by Katie Ford
Daddy’s Rich Enemy
~A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance~
© 2018
By Katie Ford and Sarah May
© 2018
All Rights Reserved.
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DEDICATION
To all the girls who’ve flirted with Daddy’s enemies.
This one’s for you!
NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS
Hi! Thanks so much for reading Daddy’s Rich Enemy: A Bad Boy Romance Compilation. I hope you enjoy the steam between Allie and her man.
Plus, be sure to join our Facebook group Alpha Males on Top to hear about new releases, discounts, and freebies.
Love,
Katie and Sarah
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Daddy’s Rich Enemy: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance
Dane Andersen is my dad’s enemy.
It’s too bad because the gorgeous billionaire’s promised to teach me everything he knows.
Allie’s a sweet girl who wants nothing more than to please her parents. After a disastrous internship interview, she has a chance encounter with a commanding alpha male that makes her question every value she grew up with.
Dane Andersen is the CEO with the world at his fingertips. He’s far too busy for women and dating. But when he sees Allie’s luscious curves and innocent brown eyes, he vows to teach her everything he knows...even if it means risking his own sanity.
Hey Readers – This scorching hot story will make your heart race and your body tingle. As always, expect a satisfying HEA where our sassy, feisty heroine nabs her sexy alpha. :) Love, Katie and Sarah
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Daddy’s Rich Enemy
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Pregnant By My Boss
Chapter One
Sneak Peek: The Billionaire’s Kitten
CHAPTER ONE
ALSO BY THE AUTHORS
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Chapter One
Allie
“Allie! Breakfast is on the table, get down here this instant!”
The harsh sound of my mother’s voice makes me flinch.
“I’m coming!” I call in response. Holding my breath, I lean my ear against the door to hear if Mom has anything else to say, but thankfully, I’m met with nothing but the sound of her footsteps padding down the stairs.
This is it. Today’s the day that’s going to change the rest of my life. I swallow nervously and pad across my huge bedroom. I’m still not used to all the space I have to myself – this room is bigger than the master suite was at our old house.
But Dad’s company has been doing well, and he’s been able to sell software at a very high price to lots of businesses and individuals alike. I don’t know specifics about the numbers, really, but Mom and Dad were convinced that striking it rich meant that we needed a new house.
I’m too embarrassed to tell either of my parents that I actually got lost in our mansion the first day we lived here. But today isn’t the day for me to dwell on these thoughts. I have to put myself in a professional mindset because I have an interview today with a security company called Lockdown. If I land this internship, it’s going to be a major coup – I’ll be set for the summer, and neither Mom nor Dad will be able to bug me about “making good use of my time.”
With a nervous gulp, I open my closet and stare into the unfamiliar abyss of clothing. This giant new house hasn’t been the only recent change in my life. When Dad got lucky with his software, Mom had all of my clothes thrown out. She said my old stuff made me look like I was wearing rags, which was inappropriate for the daughter of a CEO. Honestly, just the memories make me flush awkwardly. I’d come home to find an empty closet and a stern-looking seamstress standing with my mother in the kitchen.
“It’s not fitting for a girl of your size to go around in shapeless sacks,” Mom had said curtly. “Theresa will take your measurements for your new custom wardrobe.”
At the time, it had been humiliating as heck as both Mom and Theresa eyed my curves with disapproval. But now I find myself feeling grateful. I definitely need to impress the people at Lockdown, and I know that you don’t get a second chance at a first impression.
I reach out and pluck a black pencil skirt from a cushiony satin hanger. Struggling a little, I pull down my pajama bottoms and yank the skirt up my curvy hips. It fits, thank god – the zipper slips up smoothly. There’s a violet silk blouse in the closet too, but I worry that it might not be conservative enough. Instead, I choose a white cotton shirt that wraps around and ties on the side with a bow. I remember the seamstress telling me that this is a very flattering look for big girls because it creates the illusion of a waist.
I strip out of my pajama top and throw it to the floor before pulling on a bra and clasping it in the front. By the time my blouse is on and tied, I’m flushed and a little damp with sweat. I take a deep breath and wipe my forehead with one of my clammy hands – I just wish that I could stop feeling so nervous!
“Allie, I’m not going to call you again!” my mother yells. “We’re waiting! Get down here!”
My cheeks flush bright red and I grab a pair of black heels from the floor of the closet before darting out of my room and heading down the large spiral staircase. Mom says she had it designed in the shape of a seashell, which is probably something she saw in one of the high society magazines she’s always reading now.
“Coming,” I call. “Something smells amazing!”
When I step into the dining room, I see my father sitting at the head of the table. He’s wearing his bifocals and squinting down at the Wall Street Journal.
