Billionaires, Boarders, and Bastards: A Limited-Time Collection of Reverse Harem Romance Novellas

by C. M. Stunich

  "Gross. No. Ugh, you really are as bad as they say." I struggled to my feet but those damn elf slippers betrayed me again and I came crashing back to my ass in the snow. "Fuck!" I yelled, desperately clutching my broken camera to my chest in the hopes of protecting it from more damage.

  "Hey, are you okay?" Another snowboarder came jogging over to us, carrying his board. "You just came out of nowhere! I could've killed you, you know!" He swept his goggles and beanie off his head and ran his fingers through his messy, honey-blonde hair.

  "Oh great, another one," I groaned, and slowly pushed myself back to my feet, cautious to keep my balance this time.

  "Do we know you?" Blondie asked with a lazy grin. "You look familiar. Oh wait, you’re that chick from Tuesday’s poker game! With the body shots?"

  "I am not one of your groupie sluts," I growled, glaring at blondie—Drex Slater—and flipping my hair over my shoulder. "What the fuck were you thinking anyway? You’re way off-piste. What if I had been a little kid? You could've done some serious damage. Not that you lot would give a shit—you’d just throw some money at the problem and then have a fucking party."

  "Whoa." Drex grinned. "Kitty’s got some claws!"

  "Babe, you sound like you’re pissed off at something. Can we try and make it up to you?" Ryder raised his eyebrows at me, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what he meant by that.

  "I wouldn’t touch the Winter Wankers with a ten foot pole, thank you very fucking much," I snapped, pushing past the dark-haired snowboarding dick and marching carefully toward the staff housing. There was no point in trying to take pictures with a broken camera. I needed to get back to my room, work out just how bad the damage was, and figure out how to fix it.

  "Ah, it’s Kings of Snow," Drex corrected and I rolled my eyes, not stopping to continue this pointless argument. "Also, you seem real bitter about something? Hey, Blitzen, wait up!"

  "Blitzen was a reindeer, asshole, not an elf!" Why I couldn’t ignore him and let it go, I don’t know. Maybe it was the compounded stress of dealing with Gary day after day, or maybe it was finally confronting these fuckers who were the lynchpin in the worst day of my life … Whatever it was, I was fired up and ready for a fight.

  "Reindeer, elf, same difference. Hey, where're you going?" Drex jogged to catch up then fell into step with me. A mischievous grin spread across his tanned face.

  "Home." I growled, stalking as fast as my elf slippers would carry me. My long hair had slipped out of its loose ponytail and was flapping around me like a black and violet superhero cape.

  "Can we come?" Ryder asked, falling into step on my other side, oddly enough with a kind and gentle smile plastered on his face. Is he mocking me? My teeth ground together hard in an effort to hold back the poisonous words I wanted to spit at these two man whores.

  "You know, Blitzen, I kinda get the feeling you don’t like us much …" Drex commented and I pulled up short, whirling on him in anger.

  "Like you?" I snarled. "I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t like you, given you just broke my ten thousand dollar camera, effectively ruining my chances of winning the one goddamn competition that might have set up my career, and dooming me to being a fucking Christmas Elf for the rest of my fucking life. So tell me, Drex fucking Slater, what gave you the impression that I don’t like you?"

  For a moment, the two sinfully good looking snowboard dicks stared at me in shock, then Drex held up his hands defensively. To my utter chagrin, it simply drew my attention to his long, slim fingers encased in cut-off gloves.

  "Whoa, babe, it wouldn’t be forever. Christmas is over in like two weeks." A teasing smile pulled at his lips and my hands clenched tight, cracking my camera housing even worse than it already was.

  "He’s joking," Ryder muttered, punching his buddy in the arm then turning a charming—and seemingly genuine—smile toward me. "Look, we’re sorry, cutie. Send us the bill for your camera when you get it fixed, but right now, is there another way we could make it up to you?"

  "Make it up to me?" I snorted. "How? By getting me loaded on tequila and fuck knows what drugs then generously letting me suck you off? Thanks, but no thanks." Shifting my broken camera into one hand, I used the other to flip them off before whirling on my soggy elf slipper once more and leaving them to bite my ass.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Fucked.

