by Ivy Banks
Taming The Billionaire
Royal Vampire Kingdom
Ivy Banks
Copyright © 2019 by Ivy Banks
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For permission requests, email [email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events, businesses, companies, institutions, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Sometimes freedom comes at the cost of ownership.
Contents
Royal Vampire Kingdom Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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Books By Ivy Banks
About the Author
Royal Vampire Kingdom Prologue
Many eons ago, the first vampire came into existence when a great warrior named Atticus was given the gift of immortality from an almighty warlock. But with the gift of eternal life came great responsibility. As Atticus developed a thirst for blood, he knew he had to leverage his powers wisely.
Over time, immortality became lonely, and Atticus embarked on a quest to form his own family. Choosing his “children” based on strength of character, fortitude and the ability to navigate an ever changing world for millennia upon millennia, Atticus created a clan that would be able to rule over all other vampires, creating order and hierarchy among them.
The Vampire King gave sixteen worthy humans the gift of everlasting life. The chosen soon became the fifteen princes and sole princess of the vampire world. Together they became the Hanover family.
From these original sixteen individuals, all vampires in the world were created. Though vampires now cover the Earth as rampantly as man and beast, the original Hanover clan remains the most powerful among them.
This is the love story of Marcus Hanover.
Chapter 1
With a final grunt, Marcus Hanover rolled onto his stomach and glanced at his companions who both lay spent on his bed.
“That was amazing,” Isobel purred, reaching out for his stacked body. Marcus slipped out of reach and waved at her dismissively.
“Time to go, ladies,” he announced. Micheline frowned and propped herself up on one arm to glare at him.
“You just call us over here for a threesome and as soon as you’re done, you kick us out?” she demanded hotly.
Marcus smiled, his brilliant white teeth a stunning contrast to his dark caramel skin.
Why does she always make such a production? It always ends the same way and yet…
“I fed you dinner first,” he replied smoothly, winking a dazzling hazel eye at her.
When the pout didn’t disappear from Micheline’s face, he forsook the niceties. As quickly as it had appeared, his playful demeanor was gone, his grin replaced by a scowl. It became tiresome having the same conversation time after time.
How many eons have I been in this precise place, speaking to the same empty-headed conquests with the same dull arguments. You served your purpose, I did my job, what conversation needs to be had?
“It’s been a pleasure as always, ladies, but I fear I have work to do,” he told them, trying to keep the exasperation from his voice.
Micheline’s mouth became a fine line of anger and she motioned toward her friend. The two women scurried about to gather their clothing.
“Thanks for nothing,” Isobel muttered and Marcus laughed aloud.
“Funny, it didn’t seem like nothing when you were begging for more ten minutes ago,” he called at their retreating forms.
Micheline slammed the door, cursing at him as she left. Marcus slipped off the bed, unaffected by her outburst. After all, they always came back for more.
He wandered toward the French doors and allowed himself onto the terrace, naked and still gleaming with sweat.
It was not that Marcus had not enjoyed the afternoon delight. On the contrary, the orgies invigorated him, which is why he indulged in them as frequently as he did. His issue was that Micheline and Isobel irritated him. That fact was unsurprising; most women ground on his nerves. Why should those two women be any different? Like it or not, he admitted that he would probably call them up again.
But Isobel has a mouth like a Hoover vacuum, and eventually, when I am ready to move on to greener pastures, I will make a feast out of Micheline. She is the sweetest thing I have ever tasted in the Americas and it will be a public service to rid the world of her shrill voice.
He leaned over the high balcony edge and peered onto Park Avenue from his rooftop. The autumn sunlight was dappling through the clouds and there was a slight nip in the air, but Marcus found it refreshing after the gymnastics he had just performed.
Hundreds of years old and I’ve still got it, he thought laughingly as a woman suddenly looked up toward where he stood from the sidewalk far below. He had summoned her gaze with his thoughts and he relished the power which he held over her, even from that distance.
With his uncannily acute eyesight, Marcus could make out the gape on her face as she realized he stood completely nude towering twenty-six floors above. Marcus chuckled to himself and offered her a wave, which he was sure she could not possibly see. That was irrelevant. It made him feel omnipotent.
I am like a god. I can control you at a whim. Glimpsing me probably made her day. Maybe she’ll give herself a thrill when she goes home to her boring Park Avenue life in this vapid town. Uh, there is nothing for me in New York. I should move back to Europe where the women have fewer inhibitions and slightly better conversation.
“Marcus!”
Speaking of vapid conversation, he cringed silently. He felt his eyes roll heavenward before he turned, steeling himself for what was coming.
Who the hell let her in? Heads are going to roll for this.
“Yes, dear?” he answered sweetly as he turned.
When he had finished his pivot, he faced his ex-wife Chanel who glowered at him from the entrance to the terrace.
