The CEO’s Fake Fiancee: (A Virgin & Billionaire Romance)

by Amber Burns

  “Oh my God, Molly,” he breathed, his eyes wide. “This, this! Us together. This is making me happier than I have ever felt in my entire life. Happier than I ever knew, or even imagined that it was possible to feel.”

  I pulled my hands-free of his and looked away. I would not cry, but I would also not let him get away without admitting it.

  “Look,” I said, my voice monotone, a cold slice of metal pressing against his ears. “If we are going to be in a partnership, it is going to be a successful one, because I don’t take part in anything that isn’t successful. And in order to have a successful partnership, we are going to have to practice some serious honesty.” I looked up then, pressing my stare hard against his own. “So, let’s practice some serious honesty right here. Right now. Tell me, Nikko with just a simple yes or no. No more bullshit, no more evading. Would you rather be with Melissa here? It’s not going to hurt me. I know you don’t love me, that you’re leading me on. No matter what you might try and tell me, this is business.”

  “Molly, it is business, but it’s also something more.”

  “It. Is. Just. Business.” I spat the words out into his face. My cheeks were growing hot with frustration. “And if you care about me at all, and wish to keep me in this partnership, then you will never again lie to me about that.” I swallowed. “So would you rather have her here?”

  Nikko stared at me. He looked lost. It was the first time I had ever seen the expression upon his face, and it sent a chill through my body. Could I be wrong? Could he actually care? I shook my head, scolding myself for thinking it, yet again. No. He did not care. He couldn’t care about someone like me. A simple glance at his perfect body reaffirmed the fact that this man was far above me in every single possible way. I looked back up at him, waiting for an answer.

  Nikko opened his mouth. “I feel like you want me to say yes,” he said softly.

  I looked back at him. “I want you to say what is true,” I said.

  Nikko looked at me for a moment, his face a mask of confusion. Then he said, “Honestly, Molly, I don’t know what’s true.”

  “Well,” I said, staring down at the movement of his chest, “That’s what happens when you fill yourself up with emptiness all the time.”

  Nikko looked at me, and I saw the threat of tears playing upon his eyes. There was a long silent moment that hung in the air. Nikko simply looked at me, his brow furrowed with desperation, his lips hanging open as if waiting for the right words to leap up from the insides of him and fall upon the air.

  “You’re right,” he sighed. The words suddenly broke and fell from his lips like the sun breaking the dark sky and signaling the beginning of a new, hopeful dawn. “You are right.”

  I looked up at him.

  “I may not know exactly what is true,” Nikko admitted. “Not exactly. And I cannot speak to what I may have been feeling when the boss first proposed this whole crazy fucking thing to me. Because, first of all, I was drinking, and because second of all… well, hell, the whole entire world, and my whole entire outlook on that world, has changed since he first spoke those words to me. But while I may not know what was true then, I do know, with every inch of my entire fucking being, what is true right now. And that is because what is my truth now, what is my honesty? It’s sitting right here, beautiful, like white marble, in front of me. And that’s not Melissa, or Melandra, or any other fucking person or thing in the entire world. That, Molly, is you.”

  I stared at him and my lips fell open. I was seeing him in a way that I had never before seen him. Gone was the composed, well-rehearsed Nikko Cartwright. The person who sat before me was stumbling over his words, speaking in a rush of passion. As he finished his speech tears began to fall down his face. But he did not wipe them away. Instead, he spoke onwards, his face growing red and blotchy, his chest heaving, but he, all the while, staying strong and pressing his hands against my own.

  “I love you, Molly,” Nikko said, tears slipping down his perfect face. “I love the fuck out of you. I didn’t think I could. Hell, I didn’t think I wanted to, but I love you; more than I have ever loved anyone else. More than I will ever love anyone again. And I thank you for that. And that… that is me being honest. That is the truth.”

  I watched as he sat before me, this huge, strong, famous man who controlled much of the money of the world, crying with abandon, letting the pain fall away and turn into passion. His shoulders trembled, tears flowed over his lips. And I knew I had to tell him. I knew I could not withhold my truth when he had cracked his heart wide open and laid it at my feet.

  “Nikko Cartwright, I love you too,” I breathed, and then I leaped forward, and he caught me in those big, strong arms, and held me tightly against his chest.

  My chin tucked in the crook of his neck, his hands stroking my hair, his lips kissing my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks. He kissed every inch of me they could find. His tears fell over my face and my breasts, my hips, my thighs. He lay me down and cuddled me against his body, and we began to kiss as he slipped slowly inside of me. We were once again moving, moving together. His tears slowed and a smile cracking across his face while our arms gripping at each other and our bodies working together. There was a wordless dance of flesh on flesh, and our lips pressed to each other’s. Our eyes were locked, copper on chocolate. Nikko’s hands slid up and down my body, slowly tracing the shape of me, the outlines of my form.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispered as he kissed my breasts, my nipples, my collar bones, and my neck.