  My Nikon was totally fucked. A quick Google search hinted at a very costly repair which was only confirmed when I ran it down to the local photo shop before my shift the next day to get a quote. They weren’t equipped to fix it there—all they did was print holiday snaps for tourists—but they said they could send it away to be fixed in six to ten weeks.

  My entire shift passed in one long sulk. Not that I was usually Strawberry fucking Shortcake, but this was a whole other level. Even when Gary was his usual disgusting self, I didn’t have the energy to fight back. Despair was a bog pit slowly sucking me down, and there was no one around to pull me out.

  "What the fuck am I going to do?" I sulked to Sara, the reindeer elf, as I helped her brush and feed the horny beasts. "That was my last idea, the last of my money. I literally have nothing left, and at the end of this season, I don’t even have a place to live."

  "I don’t get it, Mila. What the fuck are you running from so hard that you have no one to call for help? Pretty girl like you …" Sara hip-checked me, almost sending me flying into a bucket of reindeer food. "Abusive ex? Crime? What was it, huh?"

  God, if only she knew. It'd been six years since I’d left my old life behind, moving to the other side of the world, forcing myself to drop my distinctive Australian accent and generally fading into obscurity in the hopes that the tabloids would lose interest.

  I’d worked my butt off on this new identity, and rarely thought of my old life anymore.

  Until now.

  They just had to show up here and yank my skeletons out of the closet. Them. The Winter Wankers. The Kings of Snow. Ryder, Drex, Blaze, and Slade. The four notorious bad boys of the winter sports circuit and the most elite snowboarders in the world. Between them, they had dominated every snowboarding event imaginable for the past seven years—including the Olympics.

  I hated them.

  Hated them.

  They were the cause of my own career nosedive and the reason I was in the shitty, shitty situation I was currently in. Them breaking my camera was just the last straw.

  "It’s nothing," I muttered, "just a series of bad decisions."

  "Whatever you say," she laughed, chucking her deer-fur brush into a bucket of other tools and wiping her hands on her elf dress. Much like mine, it was way too small, but given Sara’s voluptuous curves it was a whole lot more stripper-esque on her than on my slim build. Six years off the ice had only added the tiniest layer of padding to my athletic frame, but thankfully what padding I had gained had gone mostly to my chest and hips.

  "So, are we hitting up Scruffy’s for Tequila Tuesday? Maybe those sexy ass Kings will be there?" Sara waggled her eyebrows at me and I suppressed the burning anger rising up in me. There were several thousand things I’d rather do than be in the same bar with those four rich, entitled wankers.

  Actually … come to think if it …

  "That is not a terrible idea, Sar." I grinned. Time to slap those dickheads with a bill for damages.

  "Really?" she squealed. "Oh my god, yay! Quick, let’s get these fuckers back in their barn and go get ready!"

  She slapped me on the ass when I rolled my eyes and I couldn’t help but laugh. I’d only known her a couple of weeks but damn, her energy was infectious. My new plan had me feeling a tiny bit more positive too, now that I thought about it. All I needed was to quickly type up an official looking invoice to hit those assholes with.

  And find a hot outfit.

  Don’t judge: those boys were pure sin on the slopes and fuck if I didn’t want to flaunt it a little around them.

  Fate was working for me for once. As soon as we strutte
d into Scruffy’s, my eyes were drawn to the velvet roped-off VIP area where a gaggle of gorgeous women waited. There was only one reason in the village this season for such mass hysteria.

  The Kings of Snow were coming.

  "Come on, girl! Let's get some shots and then hit the dance floor!" Sara dragged me through the crowded room toward the little bar in the back. It was our favorite because the bartender who worked it on Tequila Tuesdays had a thing for staring down Sara’s shirt and forgot to charge us half the time.

  "Well hello, gorgeous," the bartender, Alex, yelled as we approached. He threw Sara a saucy wink and she tossed her blonde hair, giggling.

  "Oh my gawd," I snickered under my breath and she pinched my wrist to shut me up. She knew perfectly well what she was doing, but neither of us were exactly flush with cash so we’d take the free tequila when we could.

