Sleeping with a Billionaire - Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) Read online

  SLEEPING WITH A BILLIONAIRE

  By Nella Tyler

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Nella Tyler

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  Chapter 1

  Tim

  The scent of coffee filled the house, but I was up in time to hear the timer click on and pour out the first drop of morning salvation.

  Regardless of the previous night’s activities, I was always awake and ready to start my day by 7:05 a.m.

  As my large cup filled, I ran a quick shower and picked out one of my pressed Armani suits from the closet. After adorning dress socks, shined penny loafers, and a matching tie, perfectly contorted into a Double-Windsor, I was ready to take on the world – and that was no exaggeration.

  As I reached for the coffee, I caught a glimpse of my Rolex watch, but it didn’t inform me of anything I wasn’t already aware of. Almost automatically, I switched my mug with a to-go cup.

  I was right on time, and as I took the first sip of steaming hot java, I turned on the television, pre-programmed to the only channel worth watching: the stocks.

  From a young age, I was exceptionally good at working with computers and problem-solving. Knowing that I was better at it than any of my peers, and even most of the people living in the small, backwards town where I was forced to grow up, gave me the drive and the arrogance I needed to allow my talent to flourish into a business, with which I could make a real life for myself.

  The second I could, I packed up my belongings and moved out to Fresno, California, where everything seemed to be on fire – including my career.

  I had hit the ground running and never looked back.

  At times, it seemed like even three time zones and the roughly 2,700-mile distance, nearly an entire width of a country away, wasn’t far enough to escape my roots.

  Yet, on mornings like this, when I sat there, knowing that the North Carolina sun never shone this bright, sipping a brand of expensive coffee that was unheard of where I was from, watching the stocks of internet companies that I saved rise, I finally felt as though I had escaped the all-consuming drudgery of a small-town life.

  I grinned at the thought as I mentally prepared myself for severing the ties with a few of the companies that I was currently watching with pride and accomplishment.

  Always leave them wanting more, I thought to myself, draining my cup as I heard lazy movement in my room.

  I liked to think that a reason I was so successful was because, for as good as I was at what I did, I never let emotion get in the way of a good fiscal opportunity. Inherently knowing that the usefulness of these companies had climaxed, I wasn’t about to wait around to draw affiliation or perceived obligation.

  The same goes for my women. I snickered at the thought, hearing a comely blonde with big tits and a tight ass stumble into the hallway behind me. I didn’t even have to turn around to know that the woman was fumbling with her high heels while sauntering toward me with the remaining lust from last night still lingering in her gaze.

  I rolled my eyes at the pathetic nature of it all.

  With a wide turn, I grasped the to-go cup in my hand and grinned with devilish charm.

  “Good morning…beautiful…” I lied.

  Besides her flawless body, which was nearly still as uncovered as when it was writhing underneath my sexual advances the night before, sleep and lack of alcohol had erased most of her allure. Her makeup was smudged and her hair, which had been smooth when I clasped it in my grasp the night before, was now knotted and unkempt. Her dress now looked too big for her, as she had lost a few of the buttons in our haste and had only managed to slip into one high heel before I acknowledged her.

  For a gorgeous woman, sleep certainly did not become her.

  As she giggled and hastened her step in my direction, hobbling as she struggled to barrel her other foot into her remaining shoe, I approached.

  “I normally don’t do that…” she insisted as I held the coffee out to her.

  “We had a wonderful night, darling. Why end it with a lie? If you’re expecting me to assuage your guilt by telling you that you are the first woman I’ve brought here, you picked the wrong man.”

  Her lips parted, instantly aghast, but it didn’t faze me at all. Our business had concluded. She had climaxed, and I had enjoyed the company of a beautiful woman. I had made a habit of never allowing anything – woman or business – to overstay its welcome, and this slip of a woman was no exception.

  “I believe it’s time for you to go,” I added, handing her coffee and hoping to God I hadn’t offended her enough that she would think she was entitled to throw it at me.

  Not showing that I thought that might be a possibility, though, I drew closer, snaked an arm around her waist, and escorted her to the door.

  Once I had effortlessly closed it behind her, I turned to the mirror that hung next to the doorway. Gazing at my reflection keenly, I adjusted my tie, yanked at the bottom of my suit jacket, and ran a smooth hand through my hair, adjusting it appropriately.

  Once I was satisfied, both with my reflection and that the woman had left the premises, I swiped up my keys and yanked open the opposite door, leading to a large garage. Before me, the automatic lighting flickered to life, revealing a sea of expensive cars, which were only to be driven by myself.

  However, there was always one that stood out above the rest and currently, it was a new Maserati, gifted to me by a grateful client who owned a dealership in the area. Since this particular car still had a good couple of months before it was released, even to the elite public such a vehicle catered to, I was enjoying being the root of everyone’s envy.

