by Eva Luxe
Lucky Bunny:
A Billionaire Fake Fiance Romance
Copyright (c) 2018 by Eva Luxe; All Rights Reserved.
Cover by Sizzling Hot Covers.
Published by Juliana Conners’ Sizzling Hot Reads.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Tessa
Chapter 2
Ben
Chapter 3
Tessa
Chapter 4
Tessa
Chapter 5
Ben
Chapter 6
Ben
Chapter 7
Tessa
Chapter 8
Tessa
Snow Job: Stranded with a Possessive Billionaire
I Pretend Do: A Billionaire Fake Fiancé Romance
Brother’s Best Friend is Back
Nanny Wanted: A Virgin & Billionaire Secret Baby Romance
Don’t Say a Word: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance
Perfect Fit: A Modern Day Dirty Cinderella Fairy Tale with a Fake Royal Marriage Twist
Sold on Christmas Eve: A Virgin & Billionaire Romance
Don’t Forget About Me: A Second Chance Amnesia Romance
Wife Wanted: A Billionaire Fake Fiancé Romance
Sold as a Fake Fiancée: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance
Chapter 1
Tessa
Life isn’t easy. It’s not supposed to be. But no matter how hard life gets, you’re supposed to do everything in your power to be the best person you can be and help others. I spent my entire life getting this idea hammered into my belief system.
Thankfully, I’ve been fortunate enough to live a life that is easier than most. I was never poor, or hungry. I’m not missing any body parts, and I’m exceptionally healthy. It’s because of my fortunate life that I decided that I would help others who weren’t dealt a hand as lucky as mine.
After some experience volunteering at a hospital in high school, I discovered what it is I’d do with my life to help better the lives of others. With the help of some friends I picked up through the years, and a hefty sum of money my family loaned me, I opened a non-profit daycare for children with developmental disabilities.
The journey was a bit rougher than I was hoping, but life isn’t easy, right?
From the certifications, to the permits, the faculty and staff, it was all a headache, but one that would ultimately be worth it. In only three years, I was able to achieve my goal. And it was just as perfect as I imagined.
A majority of the children we interact with and teach live with down syndrome, though there are a handful of students who have cerebral palsy. They’re all amazing. Every single one of them. They’re more eager to learn than most students in high school and it’s such a refreshing energy to be around on a daily basis. I handpicked the staff to make sure the children would be getting the attention they deserved. There are so many horror stories out there about developmentally disabled children who get abused by their caretakers and it sickens me to my stomach that there’s any kind of human who would treat these kids in such a horrid manner.
Thankfully, that’s not something we have to worry about.
One of my closest friends and respected staff member is Devyn. She pushed me to pursue this dream and now she’s my right-hand woman and life coach to these kids. Not a life coach like an adult would have. Life coach is just a title I gave the teachers, since they help these kids with more than academic learning.
The faculty consists of five life coaches, two janitors, three volunteers, and myself. I own the place and act as a sort of principal. I sit in on lessons every chance that I get, and I make sure that things are running as smoothly as can be.
Today, unfortunately, things aren’t running smoothly.
I’m in my office looking over some paperwork— nothing terribly important but it’s stuff that has to be taken care of. I almost mindlessly start writing down some supplies the life coaches will be needing in the coming weeks when I hear the fire alarm go off. Instinctively, I jump out of my chair and run into the hallway. Behind me, I see four classroom doors opening and the respective life coaches poking their heads out to see what caused the fire alarm.
As I continue to run down the hallway, I see that the classroom door of the fifth and last classroom is entirely engulfed in flames. The fire is raging so loudly that the shrill screaming from the children trapped in the classroom are barely audible. I looked back to see who the life coaches behind me are, and sure enough, Devyn isn’t among them. She’s trapped, too.
“Call 911!” I shout at nobody in particular and at everyone and anyone who can hear me. “And get the kids out of here!”
Seeming much calmer than I feel, the life coaches instruct their kids to form a single file line and start to head in the direction opposite the fire. Once I hear Liza, another life coach, phone the fire department, I spring into action. In my state of panic, I completely forget that there is a brand new unused fire extinguisher in my office. But that’s just one of many things I’ll be adding to the “hindsight 20/20” list.
Instead, I run down the hallway and break a fire axe from its glass encasement and run around the perimeter of the facility to get to the windows of the classroom in danger. The windows are protected by metal bars, though the only thing they’re protecting the children and Devyn from at the moment is safety.
Devyn instructs her children to get near the windows and on the floor. Thank goodness she remembered her training. But I can’t wait for the firefighters to arrive. These kids are only moments away from suffocating. I jam the blade of the axe under two of the metal bars and use every bit of strength in me to push the bars off the window.
I’ve heard of people using superhuman strength due to adrenaline in a time of distress, but this is the first time it’s happened to me. I nearly pull a muscle, but it doesn’t faze me at all. After releasing an unintended roar, I manage to bust three bars from their place on the building’s wall. This only leaves enough room for one person to jump through at a time, but after opening the window, the kids make a surprisingly time-efficient escape.
