SUSAN WESTWOOD
HOW TO MARRY
A BILLIONAIRE
© Copyright Susan Westwood All Rights Reserved 2015
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Ellyn Johnson is a struggling single mother living in The Bronx and like most women in her position she enjoys dreaming about what it might be like to be swept off her feet by a handsome, young Billionaire. A man who can solve all her problems, introduce her to the good life and, most importantly, make her happy.
Ellyn knows that things like this normally only ever happen in fairy tales but she also knows that sometimes you have to get out there and make things happen for yourself.
So when Ellyn hears of a party in Manhattan that will have lots of young, rich men attending she and her friend hatch a plan to try and sneak in. Only this plan involves her pretending to be someone she isn't.
It is at this party that she meets Colon Hamilton the third, a billionaire who counts a talent agency as one of his many businesses. Colon is more than interested in getting to know Ellyn but does he want to know her or the woman she is pretending to be? And how long can she carry on dating a billionaire before her true identity is discovered?
TABLE OF CHAPTERS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
CHAPTER 1
Ellyn Johnson walked home to her crappy apartment in the Bronx looking forward to hugging her son Derek. The lunch rush had been long and her feet hurt. The only saving grace of the day was the pocket of tips she had. With the tips, she could afford new shoes for Derek and pay her friend Shalia for watching him that day. Her usual sitter, her mother, had not been available to cover her for the last-minute shift she’d taken.
The sun shone brightly, and a slight breeze held the hint of the spring that was only a few weeks away. Ellyn stopped for a moment to let the sun shine down on her face, warming her. She wanted to wash away the day so Derek wouldn’t get the bad version of her. He always had the good version of her.
“Hey, Mamacita,” a voice said out a window.
Crap, she thought. She had to move along. No need to encourage Rashawn. She had no desire for any man at the moment, least of all one that had no job and was baby daddy to at least three women that she knew of. She already had her own baby daddy who didn’t pay child support because he was in jail. No need to take on another one. She hadn’t been on the pill when she’d met Chance and he’d charmed her into bed without a condom. As much as she would never regret having Derek, she didn’t plan on giving him any siblings until she had a husband. Since she wasn’t looking, that was a long way off.
She strode up to her apartment, a third floor walkup. It wasn’t the projects, but close. Her salary and tips at the waitressing job covered her rent and very little else. If she had a sugar daddy, she would be okay. However, there weren’t any sugar daddies in the Bronx and she hadn’t snagged any at the upscale restaurant she worked at, either.
She walked in the door, expecting Derek to come running to her like he always did. Instead, Shalia greeted her with a finger to her lips.
“He’s asleep. I think he’s coming down with something,” Shalia said.
“Oh, no. He must have caught what my mother had last week,” Ellyn said.
She put her purse and keys on the table by the door. Derek sick would not be good. She wasn’t sure she could bring him to the doctor this week. The free mobile clinic didn’t come around for another three days. She’d worried about what would happen when Derek was in kindergarten. He was sick so often.
She tiptoed into the one small bedroom she and Derek shared. He was asleep, with the covers kicked off on his toddler bed. It was the only kind that fit in the room with her single bed. She’d found it tossed out for trash pickup on her way home from work one day. She and Shalia had dragged it back to her place and cleaned it up.
She felt his forehead and he was warm, but not too bad.
“I gave him some Tylenol before he insisted on going down for a nap,” Shalia said when Ellyn returned to the living room.
Her friend sat on the safe part of the couch. It had holes in it, with a spring sticking out of one them. No one could sit on that end that had some holes in it. A spring stuck out at one end so no one sat there.
Ellyn hung up her coat. “Hopefully he’ll sleep it off. Did he eat?”
“Not much at all. How was work?”
“Busy. I had great tips today,” Ellyn said.
Then Shalia’s eyes lit up. “Did you see the box in front of Connie’s apartment?”
Ellyn laughed. She had glanced at it. Connie often stole credit card numbers and bought herself all sorts of nice clothes. “I did.”
“She won’t be home for hours. Let’s go look at it. You still have that packing tape so we can reseal it?”
“I do, but should we?”
“She’d probably do the same to us.”
“Yeah, if I could afford to buy clothes,” Ellyn said.
Shalia returned with the box and she gently opened it. Inside sat a sparkling green dress. Ellyn fell in love. “That is so beautiful.”
“It is.” Her friend pulled it out of the box. “I’m trying it on.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She glanced at the bedroom door then stripped down to her underwear. She slipped the dress on, but was unable to zip it up. She sighed.
“You try it on,” Shalia said.
Ellyn shook her head, but she did love the dress. “Oh, okay.”
She did the same while Shalia dressed. The dress fit as if it had been made for her. She wished for a full-length mirror.
“Oh my God, Ellyn. You look amazing. It’s perfect and brings out the flecks of green you have in those brown eyes.”
