Falling for Mr. Statham: A Billionaire Romance (Boxed Set)

by Whitney G.

  Claire

  One year later...

  I stood in front of the bathroom mirror with a pair of scissors poised high above my head. I made sure to hold the strands taut, and then I counted.

  One....Two...

  “What are you doing, Claire?” Jonathan walked into the room with his eyebrow raised.

  “I spotted two gray hairs today.”

  “And?”

  “And I want to get rid of them.”

  He rolled his eyes and took the scissors out of my hand, placing them back into the drawer. He wrapped his arm around my waist and led me out into our living room.

  “Every man in my family started graying at thirty five.” He smiled. “You should leave your hair alone so we can match.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better...”

  “It’s true. My mom’s side of the family started graying at thirty. I’m sure it’ll happen to me soon.”

  “I’m not sure if gray hair will look sexy on you, Jonathan.”

  “Everything looks sexy on me.”

  I laughed as he handed me a box of tree ornaments.

  Since we’d spent last Christmas overseas, we were hosting the holidays at home this year per his request. He’d never had a “real Christmas” before so he insisted on having his mom and Hayley over so they could all share their first one together.

  “Hey, mom?” Ashley walked into the room with a pan of burnt black brownies. “I followed the directions and everything...I even used the right pan. What the hell is up with these things?”

  I stepped over and looked into the pan, sighing. “You make straight A’s in college?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  I shook my head. “What temperature did you put them on?”

  “Six hundred.”

  “Six hundred?! I thought you said you followed the directions?”

  “Caroline’s casserole needed to be baked ASAP, so I just halved the time. Thirty minutes at three hundred degrees equals fifteen minutes at six hundred. That’s basic math. You of all people should know that.” She shook her head at me and shrugged at Jonathan. “This was clearly an expired box of batter...I’m going to go buy some more.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but Jonathan pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

  “She’ll learn. My mom is going to help them with everything tonight.”

  I sighed and kissed him back.

  I hooked a few more ornaments onto the tree and could literally feel Caroline walking into the room.

  “Yes, Caroline?” I looked over my shoulder.

  “I just got me and Ashley’s final placement scores from the FAA practice-test. Our demonstration flights are in May. May fourteenth to be exact.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’m telling you now because we have to book a time slot in your schedule six months in advance if we want you to be there. You’re always working.”

  “What? That’s not true! I’ll—”

  “I’m not complaining.” She smiled. “I’m just saying that—Wait, why am I even telling you? I’ll call both your secretaries and make sure they put it into your schedules.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and left the room.

  I shook my head and let out a sigh. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, she was right: C and C’s Charming Designs was still making a name for itself, but it’d been growing beyond my wildest dreams—so fast that I was opening a new store overseas in a year. Statham Industries was now worth more than Jonathan’s largest competitors combined, and he’d been considering taking an extended leave of absence—just to spend more time with me.

  In fact, every morning when we woke up for work, he’d kiss me and whisper, “Say the word,” waiting to see if I would ask him to step down, practically begging me to.

  On the one hand, I wasn’t completely sure if I wanted him to do that—even if it was “only six months.” He was excited about the changes his company was making—all the new products they were releasing next year, and I didn’t want him to think I hadn’t noticed that.

  On the other, even though our sex life was fucking incredible—I couldn’t think of a single day when we didn’t have sex at least once, we didn’t see each other that much. Unless Ashley and Caroline came home for a visit or we threw a party, we both worked extremely hard during the week and we only got to share small parts of the weekend with one another.

  Don’t get me wrong, he always did small things to let me know I was on his mind—endless flowers, beautiful gifts, and home cooked dinners that I could never master, but I spent more time at work than I did with him and it hurt me sometimes...

  “What are you thinking about?” Jonathan tilted my face towards him.

  “Nothing...Can I ask you something?”

  “Always.”

  “Are you ever going to tell me what happened to that lawsuit Ryan filed against you?”

  “Are you going to tell me why you’re thinking about your ex-husband?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You never told me...”

  He pressed a kiss against my forehead and smiled. “He pressed charges against me for assault and battery.”

  “And?”

  “And I have the best lawyers in the world.” He smirked.

  “Jonathan!”

  He sighed. “They sent him a copy of the security tape that shows him pushing you down the steps...” He clenched his jaw. “With a note telling him to drop the charges or we would press counter charges...So he dropped his claims...And then I pressed charges anyway.”

  My eyes widened. “What? Why?”

  “Because he could’ve killed you...” He ran his fingers through my hair. “We settled out of court under our own terms. You’ll never see him again.”

  The tone of his voice told me not to ask anything further about that subject.

  I didn’t even want to know.

  He clasped my hand and led me over to the couch. “Tell me what you were really thinking about.”

  “You stepping down for six months...”

  “Do you really want me to do that, Claire?” He looked into my eyes. “I will.”

