Mr. Cocky (London Billionaire #1)

by Nana Malone

  Dee frowned. “Is that what you really think?”

  Selena hesitated in thought, as though picking the most appropriate words from a passing conveyor belt. “Yeah,” she replied decidedly. “People treat you differently when you’re the boss. One of the first things Dad taught me when I started out was that I had to be taken seriously. I had to make people respect me. Apparently I can’t do that in red.” She sighed. “He had me go on this private course with a management guru. He happened to think grey was divine, darling.”

  Both of them laughed.

  “But what about dating?” Dee asked.

  “What about it?” Selena shrugged.

  Dee threw her arms up. “Don’t you find it hard to attract men in the same damn dress every day?”

  “Well, yeah, that’s probably why I haven’t had sex in, like, five years,” Selena muttered.

  Dee inhaled sharply and stared. “You’re kidding.”

  Damn, that was humiliating to say out loud. But whatever. It was the truth. “Nope.”

  Her friend blinked. “That’s insane. I’m pretty sure you’re revirginized or something.” There were a few moments of silence while Dee processed that little tidbit. She suddenly turned her face to Selena’s with mischief in her eyes and declared, “Right. Let’s finish this bottle,” she shook the half-empty bottle of Prosecco. “You squeeze into that red number and I’ll see if I can fit my tits into this blue thing. We’re heading out.”

  “Oh God, Dee, we’re supposed to be packing for Paris,” Selena said with a desperate cry.

  “It’s not bloody India you’re going to,” Dee replied, rolling her eyes. “Underwear, make-up, a dress, jeans and a shirt— sorted. Oh, and a night dress and hair straighteners.”

  “B—but, what about footwear?” Selena stammered.

  “One pair of ankle boots, one pair of killer heels,” Dee replied, pointing authoritatively at the suitcase and then at Selena’s feet. “You wear the boots to travel, you put the heels in the case.” She nodded at Selena to signify that was the end of the matter, the code of packing conduct every woman was supposed to live by.

  “Right,” Selena said, her eyebrows raised to heaven. “That is supposed to all make sense to me, I guess?”

  “I do have one question for you, however,” said Dee, her tone changing as she shot Selena a wry smile. “What’s with the matching lingerie piled next to your bag? Are you anticipating a little ooh la la in the City of Lights? Or is it City of Love? I can never remember which.”

  “Lights,” Selena interjected, her face burning red.

  Dee eyed her friend expectantly, waiting for an answer.

  “Is nothing sacred?” Selena asked with a laugh.

  “Oh my God, you are. Is there someone hot coming with you?”

  How does she always read me so easily? Lie. Come on Selena, make something up.

  Ding. Time was up. Her hesitation had given far too much away. Surrendering, Selena said, “Go get tarted up. I’ll tell you once we’re out.”

  Selena and Dee decided to dare a drink in the snooty cocktail bar round the corner. It wasn’t the sort of bar they usually went to together, but when you’re sporting a thigh-skimming red number it sort of limits your social options. They could just imagine the shock on the faces of the old geezers in the London pub they usually drank in if they rocked up in these clothes. Too much for their old tickers.

  “Don’t look so stiff,” Dee said, pulling her friend’s shoulders down. “Pretend we always drink here. In fact, why don’t we?” she asked as she picked up a cocktail list at the bar. Her eyebrows rocketed upwards in shock at the prices. “Okay, that’s why. Maybe this was a bad idea.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Selena said putting her arm round Dee’s shoulders. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “No, I—”

  Sensing her friend’s uncomfortable reaction, she shot Dee a warning look that said enough. I’m your friend. I have money. Do not say no. They usually drank in low-key bars to avoid this situation. The last thing Selena wanted was to make Dee self-conscious.

  The women settled into a leather booth with their Havana Sluts – rum cocktails that Dee could not resist, purely for the fun of the word ‘slut.’

  “I feel weird,” said Selena looking around. “Isn’t it a bit desperate to wear this and parade ourselves?”

  “Get over yourself,” Dee said with a wink. “It’s just a bit of fun. You look like you could do with it. Anyway…”

  Selena knew what was coming.

  “Paris. Spill.”

