The Dragon Billionaire's Secret Mate: BBW Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance

by Zoe Chant

  The Dragon Billionaire's Secret Mate

  By Zoe Chant

  Copyright Zoe Chant 2016

  All Rights Reserved

  ***

  It was a lazy Sunday morning. The sun came in warm through the windows. Theresa browsed through the classifieds while nibbling her breakfast. She rolled her eyes when she came to the dating section, wincing at some of the more vulgar ads. God, there were a lot of crazy people out there.

  Good thing she wasn't actually looking for a man. With her job in the library, her friends, and her family, she was content enough. And if she occasionally got lonely, well. She only had to look at the ads in front of her to know what she wanted nothing to do with the shark tank of a dating scene out there.

  An ad caught her eyes, possibly because at least this one wasn't misspelled and it didn't have any crude references to sex in the title.

  $50,000 for ten days of your time

  Lonely bachelor (31m) seeks down-to-earth woman. I'm looking for a companion for ten days. Absolute discretion required.

  Holy hell. $50,000? And he's just looking for "company", huh. Sure, Theresa thought sarcastically. If he was willing to pay $50,000 for ten days, that guy probably wanted something so perverted you couldn't even hint at it in a newspaper.

  Theresa put the paper aside when the phone rang. Carolyn's picture popped up on her cell phone screen.

  "Hi, sis," Theresa said, leaning back in her chair. Her sister often called her on Sunday mornings to chat and catch up.

  "Hey," Carolyn said. Theresa sat bolt upright at Carolyn's tone. Her voice had been shaking, even on that one word. She sounded close to tears.

  "What happened? Are you okay? Is Joey—"

  "Joey's okay," Carolyn said quickly. "We went to his check-up on Friday and the doctor said he's doing perfectly. They can't detect any trace of cancer at all anymore. And no serious side effects from the treatment, either."

  "Oh, thank God," Theresa said, leaning heavily back against her chair. Her nephew Joey had been diagnosed with leukemia last year, at eight years old. The months she'd spent in the hospital, sitting by Carolyn's side and holding her sister while she cried, had been the hardest months of her life. But now Joey was doing fine, a healthy, happy 9 year old, all thanks to an experimental new treatment that had worked a miracle.

  "Remember how I told you I took out a second mortgage on the house to pay for Joey's treatments?" Carolyn said.

  "Yeah. Are you short on money for the mortgage this month? Don't worry about it. I've got a couple thousand in savings, I can take care of it this time, no problem at all," Theresa said quickly.

  Carolyn was always a little short on cash. Joey's father had died in a car accident when Joey was only 3 months old, and as a single mom who worked as an elementary school teacher, Carolyn had had to struggle to make ends meet even before Joey's illness had turned their life upside down. As a librarian, Theresa didn't make much money herself, but she helped out where she could.

  "It's worse than that," Carolyn said. She took a long, shaky breath. "Because there already was a mortgage on the house, the most they'd give me was 40,000 dollars."

  "But the treatment was almost 100,000 dollars," Theresa said. Insurance had refused to pay for a single cent of it, because the treatment was still technically considered experimental. Never mind that it had been the only thing that had even had a chance of saving Joey's life.

  "I borrowed the rest from the Grigorieff brothers," Carolyn said.

  "Grigorieff— the loan sharks? Are you insane? Everyone says they're tied to the mob! They've put people in the hospital when they can't pay up! There's people who've owed them money who've disappeared and never, ever been found and everybody know they've killed them and no one can prove it!" Theresa's voice rose in horror. The thought of her sister getting caught in the crosshairs of those monsters made her physically ill.

  "I know," Carolyn said quietly. "I knew what I was doing, Resa. There wasn't any other way to get the money. Joey's alive, and he's healthy. No matter what happens to me, that's worth everything, isn't it? I—I'm sorry I'm dragging you into this. But if you could spare even just a thousand dollars or so, I could make a small payment and buy me some time. God, I'm so sorry." Carolyn's voice broke on a sob.

