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

by C. M. Stunich

  He doesn't answer me, and I don't press the matter.

  We sit in silence the rest of the drive, We Three Kings playing softly over the car's speakers.

  And all I can think … is I have five kings.

  Even if one is made of ice.

  The head housekeeper, Anita, a charming middle-aged woman with curly blonde hair and warm brown eyes greets us at the door when we arrive. About a minute after walking into the magnificent foyer, Colden leaves me with her, claiming that he has a few work related things to wrap up. I try not to take it too personally, but my feeling are just a bit hurt.

  Anita gives me a quick rundown of the estate, promising that she will give me a full tour tomorrow if Colden doesn't get a chance to show me around first. She gives me a big, genuine hug before taking off to do her job. I wander around the inside of the building, taking notes and pictures.

  The Northington Family Chateau is huge and grand and beautiful, perched on the snow drenched evergreen mountains of Colorado, a massive Tudor mansion that blends superbly into the green and white forests around it.

  The home has more than any normal person could ever want: ten bedrooms, eleven bathrooms, a private gym, a grand entryway connected to a massive ballroom, a two story library, three living rooms, a formal dining room, two swimming pools—one indoor and one outdoor that takes advantage of the magnificent views, both with attached attached hot tubs—a cedar sauna, a movie theater, a private ski-on slope entrance and the kitchen of my dreams, all with breathtaking views of the snowy mountains. The structure just oozes old-world elegance with dark wood moldings and huge open fireplaces. Nothing could suit a cozy Christmas feel more than a house like this. Yet to me, it just feels unloved. I make my way to the grand ballroom. There's a fireplace so big, several full-sized adults could comfortably stand in it; the large circular room has windows all around.

  “Where are all the decorations?” I say to myself. There isn't a single piece of mistletoe or garland anywhere on the property. Not a single strand of lights. Not even the simple cozy warmth of a roaring fireplace. This house could be amazing, but right now, it just feels so sad. Neglected. It's missing the warm feel of family and friends.

  “Don't have any,” Colden says tersely. I whip my head around and see him standing in the doorway that connects the ballroom to the foyer.

  “That's a shame. I just want to take a few measurements and we can go somewhere to talk,” I tell him. He slips his hand into the pocket of his gray slacks and leans against the doorjamb. There is something so effortlessly graceful about the way he moves. A shiver runs down my spine, and I can feel the profound weight of his crisp, arctic blue eyes following me, but only when he thinks I'm not looking. Whenever I try to meet his eyes, he just stares back blankly like there couldn't be a person on this earth that he is less intrigued by. Am I imagining it?

  “I'm busy today.” Another curt answer. Well if that isn't a brush-off, I don't know what is. But I can still feel the tingle of his cold blue eyes on me as I move about the room taking notes.

  “Okay then, tomorrow,” I say exasperated. I am getting really tired of being brushed off. They asked me here to do a job, but every time I try to do it, Colden tells me to get lost. It's frustrating, to say the least.

  “No. You don't need me to do your job.” His frosty voice has this tone of finality to it. That arrogant son of a snowflake. I have gone out of my way to make the best of this unusual situation. Why am I even here?

  “Should I go home?” I say with a big obvious sigh. If he doesn't want me here, I'd like to know now so I can go home and spend the holidays with Lucia. Because after all, Christmas is all about family and she's all I've got.

  “Of course not.” The phrase snaps of his tongue, lightning fast. My eyes go wide and my mouth hangs open. He might be gorgeous, but he is an emotionless a-hole.

  Colden furrows his brow, breaking the mask of impassivity for the first time today. Behind his eyes, something shifts and I catch the briefest glimpse of something. Searing. Passionate. Magnificent. The depth of emotion that shows through the shield takes my breath away. The sudden change in attitude throws me for a loop. Maybe I wasn't imagining that look in the car after all?

  He might be smart and perceptive, but apparently I'm going have to spell it out for him. If he continues to act this way, I am wasting my time. If their father is truly the wonderful loving man they claim him to be, he will instantaneously know that Colden and I are not engaged. Heck, a five year old wouldn't buy it.