“Did you just allow those whores back in here after what I told you?”
“Whores? No, I don’t think I had any whores in here,” he replied charmingly, striding back into the penthouse. “I will have to check my wallet to be sure though.”
Chanel reached out and slapped at him, but Marcus was long accustomed to her outbursts and seized her wrist roughly, yanking her toward his muscular frame.
“Ah ah ah, pumpkin. No touching. It’s in the divorce decree, remember? You gave up the right to physical contact when you got the chalet in Switzerland.”
Chanel’s icy eyes flashed with fury.
“You are a disgusting pig and I hope you get an STD!” she screamed, her face contorted in a mask of rage.
“Chanel, what are you doing here and how did you get in?” Marcus asked, releasing her and pushing her gently aside as he made his way inside the master bedroom. He secretly wondered how much scrutiny he would be under if he were to make her suddenly disappear. She was an insufferable pain in his ass, but he dared not do anything to her—yet. The timing would be too suspicious.
And whether he liked to admit it to himself or not, Marcus adored the passion he instilled in Chanel and the others. It was what made for such great sex.
He leaned down to the floor for his pants and slipped them on, eyeing her with mild amusement.
“You haven’t been in the office fo
r two days and you’re not answering your texts,” she replied, her childlike voice taking on a whiny tone.
The crazy ones are always so delicious in the sack, he though to himself, not for the first time. Why must they be so irritating the rest of the time?
They had only been married for two years and Marcus could not remember a marriage which had ever been more miserable in his entire existence.
Even that Hun’s daughter was a more pleasant experience than the two years with Chanel. That is what I get for thinking with the wrong head, as they say. Marcus also knew that if he was to do it again, he would have fallen into the same trap.
He reasoned that falling for her wasn’t his fault really. Chanel had pursued him relentlessly and had rightfully earned his attention with her persistence. Yet, like every other wife he had acquired, Marcus quickly grew bored as his restless spirit tended to do.
“I didn’t realize I had to check in with you, Chanel,” he retorted, slipping a white t-shirt over his ripped chest. He noted with satisfaction that Chanel watched him with naked desire.
She is a glutton for punishment. If I asked her to get on her knees right now, she would.
He toyed with the idea for a moment, but then cast it aside. He had no interest in rekindling lust in his ex.
“We have a delegation coming in from South Africa next week and the FDA is giving me a hard time about Pelixir.”
“What the hell does any of that have to do with me? You’re in charge of international business management, so you deal with South Africa. Also, the FDA has all the information they need. Pelixir will pass the standards test. So, tell me, why are you really here? And more so, how exactly did you get in?”
Chanel lowered her eyes guiltily. She had no right to be in the penthouse, but it had never stopped her before.
“Lucy let me in.”
Marcus grimaced and opened the door to the sitting room, Chanel hot on his heels.
I am going to have to go over the ground rules with the house staff again. Better yet, I am going to have to replace the house staff. They are all still loyal to this bat shit crazy woman.
“Go home, Chanel, I have a busy day,” he told her as they made their way into the hallway, Marcus not breaking stride to speak.
“I know,” she snapped. “You’re having a party tonight and you didn’t invite me.”
Ah, there it is.
Marcus stifled a laugh as he bounced down the stairs into the marble foyer. Lucy, who was dusting the entranceway, quickly averted her eyes.
She knows she’s in a lot of trouble when Chanel leaves, he thought, staring balefully after the housekeeper, but Lucy pretended not to notice. She subtly disappeared into the library.
She’s another one who gets away with too much around here. What is it with my Achilles heel for beautiful women?
“Chanel, is that seriously why you came over here?” Marcus sighed, finally turning to face her. Her pale face looked like that of a reprimanded child and she nodded.
“I thought we were still friends,” she complained, and Marcus suppressed the urge to give her a scathing reply. She had loved him and probably still did. It would be both cruel and unwise to mock her when she was feeling vulnerable.
“Chanel, we both know how you act when you see me with other women. It’s my birthday and I could do without fighting with you for one night.”
How can she possibly think I have any interest in maintaining a friendship with her after what she put me through? he thought, but then he quickly reminded himself that Chanel’s brain capacity was not why he had married her.
A genuine pout appeared on Chanel’s face and she crossed her arms over her slender chest.
“So, I can’t come to the party tonight?” she asked, seemingly hurt.
“No,” he replied flatly. “And please stop coming by without calling.”
Sulking, Chanel stormed out the front door, slamming the heavy wood behind her. Marcus sighed heavily. How had his life become filled with constant door slamming and ex-wives? After centuries of relationships, he should have known better than to actually marry a love interest. He longed for the days when marriages were business arrangements and not nooses.