  "Hey, it's okay," Theresa said automatically, even though no, of course it wasn't okay at all. "I'll send you what I can and we'll figure something out."

  "Thank you so much," Carolyn said.

  Theresa hung up the phone with shaking hands. 60,000 dollars of debt to loan sharks. 60,000 dollars! And she couldn't even blame her sister. In her place, Theresa would have done the same thing. Would have done everything it took to make sure that Joey was taken care of.

  She opened up her online banking account. $3,547.79 in savings. Well, that wouldn't get them very far. She could take money out of her 401k, max out her credit card, and probably get a small personal loan, but then that still left them with about 50,000 dollars they didn't have.

  Theresa looked down at the paper lying forgotten on her breakfast table. 50,000 dollars for 10 days of your time…

  No.

  That was insane. She wasn't going to—No. Don't even think about it, she told herself. There's got to be another way to solve this. She picked up the phone to call her bank.

  Three hours later she sat back down at the table. Her hands were shaking. Her bank had been apologetic but thoroughly unhelpful. The credit card company had agreed to a small increase in her credit limit that wasn't even going to come close to solving the problem, and the company that handled her student loan hadn't even pretended to care. She didn't know what else she could try.

  Theresa pulled over her laptop and googled the Grigorieff brothers. A few minutes later she put the laptop back down, sickened. Of course none of the accusations had ever been proven; but she wasn't going to gamble her sister's life on that.

  The ad was still open on the table in front of her. With shaking hands, Theresa opened her laptop again and pulled up the word processor.

  'Dear Lonely Bachelor,' she started.

  It took her an hour to write two paragraphs. Not that she figured she had much chance in the first place. $50,000 for 10 days? That guy would have his pick of women, and there was no earthly reason why a plain librarian with a couple pounds too much on her hips should ever make the first spot on his list. But she had to at least try.

  She printed out two pictures, too. One from her last vacation with Carolyn, which showed her leaning against a railing besides the ocean, laughing; and then, reluctantly, a second one of her in her bathing suit, sitting on a rock by the seaside. The bathing suit mercilessly showed off all her problem areas—her too-soft hips, her thick thighs—but if this guy was willing to pay that much money, he'd certainly want to know what he was getting.

  She folded the pictures and put them in the envelope with her letters. Nothing was ever going to come of this anyway, but at least she'd made the attempt. Which still left her with the problem of where to find $50,000 on short notice.

  ***

  Samuel looked down in dismay at the enormous pile of letters on his desk. He'd brought this on himself. What had he been thinking with that stupid ad?

  What had seemed like a clever idea in a moment of crushing loneliness at two am was now quickly revealing itself as the stupidest idea he'd had in years.

  All he'd wanted was to spend some time with a nice woman, someone he could take out to dinner or to the opera without having to worry that his brother might get the wrong idea. After all, even Severi
n couldn't claim that a woman might be his soulmate when he had to pay her thousands of dollars so she'd spend time with him.

  As the only mated dragon in the clan, Severin was the alpha by default—and he'd do anything to keep it that way. He wouldn't hesitate to drive away any woman he thought might be Samuel's mate. He'd done it before. He'd spread lies about Samuel to his girlfriends, to any woman who even looked at him twice. One or two he'd even paid off so they'd leave. He was subtle about it, and clever, but Samuel was perfectly aware of what his brother was doing.

  But a hired companion wouldn't seem like a threat to Severin, and therefore he wouldn't get in the way. And if Samuel knew it was a temporary arrangement from the start, he wouldn't risk getting his heart broken when it had to end. It had seemed like a good idea, in the middle of the night.

  But looking at the replies he'd gotten… well, he should have expected this, of course, for that amount of money. What seemed like every escort in the country had sent him an application, in addition to about a thousand other letters: models, actresses, aspiring pop stars in dire need of some cash to keep their failing careers alive…

  There was a foot-high pile of letters on his desk, and two sacks of unopened mail in a corner of his office. Most of them had sent pictures, professionally taken and photoshopped to within an inch of their lives.