  We need somewhere private where we can talk freely.

  I turn around and walk right up to him, forcing him to look at me. He is so tall—six four at least—that I have to crane my neck back to look him in his face. The way his massive frame towers over me is such a turn-on. How good would it feel like to be wrapped in the comforting embrace of his muscular arms? The warm earthy scents of cedar and pine surround me. He smells like a Christmas tree, only muskier. I inhale deeply. The smell has the same rugged masculinity as the rest of him.

  “Where is our bedroom?” I say, a little breathier than I intend. Colden goes stiff, every one of his ample muscles tightening for a moment before relaxing back into the mask of unreadable composure he's had on since the first moment I met him.

  “Up the stairs, the big double doors at the end of the hall.” He turns to leave with a dismissive wave of his hand. From behind, the sculpted lines of his athletic build are even more mouthwatering. An image of me dropping to my knees in front of the herculean might of the blue-eyed sex god flashes through my head. A familiar rush of heat and desire races through me. My prurient desires are starting to become troublesome. Distracting. Turn it off, Natalie. Do your job.

  “I'd like you to join me,” I reply before he gets more than a few feet from me. I manage to school my tone into something at least in the realm of professional. He pauses slowly, glancing back in my direction, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes search my face like he thinks I'm messing with him.

  “That is not a good idea.” His calm, deep voice slides over my skin in an irresistibly sexy way.

  “Why is that?” I manage to keep the professional tone. Just barely.

  “Because if I'm alone with you and a bed, I don't know what I will do,” he says through clenched teeth. Holy crap. Did he just say what I think he did? The clear meaning behind the words makes my blood rush through my body, and my toes curl with excitement. He's just as attracted to me as I am to him.

  “Wait, what?s” I'm so flustered at this point I don't know how to respond.

  “I have poor self-control. And you …” He stops talking, but the meaning is clear. His hungry gaze looks me up and down and he licks his lips. Lust rolls off of him in almost palpable waves. His hard chest rises and falls with each deep breath. “I … no,” he growls the last word, but it seems to be aimed more at himself than me. He leans over, resting his hands on his knees and stares at the floor.

  “I don't understand,” I say, closing the distance between us tentatively. I approach him like he is a wounded animal. Unpredictable. Dangerous. “Are you okay?” I reach out and gently rest my hand on his shoulder. There is a shock of electricity. He snaps his head to look at me. He felt it too.

  The power of his sinful, savage gaze leaves me panting, transfixed. Frozen and in awe. Time stops and I feel the whole world fall away. He rights himself, watching me out of those angelic blue eyes. Colden reaches up, sliding his hand along my neck to the base of my skull the same time he leans toward me. This firm grip guides my mouth to his. The kiss is deep and hungry and oh so sexy. He tastes like an animal with a broken soul. My body relaxes against his hard chest. His tongue teases mine, coaxing small noises of pleasure from my throat. We stay mouth to mouth, tongues dancing for several minutes.

  I cant help but think how different his kiss is from his brothers. Hudson is cocky and practiced and flirty. Whittaker is commanding and disciplined and sure. Jack is romantic, sweet and encouraging. And Gabriel … I've n
ever actually kissed him. But I know it will be cruel and rough and angry, just like he fucks.

  When Colden finally pulls back and breaks the kiss, I'm left panting; the throbbing ache between my thighs is back and stronger than ever. I stand there in awe, my body trembling with sudden overwhelming need. He stares down at me, blue eyes surprised but happy, a ghost of a smile hovering on his lips.

  All of a sudden, it's like a dark cloud rolls over him and the moment of contentment is gone. He backs up a few steps, putting several feet between us. The way he's looking at me, you'd think I'd sprouted horns and a bright red nose.

  “Stay the hell away from me. I don't work right. I'm dangerous. Can't you take a hint?” His shock has morphed into anger and he's directing it at me. That's so goddamn frustrating since I have no idea what's going on. Or why he's acting like a caged polar bear. Not to mention he's the one who kissed me, not the other way around. My dad was an abusive alcoholic, and I escaped that life a long time ago; I won't let myself be intimidated by any man ever again.