But only the kids.
“Jamie’s still in there with Ms. Devyn,” some of the kids cry between coughs.
Jamie is one of our children who needs the most help and attention. It doesn’t surprise me that he wouldn’t have the same urgency to get out of the room as the other kids have shown. And it also doesn’t surprise me that Devyn would stay behind with him, risking her own life in the process.
I instruct the children to head away from the fire and towards the sidewalk where the children from the other classrooms are gathered, before jumping into the smoke-filled room. Through the thick, black smoke, I find Devyn passed out on top of a child. Her hand seems to be covering Jamie’s face, surely an attempt to make sure Jamie inhales as little smoke as possible.
With some remorse, I choose to push Devyn off the child and carry the child out into safety first, leaving her with one of the other life coaches. Before I have a chance to run back inside and save Devyn, the firefighters finally arrive and forcefully keep me from interfering.
A wave of relief falls over me knowing that professionals are here. But I’m worried about whether Devyn’s okay. And the fire is only spreading, having reached the janitors’ supply closet now.
Only seconds after the arrival of two firetrucks, an explosion goes off inside the building. All the chemicals comprising the cleaning supplies we have stored in the supply closet m
ake the perfect ingredients for an impromptu bomb. The building starts to come down, room by room. All I can think is: I left Devyn in there.
Even though a giant fireball erupts from the roof of the building, I push through the crowd and cry out Devyn’s name. A firefighter pulls me away from the destruction, but I keep my eyes trained on the hellfire the entire time. The fire rages, throwing more black smoke into the air and bits of burnt building over us.
From the billowing pillars of black smoke, a pair of firefighters run away from the flames carrying Devyn, still unconscious but thankfully alive. They carry her into an ambulance and unknowingly keep me from seeing her.
A crowd starts to form around the children, including a crew from the local news.
How did the fire start? Is anyone still trapped inside?
These were questions I had myself, but I couldn’t even think of who I’d ask. Devyn is being taken to hospital, she was the only person who could help me through this ordeal.
Police sirens. Shouting firefighters. The children’s cries. So much commotion.
And only three annoying words bounced around in my head as I watched my dream burn to a cinder by myself.
Life isn’t easy.
Chapter 2
Ben
I often wake up wondering what my life would be like if I was born and raised under different circumstances.
But then I snap out of those shitty thoughts and back into my very glorious life.
Thinking about misfortune and being poor gives me diagnosable ajada. That’s not to say that I don’t have my own problems, though. For example, I’m currently being chewed out by my very own father. Having him lecture me is something I’m not a fan of, but I’ve made a habit of drowning out his cries of disappointment by dissociating and spending some time in my own head. Normally though, once he notices that I’m not paying attention to him, he shakes me out of it.
“GODDAMNIT, BEN”, he shouts pounding his fist on his desk. “Will you get your head out of the clouds and actually pay attention to me for one second? Is that such an unreasonable request?”
I shake my head, “No, Dad. I was just taking in what you’re telling me— digesting it fully”, I lie with a shit-eating grin.
But after years of lying straight to his face, he’s able to catch me in the middle of a fib. “Is that right? In that case, what is it you’ll be doing to remedy this?”
Crossing my arms, I make an attempt to reach the innermost depths of my brain to see if, by luck, I was able to absorb anything Dad was shouting at my face while I was lost in my thoughts. Unfortunately for me, all I can make out are muffled words coming out of my father’s wrinkled face.
“Alright, you got me”, I say throwing my hands up. “But I’m sure it’s got something about being late to the meeting.”
“MISSING the meeting, Ben”, he corrects me.
“I missed the meeting because I was late, so I’m not wrong.”
“And you were late because you’re hungover after a night with some hooker straight off The Strip”, he shouts.
I shoot up from the chair I’ve been sinking in. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hookers? Come on, Pops, you should know me better than that. I don’t need to resort to that. It was just some broad who— yes, I did find on The Strip, a block or two from Caesar’s Palace, but you know what? She was horny, she was hot, aaaand she didn’t ask me to pay her when I woke up.”
My father takes a seat on his throne-like leather armchair and stares at me with his angry little eyes. “Christ, Ben. I can’t do this anymore. Do you know how long I have left to restructure this company before I retire?”
He sighs and mutters something disappointedly when I cluelessly shake my head.
“I’ve only mentioned it every time we’ve seen each other in the past year, why would you know? I should know that your revolving door of Vegas whores aren’t actual fuck-for-pay prostitutes but you shouldn’t be bothered to remember that—”, he stops mid-sentence and takes a deep breath. “…Six months, Ben.”
In what I’d call an admirable attempt to comfort him, I move my chair next to his and pat him on the back. “Dad, in six months, I’ll be running this company like a well-oiled machine, you don’t have to worry about it.”