  Nikko’s strong hands found the curves of my ass, and he lightly squeezed at my flesh and bit at his lips in attraction. A breath rushing from his mouth caught mine as it did the same. He pressed me against him, and my hands slid slowly up his body, reaching around him and pulling his ass towards me. With each moment I urged him more deeply and fully into me. I moaned when his full length was sheathed inside of my body and I ran my hands through his hair. His hips bucked against mine and I carved with my fingers the outlines of his eyes, catching the fluttering of his eyelids between my hovering fingertips. My lips parting as I began to explode and his lips, too, parted in laughter. Both of us were gasping and half laughing, half crying, as we rolled together through the light of the breaking dawn as it slipped in through the window and cast a purple glow upon our loving forms.

  When we finally broke apart again it was not entirely. We lay there for hours, breathing in the other, neither of us ever wanting to let go of the moment we had just shared. When we finally let go of each other the afternoon was upon us. The sun had shimmied high up into the sky and bathed us in golden warmth.

  “Nikko?” I asked, my voice soft as sleep and comfortable as the silk bed sheets we lay upon.

  He smiled at me and I could feel him loving me with every inch of him, even just through that smile.

  “Yes, Molly, my love,” he said back.

  I looked at him, my eyes gazing upon that face, that masterfully carved body and those gleaming, love filled eyes.

  “I just wanted to look at you,” I heard myself say back.

  I flushed at the words, and Nikko grinned, running a hand fondly over my cheek.

  “I think we will have a lot of time for that,” he said, smiling that trademark, sexy smile that sent my stomach into somersaults. “In the years to come. What do you think, Molly?”

  I stared back at the man that lay before me, pouring his heart into my hands.

  “I think I made the best business deal in the history of the world,” I said.

  Nikko burst out laughing, and I could not help but join him. He grabbed me and kissed me furiously; making me laugh even more, then he hugged me tightly against him. I cooed as my breasts pressed against his chest, our eyes inches away.

  “I think we both did, Molly,” he said. “I think we both did.”

  Overhaul

  Boneyard Brotherhood MC Romance - Book 1

  By Amber Burns

  Copyright © 2016 by Amber Burns

&nb
sp; & Scarlet Lantern Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language.

  All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  Prologue

  I didn’t find the Boneyard Brotherhood. The Boneyard Brotherhood found me. I had been at the end of my leash, using alcohol as a means to self-medicate all the things that had followed me home from my last tour in Iraq. I hadn’t considered much after my therapy aside from surviving to the next day, but there was more to just surviving. I kept the ole Army routines, shaving and maintaining a cut that would keep any soldier out of trouble. It was a routine that had been drummed into me since boot camp, and I wasn’t ready to let go of it because of a medical discharge. I had planned on being a lifer, I was going for the full twenty years and maybe beyond. But war and life had different plans for me.

  Fortunately, life sent me a savior when I was bent over a bar top considering the flavor of the nine millimeter I kept at home.

  “I’ve seen that look before,” a gruff voice cut through the drunk fog that had surrounded my brain. There’s a reason why they tell you not to consume alcohol while on some medications. “You’re at rock bottom and ready to call it quits.”

  I pushed up from the bar to glare at the person intruding on my wallowing in self-pity, ruining my contemplation of suicide.

  “Fuck off,” I slurred; I really didn’t want to be bothered.

  “Aye, soldier boy, don’t snap at me just yet,” the voice was attached to a grisly of a man, the majority of his hair was on his face and he was sporting a receding hairline, like the hair on his head decided it’d rather be on his face. “I see a man that’s down for the count, and I’m tryin’ ta give you a hand up. Do you want it?”

  I squinted at him as I tried to decipher what he was saying, it didn’t immediately make sense to me. “What do you mean?”

  “You okay with riding bitch? I want to show you something,” he looked away from me to the bartender that had been serving me watered down beers, they were so weak it had taken more than a few to get me feeling this way. “He paid up?”

  “Yep, he paid after each drink,” the bartender, an older man that made me think of my dad each time he gave me a new beer. I got a look that said I should reconsider my life, but it didn’t keep him from giving me the beer even when I went under the table.

  “Okay, kid,” he hoisted me off of the barstool with a hand under one arm, being kind enough to catch me when I stumbled and nearly fell. “I’m going to show you a better way to deal with shit, and you’re going to thank me when I do.” He took me out to the curb and gestured to a sleek motorcycle that sat next to it. At the time I had no idea about make or model. “Look at that beauty.”

  “You interrupted my beer for a bike?” I asked because it sounded crazy. “How is this,” I gestured to the bike and tried not to wear my issues on my sleeve when I asked the question, “supposed to help me?”