  I glanced at the fire that was blazing in the heath, at the bright red stockings that hung over the bricks, and at our huge family portrait that hung high above our massive Christmas tree. I realized that I wanted these family events to happen more often, and I didn’t want it to have to be a holiday for him and me to get alone time.

  “Yes...”

  “You have to take off, too...I refuse to share.”

  I nodded and kissed him back. “I’ll take off for six months, but you have to take off for a year.”

  “A year? Why is that?”

  “Someone has to stay home and take care of the baby.”

  “What?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “What baby?”

  “Our baby.”

  “That joke wasn’t funny the first time.” He looked at my stomach. “Your tubes are tied.”

  “Are they?”

  “Claire...”

  “Jonathan...” I mocked him.

  “We both agreed that we didn’t want kids, that even if we did want kids—which we don’t, it was too high of a risk for you to get pregnant.”

  “So?”

  “So, I need you to be completely fucking honest with me right now because I’m three seconds away from calling my doctor and having her run the damn test on Christmas morning. Are you pregnant?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you need to answer me. Now.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Don’t test me, Claire.” He looked deep into my eyes, pleading for me to answer him. “Tell me...”

  I leaned close and kissed him. Then I stood up. “We need to finish this tree before your mom gets here.”

  “You’re not going to answer me?”

  “Is there a reason why we have five Christmas trees around the house? Don’t you think that’s a little excessive?”

  He sto
od up and walked over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and locking me in his embrace. “You have two seconds to tell me the truth.”

  I blinked and he shook his head.

  “Claire Statham...” He slowly released me, but before I could make a dash for the kitchen he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. “You and I both know that I’m going to get the truth out of you. Why are you making this difficult?”

  “I’m not making anything difficult. I’m fulfilling my ‘I must frustrate the shit out of Jonathan’ quota for the day.”

  He laughed and carried me upstairs to our bedroom. Then he tossed me onto the bed. “I’m going to give you one last chance to answer my question, Claire.”

  “And what question was that? I think I forgot.”

  He lips curved into a wry smile and he covered his body with mine. “Trust me...By the time I get done with you, I’m sure you’ll remember...”

  **The End**

  A Letter to the Reader

  Dear Incredible Reader,

  Thank you so much for taking time out of your life to read this book! I hope you were thoroughly entertained and enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  If you LOVED it and have any extra time, PLEASE leave a review on amazon.com, B&N.com, goodreads.com, OR find me here on Facebook so I can personally thank you :-) If you hated it, well...keep that shit to yourself! LOL (Just kidding. Feel free to let me know how I can improve next time!)

  I’m forever grateful for you and your time, and I hope to be re-invited to your bookshelf with my next release. (Speaking of my next release, if you’d like to be a part of my mailing list so you can be notified of my upcoming release dates and special offers, please sign up via this link. )

  Love,

  Whitney G.

  Excerpt from Over Us, Over You (Twisted Love)

  *Subject to change before publication*

  Prologue

  Hayley

  For as long as I can remember, my older brother has been my protector. My guardian. My only friend.

  Ever since I was three years old, he took care of me and shielded me from the ugliness of the world—even though he was just a child himself. Whenever the neighborhood boys called me “white trash,” “fugly hick” and “meth baby,” he would walk me to school the next day and beat them to a pulp. And whenever I cried about not being able to dress like “the other girls,” he would find a way to get me new clothes...

  He did his best to raise me on his own—teaching me how to read, how to know right from wrong, how to survive.

  I always prayed that he would turn eighteen overnight, so he could take me away from our despicable parents—from the people who didn’t care whether we lived or died. But he was only twelve when my hopes were permanently shattered...

  We were separated and put in different foster homes—with parents who were even worse than what we had before. While he was “lucky” enough to remain with the same family, I was moved in and out of four different homes and they all treated me like I was nothing.

  While I could still call my brother and cry to him about how terrible my life was, that wasn’t enough. All of his “You’re so smart and pretty, Hayley. Remember that,” “I love you, Hayley,” and “I’ll come get you as soon as I turn eighteen” promises fell flat in the face of the horrors I was dealing with...

  By the time he turned eighteen, he did come and get me, but it was too late.

  I was damaged. Broken. And after everything I’d been through, there was little he could do or say to put me back together again.

  I was perpetually screwed. Hopelessly twisted.

  Chapter 1

  Corey

  I need to fuck someone...Tonight...

  I take a long swig of my beer and survey the party again.

  It’s one of those art deco events that bring out the city’s elite. Everyone here is either rich, filthy rich, or a gold-digger looking to land another victim.

  I’ve slept with more than half of the women here and none of them were memorable. Still, it’s been a week since I’ve had sex and that’s the longest I’ve been abstinent in the past six years.

  Out the corner of my eye I see an unfamiliar woman—a woman dressed in a skintight purple dress with her hair in a high blond bun. I’m not sure if we’ve met, but before I can make my way over and see if I have a chance for tonight she slowly turns around.

  Hayley?

  It is Hayley. As in my best friend’s little sister Hayley.

