Table of Contents
Prologue
Epilogue
Epilogue
Epilogue
Part I
Epilogue
My Playboy Fiance
A Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance
Katerina Cole
Head Over Heels
Copyright © 2018 by Katerina Cole
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 author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Prologue
1. Chase
2. Haley
3. Chase
4. Haley
5. Chase
6. Haley
7. Chase
8. Haley
9. Chase
10. Haley
11. Chase
12. Haley
13. Chase
14. Haley
15. Chase
16. Haley
17. Chase
18. Haley
19. Chase
20. Haley
21. Chase
22. Haley
23. Chase
24. Haley
25. Chase
26. Haley
27. Chase
Epilogue
Virgin’s Dirty Boss
Virgin’s Dirty Boss
Copyright
Warning
1. Oliver
2. Alexandra
3. Alexandra
4. Oliver
5. Alexandra
6. Oliver
7. Oliver
8. Alexandra
9. Alexandra
10. Oliver
11. Oliver
12. Alexandra
13. Oliver
14. Alexandra
15. Oliver
16. Alexandra
17. Oliver
18. Alexandra
19. Oliver
20. Oliver
Epilogue
A note from Nicole
Virgin’s Dirty Boss: Extra Dirty
Double Score
1. Isaac
2. Vanessa
3. Isaac
4. Vanessa
5. Dylan
6. Vanessa
7. Vanessa
8. Isaac
9. Vanessa
10. Dylan
11. Vanessa
12. Dylan
13. Vanessa
14. Isaac
15. Vanessa
16. Vanessa
17. Dylan
18. Vanessa
19. Isaac
20. Vanessa
21. Vanessa
22. Dylan
23. Vanessa
24. Isaac
25. Vanessa
26. Vanessa
27. Vanessa
28. Vanessa
29. Isaac
30. Vanessa
31. Dylan
32. Vanessa
33. Isaac
34. Vanessa
35. Vanessa
36. Vanessa
37. Vanessa
38. Dylan
39. Vanessa
40. Vanessa
41. Vanessa
42. Vanessa
43. Vanessa
44. Vanessa
Epilogue
Naughty Notes
I. A Special Secret
Holding On
1. Crawford
2. Mia
3. Crawford
4. Mia
5. Crawford
6. Mia
7. Crawford
8. Mia
9. Crawford
10. Mia
11. Crawford
12. Mia
13. Crawford
14. Mia
15. Crawford
16. Mia
17. Crawford
18. Mia
19. Crawford
20. Mia
21. Crawford
22. Mia
23. Crawford
24. Mia
25. Crawford
26. Mia
27. Crawford
28. Mia
29. Crawford
30. Mia
31. Crawford
32. Mia
33. Mia
34. Crawford
35. Mia
36. Crawford
37. Mia
38. Crawford
39. Mia
Epilogue
Prologue
Chase
I’d done some stupid shit in my life, but this had to be the pinnacle. Fuck, I was driving over an actual pinnacle to prove a point. To prove I was a man of my word. A man who could be trusted. A man who would do anything to protect his wife.
Wife.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter. My knuckles were white. Almost as white as the blizzard swirling around me.
I’d used the word like a toy. I used it for fun. To seduce her. To fuck her breathless. It had all been a game. A business game I played. The risk and the stakes were high, but so was the payout. I needed a wife for a year, and it seemed harmless. As harmless as a fake marriage to your ex-girlfriend can be.
But I fucked it up. Royally.
The tires spun as I hit a deep patch of snow coming down the mountain. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I could see the town on the horizon, but I didn’t know how I’d get there. The snow was coming down sideways and I kept fishtailing every two miles. This was as fucked up as winter storms got.
And I was driving in it.
There was no way I’d stop now. Not until I made it to her. Not until she knew the truth. Not until I kissed her soft pouty lips. Not until she understood that Chase Hawthorne was her husband in every way. That I was the man she deserved.
I tried to steer over a sheet of ice. The car started to slide and I shifted to the center of the road. It was getting worse out here. Just over the railing the mountain descended into a dark pit. Like hell if I was ending up in the bottom of the canyon tonight.