  “If you want this engagement to work, we really need to have a private conversation.” I stand up and project my voice in an attempt to let him know how serious I am. Christmas is my favorite time of year and I'm giving up all of my own traditions to be here with him and his brothers. Besides, if he is truly as dangerous as he thinks then I'd like to know before the maid staff and the groundskeeper go home for the night. But I know in my heart of hearts that I can trust him—even if he doesn't trust himself for whatever reason.

  “I said, I can't,” he snaps. It's my turn to clench my teeth. I wont be treated that way, no matter the reason. I think he can tell he made a mistake because he backs off considerably. He rubs his hands over his face then closes his eyes and inhales slowly. After several breaths, he opens them and the impenetrable wall around his emotions is back.

  “Fine. I'm going upstairs to get settled. If you don't join me before it gets dark outside, I have no reason to stay and I will get on a plane first thing in the morning.” I start walking up the stairs; with each step, my heels click against the wood floor, and when I stop, the silence feels unbearable. “One more thing—I want an apology.” With that, I leave him alone in the silent foyer of the grandest house I have ever seen with only his thoughts for company.

  I'm still reeling from everything that happened just now.

  The toe curling pleasure of Colden's lips on mine. The look of panic in his arctic blue eyes as he warned me to stay away. The instantaneous shift from cold to red-hot then back again. It was like riding a rollercoaster of unpredictability.

  I'm too tired to really enjoy the stunning suite I'll be staying in for the next week. I head straight for the bed, collapsing right on top of the white duvet. My stomach is in knots of worry.

  What if Colden doesn't come to talk to me? Will I be giving up my only chance at getting my business off the ground? But it's more than that. I made a deal and I don't want to break it. Even though the Northington brothers are haughty and arrogant, and they walk around like they expect everyone in the world to beg for the chance to kiss their ass, I still don't want to disappoint them.

  And the most surprising thing is, I'm actually excited to hang out with them. All of them. Not because of money. Not because of sex, but just because I enjoyed the little time I spent with each of them. I want to know more—no I need to know more about them.

  I lie there for about fifteen minutes before I decide I need to hear a friendly voice.

  Lucia picks up after only two rings, as usual.

  “What's he like? Is he as hot as the others or did they hide him away in Colorado for a reason?” she asks with a laugh. And I can practically hear her flicking her hair over her shoulder. It's one of her ticks. She does it constantly while she talks on the phone.

  “First off, Vail is stunning, like right off a Christmas card. And their house is unbelievable. It's basically a castle,” I say first, pointedly ignoring her question while I think about my answer. I don't really know how to put into words the simultaneous frustration and attraction that I'm experiencing.

  “Colden is … interesting?”

  “So he isn't hot?” she asks and I can hear her pinching her brow in confusion, trying to figure out what I mean. I laugh.

  “He is fucking magnificent. He has this whole cold, aloof Viking dude thing going on.” I snap my fingers even though she can't see me. “You know who he reminds me of? Alexander Skarsgård, from True Blood.”

  “I am so fucking jealous right now. You're staying in a mansion in Vail with a dude as hot as Eric from True Blood. No fair,” she says with a little groan.

  “Hotter.” I pause for a second, thinking of how to describe his strange behavior. “He's weird though. He barely talks or looks me in the eye, ditches me with the head housekeeper. When I see him next, he kisses me out of nowhere.” I know this isn't going to make any sense to her unless I explain everything.

  “Oh. Snap. There five minutes and already getting a little action.”

  “I don't know if I would go that far,” I reply. I tell her the rest of what happened. True to girlfriend style, I give her every little detail. His warnings. My ultimatum. Everything. Even how good he smells. By the time we're done talking, I feel a lot better. Girlfriend time is important, even if it's only over the phone. I wish her a goodnight, promise to call her sometime tomorrow, and hang up.

