by Jessica Ryan
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
A Note from Jessica
Sharing the Billionaire (Billionaire Ace Series Book 1)
By Jessica Ryan
Copyright © 2014 Jessica Ryan
All Rights Reserved.
Published by Jessica Ryan Books
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CONTENT WARNING: This short story contains adult material with explicit sexual situations and language. All sexually active characters in this work are 19 years of age or older.
PLEASE NOTE: This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains sexually explicit scenes, graphic language and may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors
Chapter 1
This could be bad, I thought as I looked down the audition line at the other girls. There were a lot of really hot girls in this line, most of them with fake breasts and platinum hair. It looked like every person’s stereotype of Los Angeles women. I’m different, that’s good right? They want different. I hope they want different.
I had doubted myself since I heard about this audition. I had all the traits a TV producer would look for: perky, natural breasts, long legs, a round, toned ass and a flat stomach. At the same time I had a tribal heart tattooed down my entire left ribcage, a diamond nose stud and chocolate hair which I didn’t keep very long.
Come on, don’t doubt yourself. You’re different in a good way. Besides it’s about personality too right? You are oozing it.
My friends had told me I was the funniest person they knew, but they were my friends. They were contractually obligated to lie to me. Maybe this was all a bad idea. I began to search for the exits, realizing it was at the very end of the long hallway we were told to wait in. The shame of walking, head down, to the exit while all the Los Angeles culture club bitches sneered at me was too much to face; I was in this.
The prison corridor hallway I was stuck in with them was starting to get to me. The lights were too bright and it smelled like cheap hairspray and body mist. Why was it so hot in here? Did they want all of our makeup to run before meeting with us?
Since moving to LA, from Oklahoma of all places, I had been crazy about getting auditions. I managed to squeeze them in between shifts at Staples. My mom had been so angry the day I told her I was dropping out of Oklahoma City Community College and moving to LA to pursue my acting dream. It was embarrassing to tell her I was still working the register at Staples and I still hadn’t found my big break. She would never laugh at me, but I could hear the disappointment in her voice every time we spoke. Was she disappointed my career was failing or disappointed I had even come out here in the first place?
“Is this your first audition?” a girl beside me asked. I turned to see a stunning petite thing with jet black hair and eyes so blue they could’ve been sapphires, but she was very short, probably not even five and a half feet tall. I had always been told they looked for tall girls and at five foot ten I had a leg up.
“No,” I said. I hoped the cheer in my voice didn’t sound fake. Being nice to everyone was paramount to me because it’s not what you know it’s who you know. “I’ve been on a few auditions before, but I’ve never gotten anything big.”
“Wait a minute,” the girl said, studying me closely. “I recognize you. You were in the ads for Chino’s Diner!”
“Yeah that was me,” I said with a nervous laugh. That was one of the only jobs I’d landed, a short commercial where I recreated the orgasm scene from “When Harry Met Sally” to applause from the rest of the diner. It was mildly embarrassing that I was recognized for it, but work is work.
“I love that place!” she said, still smiling up at me. “Although I don’t think the food has ever brought me to climax.”
“I faked it,” I said, elbowing her. That’s right Amy, schmooze it up.
“I’m Tracy,” she said, extending a hand.
“Amy,” I said, taking her hand and shaking it. “Is this your first audition?”
“Actually it is!” she said, sounding very excited. “I just moved out here from Texas.”
“Oh really? I’m from Oklahoma.”
“What part?” Her eyes lit up.
“Norman.”
“Boomer sooner right? I have family from Oklahoma City.”
“Oh that’s awesome! What part of Texas are you from?”
“Austin baby. Hook em’ horns!” It was a bit embarrassing; she nearly yelled it while making the longhorn sign with her hand.
“Well, I don’t watch much football,” I said, trying to back away a bit.
“I live it,” she said. “I bleed burnt orange.”
“That’s nice,” I said. I really didn’t know what to say to her anymore. She seemed nice enough, but she was kind of aggressive and getting closer to me.
“Amy Davis?” a voice called from the front of the line.
“That’s me,” I said, turning back to her.
“Good luck Amy!” she said, grabbing my shoulder and shaking me vigorously. I grabbed my hair and tried to keep it from jostling around, but it was no use.
“Thank you Tracy,” I said, trying not to make eye contact.
I strode forward, my eyes laser focused straight ahead. My walk belied confidence, even if my mind was screaming that I was wasting my time. A cheery blonde lady was waiting at the door with a headset on and a clipboard in her hand.
They’re always blonde and they always have bright teeth, I thought looking at the lady. Are they all related?
