Mister Billions: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Fake Marriage Billionaire Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 1)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  No outside investor is going to swoop in and take away Gramps’s company. No one is going to demolish all of the small businesses in town and erect ugly factories.

  I lean back, waiting for the wave of satisfaction to wash over me. It never comes. Because Lexi should be here now. She should be witnessing it. I saved my grandfather's company with her help and it feels wrong that she's not here to celebrate with me.

  Somehow, in just the short time we’ve been living as husband and wife, this crazy woman has become my confidant. She’s the first person I want to run to now that I've achieved my objective. I just want to see her proud of me.

  I hadn’t realized until my movie theater surprise how much I enjoyed seeing Lexi happy. There’s a lot about her that I’m quickly discovering, and a lot about her that I’m enjoying.

  I reach for my phone, but I stop myself when I realize that if I tell her I own the company, she’ll want to put an end to our sham relationship and go back to her normal life. I don’t want that. I don’t want to end our relationship.

  I want to keep my wife for real.

  The hollow feeling inside of me grows wider and deeper as I drive home. I'm acutely aware of how very alone I am.

  I park in my garage and enter the house through the kitchen entrance. The high ceilings loom above me and the walls threaten to close in and swallow me up.

  But when I step into the kitchen, I swear I feel the nerve endings in my scalp tingle. I catch hints of grapefruit shampoo.

  Lexi is standing in the doorway, a frown etched deep on her beautiful face.

  35

  Lexi

  God—I'm supposed to be stronger than this.

  I've always considered myself a tough girl. But this husband of mine, he has a way of breaking me, stripping me down to the vulnerable woman beneath all my damn bravado.

  I couldn't stay away from him any longer.

  Halfway home after work, I turned around and came here. I paced the living room floor.

  While I waited for him, I planned out what I'd say. I was going to yell, I was going to scream, I was going to let him know how very, very pissed I am over what he did.

  When I heard the garage door open, I came into the kitchen to give him a piece of my mind, to let this asshole know exactly what I think of him.

  I did not come in here to be pushed up against the cold, stainless steel refrigerator, to have my skirt hiked up over my ass and my legs tangled around his waist, to have my wet, wet panties shoved to the side, to have this jerk hammering an exquisitely brutal rhythm into my throbbing core.

  But the second I walked in, he pinned me with those caramel eyes, the scorching lust melting every defence I ever built against him. Then we were charging across the room, colliding with the urgency of a magnet seeking out a bar of iron.

  His lips were on my throat, his hand was between my thighs and I forgot the textbook of reasons why I hate this man.

  Because when he touches me like that, what is English?

  What is grammar and syntax and punctuation?

  When he touches me like that, the only words in my vocabulary are "please" and "yes" and "more."

  "God, I've fucking missed you." He breathes against my neck before kissing a path down between my breasts.

  I missed you, too.

  The words are right there, locked in my throat. My pride and self-preservation won't allow me to let them out. Because this man hurt me. Even though he might not have meant to.

  He plucked my heart from the safe cocoon it's been buried in and he took it so high with hope, so high with need.

  And then he let it fall.

  The last thing I want is to give him the chance to hurt me again. But I'm too far gone now. I can't just walk away.

  I brace his cheeks with my palms and I kiss him so hard.

  And we fuck. On the table. Bent over the sink. Against the refrigerator. Frantic, pulsing bodies making careless promises in the dark.

  My armor cracks open under the pull of the orgasm. The sounds of my ecstasy echo off the pots and pans hanging from the wall. Cannon is right there with me, coming hard in the throbbing grip of my pussy.

  Together, we slide down to the kitchen floor, my back nestled against his strong chest. His lips press against my scalp when he brings me into his arms.

  "I'm sorry..."

  He whispers the words so softly. They get caught in my messy hair. Seated in his lap, I crane my neck to look into his face because I'm not sure I heard him right.

