Bad Boy Billionaire: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Romance)

by Claire Adams

  BAD BOY BILLIONAIRE

  The Complete Series

  By Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams

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  BAD BOY BILLIONAIRE VOLUME I

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jack

  There was a gentle breeze blowing as I poured the champagne into tall flutes and handed them to the two bikini-clad girls tanning on the deck. The captain had anchored the boat in a quiet spot just off the coast of Santorini, and I was enjoying the sun and the sea with my companions. We were about to head north to Athens where we would celebrate my thirty-third birthday with a party that would keep the whole city talking for months.

  "Jack, I'm out of champagne again," the tanned blonde pouted as she held out her glass. She was the heiress to a Greek shipping fortune, and as a result, was very spoiled, but I enjoyed her company—and her body.

  "Well, that will not do at all, will it?" I said as I pulled the bottle of Cristal out of the icy bucket and refilled her glass. "You must stay hydrated, mikri prinkipissa!"

  "I'm not a little princess," she giggled as she sipped the cold, bubbly liquid. "I'm rich, but I'm definitely not royalty."

  "I am!" the brunette next to her piped up. "And I'm out of champagne, too!"

  "What an affront to the crown!" I cried. I hit the button that connected me to the staff below decks and said, "Another bottle of Cristal for the ladies!"

  "Right away, sir," the voice replied, and in moments, a staff member dressed in pure white emerged from below, carrying an ice-cold bottle of champagne wrapped in a white napkin. He waited for my nod before popping the cork and sinking the bottle deep into the bucket of ice.

  "But I'm still empty," the brunette pouted.

  I grabbed the bottle and refilled her glass, smiling as she tugged at the strings that kept her bikini bottoms up on her hips. Both girls had long since removed their tops, allowing me to admire their oil-coated breasts. This offering seemed to be leading somewhere else entirely.

  "You're a very naughty girl, prinkipissa!" I playfully scolded her as she tugged the thin strip of material away from her body and tossed it at me.

  "You have no idea, Jack," she purred. She and her blonde friend leaned forward and grabbed my hands, pulling me down between them on the lounging bench.

  Before I knew it, they had stripped me of my swim trunks and were taking turns wrapping their hands around my stiff shaft as they kissed me and pressed their naked bodies against mine. I gave in to their ministrations as I lay back and watched their glistening bodies move over mine. These tanned nymphs always managed to find my weak spots and exploit them, much to my delight—and often theirs.

  Just as the blonde was about to take me deep into her mouth for the second time, a staff member emerged from below decks holding a phone.

  "Sir, you have an urgent call," he said as he managed to keep his eyes above the action happening on the lounge.

  "Can't you take a message and tell them I'll call back?" I said, irritated, as I watched the brunette princess playfully fight for her oral rights.

  "It's your mother, sir," he said. "She said it is urgent that you answer the call. No matter what you are doing."

  "Son-of-a-bitch," I swore under my breath as I pushed the girls aside and pulled my shorts back on. The one thing I knew about my mother was that she never cried wolf. If she said it was urgent, then it was urgent.

  I descended the stairs and entered my office where the phone sat waiting for me. I took a deep breath before I picked it up.

  "Hello, Mother," I began.

  "Jackson Fitzgerald, you need to come home," she said solemnly. "I need you here, now."

  "What's wrong, Mother?" I asked, playfully adding, "Can't the king fix things for you anymore?"

  "Your father is dead, Jack," she said and then went silent.

  "Wait, what?" I replied, unsure that I'd heard her correctly. "I thought you just said Pop is dead."

  "I did," she replied. "He died this morning on his way to meet with some new investors."

  "You're kidding me, right?" I said, trying to process the news. I kept talking, "He can't be dead. He's the healthiest man alive. He's obsessive when it comes to his health!"

  "I'm sorry, Jack," my mother said. "I know it's your birthday and that you had a party planned, but we need you to come home right away."

  "I'll get there as soon as I can," I said, adding as an afterthought, "Are you okay?"

  "I'm … I'm … I don't know what I am," my mother said, sounding small and scared. "I didn't expect this."

  "I'll get home as soon as I can. I promise," I said, trying to reassure my mother from thousands of miles away. "Where's Lincoln? Why isn't he there with you?"

  "He's in California on a big case," she said quietly. "He said he'd try to get home by the end of the week."

  "Son-of-a-bitch," I cursed under my breath.

  "Jackson Fitzgerald!" my mother scolded. "Do not say those words! They are vulgar!"

  "Sorry, Mother," I apologized, but I wasn't sorry at all. I was pissed at my brother for not hopping on the next plane back to New York to be with our mother as she grieved. "I'll get to Athens and catch the next plane out. Probably in the morning."

  "Hurry, Jack," she pleaded. "I need you here."

  "I'm on my way, Mother," I said then added. "I love you. I'll be there as soon as I can."

  "I love you, too," she said, before hanging up.

  I instructed the captain to pull up anchor and head for Athens. Then I walked back up to the top deck where the two girls had resumed sunbathing. They both looked up expectantly, ready for me to rejoin the fun.