  Sara propped her elbows on the bar and leaned forward to say something, giving Alex an unobstructed view of her ample cleavage. She’d worn a tight, off the shoulder bandage dress that emphasized her curves like she was Marilyn Monroe. Next to her I always felt like I faded into the background … which was exactly what I wanted.

  "Here," she said, passing me two shot glasses then clinking them both with hers. "Cheers, you mysterious bitch."

  This wasn’t my first rodeo. I tossed my shots back, one after another, then placed the empty glasses back on the bar.

  "Alright, let's go find those wankers and slap them with this invoice so we can get out of here." I spun on my deadly stiletto heel and took two steps towards the VIP lounge before Sara grabbed hold of my waistband and yanked me to a halt.

  "Hold the hell up, miss thing. You do not just march up there like a bear with a sore head." Sara scowled at me and I raised an eyebrow in question.

  "Because, for starters," she explained, "you won't make it past security unless they give the okay. And secondly, they’re not even here yet. But even if they were, you’re not getting in there with a sour look on your face and a freaking invoice in your hand." She flicked the folded piece of paper in my hand, which I’d just fished out of my pocket.

  Damn her, she had a point.

  My eyes flickered over to the conspicuously empty VIP area.

  "Okay, smart-ass, what do you suggest?" I slid the invoice back into the pocket of my skintight leather pants and folded my arms. Thirteen years of pro-level figure skating had permanently shaped my petite, slim figure and I’d made the most of my new, hard-won curves by pairing my leather pants with a strapless electric blue corset top and matching blue spike-heel shoes. It was something the old me wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing. Same went for my freshly dyed hair, which was a black to purple ombre type situation. Six years of growing it out had my loose waves brushing my lower back, and I absolutely freaking loved the new color.

  "I suggest we have some damn fun until they get here. Now, doesn’t that sound like a better idea?" She gave me a wicked grin and I groaned, rolling my eyes. She was right though … again.

  "Fine," I muttered, but a smile was pulling at my lips when she squealed and bounced on her toes.

  "Excellent! Okay, one more shot for luck and then let's hit the D…" she trailed off and I snorted. "…ance floor," she finished and winked at me. Cheeky minx.

  "Fine," I repeated, "but as soon as they show, I'm marching straight up there. Okay?"

  Sara glanced over at the VIP area, with its two Goliath bouncers guarding the entrance.

  "Uh-huh, sure thing, babe." She looked worried so I guessed she already had my number. If I threatened to force my way in there, I’d do it. Regardless of the trouble I could land in.

  Sara leaned over the bar seductively again, and I had another shot glass in my hand before I even saw the bartender pour them. We knocked them back and I led my bouncy friend out to the dance floor where we squeezed and pushed our way through until we reached a spot within view of the VIP area.

  "May as well put on a good show, babe. The Ridge appears to be under an invasion of sexy single girls this week …" Sara raised her eyebrows at the congregation of over primped females batting their eyelashes at the gatekeepers of the VIP lounge.

  "A show, huh?" I smirked to myself. That, I could do.

  Shaking out my hair, I turned my back on the VIP room—and its inhabitants—and focused on the music. It was some commercial pop house track that was probably hitting it big in the charts. I’d never heard before, but it had a decent beat and within seconds my hips were in motion.

  "Yeah, girl!" Sara cheered. "You’re getting it now!" She began shaking her own ample booty in time to the music and for a while, I almost zoned out. Dancing came naturally to me; it was ingrained in my bones from my years of figure skating. I found myself shedding a bit of the stress and anxiety I'd been wearing like a goddamn fur coat.

  I’d lost count of how many songs we laughed and grooved to, but soon I was breathing heavier and a thin sheen of sweat coated my skin. Despite the snow falling outside, the club was like a sauna thanks to the number of dancing bodies inside.

  "You want another drink?" Sara yelled, miming the drink motion in case I couldn’t hear her over the music, and I nodded. "Wait here!" she yelled, and disappeared into the writhing mass of dancers, making her way back to Alex’s bar.

  While I waited, I continued dancing on my own. Swaying my hips, I gathered my long hair into my hands and lifted it from my neck in an attempt to cool down a bit. Leather pants had been a bad choice.