“Shit,” I muttered, slowing to an unbelievable crawl. I could walk in the snow faster than this. No, I wasn’t driving over the cliff. I was driving toward the woman who had saved me.
I swore when I got out of this storm, Haley would know everything. And this time, our life would be real.
1
Chase
“The Peppertree Resort, Mr. Hawthorne,” my driver announced as the car rolled through the gently-falling snow to a soft stop in front of sliding glass doors. My eyebrows furrowed as I peered out the window and into the lobby of the resort.
“Are you sure, Robbins?” I asked. “I’m not even sure if they’re open. Are those maintenance workers or guests inside?”
“This is the place, sir,” he replied. He double-checked his GPS. “We passed a sign on the way in.”
“I was hoping that was some kind of vintage novelty,” I lamented under my breath. I’d noticed a sign for Peppertree that looked like it was from some TV show set in the sixties. “Right. Let’s hope the rest of this place is more impressive.”
My driver stepped from the car and opened the door for me. I climbed out and stood up, my full 6’5” frame stretching as I took in a deep breath of the crisp Colorado air. The bite of winter cold stung me, but after the long drive, it was welcome.
We stood by the car, peering toward the door and waiting for a bellhop or valet to welcome us, but after a minute, no one came. I checked my watch and raised an eyebrow at my driver. He was starting to look embarrassed, and he wasn’t even on this resort’s staff.
“I have a feeling we’re on our own, Robbins,” I said.
“I�
��ll get your bags, sir,” he said curtly.
As Robbins started collecting my things, I strolled across the concrete pavement to the doors to check in.
So far, I wasn’t inspired with confidence by the ski resort I was about to buy.
A lot of people in my business handled these kinds of sales from a distance or had agents do this kind of field work for them, but I had always been a more direct man. Since inheriting my father’s empire of hotels and resorts, I’d set out to make an impression on my new employees that I was a man who took a more hands-on approach.
As a result, the past three years had been a whirlwind of flying all over the country and beyond to our different sites, doing routine inspections on the day-to-day affairs of each place.
This business meant my family’s legacy, and I was not about to let it go unsupervised.
Today was a little different. I didn’t own Peppertree. Not yet, at least.
I made my way up to reception, where the young woman on the phone looked up at me and held up a finger for me to wait a moment. I recognized it as the kind of thoughtless move one does on reflex.
Of course, she did a double-take at the sight of me, as they always do. She saw my height, my thick, muscular frame barely hidden by my perfectly tailored Italian suit, and my chiseled jaw, and her eyes wanted to linger on me a little longer.
It was understandable, but it was not professional.
I stood in front of the desk for a few minutes, glancing around idly while I waited for the receptionist to finish her call with what sounded like another guest. I noticed her scribbling notes down in a notebook in front of her, and I fought the urge to raise an eyebrow.
Glancing around, I noticed she was the only receptionist working the lobby at the moment. It was late afternoon, why weren’t there more people working?
Still, I held back the sigh of disappointment I’d give at one of my own places being run like this.
The receptionist finally hung up her phone and smiled at me with the desperate look of someone at her wit’s end. I cracked the faintest hint of a smile in return.
“Welcome to the Peppertree Hotel, are you checking in?”
I glanced at the business card stack sitting next to her, which clearly read Peppertree Resort.
“Yes,” I replied curtly as Robbins entered behind me, carrying my bags. “The name is Hawthorne. Chase Hawthorne.”
The receptionist’s eyes widened at the sight of Robbins, and she hastily picked the phone up and called a bellhop downstairs before giving me an apologetic grin.
“Right, Mr. Hawthorne, let me just see here…” I watched her thumb through her notebook in a hurry. “I’m so sorry, our computers are down today, so we’re having to do things the old fashioned way.”
“Today?” I asked. One of my eyebrows shot up. “How long have they been down?”
“Since last night. We’re hoping to have things up and running again by tomorrow, though!” she chimed with a genuinely hopeful smile.
I almost felt bad for her. The idea that the computer systems at a place like this wouldn’t be up and running again within a few hours was ludicrous to me, but over a day? I frowned and nodded.
Behind me, Robbins set down the bags just in time for a bellhop to arrive. He was a flustered young man with shaggy hair, and his uniform didn’t fit. Even Robbins look dubious about letting him take the luggage.