  Selena took a deliberately slow sip through her straw. “Nice drink. I’d get that one again.”

  “Paris.”

  “There’s not really much to tell,” Selena said, starting off gently, already feeling her stomach lurch and her cheeks flush. “There’s this new intern at work.”

  Dee’s eyes widened with pleasure and intrigue as she sipped her ‘slut.’ “Tell me more about Hot Intern.”

  “He’s nice. He’s really nice. Really, really fucking nice. And that’s the problem. He’s great at what he does, he’s smart, and so he needs to come to Paris. But good lord, he’s cocky. It’s not so much what he says, I am the boss after all. But it’s how he says it. Like he’s just so used to being in control. Like he’s well aware of what he looks like and is happy to use every angle he can. God, I’m terrified I’ll be distracted. Or worse, make a total fool out of myself by flirting, because I’m a disaster at flirting. Usually, I avoid awkward situations. There’s never anyone hot on my team, but you would have laughed to see me the other day in the boardroom. I swear I forgot my script at one point because he was watching me.”

  Dee clapped with glee. “This is the best thing I’ve heard in ages. First things first, describe hot in detail,” she said, leaning forward to savor every word. “I want to know everything about Mr. Cocky.”

  Selena laughed and continued. “Okay… he’s tall, even when I’m in heels he stands well over me. He has dark hair, emerald green eyes. You know the kind you’d swear were contacts.” Her eyes glazed over as she spoke. “He has tattoos but I don’t know what of or how many, I just saw a glimpse at his wrist. He’s one of those quietly confident guys. Knows he’s hot, but doesn’t seem to care.”

  Dee’s eyes sparkled as she asked, “Muscular?”

  Selena laughed. “Not big, but lean. And would you relax? Nothing has happened. So don’t get all excited. Worse, it really can’t happen. I’ve booked Nancy to come with us as my safety net.

  “Oh, that’s boring,” said Dee curling her top lip in disgust. “Why do you do this to yourself? You’re going to Paris, which I am majorly jealous of, by the way, with a panty-meltingly gorgeous man and you’re bringing bloody Nancy along to chaperone?”

  Selena dove in, “Can you imagine how humiliating it would be though if I took my eye off the ball over some random guy and came home from France empty handed? No contract agreement to show for it? This is my first major contract with a concept of my own. Most of the stuff I’ve worked on has been the existing products. This is the first huge move the company has made that I have developed from a tiny seed. This is mine. I need it to go well. You know who would be waiting to see me fail.”

  Dee nodded in understanding. “Simon. Fair point,” she said. “It’s just a shame.”

  “What?”

  “You’re twenty-six. You’re gorgeous. You should be enjoying it all.”

  “I’m not gorgeous,” Selena said quietly.

  “You are.” Dee’s eyes fell on Selena’s scar, making Selena touch it self-consciously. “You need to believe how pretty you are,” Dee said softly, taking her friend’s hand. “The only thing you’re missing is confidence.”

  Tears welled at the corners of Selena’s eyes. Hold it together.

  Pretty was not a word that Selena could identify with. Despite the one attempt at plastic surgery to lessen her scar, she was still agonizingly aware of the bumpy ridges of skin that travelled fro
m ear to chin down her right side. What cemented her insecurity about it was Daniel—her first, and only, real boyfriend. “It’s just Daniel,” she said.

  “That wanker? Why do you still think about him? He was a cheating asshole, who followed his dick to Spain to be with that whore.” Dee was clearly still angry. She had been the only one of her friends at Uni who had tried to warn her that her boyfriend was sleeping around. When he eventually left with an international student, Selena could no longer deny her defeat. She’d tried to date after him, but then her father had died and she’d taken over Shades of Chic. There had been no time. “That was years ago, Lena. You’ve got to forget him.”

  “I know, it’s just the way he used to hold my face and…” her voice trailed.

  “And what?” Dee narrowed her eyes.

  “The things he used to say about my scar.” She heard the quiver in her voice and fought the sting of tears.

  Dee stared, lost for words.

  “He’d say things like, ‘What a damn shame. If it wasn’t for that…’”

  “Oh. My. God,” her friend murmured. “Don’t you ever think about that again. Promise me.”