  I really look around for the first time. The room I'm in is a massive suite with its own sitting room complete with fireplace—later I'll ask someone to show me how to light a fire—a dream bathroom with a soaking tub, my own personal balcony, and … what I thought was another room but is actually a walk-in closet, bigger than my room at my sister's house.

  Row after row of clothes, all with the tags on, greet me as I fling the doors wide. The far wall has a back-lit unit of shelves covered in shoes: Manolo Blahniks, Balenciaga, and of course, Louboutins. There are others, too, but I don't recognize them. I bet Lucia would. She's going to die when I tell her about this. There's only one thing out of place. On the floor in the center of the closet is a huge bouquet of flowers, all red and white. Attached is a note.

  We wanted to let you know we had a wonderful time last night. This closet is an early Christmas present from all of us to you. We have been looking for the right girl to give it to for a very long time.

  – Whit

  P.S. Can't wait to fuck you again.

  The cheeky jerk, just assuming I'm going to fuck him again. I'm smiling though.

  If Colden doesn't come to me then screw him. I'm staying despite what I said, at least until the other guys get here.

  I take a shower and slip into a pair of silk pajamas from the closet, turning on a cheesy made for TV Christmas movie in the background. If I'm staying, I have a ton of things that need to get done.

  I make a bunch of calls, arranging meetings to start setting up for the Christmas eve bash. The hardest part is figuring out where I can get a twenty foot Christmas tree and seven smaller ones. I'm flying in a talented string quartet I've worked with in the past to play background music. I've already crossed off one of the major things on my checklist. Yay for me.

  I call Jack for help getting decorations from NHI shipped here overnight so that I can start preparations. He's beyond helpful, promising that everything but the specialty ornaments for all the trees will arrive in the next two days.

  We end up talking for over an hour, the sensual notes of his smoky voice warming up the empty coldness of the sprawling house. He tells me not to worry about Colden, to just give him time and he will come around. After we say our goodbyes, I just lie there with a smile on my face. I have a crush on Jack Northington. The thought hits me all of a sudden. I'm like some stupid lovestruck teenager.

  I collapse back on the bed to just relax for a minute before I try to start working out where to get enough live garland for a house this size. The stress of the day must get to me because in the blink of an eye, I fall into a deep and
restful sleep on top of the luxurious cloud of a bed. My thoughts dance not with sugar plums, but with the memory of Colden's mouth, pressing hard and firm against my own.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I wake to the crackling sound of a fireplace and the faint howling of winter winds. Someone has covered me with a big soft blanket. The soothing scent of pine and cedar surrounds me.

  I sit up on the bed and rub my eyes. Faintly, I can make out the silhouette of someone sitting in one of the wingback chairs next to the flickering light of the fireplace.

  My heart starts racing. It's him.

  Colden sits lost in thought, watching the dancing flames, the orange light casting long shadows on the sculpted lines of his face. His shirt is hanging loose and open, exposing his firm, muscular chest.

  I pad over and sit in the chair opposite him, tucking my legs up underneath me. We sit in companionable silence for a while, just watching the fire. When I finally get the courage to look in his direction, he's already watching me.

  I don't know if it's the soothing heat of the fire, the gentle whistle of the winter storm outside, or just the quiet hush of the December night, but in this moment … Colden just looks like a normal man. Not a stone-faced billionaire, numb to all emotion, or a frenzied animal about to lash out blindly. He speaks first, his deep voice low, an almost whisper.

  “I want you to stay, and I'm sorry.” The quiet sincerity of his words sends a flush of gentle pressure throughout my body and my heart races a frantic rhythm in my chest. The comfort of the cozy setting soothes some of fervid heat that seems to take over whenever I'm around the five Northington men.

  “Apology accepted.” I truly mean it, but I continue so that he can really understand. “Please don't do that to me again. My dad used to take his anger out on me, act as though I were to blame for every broken part of himself.” Colden drops his head in shame; he doesn't speak or move. The sharp lines of his face a chiseled masterpiece. Why can't I stay away from these damaged, dangerous men?