  He handed me a helmet and put a bandana over his bald head before putting on a helmet himself. “It’s not just the bike, boy,” he said gruffly, giving me a look that said I was close to insulting him. “It's the ride that sets you free. If you weren’t so shit faced, I’d let you drive it, but I would have to kill you if you dropped it. I like ya, I don’t want to have to kill ya.” He straddled the bike and gave the seat behind him a pat, grinning at me, “So you get to ride bitch.”

  I didn’t mention that he didn’t know me. I just looked at the helmet in my hands, felt the ache in my back and wondered just how this would help. But, so far my options were nil. I was just considering chewing on a gun. What’s a last ride before I go? I put the helmet on, and after a little awkward maneuvering on my part, I managed to get on the seat behind him.

  “What’s your name?” I asked before the engine would drown me out.

  “Ted,” he said with a feral grin as he kicked the bike to life. “You call me Teddy, son, and I’ll gut check ya.”

  He didn’t give me any more warning. He started to ease the bike onto the road, and the roar of the engine seemed to drown out every thought I had while I sat at the bar. I held onto the seat that I sat on, not comfortable putting my hands on another man, and let the wind whip into my face. After the first bug smacked me in the face, I learned to close my mouth. I was still drunk, and I wasn’t ready to hurl on a moving vehicle.

  Fortunately, six years of MREs gave me a gut of steel and nausea didn’t rear its ugly head. I surrendered to the sound of the roaring bike and the whistling wind. The lingering effects of the alcohol drifted away from me, and I became drunk on the free feeling that was created by riding down the road. I had no clue how fast he was going, didn’t care either. I didn’t realize how much I was enjoying the ride until he eased us to a stop outside a little cinderblock building that was surrounded by motorcycles.

  “Why stop?” I asked, feeling like I got gypped. I wasn’t ready to face the reality that was ready to come back to me.

  “We got where we were going, kid,” he shot me a grin over his shoulder like he knew this would be my reaction. “So,” he shifted a little so he could get a better look at me. “This the hand up you needed?”

  “I’ve got to get me one of these,” I assured him, purposely ignoring his question.

  He laughed out loud, causing the bike we sat on to rock a little. He looked a little bit on the heavy side.

  “That’s the reaction I thought I’d get. C’mon. Get off the bike, and I’ll introduce you to the rest of The Brotherhood. Then we’ll see what we can do about getting you a bike and getting you on your feet for good.” He helped me off the bike and walked it to a spot that he intended to park it. “So, fresh meat. What’s your name?”

  I didn’t even question it when he called me fresh meat. I accept it wholeheartedly, and I had an idea of what it meant. He had said the brotherhood, it must mean I was about to become a part of it.

  “Private Second Class Sidney Redding,” I said like the drunk shit that I was. I might have even saluted him. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t slap me.

  He let out a heavy laugh clearly amused by my introduction.

  “Shit, you are fresh. Drop the Army ranks, kid. I ain’t been in since Desert Storm. If you ever blurt that shit out again, I’ll be sure to knock a knot in your head.” He took a breath, shot me a grin and jerked the door open. “Welcome home, Sid.”

  1

  Four years later and I hadn’t looked back or thought about chewing on my gun since. Teddy had been right. And, yeah, he told me not to call him that. But the man was like a Teddy bear despite the huff and puff front he put on. Riding on a motorcycle had been the best way to get free of all the problems. It was to the point I was comfortable with letting go of the anti-depressants and the anti-anxiety medicines that didn’t seem to work for me, they only made me a drooling zombie anyway. I was embraced by a band of brothers, each from different branches and each retired or discharged for various reasons. I think the reason why Teddy picked me up off that barstool was because he saw the mess that I was, saw me struggling, and gave me a purpose I hadn’t had since I was discharged. I was taught how to be a civilian by men that had been where I was.

  It was a sweet relief. A relief I needed.

  I spent the majority of my days working on bikes, someone had learned I was a mechanic while in the Army and that I was pretty good with engines, so I got put to work to an extent. I was back to living with grease and oil on my hands, it was something I was good with and nothing I was going to complain about. My dues got paid by the other members, Teddy being one of them, in exchange for the work I did. I was certain that the club held the look of an innocent gathering for retired military guys, but they a
lso dabbled in other things to raise money. Money raised paid for the building and the chicks that worked the bar and cooked the food. I got a stipend, too; under the table since I did the majority of the work around the bar.

  I didn’t really get involved in the illegal shit. Teddy said he didn’t want to endanger my disability, which was essentially what I lived off of now. The injury I suffered that got me discharged had some serious nerve damage in my back and left leg, fucked it up good. So, while I would go out on group rides through the territory and act as general muscle when necessary, I stayed out of anything illegal that the club did. Outside of hitting a smoldering joint when it was passed to me.

  I was satisfied with the work that I did, and I steadily let go of the routine I had been clinging to. I let my hair grow out. And although I couldn’t let it get shaggy like some of these bastards did, it wasn’t the buzz cut I used to sport. Along with that, I managed a respectable beard, something I enjoyed to no end. It felt good to not have to shave anymore.