  Selena sighed, feeling pathetic.

  “You are a stunning, powerful woman. You run a bloody business, for God’s sake. You could have any man in this bar, and you need to start thinking that way.”

  Selena coughed out a chuckle. “Yeah,” she said, smiling. “Fuck him.”

  “And while we’re at it,” Dee continued. “Fuck Simon. Stop letting the pressure of him watching your every move put you off life. And fuck me, get laid, for goodness sake.”

  Selena laughed and raised her glass to clink with Dee’s. “Okay,” Selena giggled. “Just not with my new intern.”

  6

  Saturday morning. No work. No classes. Bliss. And for now, no Simon. He’s tossed and turned for hours, barely sleeping. He knew he had no choice, but there had to be another way. He was resourceful, he just had to think of a way out. Because the stress wasn’t worth it.

  Nick lay in his bed, reading a spy thriller, but not really taking in any of the story. Every few lines, his mind would wander. He’d picture Selena at her desk, her blue eyes boring into him. Then his mind would offer a list of things he could do to her on that desk.

  He wondered what she would smell like up close. What perfume did she wear? What did she taste like?

  Stop it, Nick. This isn’t helping matters. His dick twitched in protest. It had been a while since he’d been with anyone, that was all. Take her face out of the equation. Picture Megan Fox instead. It was working. Megan Fox was smiling seductively at him in his mind. Suddenly her pale skin warmed and turned olive until she drifted into Selena and Nick’s cock twitched again. Traitor.

  Argh, fuck. Thinking about her was going to make him crazy. He pressed his hands against his face.

  His mobile buzzed on the bedside table. Simon’s name appeared on the screen and he felt like ice had been thrown on his libido. He considered letting it ring, but decided it was best to get this conversation over with.

  “Hello?” he said, picking up.

  “Nick,” said Simon curtly. “How are things progressing?”

  Nick let the moment tick by. He knew what would be better for his brother. Knew what would be easier for him, but he still couldn’t do it. It just wasn’t who he was. “Look, I’m not sure about this.”

  “Don’t give me this shit,” Simon hissed. “You know too much already. I’m afraid I can’t just turn around and let you forget this ever happened. I need details from you, mate. You agreed.”

  “Fuck off.

  “Nah, mate, you fuck off. You’re doing this. Meet me next week with everything you can get your hands on. And it better be good. If I find out you aren’t trying, well, let’s just say, you can wave bye-bye to that internship and your prospects. Dad gave a ton of funding to your Uni. I can have you ejected in seconds. Oh, and Nick, your mother’s not bad for an old bird.”

  Nick sprang up out of bed. “What the fuck did you just say?” His voice went low, icy. “If you so much as look at her…”

  “Do what I want and I won’t need to.” Simon hung up, leaving Nick staring at the ceiling. This was so fucked. He needed to get his mother the fuck out of where she was.

  Selena loved Saturdays. It meant no abrupt wake-up call from Gus. No spandex. No squats. No burn. Just bed and blissful quiet.

  As she lay beneath the white sheets in sleepy joy, her thoughts wandered to her conversation with Dee the previous night. Get laid. Yeah. That would be good.

  She replayed her limited knowledge of sex, but hated reliving Daniel’s face in every scenario. That wouldn’t do. Daniel Craig. He’ll do. She imagined him bursting through the window to rescue her. But of course, being Bond, he’d seduce her first. She pictured the muscles, the intense stare. It was all going well and sending shivers of desire through her body. But somewhere along the way, Nick’s face replaced Daniel Craig’s. Nick’s stunning green eyes and angular jaw. Just how many tattoos did he have? How far up did they go? She imagined being under him, as he made love to her, his beard abrading her skin. No, Selena. Not him.

  It was too late. She was wet. Her hands drifted downwards to find the warm heat of her folds. She shuddered as she stroked herself lightly, teasing her lips apart gently to find the pool of wetness.