“You won’t be running anything but your mouth in six months. You may not even be part of this company, unless your brother pities you enough.”
Upon hearing these news, I shoot out of my chair and stand in front of him. “RICKY? Dad, you want a guy who could barely run a computer properly to run your company? Ricky’s got bricks for brains, how in the hell is he more equipped to run the company you built up with your own two hands? So I’m late a couple of times a week, at least I know how to schmooze with business partners, and actually have a semblance of knowledge of what we actually do here. You get Ricky for this job and he’ll shit the bed, and possibly his pants at the first minor obstacle.”
Dad looks away from me, probably because he knows I’m right and doesn’t want to admit it. He just wants his power move to make me feel like I’m expendable.
“So then, what is it you want me to do? Make it to meetings on time? Done.”
“I shouldn’t have to ask you to make it to meetings on time. And that’s not the only reason I won’t be leaving the company to you”, he confesses. “You have no direction in life, Ben. And that’s the only thing that’s keeping you from being CEO once these six months are over.”
I’m once more taken aback. “What the hell do you mean? I have upwards direction. I’ve been working at your side for years now in hopes that I’d get to be CEO. How is that not having any direction”, I snap back at him.
Calmly, he tells me exactly what he means. “Let’s say I allow you to take on the mantle of CEO. What are you going to do then? Spend the money you’re making to do the same nonsense you’re wasting your life with now? Gambling, extravagant dates for gold-digging one night stands, whatever new car comes out? Would I be right with this assumption?”
Unable to grasp at the point he’s getting at, I ask for some clearer instructions.
“Do something with your life, Ben”, he hopelessly begs. “Find someone to spend your life with, to ENJOY your life with. You’re having all this meaningless sex, not making any meaningful connections with anyone. It’s been years since you’ve even mentioned having a friend. It’s always ‘this guy I know from this hotel’ or ‘some guy you just met’ that you’re hanging out with. As your father, hearing you spend your days like this makes me… sad. Endlessly sad.”
“You’re not going to start crying, are ya, Pops”, I joke.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t appreciate my sense of humor and turns away from me after asking me to get the fuck out of his office. As I open the door and hop out, he calls out my name again.
“Look, if you want me to believe you’re responsible enough to run this company, start by getting the Okatas on the phone, and making sure that your tardiness didn’t ruin our chances of partnering up with them”, he growls.
“Partnering”, I scoff. “Isn’t the plan to absorb the Okata Oil?”
“If you phrase it like that to them, do not even bother, Ben. For God’s sake. Just get out.”
If there’s one thing I’ve gathered from that interaction it’s that I need to find someone to bang and show off for the next six months. I’ve never been the kind of person to be in a relationship, one time bangs are more my speed, and in my experience, living this life has yielded better results than someone, like Ricky for example, who was in a five year relationship and was cheated on. Even my father ended up getting divorced so I really can’t make heads or tails of his strange desire for me to be in a relationship. I figure he’s getting long in the tooth and might be hitting the age where he may be wanting to see some grandchildren, and since Ricky ruined those chances, I suppose he must think that I’m his last resort.
I can’t read minds, but something tells me that choosing Rickie to be the CEO once he retires is just a blu
ff. He could easily pass the mantle to someone in his current board of directors that are much more qualified. Ricky is just an empty threat.
But if Dad wants to give me the runaround, I’ll play along. If there’s one place a person could easily find a woman help them out in exchange for money, it’s Las Vegas. I just have to head down to The Strip and find someone I can tolerate for six or so months. I’ll wave some money around and whoever is hottest and least annoying will be my girlfriend, by name only. In reality, she’ll just be a glorified fuckbuddy, but in the end, isn’t that what a girlfriend is anyway?
That’s what every single one of my so-called girlfriends has been. As my father said, my “love” life has consisted of a revolving door of Vegas whores. Some of them have been reasonable and understanding and are perfectly content with just one night stands, but others have voiced their desire to meet my family or move in with me, and that’s a downright no-no in my book. I don’t even save their numbers for possible future booty calls. They get tossed to the wayside quicker than anyone. At least, if they keep their wants for a relationship to themselves, they’re given the opportunity to be treated to more dates followed by dickings.
To my recollection, my dad hasn’t met a single woman I’ve ever been with, so the best way to go about tricking him would be by either finding a new woman or whoever it is I’ve had the most dates or sex sessions with.
There’s nothing particularly difficult about the task at hand. I’m 6’2”, I’m in the best shape of my life, and I have more than enough money to attract some Vegas bimbos. Not to mention that once they see me naked, I’m fairly certain that they won’t be able to resist me regardless of how powerful their self-control normally is. I’m not one to brag, but I have been complimented by many of my partners, who have said that I should be working in the adult film industry. Quite frankly, I can’t say that I disagree. Everytime I unzip my pants, my cock is met with gazes of amazement and wonder. There was even a time when two of the women I was bedding at once almost fought over who’d get to wraps their lips around my penis first.