  I shake my head as I look her over again and again, because it’s been years since I’ve seen her. She’s always been beautiful, but tonight she’s a fucking vision.

  Her bright blue eyes are sparkling against the night, her deep red lips are full and plump, and the way that long sleeved dress clings to her body is lethal.

  I watch as she charms the circle of people around her, as the men eye her up and down and slip their business cards into her hand.

  “Hey, Corey.” She walks over to me and smiles.

  “Hello, Hayley.”

  She doesn’t say anything back. Instead, she stands a little too close to me and starts to rub my shoulder in a non-friend way—unless I’ve had one too many beers and am just imagining this.

  “What are you doing here?” I clear my throat. “Where’s Jonathan?”

  “He decided to take Claire to the Virgin Islands for the weekend, so I’m here to put in bids for him...I don’t know why he even bothers bidding. They always let him see the work days before and let him buy whatever he wants.”

  “Very true.” I laugh. “Where are your girlfriends?”

  She gives me a faint smile. “You and I both know I don’t have any of those...”

  I do know that and I feel like shit for even asking her. I stick to the safe questions—asking her about her Scrabble tournaments, her new position at Statham Industries, and fail to mention the fact that she’s still rubbing my shoulder in a very inappropriate way.

  “How have you been?” She slides her hand around my neck and I picture her doing that as I wrap her legs around my waist, as I make her scream my name.

  Shit...

  “Fine.” I move her hand away. “I’ve been doing fine. I’ll um—it was nice seeing you again, Hayley.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah. I need to get—” The hell away from you... “I need to get back home.”

  “Oh.” She looks disappointed, but she forces a smile. “Well, I’ll see you around? Maybe in your office? Tomorrow?”

  Okay, I’ve got to be tipsy...There’s no way she’s flirting with me right now...

  “Sure.” I slowly walk away and decide that I need to find a way to fuck her out of my mind. Forever.

  I walk around the pool and charm up a few of the women I’ve had before, feeding them the same bullshit that’s worked in the past. Low key billionaire. Minimalist. Biker.

  That’s it.

  That’s all it takes.

  I slip my business card into a few of their purses and tell them to call me whenever they’re ready to leave. I’ll open my bed up to whoever calls me first. No preference.

  Before I leave, I pull out my tablet and hack into the auctioneer’s database. The picture I meant to bid on has already been sold, but I re-route that money back to bidder and place my name into the slot instead.

  I’ll send him my regards...

  An hour later, I crash into my bed and hear my phone buzzing. A text. “Hey Corey. Hannah. I’m downtown right now. Be there in thirty.”

  Ugh...

  I don’t want Hannah to come, but I can’t say no because she’s the first one to hit me up.

  I turn my phone off to ignore any other texts that may come later, and go into the kitchen to uncork her favorite wine—Moscato.

  I always keep my cellar stuffed with all my regulars’ favorites. They think it’s because I care—because I “remember”, but it’s really because I don’t want to have to leave to go get it. The quicker w
e can get to the sex, the better.

  Thirty minutes pass by and she still hasn’t arrived—her normal M.O. She always takes two hours, no matter how close she claims to be.

  I re-program my surveillance system to keep an eye out for her arrival, letting it know that it can unlock the gate for the next car and say “The door is unlocked” once she pulls into the carport.

  Frustrated, I fall back onto my mattress and shut my eyes—waiting for the much needed release. I grab my remote and hit the lights, knowing that she’ll wake me up with a mean blow job the second she gets here.

  Hurry up...

  I shut my eyes and sigh.

  I’m slowly drifting into sleep when I feel her finally crawling on top of me.

  “Did you get lost?” I feel her kissing my lips.

  “Not at all.”

  “Do you know what thirty minutes means?”

  She laughs and straddles me. “Is that all you have left in you tonight?”

  “Funny.” I run my fingers through her hair. “Do you want the lights on?”

  “I’m fine.”

  I slip my hands down to the hem of her dress and pull it over her head. Before she can lean down and kiss me, I unsnap her bra and palm her breasts in my hands.

  “Did you get a boob job?” I ask.

  “Seriously? Is this your idea of sex talk?”

  “You had C-cups last month...These are clearly Ds...”

  She gasps as I take one of her nipples into my mouth and softly bite it. She isn’t normally so responsive to my touch, so I figure she’s drunk.

  I guess I need to take this slow...

  I pull her head down to mine and press my lips against hers, raising my eyebrow when she seems hesitant, when she barely opens her mouth to let me kiss her.

  Maybe we should sleep first...Ugh...

  “Do you want to finish this in the morning?” I caress her breasts again. “I think you’re a little too drunk...”

  “I’m not drunk.” She leans back, unzips my pants, and pulls out my hardened cock.

  “Whatever you say, sweetheart.” I pull her back towards me, trying to kiss her again.

  Once again, she’s hesitant—nervous, so I run my hands against her arms to reassure her—stopping once I feel the abrasive lines.