The audition room was about as plain as anything I had ever seen. The walls were white with no photos and a single leather chair sat in front of a desk with two men in expensive suits and one woman in an even more expensive suit. The gray office carpet could have been stretched into any office building in America. The air conditioner was on full blast in this room resulting in an unpleasant contrast from the sweltering hallway. Unfortunately the smell of everyone’s god forsaken mango or vanilla or whatever flavor of the month body mist had followed them to this room and lingered.
“Welcome Amy,” the man in the middle said, trying to sound inviting. I was pretty good at reading people and I ripped right through the fakeness in his voice. “We are pleased to be seeing you today.”
“Thank you,” I said taking a standing position in front of the table. I didn’t want to do anything until I was instructed. “I’m very happy to be here.”
“Please have a seat,” the man on the end said. I honestly couldn’t tell you what any of them looked like. I had been through enough auditions; they all bled together into one faceless person.
“Let me tell you what we’re going to be doing here Amy,” the woman said. “This is an audition for a reality TV show called “Sharing the Billionaire”. It’s going to be a little bit different than other
reality dating shows in the sense that there won’t be a competition between several women. Instead we are going to match two women with our billionaire Ace Pearson.”
I sucked in a deep breath, unable to hide my surprise. Was she talking about the Ace Pearson? Jack “Ace” Pearson? I just assumed the billionaire we were competing for was going to be a fake actor hired by the studio to play the part. Ace Pearson was a real life billionaire playboy. He was legendary on E! and other channels, showing up to every red carpet event with a model on his muscular arm, sometimes two models. Only the finest suits ever adorned his tan body. His black hair was always perfectly parted, like a modern day Don Draper. The most striking thing about him was his green eyes. In every photo I saw of him they appeared to be seductively undressing me, begging to have one night with me.
“Ace Pearson you say?” I was star struck.
“You seem to be at a loss for words,” the man in the middle said. “That’s refreshing. Most girls we’ve seen today act like they meet billionaires every day. One even told me she’d slept with Ace Pearson before.”
I was relieved my child-like awe hadn’t sunk me completely. Photos usually didn’t do it for me, but I wasn’t going to lie: I’d pleasured myself to Ace’s vacation photos on more than one occasion. Thank you very much TMZ for that.
“So how old are you Ms. Davis?” the man on the end asked.
“21.”
“And it says here you’re from Norman, Oklahoma?”
“Yes that’s correct.”
“Have you been on TV before?”
“I was in a local ad for Chino’s Diner.”
“Are you a virgin?”
“Excuse me? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything Ms. Davis. Please answer the question or we will end the audition.”
“No I am not.”
“How many men have you slept with?”
I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. I began to search around the room, my eyes settling on a webcam that I hadn’t noticed on the front of the desk before. Were they broadcasting this to someone? I had videotaped auditions before, but never on webcam.
“Ms. Davis?”
“Just one,” I said. It was true; I didn’t have a lot of experience in that department.
“Do you have sex on the first date?”
“No.”
“How did you lose your virginity?”
“On prom night, to my ex-boyfriend.”
“Was that the only time you have ever had sex?”
This was hard for me to talk about; this was a part of my past I wanted to stay buried. “Yes. That was the one and only time.”
“No other partners since then?”
“I haven’t even had a date since then.”
“Do you have any fetishes?” That was a strange switch of gears.
“As far as?” This was getting very personal and I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep going. But, with Ace Pearson involved it had to pay well. This could be my big break. I had to trudge forward.
“You know stuff like BDSM, anal, humiliation and so on.”
“I can’t say that I do,” I replied, trying to smile and look innocent. “But, I don’t have much experience with that.”
A phone that was lying in front of the middle man began to vibrate. He slid it to the woman who picked it up and read a message.
“That will be all we need Ms. Davis,” she said quickly. “Janet please show her out.”
“That’s it?” I asked, standing up.
“It is,” the middle man said. “We will call you if you got the part. Please remember you will be staying on a private island with Mr. Pearson and the other contestant if you do get the part and shooting will begin very soon after selection. Get your affairs in order dear, you never know.”
The perky blonde clone led me out the door and into the hallway. I didn’t know if I should be excited or devastated. They had barely spoken to me during the audition, at the same time the middle man’s last words were encouraging.
He probably says that to everyone, I thought.
Dejected, I trudged down the hallway trying to hold back my tears.
“Amy how did it go?” Tracy asked, jumping out of the line to grab me.
“It went ok,” I said. “They’re going to ask you some really personal questions in there.”
“Like what?” she asked, her bright eyes fixed on me.
“A lot of stuff about your sex life,” I said.
“Well that might take all day if they ask me about mine!” Her laugh was shrill and annoying, grating on every last nerve I had. “Do you want to get dinner later?”