Still, I gave Robbins a reassuring nod and tipped him. “Thank you, Robbins. I’ll be in touch when I need you again.”
“Have a pleasant stay, sir.” He gave me a tip of his hat, casting one last uncertain look around the lobby before making his way back out to the car. I rewarded service workers like Robbins well for their high standards of service, and I wondered how long it would take me to get this place into that kind of shape.
“Um…” The receptionist’s voice made me turn my attention back to her. “I have a Chase Highthorne here, could that be you?”
My eyebrow couldn’t go any higher.
When it dawned on her why I was giving her a flat stare, her cheeks went a little pink, and she brushed a strand of hair away from her face as she scribbled something down. “Right, Mr. Hawthorne, I have you down here for the Royal Mile Presidential Suite and our VIP package, does that sound right?”
“I believe it does.”
She gave an embarrassed smile, then took out a little envelope. My eyes widened in disbelief as she handed me the envelope and I realized it contained not cardkeys, but two old-fashioned metal keys.
You have got to be kidding me.
“Adam will see you to your room. Thanks for staying with us, and please, don’t hesitate to give me a call if anything is out of order.” The words had a rehearsed tone to them, but more than anything, she just sounded relieved to have me out of her hair, despite her sweet smile and cheerful face.
“Thanks, Cat, I will,” I assured her with a nod after glancing at her nametag. She seemed to perk up a little, then look anxious at my last two words. I turned and followed the bellhop down the hallway.
After grimacing at some obvious scratches in the wooden floors, I looked up and noticed we were heading past the elevator doors.
Adam, the bellhop, seemed to notice my concern and gave me a nervous smile.
“I’m afraid the elevators are getting a little work done on them right now.”
“Ah,” I remarked curtly. “I’m guessing they’ll be fixed around the same time as the computers?”
His awkward, embarrassed silence gave me my answer. When we got to the stairs, though, he added, “There are some wonderful views from the windows every other flight.”
I personally didn’t mind the long march up the stairs. I kept my body in peak physical condition at all times, so by the time we were halfway up and the bellhop was nearly out of breath, I had hardly increased my heart rate.
I couldn’t help but notice the dilapidated decor and dated art hanging from the walls. Staircases were one of those parts of a resort that were so easy to neglect, and so far, Peppertree had done little to impress in that regard.
We finally made it to the top floor, and I followed the bellhop down the broad hallway of what looked like entrances to other presidential suites.
“Yours is at the end here,” Adam explained with a gesture to the far end of the hallway, “best suite available.”
“I know,” I pointed out simply.
I approached the door when the bellhop came to a stop beside it, and I put the key in the door. As I turned it, there was a click, followed by an ominous thunking sound. When I pulled the key out of the door, the rest of the door handle came with it, to the bellhop’s horror.
With a stony face, I simply held the door handle out to him. “I believe you’ll want this.”
“I...I’ll have a maintenance worker up immediately, sir,” he assured me, his face pale.
He ran off with the handle before I could tip him, leaving me with the bags. He hadn’t even thought to bring them inside. I rubbed my temples.
This place was a fixer-upper, to put it politely.
I pushed the door open, hoping to find something redeeming inside. What I was faced with was overwhelmingly average.
There was something to be said for the state of the wooden floors, and some of the art on the walls was tasteful. The view of the snow-covered mountains that greeted me on the far end of the room was the main saving grace. But everything else about the room, from the high ceiling that clearly hadn’t been dusted in ages to the awful choice in bedsheets left a lot to be desired.
It felt like I was staying with a relative with bad taste. Too much like someone’s home and not enough charm to make up for it.
If this were anywhere else, I’d just pass on the place and build a competing resort nearby to run it out of business. But this place in particular had something to it. Besides its historic value, the location was impeccable.
I strode over to the window and surveyed the pearly-white landscape outside, feelin
g a sense of calm wash over me.
A smile crossed my lips.
This place had some saving graces, I decided. Besides, I’d done my homework and read up on the history of the resort. The potential was there--this place was one of the most desirable destinations in the mountains at one point in its history. But if I was going to buy it out, it was going to need a complete makeover to be worth bearing the Hawthorne name.
My Playboy Fiance Page 1