  The music shifted into a new song, this one slower, more rhythmic and seductive, and a pair of hands slid over my hips from behind me. The tattooed hands tugged me back a step, bringing me in close to the guy’s body as he fell into time with my movements. Turning my head slightly, I could make out the vague outline of the guy who'd joined me and it confirmed my suspicion.

  "You girls seem to be enjoying yourselves," he murmured in my ear, his lips brushing my lobe as he spoke. Against my better judgement, it sent a shiver through me and I bit my lip.

  Snap the fuck out of it, Mila.

  Spinning to face him, I tossed my hair over my shoulder and cocked a hip in what I hoped was a sassy, confident sort of way. Holy fucking hotness, I had not prepared myself for this.

  Blaze Porter was dead set sex-on-legs. His shaggy snowboarder hair was a dark chocolate brown and swept back from his face, so there was nothing to distract from his piercing green eyes. A ring of silver pierced the side of his lower lip, and I needed to curl my nails into my palm to stop myself from grabbing it in my teeth.

  Shit.

  The last time I had seen these guys, they’d been brand-new to the snow sports circuit despite already being in their early twenties. But I could've sworn they hadn’t been this hot. Maybe it was the tequila affecting my vision? Earlier, with Drex and Ryder, I’d been so furious I'd barely even glanced at them, but I sincerely hoped they too weren't this goddamn smoking or life really wasn't fair.

  The lazy smirk on Blaze’s full lips made me realize I’d been staring like some sex-crazed fan. Shit.

  Panicking a bit, I spun and made to leave but once again barely made it two steps before getting stopped by a large tattooed hand wrapped around my wrist.

  "Whoa, sugar, where do you think you’re going?" he laughed. "I was going to ask if you and your friend wanted to join us in the VIP lounge …" He jerked his head to the raised area and the massive security guards watching us like gargoyles. Sara and I had been having so much fun we hadn’t even noticed they’d arrived, but sure enough the VIP area was packed.

  "Why?" I snapped, frowning. Something didn’t add up.

  "Why what?" He grinned. "Why do I want you to join me up there?" His tongue ran over his lower lip, pausing at his piercing while his eyes raked over me like I was naked.

  "No, I think that is fairly obvious. Why are you down here asking me, and not one of your henchmen?" I waved a hand at the bouncers and they just stared back with stone-like glares.

  Blaze cocked his head, watching
me for a moment.

  "Maybe I just wanted to dance for a bit?" The way he said it made me not believe him, but I wasn’t sure why.

  "Oh yeah?" I challenged, and his eyebrows shot up. "Prove it."

  "Prove it?" he repeated, with a laugh. "Alright then, Blue, let’s dance."

  Using the wrist he still held captive, Blaze fucking Porter dragged me back to him so sharply that I lost my balance and stumbled in my sexy blue stilettos, practically falling into his arms. He barely gave me a second to regain my feet before draping my arms around his neck and dragging his fingertips down my skin oh so slowly until he reached my waist, resting his palms against my skin. Fingers splayed down over my hips, his hold almost possessive, and when he began to move I realized what a mistake I’d made.

  Blaze Porter could dance.

  Ugh, I hated him even more.

  Fuck him, two could play at that game.

  Finding my missing balance, I took advantage of the position he’d placed me in, threading the fingers of one hand into the back of his hair while the other gripped his shoulder and I bumped and ground on him.

  The wanker gave as good as he got though, and before long we were practically fucking with our clothes on which was totally contradictory to what I was there for in the first place.

  Ugh, damn sexy ass Blaze fucking Porter clouding my poor tequila fuzzed brain. Where the hell was Sara anyway?

  "Well, this was fun," I said, disengaging myself from his smoldering body and taking a step back, "but I’m done."

  "What do you—" Blaze’s confused protest was cut short by the arrival of one of his fellow Winter Wankers, who threw an arm over his shoulder.

  "Well, well, Blitzen." Drex grinned. "We meet again. I gotta say, I almost didn’t recognize you out of the elf getup." His gaze raked over me and I groaned inwardly. When would I learn to stop jinxing myself? He was, as I’d feared, just as sexy as Blaze. Fucking hell, no wonder they had so many women falling all over themselves. The four of them together must be … something else.