“I don’t know,” I said. This girl was coming on really strong. “I may just want to sit around and wallow in self-pity.”
“Oh come on!” she said, handing me a business card.
“Call me, drinks will be on me.”
“Ok Tracy. Good luck.”
At least I got a friend out of this audition. Even if she is a little creepy.
Chapter 2
That night I sat in front of the TV, watching old reruns of “The Bachelor”. I was a hopeless romantic at heart, but I hated the manufactured love these shows produced. To think, I had a chance of becoming part of that manufacturing process.
I glanced down at a “People” magazine I had sitting on the table beside my favorite chair. The cover had Gerard Butler on it, but in a tiny box in the corner was Ace Pearson. I picked it up, a shiver overtaking my body as his eyes locked onto mine. Older men usually weren’t my thing, but he definitely turned me on. He was in his mid-30’s now, and like a fine wine, he got better and better every year.
Why would a guy like Ace Pearson want to do this show? I thought. It didn’t really make any sense. He guarded his personal life intensely, only revealing what he needed in public. Nobody had ever been inside his gargantuan mansion in West Texas. Everyone knew his story: an all-around winner his entire life; he played every sport possible in high school. Unfortunately he hurt his knee playing basketball his senior year and lost all scholarship opportunities. He was too poor to attend college so he joined the Air Force earning his “Ace” nickname. After that he returned to his family’s destitute land in West Texas to care for his ailing mother who passed soon after. A large deposit of oil was found on his land and he was instantly a millionaire. Turned out he was a savvy businessman too, despite never having any formal education, and through a series of smart investments he became a billionaire. That was all anyone knew of him though. He liked to hit the red carpet with beautiful women and undiscovered models, but he never hosted anything at his home and never granted interviews about his life. If he was interviewed at a red carpet event he only wanted to talk about the event, never himself.
What is he hiding? I wondered. Everything he put out seemed like a façade to hide who he really was.
I began flipping channels, unable to watch fake women receive roses anymore. Appropriately “Batman Begins” was on HBO and I began to laugh at the thoughts racing through my mind. “Maybe he’s Batman. That’s what he’s hiding! Beware evil-doers from Lubbock to Amarillo!” I cracked myself up, nearly falling out of my chair laughing at the thought of Ace Pearson swooping down on cattle rustlers.
My laughter was interrupted by my phone ringing, it was a number I didn’t recognized. Nerves immediately put my stomach into a steel vice, nearly doubling me over. This could be it, the phone call I was waiting for. I sat up in my chair and composed myself, wanting to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“Hello?” I said. Nailed it.
“Hi Amy! It’s Tracy! How are you?”
What the hell? How did she get my number?
“Uhhh hi Tracy. I’m doing pretty well, what about you?”
“I’m a little bummed out. I just got a call from the studio; they didn’t pick me for the show.”
“Well I’m sorry to hear that.” I silently fist pumped. The thought of being stuck on that show with her flew t
hrough my mind. Thank god.
“It’s ok, onward to bigger and better things right? Have you heard anything?”
“I can’t say that I have. I thought you might be them. How did you get my number?”
“It’s not hard to find somebody’s phone number these days silly. I was getting worried you weren’t going to text. I thought we could help one another’s career with positive encouragement.”
“Ok, sure.” She was probably harmless, just a naïve girl in a new city trying to find her way. I was like that six months ago, I should sympathize.
“Ok sure what?”
“Do you want to get a drink? I’ve already had dinner, but I could go for a mixer.”
“That sounds great!” Her scream nearly split my eardrum. Was I ever this clingy?
“Where do you want to meet?”
“You name it and I’ll be there sister!”
Did she really just call me sister? Oh boy. “How about McFlannagan’s on Eighth Street?”
“I know the place, see you there!”
I quickly threw on an old sweatshirt and jeans and began to head out the door. Right before leaving I turned back to my apartment and sighed. It was tiny and messy, but it was home now.
“I hope I see you again,” I said to the place. “If I’m not back by midnight then call for help, she’s probably chopping me up into little pieces.”
McFlannagan’s was just around the corner from my apartment, but somehow Tracy was already there with a giant beer in front of her.
She’s from Texas, of course she drinks beer.
I sat down across from her and ordered a Cape Cod. The bar smelled like stale cigarette smoke and there was a general haze hanging over everything; combined with the black walls it made the place feel pretty seedy. Smoking was outlawed indoors everywhere in California, yet the police never ventured here to crackdown. People lit up whenever they chose at McFlannagan’s.
“I’m glad you decided to meet me!” she squealed. “I had a lot of fun talking to you today!”
