Billionaire Bash: The Complete Steele Series

by Natalia Banks

  I give her nose a gentle pet, talking softly to her. “Such a pretty girl,” I tell her and her ears swivel and lock forward like she’s hanging on my every word. “I bet you’re uncomfortable, baby, it’ll be okay.” She lifts and lowers her head in a spirited show like she’s agreeing with me. It’s her signature move, and makes her easily my favorite mare.

  As I lock up the barn for the night, I look over the sea of faces peeking at me over stall doors, ears forward and curious eyes on me, I smile. I wouldn’t trade this for anything. Dad taught me a love of horses at a young age. And all the bloodlines we’ve had in our family for generations are highly prized and sought after.

  It pays for the ranch, and keeps me living well, but if I’ve no time to enjoy what I’ve worked so hard for, what’s the point?

  Feeling like a dead person walking, I make my way back to the ranch house.

  The porch light draws me in like a moth and I stumble up the steps, keeping on my feet only because of my death grip on the railing. Inside, I lock the door up tight behind me out of habit. A glance around the kitchen leaves me no doubt that I’m just too tired to even try to make myself food.

  I’m too tired to even human.

  With that, I decide to forgo even the stairs and curl up on the couch. I’ve already got a blanket there and a pillow. Some nights, this is all I’ve got. Drag myself to the couch, curl up and fall asleep.

  Dad would be so disappointed.

  Chapter 3

  Kieran

  Seven am isn’t too early for a business meeting.

  With a stranger.

  Who doesn’t know I’m coming.

  I park and get out of my truck. This is the first time I think it has seen a dirt road. I’ll have to hit a car wash on the way back into town. Who the hell would want to live out in the middle of nowhere like this?

  From somewhere past the house, I hear water. It’s no surprise, I know a river runs along the backside of the barn that stands against the backdrop of the mountain.

  I’ve already had ideas to make this place worth so much more. Condos. River view condos on one side. The other could be marketed as ‘nestled in nature.’ I could zone and build forty condos here, if I wanted to waste space and spread them out.

  If I wanted to zone as a subdivision, I could fit nearly a hundred of the damn things. I could even leave in some trees to please the housewives wanting to believe they’re closer to nature right around the corner from their Whole Foods.

  All the while, I’d sit back and collect rent.

  This place would make my fortune grow substantially, and I’m never one to pass up on an opportunity like that.

  Straightening the lapel of my suit – might as well make a good first impression – I walk up the front porch and take a deep breath. All the fury I’d felt from last night hasn’t dissipated. If anything, the aggravation feels like it’s grown. The pit of ire has matured into a great ball of darkness that taints every interaction I have.

  Even Olivia seemed shocked by my short temper.

  And she’d avoided me, even after I apologized to her and told her that I wasn’t upset with her, I was mad at someone who was being mean and not playing by the rules.

  So I’d gotten the hell out of the house early. No need to create more issues. Olivia’s got enough stress on her plate, I don’t want to be the cause of more. Sandy had made sure I’d gotten an earful last night when I got home. Apparently, Olivia has been starting fights at school, but not between her and another party, no, she’s more clever than that.

  She does something, and then tells the person that someone else made her do it and watches all hell break loose.

  I’d be proud of her cunning if I wasn’t so upset that her therapist told me we were past this kind of behavior.

  Before me, the ranch door opens and I’m met by curious green eyes that are strikingly cat-like.

  “Can I help you?” The woman steps out on the porch and I can only take in every detail of her. The socks on her feet don’t match – one’s purple with little green watermelons all over it, and the other is yellow with orange suns. Her light colored jeans hug her slim, well-shaped legs. There’s a curve in her thighs that looks like she’s spent more than her fair share of time straddling a horse. Or a man.

  The errant thought is all my cock needs to stand at attention.

  Her hips are rounded and give way to a narrow waist line. She’s wearing a white tank top and a black sports bra under it, and all I want is to pull the thing off her and free those beautiful breasts. The curve of her shoulders to her neck beg me to kiss along them. Even her ears, the delicate shells of them, are beautiful.