  She slowly circled her target with a fingertip, and all the while, Nick’s face haunted her. She wanted to know how his body felt. What he tasted like. She upped her pace. This wasn’t going to take long. She buzzed all over as she fantasized about what she couldn’t have. The waves of explosive energy arrived and coursed through her body as she climaxed, tensing and arching her back. As she drifted to earth, she sighed. Oh, God, you’re in trouble Lena. You really like him.

  7

  Nick tried hard not to stare at Selena’s ass as they boarded the plane, even though it was directly in front of his face. He shook his head and looked down at her feet instead. He was not going to survive the forty-eight hours. Business mode, mate.

  Once on board, the trio settled into tan leather seats, all facing a wide-screen TV with a library of DVDs to choose from, not that Nick had any interest in watching a movie right now. His blood simmered with anxiety. After that chilling call, dragging his mother into the mess, he was committed. Deceit didn’t sit well with him but he had no choice. It was Selena or his mother. He had to choose his family. At least for the time being, he had to play along.

  The small aircraft sped along the runway until they were catapulted into the sky above London on their way to gay Paris.

  A flight attendant in a perfectly pressed navy skirt suit approached him with a tray full of the items he had ordered from the list the week before. He hadn’t really believed he would get whatever he wanted on board, but here it was, a Peroni beer, corn on the cob, and hot chicken wings. He glanced over at Selena’s tray of champagne and a bowl full of leafy greens and beans. He was relieved to see at least something ‘normal’ on the tray in the form of a muffin tucked in bedside the salad. Nancy’s tray had breakfast tea, a scone with jam and cream, and a cheese roll. Nick looked at his wish list brought to life on his lap. Should have thought this out more. I’m going to look like a flippin’ barbarian tearing at these sticky wings with my teeth. Damn.

  As if reading his mind the attendant returned with a bowl of hot water, which contained a small pile of hot hand and face towels. She placed it in front of him with a knowing smile. He sighed. Barbarian. That’s me.

  The Shades of Chic trio nibbled at their food watching a chick flick that Selena had requested. Nick tackled half of his corn, wisely deciding to leave half of it for fear of butter oozing down his blue shirt and yellow flecks catching between his teeth. He managed to tease at his chicken with a knife and fork, gently, without making a mess. He caught Selena’s eye at one point when his lips were gently suckling. Zap. Her eyes darted immediately back to her leaves. Thank God Nancy was between them.
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  The flight was smooth, little more than an hour, and the three were met by a black Mercedes, their suitcases already in the boot.

  At the hotel, they checked in and agreed to meet back at the hotel bistro for dinner an hour later. They had an evening to kill before tomorrow’s big presentation.

  Nick arrived first. He took a seat facing out onto the street to watch passers-by in the early evening sun. This was pretty awesome. He was actually getting paid to be in Paris. But at what cost? He was actually being paid twice to be here, by rival siblings. How did he end up here?

  “Hi,” came a gentle greeting from behind him as Selena approached. “It’s a beautiful hotel, isn’t it?”

  Nick could only stare as she sat opposite him, a hint of her Chanel Mademoiselle wafting toward him and teasing his senses. The cobalt blue blouse fit her well. She’d unbuttoned the top to offer just a hint of the valley between her breasts, just enough to draw his eyes. He had only ever seen her in grey. The colour made her look soft. Feminine.

  Her brows were raised expectantly. And he stared back as her blue eyes looked bewildered. Answer, you tosser. “Yes, it’s gorgeous. Is your room nice?” Oh, real slick.

  “Mmmhhmmm,” She responded, nodding politely. “Yours?”

  “It’s big,” he said with a laugh. Man, this was so dumb. Say something interesting.

  Selena got there first. It was almost as if nerves had engaged autopilot as Nick listened to Selena relaying the ideas for tomorrow and how important it was for Shades of Chic to expand into Europe. Nick nodded at all the right points but really he was focusing on her lips and the way she touched her neck while talking.

  When Selena ran out of work words, there was a pause.

  Nick searched for a response. What he wanted to say was, “You look pretty.” Instead, he muttered things about, “Strategic position…product line…marketing strategies” Fuck all. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was the guy that made girls fall all over themselves and now he couldn’t string together two words? He was for sure going to lose his player card.

  “Where is Nancy?” she said craning her neck towards the hotel lobby.