  He lifts my chin to press his mouth to mine. It's a sweet, innocent kiss, full of relief and adoration. He looks me in the eyes and says it again. "I'm sorry, Alexia. I'm sorry that I hurt you."

  From his expression, I can tell that the words taste foreign on his tongue. This is difficult for him. But he's genuine.

  I pull his arms tighter around me, my silent way of accepting his apology. He presses a soft kiss to my temple and then another to my cheek, my jaw, the spot beneath my ear. He holds me like I mean something to him.

  And now here I am, shaking in his arms on the cold tile floor, orgasm still screaming in my veins. And I know, I just know, I just know...I'm falling for the bastard.

  36

  Cannon

  Lexi puts me to work the second I step into the bridal shop at lunchtime. I pretend to be a grumpy asshole about it, but deep down, I’m enjoying this. Honestly, I'm just glad to be back on her good side.

  The relief I feel that she came back to me, I can't describe it. If the way she kissed me and touched me and moaned my name last night is any indication, I'd guess that she's forgiven me, but I'm not taking any chances. I’m not too proud to grovel until I'm sure she knows she can't live without me.

  After a heated battle at the kitchen table, I managed to convince her to drive the BMW this morning. That’s an encouraging sign. And she looked damn good behind the wheel of that sleek black luxury car.

  I hid my grin behind my coffee mug as she reluctantly took the keys from my hand, grumbling under her breath about being a strong, independent woman who can find her way to work without my assistance.

  Blah-blah-blah.

  I finally talked her down by assuring her that the car is a loan, not a hand-out.

  Anyway, I haven't been able to get her off my mind since she left for work this morning. I was sitting in my executive office at the new and improved Kingston Realties when I gave in to my need to come see her over lunch. I didn't fight the urge. Instead, I left my newly-hired office staff to run the business for the afternoon while I swung by the florist for a bouquet of pink daisies. Just a little something to decorate my wife's shop and brighten her day.

  Good thing I showed up when I did because with a shop full of customers, I could see that she desperately needed a hand.

  Stormy would never ask for help outright though. She’s the most fiercely independent woman I know. I might have to drop some hints about her hiring some part-time employees if business continues to pick up.

  I’m not embarrassed to admit that I don’t know a whole lot about wedding dresses, so I can’t say how helpful I am. I mostly just serve as her errand boy, running around her renovated shop fetching order forms and things from high shelves, and helping blushing brides-to-be carry their purchases to their cars.

  Despite the menial tasks, I’m enjoying the opportunity to spend time with Lexi, especially after she cut me off for a whole miserable week. And seeing her like this—thriving in her element—it turns me on.

  Though I’m learning that nearly everything Lexi does turns me on. Even when she argues with me, I have to struggle not to strip her clothes off.

  I wink at her from across the shop as I carry a large box to a customer’s car. I take pride in the way my wife’s cheeks redden. I may not know what she’s thinking most of the time, but it’s clear that her body reacts to me. And maybe—just maybe—she's really not mad at me anymore.

  But I'm keeping a secret from her. It hangs above me like a stupid cloud of doom,
like this constant reminder that I’m a lying asshole. I need to tell Lexi that I am the rightful owner of Kingston Realty Holdings. But I can’t. Because once she knows that, she'll walk away from me and I don’t want to give her up.

  Yup, I’m a selfish bastard.

  When I come back inside, Alexia’s rummaging around her counter. “Have you seen a yellow paper?” She’s a little frantic, which I’ve learned is sort of her habitual mode when she’s at work. “It’s about this big.” She holds up her hands. “It’s a carbon copy of an invoice I need.” She continues flipping things apart.

  I put a steady hand on hers. “Where’s the last place you remember seeing it?”

  She chews on her bottom lip, and I’m dying to do the same. Then she snaps her long fingers and points at me. “In my office. Can you man the counter while I go look for it? Should just be a minute...Or ten.” She grins.

  “I’m yours.” I say too quickly. Then I realize that I mean it in more ways than one.