  Steely azure, with chrome alloy wheels, dark-tinted windows, and a roar that could shake the clothes off a supermodel, this car was a dream to drive. Sleek, sexy, and made for speed, this car was the wet dream of every one of my clients and the passport between their wife’s legs, if I was so inclined.

  I slid effortlessly into the car, revving the engine simply to hear the hum of it barrage my eardrums.

  The large garage doors opened, spilling the sunshine onto the cement in front of me and across the windshield. Already, the temperature had started to rise to a comforting level, common for a California February, but nearly unheard of anywhere else.

  Some might say that it was unnatural, that the world was coming to an end, but as an inherent extraordinaire of warm weather, I couldn’t give a fuck why California was blessed with such intense temperatures. All I cared about was having the top down and enjoying it.

  If it meant the end of the world, well, I’ve had a damn good run.

  I put the car in drive as the engine roared. Pressing my foot down on the pedal, centrifugal force thrust me back, deep into the seat as the throttle ignited a firestorm of intense exhilaration – one of the few emotions I allowed myself.

  The car lurched forward and within moments, the vehicle was coming up fast on a rod iron gate that parted for me as I approached. Blasting through the open gate, I pressed a button and eyed the rear-view mirror to ensure that the gate started to secure itself again as I passed. The buzz of the motors and the final clang of the lock hinging into place was ins
tantly lost to the sound of my engine and the precedence, that even in this town flooded with bravado, that I aspired to master.

  It didn’t take me long to reach my office. I had ensured it that way, but I hadn’t counted on the idea that I would enjoy the ride so much, that I would wish it were longer. Still, after a long day, the short distance was an advantage that no pleasurable ride could contend with.

  Despite my usual flair, however, my office was modest; then again, in California when your office is ranked against Google and Facebook, due to the in-state proximity, virtually every other office is modest.

  Yet, in this case, my office was purposefully small. The space of a few secretaries and other hires made the business always appear to be bustling without having to trust too many people. I had a strict sense of self and purpose. Having too many people in my inner-circle clouded that focus significantly. Plus, the more eyes I had on my prize, the leerier I had to be.

  Though, for as subtle as the office was in size, my own professional space made up for in prestige.

  A mahogany desk stretched out in the middle of the room, nearly closing it off at each end, while large windows rose behind it, giving a magnificent view of the city. At night, it was especially beautiful.

  I had spent many nights, both professionally and intimately, in the company of this view and, to me, it was one of the best in the world. While beautiful in its own right, the aesthetics of this office combined with my personal accomplishment made it all the more appealing to my gaze.

  I had barely had a moment to sit behind the desk in my leather chair when there was a knock at the door, followed by an expected intrusion.

  “Mr. Meck?” my assistant Carly called as her long, thin legs strutted into the room. At one time, they had intrigued me, but after finally satisfying the urge to know if the rest of her body matched what was promised by her short, tight-fitting attire, I’d decided she was far more suited for assisting than fucking.

  Unfortunately, after that night, embarrassment and disbelief at my unintended, but genuine rejection had caused her to take a far more professional air.

  Starting the next day, she made a few annoying changes. The most noticeable of which was switching from calling me Tim to always referring to me as Mr. Meck. I supposed that she couldn’t say my name in a professional setting without delving into the memory of how many times she’d screamed it during our personal escapade and ultimately decided it was for the best.

  “Yes, Carly?” I answered as I booted up my computer and entered my password before purposefully staring her in the eyes, trying to break her newfound nervousness.

  “Um…don’t forget, you have an appointment with Mr. Brantley at noon. I’ve already taken care of your reservation and called his office to remind him of the meeting.”

  “Excellent!” I answered jovially, meaning it as much as I meant anything that I said to anyone lately. I grinned, but it was more to myself than for her. She really was a catch in the secretarial world, though I pitied her husband.

  Not only was she screwing everything with a dick, but when she did have any left for him, I knew from personal experience that the wrapping was far better than what was inside.

  She gave me a small, coy grin, but averted her eyes, as though she thought my dissatisfaction with her extracurricular services would cause me to jeopardize my well-oiled office by threatening to tell her husband or something stupid like that.

  The only saving grace to her not knowing me well enough to know I didn’t give a shit was the proof that I was succeeding in hiding my true self from even those who I spent time with daily.

  “Is there anything else?” I asked, slightly expecting her to say something that wasn’t work related and hoping I was wrong.

  “No, Sir. That is the only thing that is on your calendar today.”

  “Thank you.” I nodded and returned my attention to my now fully-booted computer. That might be the only meeting I had today, but that certainly wasn’t all the work I had to complete. Thus, I turned my full attention and concentration to my work.

  At eleven thirty, dear, sweet, shitty-in-bed-but-the-best-assistant-ever Carly came back into my office to tell me a car was waiting out front to take me to my noon appointment.