  "C'mon, Jack!" the blonde called. "We kept your spot warm!"

  I looked at the beautiful naked bodies lying on the chaise lounge in front of me. I pushed my shorts down around my ankles and slid in between them.

  "Have your way with me, girls," I said. I cupped the blonde girl's breast while the brunette princess straddled my hips, giggling as she began rocking herself to an orgasm of unparalleled intensity. I let go and pushed my sorrows aside as I gave in to the hedonistic pleasures of the girls' bodies as the yacht sped toward the mainland.

  Reality could wait until we arrived.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Leah

  "Dammit, Leah!" my mother yelled as she leaned against the doorframe, lighting a cigarette. "Where the hell did you put my bottle? I just had it five minutes ago!"

  "I didn't touch it, Mama," I said as I sat on the couch folding clean laundry, trying to avoid my mother's wrath.

  "The hell you didn't," she muttered as she walked back into the kitchen, slamming the cabinet doors as she searched for the bottle of vodka. It was no use telling her that she'd finished it several hours ago. She'd simply accuse me of lying to her. She yelled at me from the kitchen as she searched, "You're a lousy daughter, you know that? Molly never would have hidden my bottle from me! She was a blessing, that one. Not like you ... ungrateful little s
neak."

  I set my jaw and kept folding. The words weren't new, but the pain they caused each time she uttered them was always surprising. I thought that by now I'd have gotten used to the insults she hurled when she was drunk, but to my astonishment the wounds always felt fresh.

  "Gram, you drank the last of the bottle before we had lunch," Riley called from the back room. "Don't you remember?"

  "I most certainly do not!" my mother shouted back. "Why are you lying to your Gram, child?"

  "I'm not lying," Riley said emerging from the back room dressed in an oversized hoodie and a pair of jeans two sizes too big. Her dark hair was cut like a boy's and stuck up every which way, no matter how much product she used. My twelve-year-old niece was a dedicated tomboy who seemed to be the only one in the family safe from my mother's sharp tongue.

  "Then walk with me to the store so I can get another," my mother demanded as she searched through her purse, looking for money. It wasn’t long before she shouted, “Leah, did you steal all of my money?"

  "No, Mama, I didn't," I said, shooting Riley a look from across the room and nodding toward my purse. We'd been through this so many times, and she knew exactly what to do. I reminded my mother, "You used it to buy your last bottle. Do you need a loan?"

  "No, I don't need a damn loan!" she shouted as she turned her purse upside down and dumped the contents onto the dining room table. "I need my goddamned money is what I need!"

  "C'mon, Gram!" Riley called as she held up the twenty-dollar bill she'd gotten from my purse. "I've got your money right here. Let's walk down to the bodega and get your bottle, okay?"

  "How the hell did you get that money from my purse?" my mother demanded. "It wasn't here when I dumped it out!"

  "Yes it was, Gram," Riley lied. "I just picked it up and found it. Let's go, Gram! Get your sweater!"

  I nodded at Riley who gave me a lopsided smile as she took her grandmother's arm and led her carefully down the steps. I didn't like the fact that Riley was the one who had to walk Mama to the store, but with Molly gone and Patrick at the parish, Riley was the only one Mama would allow to help her.

  "Don't steal anything else while I'm gone, Leah!" my mother shouted as she headed down the street. "Do you hear me?"

  "Yes, Mama," I sighed. "I hear you. I always hear you."

  Later that evening, after Mama had drunk enough to put her into a deep sleep, Riley came out and sat down next to me on the couch.

  "Why does Gram drink so much?" she asked. She curled up in a corner of the couch, wrapped her arms around her knees, and picked at the hem of her hoodie.

  "She's in pain," I said as I pulled the elastic out of my ponytail and ran my fingers though the long, dark curls.

  "Why is she in pain, Leah?" Riley asked. "Is it because of me?"

  "Oh goodness no, darling," I said shaking my head. "Gram is sad about a lot of things. I think she is most sad because she misses your mom."

  "Is that why she's so mean to you?" the girl asked, quietly looking away.

  "I don't know why Gram is mean to me," I said. "I think sometimes people are mean to the ones they love the most because they know that those people will never leave them."

  "But that doesn't make any sense, Leah," Riley said. "If you love people, you should be nice to them. You shouldn't be mean to the ones who stay with you even when you're not nice. You should be mad at the ones who leave."

  "Are you mad at your mom, Riley?" I asked. We hadn't talked much about Molly's disappearance, but I knew it weighed on all of us.

  Molly had gotten pregnant with Riley when she was seventeen. She'd skipped her senior year of high school and moved in with Danny Donahue, the boy who'd gotten her pregnant. Things turned from bad to worse when Danny was arrested for dealing drugs out of their small apartment and was sentenced to ten years. Two years into his sentence, he was killed in a drug-deal-gone-bad inside the maximum-security prison, leaving Molly to raise their daughter alone.

  With no skills and no high school diploma, Molly turned to the only thing she knew how to do. Soon, she was walking the streets at night while Mama or I watched Riley. She'd lied and told us she was working at the plant, but the first time she got arrested for solicitation, the truth came out. She tried to pull herself together for Riley's sake, but before long, she had been down on the wrong side of town, shoving a needle in her arm.