  She pauses, her babydoll eyes telling me that she caught my slip of the tongue. Lucky for me, she doesn't reject me outright because I wouldn't be able to handle that now.

  I'm in too deep.

  She runs off to the back to find her invoice, and I stand at the counter, probably looking out of place in here. There are a handful of customers in the shop, who are browsing through different gowns and headwear.

  I’m impressed with the business Lexi’s put together and I'm relieved that the renovations have been to her liking. She may be a bit disorganized at times, but she really seems to have thought of everything.

  I like that in a woman. I like that in Lexi.

  The bell above the front entrance signals a new patron, and I look up to find the local mailman approaching. “Hey man,” I greet him.

  He tips his chin. "Hey, Mr. Kingston." He sets a huge, battered cardboard box on the counter before wiping off a bead of sweat from his bald head. This box has clearly seen better days. It’s dented on the sides and smashed on the top. It’s a miracle it hasn’t disintegrated.

  “Is this a delivery for Alexia?” I ask.

  “No,” he grunts. “It’s a return-to-sender. The package is undeliverable due to…” He looks down, reading something from his electronic tablet. “Incorrect address.”

  A quick peek at the label shows Lexi as the original sender. I’m guessing she made a mistake writing down someone’s address. “Alright. I’ll let her know,” I say, as the postal worker tiredly walks out of the store.

  I carefully grip the sides of the large box, lifting it off the front counter, so I can drop it off in the back for her. I only make it three steps before the tape lets out. The bottom flaps fly open and the box’s contents fall to the floor in a heap. Brightly-colored phallic objects hit my shoes and bounce and roll, littering the rug around me.

  “Goddamn,” I huff, tossing the destroyed box to the floor.

  Dildos.

  Dildos everywhere.

  “What in the hell?” I muse out loud.

  Several gasps capture my attention. There’s a conservative woman less than three feet away that is looking at me like I just flashed my junk at an elderly church group. I see a younger mother who’s holding the hand of a small girl. Her jaw drops and she immediately claps a hand over her child’s eyes. A middle-aged man who’s standing by the jewelry case gives me a dirty glare.

  The customers hurry out, seemingly horrified by the scene. What a bunch of prudes. I shouldn't laugh but I can't hold it back.

  I grab one toy and stroll down the hall to Alexia’s office in the back. She’s seated at her desk, trying to sort through a mess of receipts. I watch silently for a minute, leaning on the door jam.

  When she looks up at me, her jaw drops. In one hand, I’m holding an extra large purple dildo, flicking it back and forth.

  Wearing a devilish smirk, I fight back a laugh. “Oh, so this is what my new wife is into, huh?”

  37

  Lexi

  Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god."

  I rush to the front of my boutique, dropping to my knees to pick up the scattered dildos. I start tossing them into the broken cardboard box before I even realize that it has no bottom to it. Cannon approaches, setting down a fresh box that he must have found from my recycling bin.

  “Where is everyone?" I gasp in horror. "I thought the shop was still full.” Surely Cannon didn’t scare everyone away in the two minutes I left him in charge.

  He shrugs. “They left.”

  “They left? All of them?”

  Cannon nods. “Sorry. A hundred bouncing dildos doesn’t bode well in a conservative town like Crescent Harbor. This isn't exactly a progressive community.”

  “Oh god,” I groan for the millionth time. “These stupid dildos are ruining my life!”

  He laughs. “Care to explain? Where exactly were you shipping these toys to? Is there a remote female village charity somewhere that doesn’t have access to men? I knew you were generous, but I had no idea…”

  “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” I narrow my gaze on his amused face.

  He leans down and starts helping me toss sex toys into the box. “Can’t help it, babe.”

  I ignore the way my tummy flip flops at the endearment.