  Her jaw is flared and her chin is pointed. Wide cheekbones are dotted with a light dusting of freckles and she’s pale – almost too pale. Her nose is small and straight, a perfect addition to her already pleasing features and speckled with more of those cute freckles. But those eyes, all wide and green, framed by starburst golden lashes, capture my attention and hold me hostage.

  Her hands come up and grab the free flowing locks of golden brown hair and she twists it all up and piles it on her head in an effortless move that leaves her both messy and appealing all at once.

  My cock pulses at how deft her slim, pretty fingers are.

  She arches an eyebrow at me, and I clear my throat.

  “Is, um, your husband here?” Surely she’s not the owner of this place. She’s got to be the wife or daughter of the farmer. But I didn’t see a ring.

  Her eyes narrow dangerously. “What do you want?” she asks point blank, and I gather my wits. No matter how fucking sexy she is or how bad I want to push her against the wall behind her and bury myself in her, I’m here for business.

  “I’m looking for the owner of this place,” I say, keeping my tone cool.

  She lifts her shoulders a few millimeters. “You’re looking at her,” she says, tucking her hands in her back pockets. With her weight shifted to the right, she calls attention to her hips again, and I enjoy the curve of those sexy thighs.

  “I’m willing to pay four point six million to buy this property.” It’s a generous offer. The last estimate for the property was around two and a half million. But I always bid up. I make back my losses, and I’d rather buy high.

  It’s personal incentive to pour my heart and soul into the place. The more I spend, the more ways I find to make that money back, and then some. I’ll bring in paychecks for the rest of my damn life, and the rest of Olivia’s, too.

  To my surprise, she snorts. I study her as she looks away, her pretty eyes scanning the horizon before coming back to me.

  “Wait,” she says, squaring her hips and straightening up. “You’re serious?”

  I’m nothing if not serious. But how to impart that to this girl who seems like life is all just a joke? Before my eyes, she closes up. Her shoulders square and her features tighten.

  “Not for sale.” She’s final, and I move to block her as she tries to step past me. She stops, glaring at me as if to silently ask how dare I stop her from leaving.

  “Ten million,” I counter, deadpan.

  She rolls her eyes like a child and looks away from me. I sense she’s gathering her wits, and know I’ve got this in the bag. I’ve found her breaking point. I admit, she’s breaking faster than I expected, based on her age and the precious little I know about her.

  Those cat-like eyes come back to me. “I’m not selling,” she says, slowly, enunciating like she’s speaking to someone who doesn’t understand.

  Again, I find myself surprised. This is the second time I’ve misjudged her, and that’s not something that happens to me. Perhaps all the issues lately are throwing me off my game. Maybe I really am that screw up my dad constantly whispers I am in the back of my mind.

  “Twenty million.”

  Her eyes widen, but I sense anger there, not surprise. She steps in close and I become aware of how tiny she is. I’m well over six feet tall, pushing six foot six inches, but she�
�s barely over five feet, I’m sure. I’d guess her to be five foot two inches, five six at most.

  “I said,” she says, slowly again her eyes darting back and for the between mine, “My property is not for sale.” She lowers her voice like she’s about to impart a secret. “Now get the hell off my porch.”

  With her this close, I notice what seems like pale before is worse than first impression gave. She looks ill. Her frame is tiny, she’s thin, though she’s clearly strong. But I know something isn’t quite right.

  So I file the information away. I’ll use it. Later.

  Still, she’s standing so close I can smell the sweet scent of her, and I want to grab her and pull her into my arms. I’ve clearly lost my mind.

  Chapter 4

  Emma

  Who the hell is this guy and who does he think he is?

  I stare him down, hating everything about him. He’s good-looking to a fault. His ice-blue eyes are framed by lashes so dark he looks like he’s wearing eyeliner. His skin seems like it’s fresh shaven, but there’s still a hint of a shadow. His hair is short, dark, and neat.