Ellyn looked in the small mirror by the door. Shalia was right. She also felt beautiful in this dress. She’d better take it off before she wanted to keep it.
“You should keep it,” Shalia said echoing her thoughts.
“No.”
“Ellyn. It’s fate.”
“What would I do with this dress? I can’t go to the grocery store in it.”
“We’ll find a use for it,” Shalia said. “Let’s sneak into that party after the New York Awards.”
The party Shalia mentioned was the largest gathering of billionaires and celebrities New York saw each year. More than even the Tony awards. “How?”
“I’ll explain.”
***
Colton Hamilton III glanced at the invitation on his desk for the New York Awards. Those awards were given for entertainment professionals who had somehow advanced the entertainment industry in New York in the last year.
He wasn’t up for an award, but his job as head of a talent agency made it mandatory for him to attend, including the after-parties.
Well, at least this one was being thrown by Doug Lavalette, his best friend and former client. Security was so tight the Secret Service took notes on how it was done.
“You have to go,” his secretary, Marcia Cross, said. She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, as if she knew that he’d been thinking about bailing on the party.
“Is my tuxedo—“
“In your closet here. You should take it home,” Marcia said.
Behind every great executive was a great administrative assistant. Marcia was the best of the best and he’d searched high and low for her when he started his company, Hamilton Talent. She’d
come highly recommended and she’d never failed him.
Standing just five feet tall, she was all of one hundred pounds of scary. His name was on the office door, but she practically ran the company. Never let him forget it either. He valued her opinion and she never steered him wrong.
She strode into his office, her little legs eating up the ground between his door and his desk in the large corner office.
“I’m probably dressing here.”
He could, since his office had its own bathroom. Only he and Marcia were allowed to use it.
“No date?”
He grimaced. He’d just broken up with a client whom Marcia had warned him against. The one time he didn’t listen. The woman had dropped him faster than a bungee jumper when she realized he wasn’t going to marry her. She loved his wallet more than she loved him. His heart still ached a little, but not for the woman, but for the idea of the woman.
“You know I’m going without one. Do you have to rub it in?”
“Yes I do, so that you’ll remember next time to listen to me. Now, I have a niece.”
He held up his hand. “I can find my own dates.”
“Yes, you can get dates. Do you want a wife?”
“Not sure that I do.”
She frowned. “What is all this if you don’t have someone to share with?”
His secretary and her husband celebrated their fortieth anniversary just last week. He’d given them a cruise that they would take later in the year. She’d been bugging him ever since he turned thirty that he should settle down.
He wasn’t sold on the idea since he’d had too many gold diggers in his bed. “Maybe I should use a matchmaker.”
Marcia rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. “You just need to get out more to where real people are. You won’t find someone at one of those parties that Doug throws.”
“So why do I have to go?”
“Because it’s good to schmooze and be high profile. Never rest on your laurels.”
He sighed. She was right. “I do have to go. I have a few clients who will be there and they liked to be taken care of.”
“Their asses kissed, you mean. They should be kissing your ass. You made them stars.”
“I just saw the star quality they had.”
“You sell yourself short, Colton. You have a gift.”
He shrugged. They’d been through this a thousand times. The argument bored him now.
“Whatever.”
“Just spend an hour and then you’ll be done.”
He sighed. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“Then you can escape back to your empty, lonely penthouse in the tallest residential building in Manhattan.” She loved to say that to him.
He rubbed a spot on his chest, still smarting from the last break up. Maybe Marcia was right. He needed to find someone without Botox and that did normal, everyday things. He didn’t know where those people hung out. Having been born with money meant he’d been to the best schools all of his life. He had been a city kid and wasn’t sure he even knew how to get anywhere outside the city other than the airport. How sad his life had become.
“Okay. I’ll go, but I won’t bring anyone home.”
“Then this weekend, you take a walk in Central Park or go to the movies. Do something pedestrian,” Marcia said. “Put a pair of jeans on and sit in a café drinking coffee. Come down to where we mere mortals exist.”
Colton laughed. “Mere mortals. You make enough not to be a mere mortal anymore, either.”
“Yes, but I still live in a brownstone in Brooklyn.”
“I know, but you could live anywhere you wanted.”
“We’re blue collar still in many ways, Colton, but we have a great retirement nest egg.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve approved your raises.”
She leaned on his desk, her hands on top of the mess. “And I’ve earned each and every one. Don’t forget it.”
Like he ever could.
*
As Ellyn stood outside of the after-party for the New York Awards, she wondered how Shalia had talked her into this. Derek was with her mother. He’d slept through dinner the day before, but woke up feeling much better.
They were at a venue that overlooked Chelsea Pier. Ellyn wore the dress she’d taken from her neighbor. Thankfully, the woman had not been home when she left. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be home later on when Ellyn returned to her apartment. While Ellyn waited, Shalia was around the back looking for glasses for them. Champagne glasses, of course. Ellyn had procured some ginger ale and still didn’t know what she was doing with it.