“Good morning, Daddy,” I say nervously. “Did you sleep well?
My father grunts in my general direction before folding his paper and setting it down on the table. Before I can ask anything else, my mother comes in and takes a seat next to my father at the table.
“Hi, Mom,” I say. “Sorry, I had a hard time picking out what to wear.”
My mother looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “That was precisely the point of your new wardrobe,” she replies in a chilly voice. “So you wouldn’t have these issues in the mornings.”
“Yes, but today is special,” I say simply. “You know I have my interview today.”
My mother looks at me and sighs, as if speaking to her only daughter is the world’s most unpleasant chore.
“Right,” Mom says finally. “Yvonne, breakfast please!”
The door between the dining room and the kitchen swings open and Yvonne, our maid, scuttles in carrying a large mahogany tray loaded down with three plates. The delicious scent of maple sausage fills my nose and I sigh happily. No matter how anxious I am, the idea of a big hearty meal always makes me feel happy and relaxed.
“Yvonne, I don’t like waiting,” my mother says as Yvonne places her breakfast in front of her. Saliva wells up in my mouth as I stare hungrily at Mom’s plate: there’s bacon, eggs, sausage, and a perfect Belg
ian waffle topped with real whipped cream and fresh strawberries.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Donna,” Yvonne mumbles. “Will be better tomorrow, you’ll see.”
“Or I could fire you,” Mom snaps. Then she yawns – dealing with her household staff is clearly exhausting. “What do you think about that?”
Yvonne’s cheeks burn bright red and I shoot her a sympathetic smile, but she ducks her head and scurries out of the dining room with the tray at her side. When I look down at my plate, I frown.
“Mom, Yvonne forgot part of my breakfast,” I say. “Can I go into the kitchen and get it?”
Dad snorts from behind his paper and Mom sighs. “No, Allie,” she says. “That wasn’t an accident.”
“Oh,” I say softly. My plate only has a hardboiled egg and a dollop of yogurt to the side. “You’re probably right. It’s probably not a good idea for me to eat such a big meal before my interview anyway.”
“We’re going to put you on a wellness plan,” Mom says. “Your father and I are moving up in the world, and we can’t very well have an overweight daughter. How do you think I’m going to find you a husband?”
“Mom, I—”
“Allie, don’t talk back to your mother,” Dad says. He clears his throat and looks up at me.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
Mom nods. “You’ll get used to it,” she says, using her fork to gesture to my plate. “And trust me, Allie. Nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels.”
What? Wasn’t that some horrible Kate Moss quote? I’ve always thought Kate looked ghastly, like she was strung out on heroin and starving to boot. But if I say anything, it’ll only land me in more hot water. So I bite my lip and nod. “I know,” I murmur, looking at my plate.
“I’m not sure about that,” Mom says airily. As my cheeks burn with humiliation, I scoop a little yogurt up and take a bite. My nose wrinkles instantly at the sour taste – I’ve always hated yogurt. But I force myself to swallow and smile, as if I’m enjoying the meal.
“Allie,” Dad says. “How are you feeling about your interview?”
I swallow quickly and turn to face him. “Good, I guess. I think I can do it.”
“You think?”
“I know I can,” I promise. “I know this is really important to you.”
Dad eyes me over the rims of his glasses and narrows his eyes. “It’s important to our family,” he says. “Don’t mess this up, Allie.”
“I won’t,” I say quickly. “You can trust me, Dad. I’ve been preparing for weeks.”
Dad gets to his feet and nods. “Good,” he says. “You can tell me all about it later.”
A smile stretches across my face as Dad walks out of the room. I can’t remember the last time I spent much time with my father, but if I get this internship I have a feeling things will change for the better between us. Because I’ve always dreamed of being close to my parents, especially my father. I’ve never wanted anything other than to make him proud, and now is finally my chance to step up and be worthy of my own family.
“Allie, I’m going,” Mom announces. She stands from the table and purses her lips. “I have a meeting with the Met board.”
“I should go, too,” I say as I check the face of my new watch. “I don’t want to be late.”
But Mom has already left the room, a heady cloud of jasmine perfume trailing in her wake. Her plate is still almost full – the waffle looks untouched, and my stomach rumbles at the sight.
I shake my head and force myself to leave the room as my stomach growls. If I’m going to make Mom and Dad happy, I need to start being a good daughter. And if being a good daughter means eating gross diet food, well then I guess I’m going to have to develop a taste for yogurt.
Nick, our driver, is waiting for me in the garage. He smiles politely and opens the backseat of a Town Car for me.
“Here you go, Miss Allie,” Nick says. “There’s fresh spring water for you.”
