The Billionaire Bastard: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance Read online

  The Billionaire Bastard

  A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

  Romi Hart

  Copyright © 2018 by Romi Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.

  Contents

  Also by Romi Hart

  About this book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  The Billionaire Bull - Special Preview

  Author’s Note

  Also by Romi Hart

  About the Author

  Also by Romi Hart

  The Billionaire Bull

  Sinner

  Stamina

  About this book

  My words made me world famous.

  * * *

  Billions and beauties.

  I’m untameable.

  But I can’t forget Denise.

  The woman I met 10 years ago.

  * * *

  Her sweet lips and smooth curves.

  Lust, love, infatuation.

  It was everything.

  Bad intentions. Real desires.

  But they were left unfulfilled…

  * * *

  10 years later, she shows up in my life.

  She wants my autograph on her book.

  I will give it to her on her lips.

  I’m going to take her this time.

  She doesn’t know how wild I am.

  * * *

  I will make her surrender and love her reckless!

  Chapter 1

  Denise

  People say I have a mean face. A no bullshit attitude and a face that screams, “Don’t you dare cross me.” I intimidate people, especially men who are looking for an approachable women, someone flirty, someone down-to-earth. But when you’re the Chief Accounting Officer of Jolt: Davidson Dating Digital, one of the top 100 companies in the country, I suppose a woman quickly learns to be tougher.

  They want you to be a ball-buster, a warrior, a leader. But what no one really knows about CFO types like me is that we are much nicer on in the inside than we can afford to be in the public view. If I told people that behind this façade, Denise Cornet, there is a lonely child wanting acceptance, they would laugh. Or pity me. Or maybe ask me out, figuring that my loneliness surely means that I’m looking for a partner to complete my life.

  Why not? Will somebody please snatch her up before she does something terrible—like heaven forbid becoming a single mom!

  The truth is I’m at a comfortable place right now. I’m thirty-seven, have a great job, and I’m busy as hell. I enjoy the attention men give me and I enjoy looking good—a moderately tall brunette with a camera-friendly smile, because of course that’s what the company depends on. I work out five times a week and eat healthy, not because I’m trying to impress the boys but because it makes me feel wonderful.

  Always dressed in a conservative business suit, most men probably assume that I have no love life and I’m ashamed to admit it’s a stereotype I’m slowly turning into a reality. I am extremely busy and since Jolt DDD is actually a dating / entertainment / social media company, well let’s just say I have my pick of all available suitors—some in the office and some very eligible bachelors online.

  But the truth is that even when I settle down and unwind, my last thought of the day is not to look for a man or chat with a mysterious stranger. My final thoughts of the day right before I hit the bed are about peace, harmony, joy and sleep. How lovely it feels to fall asleep and know that the world will wait for me till morning.

  This worries my family and friends, particularly mom, who thinks of me getting married and living happily ever after as the culmination of her own life—with grandbabies being the ultimate prize.

  But if you ask my colleagues and buddies and “friends” you’ll probably get a different story.

  “Denise is a beautiful girl! But no man is good enough for her.”

  I gave the guy a raised eyebrow as I walked by his cubicle, letting him know that I heard that. He smiles back, a little nervous, wondering if he’s in trouble.

  Little does he know I don’t mind if he spreads that terrible rumor around. After all, no woman wants to be the “It Girl” at work. How can you possibly be an executive and be the nice girl that politely rejects dozens of handsome and charming suitors? It really is an embarrassing and stressful situation for someone like me…someone who keeps her private life in a vault.

  I’ve already been there and done that, that’s for sure. They might not call it real love but it was puppy dog love and it sure felt like the real thing at the time. But it really seems like now I’m at that point where I’m asking myself, “Are you sure it wasn’t just better to have loved and lost, than to actually go through the stress of trying to love again?”

  I think the strangest experience of my life, or at least one of them, was when I was asked out by the shyest of boys…in the strangest of ways…and during a moment that I never anticipated.

  “You know you’re doing great things for Jolt DDD,” Wilford told me. “Our numbers are the highest they’ve ever been. Our projections are phenomenal. We’ve expanded internationally and I know it’s partly thanks to your tireless efforts.”

  “Thank you sir,” I said with a smile.

  “No, no, I mean it. It’s customary to say nice things but you, Denise, really take things to a new level. I’m sorry, force of habit. I always think of you as my friend, Denise, but the truth is you’re a brilliant CFO, Ms. Cornet. And the company is proud to have you.”

  I smiled excitedly, blushing at thought, a CEO promotion to come? A camera-friendly job, communicating with the media, meeting VIPs all over the world? This felt like a major milestone.