  When people have no hope, they often do things that rob them of the possibility of ever regaining it.

  Then, one night, a few weeks before Riley's ninth birthday, Molly disappeared. She didn't call to tell us she was leaving. She just vanished into thin air. I filed a missing person's report at the local precinct, but the officers assigned to the case knew Molly from the streets. They told me that it was unlikely that she'd been abducted and that finding her was not a high priority. Another missing junkie prostitute didn't warrant an all-out effort, and while I tried to investigate, I was working a full-time job and taking care of Riley. I didn't have the energy to launch a search.

  "I'm not mad at my mom," Riley said as she pulled my arm up so she could snuggle in next to me. "I just miss her."

  "I know, kiddo," I said leaning down to kiss the top of her head. She smelled like apple shampoo, and I smiled. "I miss your mom, too."

  "Do you think she's ever coming back, Leah?" Riley asked as she picked a thread on one sleeve.

  "I don't know, honey," I said. "I don't know where she went or if she knows how to get back."

  "You're not leaving, are you?" she asked as she tipped her head and looked up at me through her bangs.

  "No, I'm not leaving you, Riley," I said as I kissed her head again. "I'm staying right here. You don't need to worry about that."

  "Okay, good," she nodded as she popped up off the couch and headed toward her bedroom. "If you're going to stay, then I'm going to go do my homework."

  "I think that's an excellent choice," I nodded as I watched her long, lanky form move down the hallway. I murmured, "I'll be right here if you need me."

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jack

  I pulled my sunglasses out of the front pocket of my sport coat as I scanned the terminal for the chauffeur who was supposed to take me to my father's funeral. When I didn't immediately see him, I pulled out my phone to dial the car service. On the screen was a message that read, "Car waiting at the end of the International Terminal. Luggage has been sent to the house."

  "Well, I'll be damned," I muttered as I put the glasses on and quickly walked toward the end of the terminal. There I found Jimmy, my dad's driver, waiting next to the Lincoln. I called, "Hey, Jimmy!"

  The man turned and nodded as he opened the car door. "Mr. Jackson, good to see you."

  "How are you holding up, Jimmy?" I asked as I looked at him. Jimmy Branson had been my father's driver for almost twenty years. He'd started driving for my father just after he'd turned eighteen, and my father had treated him well. Jimmy called all of us by our courtesy titles and our given first names. Everyone, that was, except my father. Jimmy had never called his employer anything but Mr. Yates.

  "I'm fine, Mr. Jackson," he nodded. The corners of his mouth and eyes were pulled downward, and the dark shadows under his eyes told me he hadn't slept much since my father died.

  "Seriously, are you sure you're okay to drive?" I asked as my mind raced ahead to the funeral home. I was going to have to bolster my courage if I was going to spend the rest of the evening with my mother and brother.

  "I'm fine, Mr. Jackson," Jimmy repeated as he held the door open and waited for me to climb inside. I shrugged and slid into the car. Jimmy closed the door quietly. He went around to the driver's side where he slid in and put the car into drive.

  As we glided away from the terminal, I poured myself a scotch, sipping it as I looked out the window. I watched as Jimmy skirted Brooklyn and headed into Manhattan, and I tried to imagine the scene I was going to walk into.

  My father, Bernard Yates, had been a formidable businessman who'd worked his
way up, starting as a boy who'd opened a small diaper service in Brooklyn and moving on to owning and running Baby Steps, one of the most successful baby supply companies in the country. He'd built each rung of the business with great care and attention, and as a result, he'd been beloved by his employees and customers.

  This funeral was going to be difficult for many reasons, not the least of which was that I had not seen my family for almost a decade. I'd been busy building my business, and once I'd sold it, I took off sailing. As much as I could be, I was on the yachts I'd bought with the money from the sale of my company. I spent it before my father could convince me to buy a large portion of stock with the money. I'd been fortunate to enter the market at the beginning of the start-up boom and to have gotten out of it before the market crashed.

  While my father and I had had many disagreements over how I should live my life, the one area we’d always seen eye-to-eye on was money. When I’d made my fortune, he’d suggested that I put the majority of it into a family trust that would pay out a substantial allowance every month. I’d agreed because I could see how the investment would benefit me, and after having my lawyer look it over, I agreed to the set up.

  "Jimmy, do you remember the last time you picked me up at the airport?" I asked as I poured myself another scotch and leaned back in the leather seat.

  "That would have been April 4, 2006, Mr. Jackson," Jimmy replied without taking his eyes off the road. "You were home after you graduated. I took you back to the airport the next day."

  "Mmm-hmm," I nodded as I looked out the window, recalling the trip that had ended after my father and I had disagreed about my post-graduate path. I'd told him that I wasn't going to follow in his footsteps and join the family business, and he'd told me that I was ungrateful—that I could have a year to travel and sow my wild oats, but that if I didn't come back and join the company after that, I would no longer be welcome in his home.