The Billionaire's Fiancee, Book 1

by Bella Bentley

  The Billionaire’s Fiancee, Book 1

  By Bella Bentley

  The Offer

  The afternoon sun descended upon the rich, green vivacious oak trees that danced happily and shone majestically throughout the many seasons of Alpharette, Georgia, an affluent suburb happily perched outside of Atlanta. This place—New Gates Country Club— was my most favorite place to be. I was surrounded by luscious nature, rich culture and impeccable luxury. With the love for beautiful things and rich tastes, I eagerly applied for a lifeguarding position the moment I graduated High School four years ago. I never thought I would actually get hired since no one in the club knew of me or who my family was. But nonetheless, I was hired. And I was the best lifeguard they would ever hire! At least, that’s how I always acted.

  Every summer, I faithfully worked the stand and every night I left with stars in my eyes from whom I may have seen, how the wives, girlfriends and daughters of the rich and elite dressed and the apparent ease their lavish lives seemed. The club was well known throughout the area for housing many famous athletes and high profile businessmen so I had plenty of inspiration to gleam from in imagining and day-dreaming of my own, one day, fabulous life I hoped for, dreamed of and planned to live.

  As my feet pounded the familiar jogging path and explored the many hilly trails near the eighteen holes, I loved pretending that in those moments, I wasn’t just a country club lifeguard—I was a wife of an important rich man.

  To some this is silly but these day-dreams of mine were quite fun. As a firm believer of creative visualization, I did this several times a week, fully believing that one day, I’d live the dream I daily visited. Also it is on the jogging path where I saw many trophy wives jogging or power walking and one of my favorite things to do is listen and get a small, personal glimpse into their secretive world.

  Many lounge around the pool and visit of course, but not for long; their nannies take care of all the hard work at the pool. The wives continue their lounging a good distance away in the plush cabana tents that rival any Four Seasons hotel. Which translates—I only see but never hear their juicy gossip sessions.

  I slowed my jog down and thought about how it was weeks away from Labor Day. I had had a nice relaxing summer but was still unemployed with a “real job” that I went to school for and worked so hard for that degree. Some of my childhood friends already had jobs panned out and were relocating. There were not many job offers for a girl with a 3.8 GPA in Creative Writing, especially with the current economy.

  So the ever looming question I couldn’t get away from was what was I going to do when the pool closed after Labor Day? And no amount of day dreaming or fantasizing could cause this question to disappear!

  My mom suggested I put an ad up for nannying around the club. I had considered it but honestly, I had no experience with children and from the stories I’d hear these ladies say about what they honestly thought about “the help”, I moved on to other options in a good heartbeat! So, I applied to a few small private school teaching positions in the area, but I had yet to hear back.

  I had been working on a tell-all anonymous memoir about the wealthy and elite, stories which I gathered the past four summers from working at the club. Most of the stories are funny, many are gasp worthy, and most certainly many are sue-able worthy. Hence, like I said, anonymity. I am almost sure the book will provide many with laughter, amusement, and beach reading and that this project will bring in consistent royalty. But that’s a good six to eight month gap.

  A group of trophy wives briskly walked passed me in their stylish workout tights and matching sports bras. They were all in perfect shape, of course when all you do for a living is look good for your husband—who has all the money in the world—how hard could that be? Yet sometimes I heard them lament that it was the hardest job in the world to always look like a ten.

  “So then I told her, the socks are folded not rolled. If you can’t manage to get this right, why would I trust you with my child?” The brunette said in a very concerned manner to her friends.

  “Oh Lord, she can’t get the socks right? Ditch her.” The blonde happily suggested.

  “But I need her. The Labor Day gala is coming up and I have so much to do as social chair.”

  “Hire someone else to help you.”

  “True. I just like that personal touch, you know? Oh, let’s get a drink before I have a panic attack.”

  “I have Xanax back in the club house. Maybe you should have a pop.”

  “No thanks…trying to cut back to just three a day. Okay, four.”

  The women giggled and passed me leaving a flood of their rich perfume behind. I inhaled their scent as I slowed down to a fast walk. I was approaching a wooden bridge that extended a few feet over a small, water brook. A few golfers were nearby on the 9th hole or so.

  This was my favorite spot to stop and look into the forest and listen to the peaceful trickling sounds. Many birds, squirrels and other wildlife happily congregated.

  I gazed into the tranquil flowing water and thought about the luxurious-ladies-who-lunch (that’s what I called them) with their perfect painted faces and thought about how nice it would be to just hang out with your rich friends all day. Oh, and not to mention the fashion! Oh god, the fashion! And all the parties!

  I closed my eyes as I inhaled their lingering scent once more and pretended it was my own perfume. I pictured friends on the left and right of me.

  “So, what are you wearing for the Gala, Jess? Why don’t we go to 5th avenue and have a little girls trip.”

  “In New York?”

  “Of course, silly. Let’s just take your jet.”

  “Oh, right!” I exclaimed back.