  “Yes, Mr. Wilford! I am so…so happy to be working here.”

  “Yes and well…I guess the real supposition of it is, Denise, er, shall I clarify Ms. Cornet…that I want to tackle loneliness on our next venture. The unbearable lightness of being in want of heart. Well, to put it professionally and in laymen’s terms…would you like to venture forth on an uncharted new campaign?”

  “Well…”

  “That of being my spouse? My er…wife. Yes, that makes it clear. Right?”

  I dropped my mouth open, fixing to say something and then heard THAT and just stared at him slackjawed for a good minute and a half.

  “Well maybe I didn’t make it clear. See what I was implying…”

  “Yes. Yes, Wilford…er…Mr. Davidson. You made it very clear. Ummm, towards the end, yeah. I think I got what you were saying.”

  “Right. I…uh…I suppose that wasn’t the best of proposals. Maybe I should have asked you out on a date first. Bu
t I figure we’ve worked together for ten years and we kind of ARE married already, aren’t we? Well obviously…”

  “Uh huh…” I said, listening but still thoroughly confused. I suppose I should clarify too…Wilford Davidson is my boss, the President of Jolt DDD. And he asked me out the same awkward and bizarre way that every other man seems to do. Not that I was angry or resentful about him asking me out, I mean, everyone knows Mister Davidson was a polite and professional guy. But…yeah…

  He sighed and tilted his head. “Am I to understand that you’ve refused my offer of marriage?”

  “Umm…yeah, sorry.”

  “No, no, it’s fine,” he nodded quickly. “I anticipated this turn of events. In fact, I wrote an entire business plan suggesting what actions I should take if you, predictably, said no. Can’t say I came unprepared!”

  “And uh…what did your business plan say?”

  “Ah, I have it right here!” he said, grabbing a notebook and flipping through pages. “Okay…more romantically worded proposal, nix that. Don’t need that anymore!” He laughed. “Umm…disclaimer form. Of course, I hope you will note that my asking you to marry me is not motivated purely out of patriarchal or white privilege. There are no ramifications. This doesn’t count as #MeToo, right?”

  “Wilford,” I said tiredly. “Of course not. Your proposal was sweet. You’ve always been very professional. I just don’t think I…”

  “Don’t see me as an attractive mate, I gather?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Of course.”

  “I just don’t think I’m interested in men.”

  “Oh, I see.” He opened his eyes wider. “OH…I SEE.”

  “No it’s not…it’s not…”

  I tilted my head, wondering if all the boys thought I was a lesbian, if that might stop them from asking me out?

  But then I realized, oh no if that gossip spreads around that might only get me twice the number of dating applications! I better just clarify, I said to myself.

  I took Wilford’s hand and smiled, tenderly squeezing his wrist.

  “I don’t want to get married, Wilford. To male or female. To anyone. I love my job. My heart is…well, unmarketable to put it in words we can both understand.”

  “I do understand, oddly enough,” he said with a friendly nod.

  But a wise man once told me that “for every action there is a reaction” and he might have been quoting Newton’s third law when he said it, but he made it clear that he was actually talking about people—and the way people love exaggerating statements. Everything a person says, he claimed, would cause a ripple effect and before you know it, the truth would be blown out of proportion.

  At least in this case, my dear friend’s advice proved to be true. After it became known that I turned down the boss’s proposal for a date—I actually didn’t tell anyone the embarrassing truth it was a marriage proposal, I’m just not that cruel even to my boss—the entire office, the entire building, became obsessed with my love life.

  They spread rumors that I was untouchable, a robot, or a nun. Some of the nastier rumors were that I was after money—like inherited money, not a measly $750,000 a year like I’m sure Wilford could offer. They claimed I wanted big money…a more hurtful rumor I couldn’t even imagine. I love my job because it makes me feel alive! If only they knew how very little I thought of material things.

  Well, imagine my chagrin when this next incident happened. I swear…it’s not what it looks like.

  “A Book by SIMEON HOLLOCK”

  That was the billboard that captured my attention. When I saw that author Simeon Hollock was actually visiting my home city of Hudson, New York, I let out a little schoolgirl scream. A signed copy of his newest novel, who could resist? I had always been an avid reader and the idea of meeting one of my favorite authors was a dream come true.

  Everyone in New York knew who Simeon was. He didn’t just write a few books, he created an entire brand, a universe of wonderful characters. He called it science fiction, but it felt like poetry. Everything about the book was magical and yet happening in an all too real future.