  Samuel sighed, looking down at the stack of glossy photographs in his hand. Women with makeup sprayed on so thickly their faces looked like perfect porcelain masks, foreheads smoothed out with Botox, skin imperfections photoshopped away. Fake breasts so perfectly round and symmetrical, their sheer perfection made them seem unnatural.

  This had been such a stupid idea.

  Samuel pushed the pile of letters aside, trying to clear some space on his desk. He'd need a container to get rid of all of them.

  A single photograph fluttered out of the pile. Samuel caught it on reflex, giving it a quick glance.

  His heart stopped.

  A woman was smiling out of the picture, her warm brown eyes crinkling with mirth at the corners. She was leaning on a railing besides the ocean. A breeze tousled her chocolate brown curls. Her soft, plush red lips were parted to show pearl white teeth with an endearing little gap in front. The wind had tugged the collar of her blouse aside, revealing the smooth, tan skin of her shoulder, the hint of a tan line beginning just where the picture cut off.

  Samuel found himself smiling helplessly back at the woman's cheerful grin. After all of that perfectly crafted fake perfection, the woman's natural beauty was like a breath of fresh air. The little imperfections that would have been airbrushed out of all these other professional pictures only made her seem more real. Now if only he could find what envelope the picture had come from… Oh, thank god, there was a name on the back of it.

  Theresa McKenzie.

  Samuel hunted through the pile of envelopes, shoving letters off his desk by the dozen in his haste. Finally he found Theresa's letter, slightly crumpled around the edges. When he opened the envelope, a second picture fell out. Samuel carefully smoothed it out on his desk. It showed Theresa in a bathing suit that strained to contain the lush curves of her breasts and her soft rounded hips. She was sitting on a rock by the ocean, beaming at the photographer.

  Never in his entire life had Samuel wanted to touch a woman so badly. He carefully unfolded her letter.

  Dear Lonely Bachelor, he read. Your ad has caught my attention…

  He smiled at the slightly stilted politeness of the opening, which sounded like an awkward cross between a response to a dating ad and the start of a cover letter for a job. He pictured her sitting at her desk, thinking too hard about what to say.

  I'm a librarian in Clarksburg, Illinois.

  A librarian? Samuel paused, confused. How had a librarian ended up answering his ad? Escorts, actresses, people who made a living with their beauty, sure, that made sense. But a librarian? The rest of the letter didn't go into much more detail, but it did mention the times she'd be available. Samuel opened his phone and blocked off 10 days in his calendar, starting with her first available day.

  This was probably still a terrible idea. He didn't care. Just the thought that she'd be willing to meet with him made his heart race. He couldn't wait.

  ***

  It was only 200 miles from Clarksburg to Chicago, but traffic and construction turned the drive into a 6-hour slog. Theresa dropped her head back against the headrest, letting out an exhausted sigh. Thank God she'd planned in a lot of extra time. Tonight she was going to meet her anonymous bachelor for the first time. She still couldn't believe he'd picked her over all the people that must have replied to his ad. And she still didn't even know his name.

  The email she'd gotten had told her to come to an office in downtown Chicago at 6 pm. She figured that sounded safe enough. There should still be plenty of people around the area that time of day. She'd be told his name once she signed the non-disclosure agreement, which had been emailed to her in advance.

  'In case you want to have it reviewed by your lawyer,' the email had said.

  Not that Theresa could afford a lawyer right now. Every cent of money she could spare had gone to Carolyn for her first payment to the Grigorieff brothers. The contract was 5 pages of dense legalese. As far as she could tell, it came down to the fact that if she breathed one word to anyone of anything she saw in the time she'd spend with her mysterious bachelor, or even mentioned his name to anyone, they could sue her for so much money her grandchildren's grandchildren would still be bankrupt. It had only made her more nervous. What on Earth did he want from her that he was so intent on keeping it secret?