  He’s in a suit that’s perfectly tailored, and under it he wears a burgundy button down shirt and a narrow black tie.

  If I believed in the devil, I’d be very certain this man was him.

  Still, the look on his face when I told him no left me with a sense of satisfaction. I have a feeling he doesn’t hear that very often. Never mind that he’s offering me enough money to retire and never have to worry about working another bone-crushingly painful day again in my life.

  But now he’s still standing here, staring at me like he’s sizing me up.

  I cross my arms as my body reacts to him. I swear it’s because he’s the only guy I’ve seen in the flesh in a long time. My nipples bud up tight under the thin – though restrictive – layer of my bra. His eyes follow the motion of my arms and trace the curve of my breasts and I sense he’s struggling with the same sensations I am.

  It’s odd, seeing his responses mirroring my own.

  Especially since everything about him bothers me. He reminds me of Charlie. Good old Charlie tried to sweet talk me out of my virginity senior year. But Charlie didn’t get in my pants that night – or any other night, for that matter – and this man, whoever he is, isn’t going to sweet talk me out of my pants or my ranch.

  Then again, Charlie didn’t make me feel all warm like this. Charlie didn’t cause goose bumps to march down my arms. Charlie couldn’t make me shiver with one intense, serious glance.

  No, that honor goes to the man still standing silent before me.

  Suddenly, he thrusts his hand toward me, as if in a show of friendliness. “Mr. Knight. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, that thousand kilowatt smile makes me wonder who got rich off his dental care and whiting regimen. He could be a poster child of any respectable dental office, which only adds to my distrust of him.

  “You should have led with that,” I tell him, and his eyebrows lift a fraction of an inch. “I have work to do.” I want to push past him but I’m scared to touch him. If his mere proximity is having this kind of reaction on me, what would contact do?

  And the few seconds it’ll take me to slip into my boots is a few extra seconds too long to be close enough to touch him.

  I wonder, though, why he’s looking at me like he’s starving. Surely a guy like this has women begging him to take them to bed. Why would he look at me – someone who clearly shows zero interest – like he’s impossibly desperate?

  “Do I need to call the police, Mr. Knight?” I ask, trying to prod him off my porch. I have work to do. And while the thought of how much money he offered is stuck in the front of my mind, I still don’t want to really think about it.

  I don’t like the man, and I’m sure as hell not going to give him my ranch so he can make apartment buildings or whatever he’s thinking.

  Still… that much money… I could retire. I could move into the city. Buy a house, open a bank account and put property taxes into it so I never have to worry about it again. I could live a good life and never work again.

  I could meet someone. Get married. Start a family and have a life.

  “Of course not, Miss…?” he pushes.

  “You know my name, Mr. Knight.” I have no time for his mind games. He wants power? Well, he can screw himself. “Please leave.” My tone has slipped somewhere between cold fury and a not so subtle warning.

  He seems to finally get the hint. “Have a good day, Miss Astor,” he says before turning to leave. He halts on the ground and turns to face me once more, and my heart sinks to my toes.

  “It’s a generous offer,” he says, as if this is the right time to offer a feeble rebuttal to my refusal.

  I nod, conceding. “It would be, if I were interested in selling,” I say, wanting him to know that I am still not interested and not to take my words in that context. “But I am not. Good day.” I skip down the two steps and step into my boots. With them on my feet, I head toward the barn as he heads toward his truck.

  He stops again, halfway to his shiny truck that seems so out of place here. “Thank you for your time,” he says, and I feel like he’s stalling.

  And it feels less like a thank you and more like a fuck you.

  So I give him a smile and wave that’s way more cheerful than I feel.

  But I don’t breathe easily until I hear the engine roar to life and hear him turning around. I expected him to be petty, to spray rocks and dirt everywhere and spin out his tires, but he’s careful. Though I’m not surprised. I’m certain I haven’t seen the last of the smooth talking, pretty boy Mr. Knight.