“Thank you,” I say as I climb into the back of the car. Nick shuts the door and I fasten my seatbelt and shift my butt awkwardly on the smooth leather seat. I’m slowly getting used to these trappings of wealth, but between Yvonne, Nick, and our other staff, I know it’s going to take a long time before it feels natural.
Nick drives into the city with cautious speed, expertly weaving the Town Car through the thick Manhattan traffic. The minutes tick by on the smooth face of my watch and I press my face to the glass of the window. I love New York City, but it always frightens me to be here on my own. The tall buildings are so intimidating, and everyone seems to know where they’re going. The people are on a mission, while most days, I feel a little lost to say the least.
“We’re here, Miss Allie,” Nick’s kind words interrupt my thoughts. “Would you like me to circle the building while you’re inside?”
I shake my head quickly. “No, thank you,” I say. “Just pull into the garage and I’ll call you when I’m finished.”
Nick nods. “Very well,” he says. He pulls the Town Car into a fire lane and hops out to open my door. As always, I’m self-conscious to be seen emerging from the back of a posh car, but thankfully no one here notices.
Squaring my shoulders, I walk into the lobby of the Lockdown building. The lobby alone is enough to take my breath away. The walls are creamy pink marble, threaded with grey and gold, and the floor is an elegant black tile that reminds me of obsidian. But scariest of all, it’s packed with wealthy people. No middle America brands for the women around me – they’re all clad in Gucci and Hermes. The men are wearing gorgeously cut suits that must cost into the four figures.
But it’s okay because I don’t dream about money or the high life. In fact, this internship is going to be unpaid. I care because these are the people that my family wants to be. It’s the weird thing about being newly rich – both my mom and my dad are absolutely obsessed with looking like old money, even if we’re new. It’s a little appalling, but if I’m going to fit in with my parents, I need to become one of these shiny happy rich people.
Or at least figure out how to pretend to be like them.
I walk up to the large lobby desk. A perfectly-coiffed blonde glances up and raises an eyebrow when she sees me.
“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m Allie Carter. I have an interview with Lockdown for an internship?”
The blonde nods. “Yes of course,” she says. “When is it?”
“Today,” I say.
She blinks at me, just waiting. “At ten-thirty,” I say in a rush. God, this has gotten off to a bad start already.
The blonde nods. She passes me a sticker with ‘Ally’ scrawled on it. Before I can correct her on the spelling of my name, she clears her throat.
“Take an elevator from the third bank and wait in reception.”
“Who…who am I meeting with, please?”
The blonde rolls her eyes at me ever so subtly.
“I don’t know,” she enunciates perfectly. “When you go upstairs they’ll tell you.”
With my tail between my legs, I paste ‘Ally’ on my chest and walk over to the elevator. My feet are already killing me and I wish that I’d taken the time to break these heels in. I don’t know how women can stand it: after less than an hour of being in heeled pumps, I feel like crying.
I know I should be thinking about the interview and any tough questions they may ask, but as soon as the glass elevator begins to ascend, my breath is taken away. The building keeps growing more beautiful with every second. Golden Art Deco swirls and shapes cover the ceiling, and the pink marble walls deepen in color as you rise higher and higher.
When the doors ding open, I step into a second, smaller lobby. This one is more modern with lots of tinted glass and clean shapes. I swallow nervously and wipe the sweat from my brow – it feels like it’s a thousand degrees in here and I can’t stop perspiring.
“Allie Carter?”
I gasp in surprise and whirl around to see a pleasant-looked woman in her l
ate thirties standing beside me.
“Yes!” I chirp. “I mean, I’m her. I’m sorry – I wasn’t expecting someone to be waiting for me.”
The woman gives me a bemused smile. “Of course. The front desk called and told me to look out for you.”
“Oh, of course they did,” I say. An awkward feeling of stupidity washes over me and I look down at my feet. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says crisply. “I’m Tracy Morgan, the head of Human Resources here at Lockdown. Please follow me.”
Without waiting for an answer, Tracy turns on her heel and leads me down a long corridor. The walls feature tasteful artwork, none of the usual imitation prints, and I’m in awe by the time we wind up in a small office with a round table instead of a desk.
“We do things very differently here at Lockdown,” Tracy says in a smooth voice. “Mr. Andersen has a vision of how his company should be run.”
“Mr. Andersen?”
Tracy looks up at me with a frown. “The CEO,” she says slowly. “Mr. Dane Andersen.”
I blush beet red. “Of course,” I mutter. “I’m such an idiot.”
A flicker of annoyance passes over Tracy’s features and I feel like melting into the floor. Then she looks up at me with a professional smile.