  But she wasn't going to say no. If she wanted to make sure Carolyn was safe, she needed the money.

  She left her car in parking lot downtown, wincing at the price. She could have taken public transport and left the car outside the city, where they didn't gouge an arm and a leg for parking. But if anything went wrong, she might have to get out of here quickly. She felt better with her car nearby.

  The office was in an enormous building that seemed to house more than a dozen different companies, so that didn't tell her anything new about who she was going to meet. Office 131 had a discreet plaque on the door. Jackson and Bourne, attorneys at law, it said. She knocked on the door, which unlocked with a buzz.

  "Come on in," a man called.

  He rose from behind his desk when she entered.

  "Ms. McKenzie? It's good to meet you."

  If this was her mysterious bachelor, he'd underestimated his age in the ad by a full three decades at the very least. This man was 60 if he was a day.

  "Hello," Theresa said cautiously.

  "I'm Roald Jackson. Our client has asked me to review the paperwork with you."

  Not him, then. Just his lawyer.

  "Please, take a seat," Mr. Jackson said. "Can I offer you anything to drink? Soda? Coffee? Some juice, perhaps?"

  "Um, just water would be good. Thank you," Theresa said, lowering herself cautiously into a chair. She felt thoroughly out of her depth.

  Mr. Jackson set a glass of water down in front of her and then took his place on the opposite side of the table.

  "Now, then. Did your counsel suggest any alterations to the contract?"

  Her counsel? Jesus. Maybe she should have paid for a lawyer after all. Well, if she was signing away her soul here, so be it. That wasn't the worst she was prepared to do to make sure Carolyn and Joey were safe.

  Mr. Jackson went through the contract with her section by section. The legalese didn't get any less dense or impenetrable just because it was being read aloud. Theresa nodded a lot, feeling the smile freeze on her face. Finally, Mr. Jackson came to the end of the contract.

  "Well, if you don't have anything else to add, I think this is it. Please initial the passages I've indicated."

  Theresa initialed the paragraphs he'd pointed out to her. "Can't you at least tell me his name?" she asked.

  "As soon as the contract is signed
, Ms. McKenzie, I will be more than happy to do just that," Mr. Jackson said. "But you will understand that security and discretion is paramount to our client."

  God, who was this guy? Was she about to sell herself to the Governor of Illinois? She scrawled her name on the last line beneath the contract. Mr. Jackson squinted at it for a moment and then nodded.

  "All right then. That seems to be in order. Mr. Samuel Ashbel would like to meet you at the restaurant Arcadia. There's a car waiting to take you there."

  Oh God. Not the Governor of Illinois, then. Just the unofficial Crown Prince. Samuel Ashbel and his brother owned Aurum, the largest tech company in the state and its biggest employer.

  Severin Ashbel, Aurum's CEO, was the one she usually saw in the gossip press—him and his stunningly beautiful wife, an heiress, former runway model, and now owner of an extremely successful cosmetics company. There were rumors that Severin Ashbel had had a hand in the outcome of every major election in the state in the last ten years.

  Samuel, the younger brother, lived a more quiet life, but he was still a billionaire, and the lack of scandals surrounding him only made him more interesting to the press in some ways. Theresa was pretty sure she'd seen him topping more than one list of most eligible bachelors.

  And now he'd picked her, of all people, to be his companion for whatever on earth he planned to be doing during those 10 days? This was insane.

  Theresa numbly let Mr. Jackson usher her down to the street, where a sleek black town car was waiting for her. The chauffeur—a chauffeur!—got out and opened the door for her with a smile.

  "Wait! My car," Theresa said. If she left it in the garage overnight, never mind for 10 days, she didn't even want to know what the bill would add up to.

  "Of course," Mr. Jackson said with a smile. "If you give us the key and let us know what garage you parked it in, Mr. Ashbel's valet service will take care of it."