  I held the image in my mind for a second longer as the wooden steps beneath me disappeared into the squishy sand. I felt a smile hang on my face. I was now on a sidewalk path for another half mile and I would be back to the club house where I would gather my things and head to my childhood farmhouse home a good twenty minutes away. It was property surrounded by tens of acres where my family raised show horses.

  I relived the rich fantasy again until I heard a gentleman’s voice startle me.

  “Excuse me, Miss Loveheart?”

  The voice was behind me and I spun around on my Nike soles, out of breath, and startled.

  Good, GREAT, god!

  My jaw hung open as a very tall, handsome man in a tailored pen-stripped navy blue suit was walking towards me, appearing from practically thin air. The site of him took my breath away.

  He was so…rich looking! Dressed to the nines with perfect, slick-back thick brown hair, blue eyes that were deep aqua, and the perfect row of sparkly pearly whites. He looked just shy of thirty.

  To the side of him was a limo and the door was open.

  How had I not seen that more or less heard that? I must had been so caught up in my little dream world I—

  “It is Miss Jess Loveheart, right?” He asked in perfect annunciation.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head out of the sudden tongue parallelization.

  Talk, Jess!

  “Ye…yes?”

  Damn, he was good looking and he smelled so delicious and crisp. He stepped a few steps closer and I saw a hint of his white socks as I trailed down to his shiny shoes. My whole body was shot with nerves!

  “May I have a word with you?”

  “Am…am I in trouble?” I stammered. I wasn’t sure why I even asked it, but he seemed important and well—what did he want with me?

  He laughed and rubbed his smooth skin displaying his healthy glow.

  I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.

  He shook his head no and motion
ed towards the open limo.

  “Would you please step inside?”

  Would I please step inside?

  I furrowed my eyebrows at him and gave him the look of “uh, you’re a stranger.”

  He opened his wallet and flashed his ID at me. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me? I’m Dexter Miles. I’m owner of the club. I just want a few minutes with you. I promise you’re not in trouble.” He flashed me his pearly whites and his dimples appeared. He was so movie star good looking!

  Of course I’d seen his name everywhere on plaques throughout the club but never him. He could be a stranger pretending to be Dexter Miles…or, he could honest to god really be Dexter Miles, and pretty damn hot, I must add. Contemplating his invitation, I considered quickly how he was pretty young looking to be a club owner.

  “Just a few minutes of your time, please?”

  I nodded quickly and snapped out of my daze. “Certainly.” I breathed in confidence and lifted my chin. So what I was in spandex, a white tank top that clearly let my pink sports bra seen through a bit, I would act as if I were dressed to the nines, as well. Confidence is key, right?

  He was now inches from me and his hand rested on my shoulder and led me the way to his limo.

  “You’re in great shape.” He said after me as I crouched down to enter the limo. Clearly he was referring to my backside since that was what was facing him before I turned around.

  Great. Asshole? Creep? Or just a man lose with his words?

  I didn’t know and I didn’t care. He was Dexter Miles!

  “Uh… thanks.” I smiled politely. “I want to make sure I’m the best shape I can be, especially with lives are practically in my hand.” I don’t know why I had said it…I was just nervous! So I sat up straighter, regained my composure and looked at his eyes that seemed to be dancing with laughter or amusement.

  “So, how can I help you, Mr. Miles?”

  “Call me Dexter.”

  “Okay, Dexter.” I saw his eyes flash with something unreadable and he stroked his chin.

  “I’ve been very impressed with your professionalism here at the club.” He reached for a black file and looked at a few papers.

  “You’ve been with us for four years and it says in our records that you now are looking for a full time job. You just graduated from Georgia State with an impressive GPA in creative writing.”

  Oh my god! He was going to offer me a job! There is a God! How did they know I was looking for a job? I was screaming inside, jumping up and down.

  “Thank you.” My voice tone was higher and I felt myself relaxing. If he was going to offer me a job I needed to play up my personality. I sat up straighter—as if that were even possible—and let out my best laugh and flashed him a smile of my own as I batted my eyelashes.

  This amused him as his playful smile returned. Damn, he was just so sexy. His hair tousled back perfectly. That jaw line. That smooth tan skin. I instantly felt pools of desire and re-crossed my legs.

  Snap out of it, Jess!

  He dropped the file on the seat. He crossed his arms in front of his suit, the light blue of his shirt made his eyes pop and I couldn’t stop staring at them.

  “So, creative writing as your major with a minor in philosophy. Quite the thinker, huh?”

  I nodded, proud.

  “But not quite the credentials for most jobs unless graduate school is in the picture.”

  I smiled shyly.

  “Any plans?”

  “Well…well, I’ve been working on a young adult series and—”

  “So, I have a job for you, Jess.”

  “Re…really?” I really needed to stop stuttering!

  He nodded his head slowly as he stroked his smooth jaw again.

  Doing what?

  “But first, I need a trial run to see how you do.”

  “Of course, I understand.” I nodded eagerly as I thought of all the jobs he could possibly need at the club and I couldn’t believe my luck.

  “So, what type of job do you have in mind?”

  He held up his hands as if to stop me.

  “Oh, it’s very unconventional. In fact, you may have plenty writing material for your next book series. Perhaps though not the YA market.” He winked.