  I would’ve preferred to take my own car, if only to watch Mr. Jacob Brantley attempt to commandeer the vehicle for far more than it was worth to gain the status.

  If I needed more money than I knew what to do with delivered in one large sum, I might consider it, if only to make my client happy. Yet, while Mr. Brantley was a current asset, watching him squirm in the throes of obscene amounts of money as I declined every disgusting offer was far more fun.

  Alas, such a joyride would have to wait.

  I had a professional meeting to attend with what was still an important client and thus, I had to put my amusement aside for the sake of my one true passion: my business and the life I had built for myself.

  From the impenetrable walls to the priceless cars, the suits and, yes, the money, I had worked extremely hard to gain and maintain what I was all-too aware only one bad decision could take away.

  Therefore, every choice I made, every breath I took, was a calculated mass of risk and reward.

  At lunch, Mr. Brantley and I ate while we conversed about his favorite subject: football. I couldn’t care less about such mindless shit, but it was easy enough to carry on an informed conversation about it, pretending I was interested, so ultimately, I didn’t mind.

  When lunch was over, however, it was finally appropriate to start the real conversation.

  “I trust you have reviewed the proposal my assistant sent to your office,” I said in response to him initiating the business conversation. Noticing the flinch in his expression, I decided to pounce. “I sense that you’re unsettled. Was there an issue with the software proposal?”

  “No,” Mr. Brantley answered almost immediately with the firm shake of his head, indicating that he was indeed telling the truth, or about as much of it as he was willing to. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the software. There was nothing that sent up any red flags for our tech guys.”

  It was amazing to me that for as wealthy and influential as Mr. Brantley was, the once-upon-a-time NFL hopeful turned business tycoon following a knee injury was clueless. Granted, he was elderly, with white hair that was still too crisp to be anything other than premature and worry lines that deepened when he spoke.

  Still, I didn’t allow any of this to show on my solid expression.

  “Then, what is your reservation?” I asked, leaning toward him as though we were old friends. “Please, ask me anything. I have nothing to hide. I believe this program is going to revolutionize your already-endowed operation, but I need you to share my belief. I know that the only way you are going to be able to do that is if you bring any reservation you have out into the open.”

  “Well, I did have a question about the holdings and the data gathering.”

  I grinned, certain now that this sale was practically signed, sealed, and delivered.

  “I see. You are worried about the privacy of your clients…” I stopped, noticing the slight tick of his eyebrow, raising up and deepening the crevice that age had chiseled into his brow. His lips pursed slightly and his eyes hardened as an unspoken thought consumed him.

  Thankfully, he didn’t have to say it, for I already knew his intentions. I had done my research and was sure that running anything outside of his physical building would be a deal breaker. It didn’t take long to confirm my suspicions of a few underhanded deals and old-world favors being exchanged, all in the name of good business.

  If some information ever got out, it could easily spiral into one of those situations that would be devastating. I doubted the older man’s heart could take another occupational devastation like the one he suffered when his body refused to hold up to the scrutiny he attempted to endure for the NFL.

  I nodded, snickering in my head at my own emphatic genius.

&
nbsp; “And, of course, maintain your privacy, as well.”

  I assured and went on to explain, in layman’s terms, without coming off as condescending, that the information would not be accessible, even to me. I gave him my word that the hardware could be placed on the premises and would sync with his security measures seamlessly. After a few encouraging power-phrases, he was sold and lunch was concluded.

  We stood, shook hands, and made the necessary arrangements for the installation of the software to start before I turned around and finally allowed my expression to show a self-righteous sneer.

  As I walked back to the waiting company car, I contemplated how ultimately easy it was to put on a façade that propelled me light years away from the small-town hick that everyone thought I was destined to be.

  Chapter 2

  Jenna

  Sleeping was not an option. I had known that since the second I laid my head down on the pillow the night before, eagerly hoping I was wrong.

  It did not take me long, however, to be sure that the delusion that my excitement would lead to exhaustion, allowing much-needed rest to consume me, was exactly that: a delusion.

  Yet, even as I rolled back and forth on the pillow, attempting to force sleep upon myself, knowing that it would be the best thing for me, the excitement overwhelmed my senses. I felt giddy and nervous, enthralled and terrified, all at the same time. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to jump for joy or throw up.

  When the alarm finally went off, I leaped out of bed and into the shower. I had laid my clothes out the night before and had the strange feeling I was back in school – not college or medical school, but middle school.

  Even after what was starting to become an embarrassingly long time, I still recognized the raw thrill and distinct nervousness that came with such a harrowing first day. It was my first day of rotations at the local hospital in Pinehurst, North Carolina.

  Ever since I was a little girl, I had always dreamed of working there. Sure, it wasn’t Chapel Hill or any of what most doctors would consider a prestigious hospital, but for me, that was part of the allure.