  “This was all Iris’s doing ,” I start, while we both drop silicone body parts into a box. It's like déjà-vu. “It was the weekend that her husband served her divorce papers. There may have been too much wine. And too much male-bashing. And Penny had this really great coupon. At some point, Iris drunk ordered enough dildos to keep her sexually-satisfied for multiple lifetimes. But when she came to her senses and she had a meltdown. I gave her the cash I had on hand and told her she’d pay me back once she got her refund. And now, here we are…”

  He smiles at me before leaning forward and pressing his full lips to my forehead. “Those women are nuts. But you’re a fucking great friend.”

  It’s stupid how hard my stomach flutters with his mouth on me. The tender embrace has me feeling all kinds of raw and vulnerable.

  After we clean up, Cannon tells me the mailman mentioned an incorrect address. I double check the label, comparing it to the printout Iris gave me. The address is one hundred percent correct. I don’t understand.

  “I told you these things were cursed,” I mumble, bringing up Google to search the company. Maybe their postal address is different than their physical address.

  When I finally find the evil dildo company, Google displays bright red letters, “Closed” right under the company’s name.

  “No, no, no,” I say, clicking through several recent comments to confirm what the search engine tells me. “It’s closed. The company closed down!”

  Cannon leans over my shoulder. “A dildo manufacturer going out of business? This does not look well for the male population. If no one needs dicks anymore, what are—”

  I smack his chest. “Stop it. This is bad. If the vendor went out of business, that means I don’t get my money back. Do you know how much a zillion dildos cost? Let’s just say, Kingston Realties won’t get their rent next month if I can’t get my refund.”

  He wraps his strong arms around me. “Okay. Calm down.”

  I growl at him. I hate when he tells me to calm down.

  "You're sleeping with your landlord. I'm sure you can negotiate a rent deadline extension."

  My eyes spin and I smack his chest.

  He gives a flash of those perfect teeth. “In all seriousness, didn’t you read chapter two of Gramps’ book? Let’s stop considering this a problem. Instead, see it as an opportunity.”

  I shake my head. Now’s not the time for Cannon's Self-Help Book of the Month Club. I need to come up with a plan to get my money back.

  “An opportunity?” I ask skeptically.

  My hubby’s hand engulfs mine as he leads me to the front door of my shop. He smirks. “Lock up, and let me show you how to hustle like a billionaire, Stormy.”

  38

 
Cannon

  I carry the cardboard box that serves as a temporary home to Lexi’s many, many dildos. She walks beside me, asking me a half-dozen times where we’re going. I can tell she’s freaked out about walking around town with sex toys in broad daylight.

  I lead my wife across the street to the local lingerie shop that’s on the end of the block. Lexi stays quiet but skeptical while I charm the business owner. The woman is an eccentric little thing with over-dyed hair and an eyebrow piercing. “How’s business going, ma’am?” I ask, wearing a good-natured smile.

  I listen attentively as the woman talks, going on and on about the woes of owning an underwear shop in a town like Crescent Harbor. Meanwhile Lexi smirks beside me. I think she’s onto my plan now.

  “I have a deal for you that may open up a whole new stream of revenue for you.” The owner leans on the cracked counter, intrigued. I take a few items out of the box. I don’t miss the way her eyes light up with my product demonstration. “I have at least eight of these." I wave a crystal butt plug around. "And nine more of these bad boys." I show her a hot pink g-spot massager. "Oh, and you’ll have customers lining the block to get one of these.” I slide a glittery spanking paddle her way.

  When I hold up a tiny hand-held vibrator and flip it on, the loud buzz draws a few more spectators. Customers begin crowding around the front of the store for the impromptu sex toy swap meet. I dust off my sales skills and the women in the lingerie shop hang onto my every word. “Stay with me here. Imagine… no, I want you to visualize using one of these with your partner."

  "Where does that go?" a wrinkly woman in a buttoned-up cardigan whispers, eyes glinting with interest. She clutches her pearl necklace.

  I wink despite my desire to barf. "If you chose the right partner, he should know exactly where to put it.”

  The woman moans.