Marcus grunted as he glanced at his watch. He had already wasted too much time between all the women flittering through the door that morning. He had to plan for the party tonight. It was his birthday after all.
How old would that make me if that was true? He laughed to himself.
Amelia was ill-at-ease as she stared at the opulence surrounding her. The New York life she had been thrust into was unlike anything she had ever experienced, and she did not appreciate its splendor.
The champagne fountains and silver trays flashing before her eyes seemed unusually wasteful and she longed for the comforts of home as she circulated around the room with the richly-dressed men and women. She caught snatches of the most ridiculous conversations, each word grinding on her nerves worse than the last.
Amelia had hoped that Dan would honor his word for once, appearing at the Park Avenue penthouse for a drink before taking her out for a date night. But of course, two hours later, she was abandoned in a corner and he was off mingling as if he had forgotten he had arrived with anyone.
At least Dan seems in his element, she thought with a slight bitterness, watching her fiancé work the party.
He circulated like he had been friends with the wealthy guests there his whole life. The move from Montana to the Big Apple had been seamless for Dan, but for Amelia, the upset to her life was taking its toll.
She had been reared in a middle-class life outside of Helena. She was most at home with nature and farmland, while Dan had deigned for action and adventure. Amelia would have been content living on a ranch in Montana for the rest of her life, practicing as a veterinarian with a couple kids and a handful of dogs. But when Dan had been recruited by Hanover Pharmaceuticals to run their research facility in New York City, there had been very minimal discussion.
“This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Amy!” Dan had told her excitedly. “This is the dream!”
This is your dream, Amelia had thought acridly. My dream is in Montana, not among the highly pretentious.
She also loathed being called Amy, something she had mentioned to Dan in passing several times over the years, but it wasn’t like her fiancé to take note of things like that. Not when they came from her anyway.
“Please do not tell me that you are sipping on water,” a voice beside her implored. Amelia whipped around to take in the speaker, her heart thumping at the unexpected interaction.
A tall, gorgeous black man stood at her side in a burgundy tuxedo. His thick raven spirals were cut short in a stylish fashion and his glowing hazel eyes seemed to reach into her soul.
“Uh, soda actually,” she muttered, shifting her dark eyes shyly downward.
He began to shake his head. “No,” he said firmly. “No, that won’t do.”
He grabbed the arm of a passing server.
“Honey, will you grab this beautiful girl a… What are you drinking, sweetheart?”
Amelia’s eyes narrowed in irritation.
“I just told you that I’m having a soda,” she replied, holding up her almost full glass, wondering if he was deaf or simply inconsiderate.
Again, the handsome stranger shook his head.
“Oh no,” he told her insistently. “This is a party. We don’t drink soda at parties.”
“We aren’t,” Amelia snapped. “I am.”
Who does this guy think he is? Does this macho crap work on other women?
To her chagrin, his smile widened.
“Oh, you’re a spitfire,” he countered with heightened interest. “I like you. What’s your name?”
Amelia purposely turned her back on him. She was not spending one more moment amusing this man.
“Amy! There you are!” Dan appeared at her side, glancing at the man behind her. “I see you’ve met the noble CEO and birthday boy.”<
br />
Amelia felt the blood drain from her face and she slowly turned back to her fiancé’s boss. She swallowed her humiliation, although she was certain her face was sheet white.
“Oh, this is your wife, Dan?” Marcus Hanover boomed jovially, his grin so wide, Amelia was certain his face would crack open.
“This is my fiancée, Amelia,” he announced, slipping his arm around Amelia. “Isn’t she cute?”
Amelia felt herself bristle.
Maybe you can give me a dog biscuit, she thought furiously. Perhaps it was the move or maybe she was simply seeing things more clearly, but she was increasingly finding Dan’s condescending mannerisms unbearable.
Yet Amelia was a traditional girl from a religious community. She was taught to honor and obey her husband, or in her case, husband-to-be. When she accepted Dan’s proposal of marriage, she felt like she had been locked into an unbreakable agreement to stand by him no matter what. Confrontation did not come naturally to her.
“She’s beautiful,” Marcus Hanover replied, and Amelia felt an unexpected blush creep up her neck. “You’re a lucky man, Daniel. I am happy you were both able to make it tonight in celebration of my birthday.”
“Thank you for having us, Mr. Hanover,” she breathed, her voice wavering with embarrassment. She could not believe she had been so rude to the host, and she was grateful that Dan had appeared before things had escalated further.
“Please call me Marcus, and please know I will have you anytime.”
Amelia’s head whipped up and her eyes became slits as the innuendo filled her ears. Marcus raised his eyebrows at her ever so slightly, as if challenging her to fight him.
“Yeah, great party!” Dan agreed. “Oh, there’s Sam! I’ll be right back.”
Her fiancé disappeared, leaving Marcus and Amelia alone again.