  “Oh?”

  “Look, I’m just going to shoot straight with you. I’m a very forward person. There’s no bullshitting with me. What you see is what you get. So, what I’m proposing to you is a very different job. You are welcome to say no. But, before I even offer you the job, I ask you sign this non disclosure form.”

  He handed me a clipboard with a document and pen attached.

  “This means, whatever I even speak to you about in the next minute, even if you chose to not accept my job, just must never repeat the job offer or you will be at risk for an ugly lawsuit.”

  “Why would I…”

  “It’s just a precaution.”

  I signed the document not thinking anything of it—just that this was weird. What type of a job could be so secretive? Unless...he was into something illegal? My overactive imagination began to get the best of me.

  “Well, now that you’ve signed that, I’ll get to it. I want you to work for me and solely me for the next year.”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve been out of the country for a few years and now I am back and I have a lot of media appearances, galas, dinners, you name it. I’m opening a few more businesses and have more business meetings, and well, let me be frank. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of showing up with a different girl at different places and people thinking I can’t commit, therefore, they back out of deals. It reflects upon my business. I’ve developed a reputation and I want to change that. So, with all that said, I’d like to offer you the position of being my fiancé. And—”

  And then I snorted.

  I laughed out loud so hard I couldn’t help the noises that came out at the moment. I held both of my hands up as I tried my best to stifle the laughter. This wasn’t a polite laugh; no. This was a full out, belly laugh and I nearly cried tears because of the audaciousness.

  He sat, staring at me with the same expression, not phased by my reaction.

  “Okay, good one. My sister put you up to this, right? The cameras can come out now. I’m sure some reality show will air this and have the viewers dying of laughter at me. This was a cruel joke, but funny. I mean, my sister knows that it’s a fantasy of mine, but….” I wiped at my laughter-tears and exhaled slowly. And then my fingers began to nervously tap on my legs at his “are-you-done-now?-now-answer-my-damn-question” expression.

  Wait, is this for real?

  “You want to hire me as your fiancé?”

  That boyish charm from earlier, the smile, the dimples, they all went to a tight-lipped stare. He nodded and lifted both of his eye-brows.

  “And in return, you can do whatever you want, whatever you women do. Go shopping, go lunching, workout, whatever the hell you want at the expense of me. Publish your books if you like. But in return, I’ll give you an itinerary each month that you strictly comply by from appearances, to events, to dates. You will also receive a strict guideline of requirements as far as diet, weight, choice of wardrobe when you’re with me, and oh, you’ll also be on a salary. One million dollars divided into monthly installments.”

  “What the hell?” My laughing stopped. I guess there were no cameras as a document was handed my way.

  “Oh, and then there are other duties, as well. Other, intimate duties.”

  He wanted me to sleep with him. I knew that look. I immediately pictured his body naked, and I squirmed in the inside. Judging by that jaw line, and the thin waist line, I pictured a washboard abs and my nipples immediately hardened as I felt the familiar slippery juices curious in hot need of what it would feel like to have my hardened nipples slide against his hard chest as well as other hard things.

  Shit!

  I blushed and twirled a bit of my blonde curls that hung over my shoulder in my high ponytail.<
br />
  Get paid to have sex with him and a life of luxury?

  Uh…why wouldn’t I say yes? Isn’t that what the ladies who lunch do anyway? Isn’t this what I always fantasized about? Sure it was a little unconventional but isn’t this what women for centuries and thousands of years did? They married to help their family have a better life? They married for money and security? And of course they had to sleep with the men. Except in this case, it was a win-win; I didn’t have to marry him in the end.

  “Oh, and of course, you’ll live with me. For appearances sake. But you’ll have your own room, though. The house will pretty much be yours during the day except when the itinerary calls for lunch appearances or when we will travel, which will be quite a lot.”

  Why does this sound too good to be true? What is the catch?

  Before I could even answer or respond, he held up a phone and slid it to me. “This is for you. Programmed into this phone is anyone or everyone you will need as far as staff should you say yes. As I mentioned earlier you will be on a trial basis tonight. Should you agree, this limo will take you to the Four Seasons where you will find your outfit tonight for the gala as well as your appointments at the spa. Afterwards, we’ll head back my place. Simple as that.” He winked.

  All I could do was sit dumbfounded. Of course he was the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on, but I’d never heard of such an arrangement before. And he was a sexy stranger! I’d never had sex with a mere stranger before. I grew lost in my thoughts.

  “So, what is it? Yay or nay?”

  “Why me?” I decided to ask.

  “I like your style. And besides, where I’m going, there’s a certain southern hospitality required. Women up north don’t necessarily have that. You have honey in your bones.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Oh, I know things. I can tell.” He said with a hungry look in his eyes. “And besides, let me be honest, I like your body.” He said with a smirk.

  My eyes shifted quickly left and right. I was lost for words. I barely knew this man. But a million dollars? A life of luxury, just at the snap of my fingers? In exchange for…sex? Sex with this hot man and pretending to be his fiancé at the fabulous events I always fantasized of.