  With a decided air of unease, I head toward the barn. As I open the double doors, I begin to speak to all the heads inquisitively staring at me over stalls. “You wouldn’t believe where I was,” I say, looking toward Jenny’s stall.

  Unable to see her, I rush over, pulling my cell phone from my pocket. Throwing open the stall door, I dial Kyle’s office.

  Jenny, on her side, her belly tightening every few moments, looks at me and tosses her head, looking a bit weak.

  “Hey, it’s Emma Astor,” I say to the secretary. “I’ve got a mare in labor, would Kyle be able to head over?”

  “I’ll see if he can. Good luck, Em.” The girl hangs up and I put my phone in my pocket. Grabbing the foaling gloves, I pull them on and get behind her. With a quick check that’s all habit, I make sure the foal isn’t breech and sigh in relief.

  Patting her hindquarters, I talk to her in a calm tone of voice. “Soon you’ll feel several hundred pounds lighter,” I joke. Her ears swivel, and I see her belly harden and tense, and know there’s not much time before there’ll be a slick, wobbly little foal standing her beside her.

  I’ve always loved watching mares throw foals. And I already have plans for this little one. If he’s a colt, he’ll be a new stud. If it’s a mare, she’ll be sold off at a hefty price once she’s weaned and ready to be on her own.

  It’s sad to bring them into the world and watch them leave, but that’s the way it is.

  Still, I always cross my fingers and hope for colts.

  And as I sit back, ready for a new addition, I realize the rough start to the day isn’t going to ruin the beauty of it all.

  Chapter 5

  Kieran

  I’ve never met a woman as stubborn as that Astor woman. Everything about her grates on me. Still, as obnoxious as she is, I can’t stop thinking about how it would have felt to grab her and press her against the wooden siding of her house.

  I’ve anger fucked plenty of women, but none of them have been angry in return.

  Generally, they whimper and play at never having felt this way before. But I imagine The Astor woman would meet my anger with her own and we’d set the world ablaze.

  I groan as my cock pulses. Jesus, I must be off my rocker, being so turned on by a woman that clearly hated me.

  She’d told me no, and judging by the look in her eyes
, she’d gotten off on it.

  But it was a small matter. Life has taught me to have back up plans. And I’ve got a good one. One that even that cold-hearted bitch can’t destroy. I’ll have her ranch, she just doesn’t know it yet.

  On the way home, my phone rings and I answer it. Olivia’s sweet voice fills the truck cab. “Daddy!” She says, and I can’t help but smile at the joy in her voice. She never fails to brighten my life. Even failure stings a little less as her love shines in her words.

  “Hey Vi. Are you being good?” I ask. The school had told me she would have to take a few days suspension since she’d started a fist fight between two boys. Sandra, while angry, was there to watch her.

  “Of course.” Olivia’s voice is all sweet innocence. “Are you mad at me, daddy?” She asks, her tone decidedly sad.

  I think carefully before responding. “I’m not mad. But I am disappointed.” I’m not going to lie to her. “I’m also sorry I was mean this morning,” I tell her, needing to reiterate that point.

  “It’s okay. I know you were upset because someone else was mean.” She sounds thoughtful, and I find myself surprised once more to how perceptive she is. Right now I’m sure she’s applying this knowledge of how the mind works to various situations in life she can’t explain.

  “I’m going to try to be better about things like that,” I tell her, “and I need you to try to be better too, okay?”

  “Will it be hard?” she asks, and I smile.

  “All the best things in life are hard, right?”

  She sounds dubious at best. “Not math. Math is hard and I hate it. Are you coming home now?”

  I try not to laugh at her dislike of math. I don’t want to encourage such thoughts, but it’s painfully cute. “I am on my way home. Did you decide what you want to do?”

  “What are my options?” she asks, sounding so adult my heart aches. She’s growing up so fast. Sure, she’s so obviously a child, but some of the things she does and says remind me that she’s getting older day by day, and it’s heartbreaking.