  And yes, it just so happens that Simeon hit the jackpot and created a blockbuster franchise with movies, comic books, novels and even theme parks. Everyone wanted Simeon’s attention. Probably because he was making JK Rowling billionaire money and was doing the rounds on TV talk shows and radio shows.

  But when I met Simeon, that day at the book signing, something peculiar happened and I swear, not a single soul would believe me.

  I smiled half-heartedly as I waited patiently in line, admiring my new book and casually glancing at the author’s nearly perfect face. Most authors have distinguished shades of grey in their hair. Simeon had a young face, aged thirty-five – which I know from the book jacket – and with healthy short but wavy brown hair. He had deep and soulful eyes, with just barely discernible eye lashes. His lips were soft. His smile was so charming and innocent. But his facial features strong, masculine and dare I say…

  Intoxicating. Physically he was handsome, but intellectually intimidating. He looked so fearless, so piercing, when he looked into a person’s eyes. But of course in interviews, he was always humble, affable and even a little self-deprecating with his humor.

  One might have thought I was a little infatuated with this Very Successful Author. But they really don’t know the truth.

  He glanced my direction. For a moment, I thought we noticed each other, but then he turned away. He looked every one of his fans in the eyes. I’m sure that whenever he looked into their faces, for a moment, he was their world. He was that devoted, that passionate. But then the look away, the retreat, that’s what reminded them just how untouchable he really was.

  I moved closer into the line, still holding on tight to my book, still wondering what I would say to this man…this man who was larger than life and a creator of amazing worlds. Another woman was in front of me and so was another fan boy. I would have to wait my turn to meet his face and have my moment.

  “Thank you,” he muttered to his adoring fan. Another handshake and signature for his next fan. He smiled at them in a peculiar way, half smiling, not a full smile. Never showing teeth, never sharing anything beyond pleasantries.

  I wondered what kind of smile he would give me. What he would think of me, a successful woman, a woman completely opposite from his world.

  I breathed in deeply, shut my eyes and summoned my inner CFO. Be confident. Be kind. Don’t let him intimidate you. Meet his eyes.

  Then he saw me and he lost his smile. His face became almost pale. But our eyes locked, like magnetism, like destiny, they locked.

  “Denise…” he whispered, as he slowly stood up from his seat. The crowd behind me began to murmur. He was causing a scene, given his stoic face and dramatic rising.

  I said nothing. I flinched.

  “Marry me,” he said, his voice weakening and his eyes becoming wider.

  “What?” I said, my face slowly becoming red with childlike reverence.

  “Denise…will you marry me?”

  “I will,” I said, finally breaking and the tears shedding.

  And of course, people around us were as confused as fuck! I suppose to the casual onlooker this was a scene out of a novel, you know, if you only read the introduction and the last page. Something was missing all right.

  Wouldn’t you know though, the whole “Simeon Hollock Proposes” video went viral and within an hour we were all over the net. Simeon, as usual, looking austere and so handsome, the envy of every single girl’s eye. And me…just this thirty-seven-year-old brunette who was pretty but a complete mystery to the world.

  Who was I? How did he know me? Was it really destiny that linked us together? Or was it a lifetime of hits and misses that culminated in this very moment—where we were both finally free to say I DO?

  I was so ecstatic at his proposal I smiled, cried, grabbed his hands dropped my book right on the table in front of him. I frantically g
rabbed it back—even before he had a chance to sign it!

  Knowing every person was staring at me was too much and so I escaped the bookstore as quickly possible, figuring that Simeon would find me, eventually, when the time was right. Indeed…he was always really good at that.

  But for every action a reaction, right? When my colleagues at work heard what happened, I never heard the end of it.

  “Hey Denise,” teased one. “I heard it was between Simeon, Mark Zuckerberg and Bill Gates. Good thing they were married!”

  “Denise! I heard you finally found someone rich enough to be worthy of you.”

  “Hey Denise, I just made 100 million is that enough for one date?”

  Everyone was so rude, especially the women! All these presumptions about how I didn’t even think twice before accepting the billionaire’s proposal—as if money matters to someone like me!

  And what did they think, anyway? That Simeon Hollock, a man who could have any woman in the world he wanted would just cave upon seeing my beauty? Oh yeah averagely beautiful! And about seven years past her prime.

  I was overwhelmed at the attention and never quite used to being the pun of a million jokes all over Facebook and Twitter. I even saw my mother commenting, defending me to the masses, assuring everyone I wasn’t just some money-chasing whore…and of course, Simeon wasn’t just some virginal writer that jumped at the first woman who flirted with him. Nothing’s as silly as they all make it sound on the Internet!