreed, taking the seat across the table. “However, I wouldn’t trust the Fanshaw pack to keep your secret.”
“No, they probably won’t.” Cari couldn’t believe how sneaky Douglas and Barry had been. Admittedly, he always knew the only reason why Douglas kept seeing him professionally was because of the money Cari paid for each session – likely double he charged anyone else. Barry, well, Cari had only met Barry that morning, which made Cari wonder how Barry already had all those official looking papers organized. Was he in on a scam with Douglas?
“Are you mated? I don’t scent anyone on you.”
Jerked from his thoughts by Ernest’s question, Cari shook his head. “I don’t like women that way,” he said, keeping his voice low in case anyone overheard. “And the men I like don’t want anything to do with a prey animal.”
“Ah,” Ernest beamed, “you fancy a big guy with muscles, do you? I can’t blame you, I’m just the same.”
Yeah, but you’re two foot taller than me with muscles to match. But of course, Cari didn’t say that out loud, which was just as well, as Ernest hadn’t finished talking. “I’m going to strongly recommend you get yourself a bodyguard, my young prickly friend, and fortunately, I know just the person who’d be perfect for you.”