Shalia returned, finally. Ellyn was glad. She was shivering; Shalia had insisted that they couldn’t wear coats.
“Now, what are we doing?” Ellyn said. Her heart raced. She had never done anything like this. According to Shalia, she did it a couple of times a year.
“Give me the ginger ale,” Shalia said.
Ellyn did as she asked. Shalia poured some ginger ale in each of their glasses. “Why?”
“It looks like champagne. We’re going to say we wandered out to have a cigarette and we got lost. We have drinks, so they will assume we’ve been in the party already. They won’t check.”
“What if we have to show our invitations?”
“Our dates have them,” Shalia said. “Just follow my lead. Don’t say a word.”
Ellyn nodded, but she was ready to run. She wouldn’t run very fast in the six inch heels that she’d borrowed from Shalia’s mother. Nevertheless, she followed her friend to the front door where three large bouncers stood, with wires in their ears. They reminded Ellyn of the Secret Service guys she’d seen in many movies. They were there to intimidate and it worked. Shalia smiled up at them. They looked her up and down, their gazes clearly resting on Shalia’s ample bosom. Men were all the same.
“We came out to have a cigarette, and we can’t find our way back in,” Shalia said.
A skinny man with a clipboard looked down his nose at them. He sniffed. “Okay.”
He opened the door for them and it took all of Ellyn’s self-control not to sprint inside. That wouldn’t have looked classy. When they reached the ballroom, Shalia let out a noisy breath.
“We’re in,” she said.
“You were so cool.”
“It’s the rack, honey. No one turns down double Ds.”
Ellyn had to laugh. Too bad she wasn’t so endowed, maybe she would have gotten further in life. Then she realized she’d probably never do that, anyway.
“Holy crap,” Shalia whispered to her as they entered the ballroom. “That’s George Clooney.”
Someone bumped into Ellyn and she looked up into the most handsome face she’d ever seen. It was rugged, with ice blue eyes. “Excuse me,” a voice said from deep within the man’s body. She felt the sexiness to her soul.
“No problem. My fault.”
“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” he said.
“No harm, then,” she said.
He nodded, smiled, then left her. Shalia stared after him. “That man has money. That was a Giorgi Armani tuxedo. You may find your billionaire yet, tonight.”
“Is that why we’re here?”
“Yes, to find us men who will take care of us.”
Ellyn didn’t think it would be that easy. “What’s my story again?”
“You’re a graduate student, going for your Master’s in Fine Art and French Literature.”
“French Literature?”
“Yes. I’ll stick with the Masters of Fine Art. That I can wing,” she said.
“We need some real drinks.”
She put her ginger ale filled glass on a passing waiter’s tray.
“I feel like some of these dresses cost more than my rent,” Ellyn said.
“They do, but let’s not think about that. Think class and refinement. And champagne that costs at least a hundred dollars a bottle.”
Ellyn almost choked but she put her glass on a table when Shalia
found them real champagne glasses, filled with real champagne, to carry around. The bubbles were tiny. Someone in a movie had said that the smaller the bubbles were, the finer the champagne. She wondered if it was true. She spun around because she’d lost sight of Shalia, and ran into a waiter who dropped his tray.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She bent down to help pick up the glasses.
“Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth.
She stepped away and managed to step on someone’s toes. The older woman glared at her. “They let anyone in here nowadays.”
Ellyn’s eyes widened at the snobbery. Did the woman know she was poor or was it because of the color of her skin? Shalia appeared, a man tugging on her arm.
“I spilled some champagne and this man thinks I’m drunk,” Shalia said.
“We just got here, sir and we didn’t party beforehand, I promise,” Ellyn said.
The man looked them over then let go of Shalia’s arm. “I’m keeping an eye on you.”
The large man left them and Shalia laughed. Ellyn just shook her head. “We should stick together and keep each other out of trouble.”
“Let’s go stand at one side and pick which billionaire is yours and which is mine.”
Ellyn followed her friend to one side of the elegantly decorated ballroom, but didn’t really think she’d find her rich man.
***
Colton drank some champagne and various women walked past him, their gaze clearly undressing him, or checking his wallet. No one had come close to the woman he bumped into when he first arrived. She’d smiled at him and he noticed green flecks in those brown eyes. She’d been slim, but curvy, just how he liked them. She’d also been beautiful enough to be a model.
He tried to shake the image of her but he hoped he’d see her again. Right now, he had to schmooze. The orchestra precluded talking to anyone in that part of the large room, so he headed for the door. Doug, his best friend, intercepted him.
“Hey, Colton.”
The men shook hands. Doug was a few years older than Colton. His hair was beginning to gray early for his mid-thirties but the man rocked it. He didn’t dye it and he was still in demand as a model but had retired a year ago. Despite not being current in the industry, Doug’s after-party was still the hottest thing in New York.
How To Marry A Billionaire: A BWWM Billionaire Romance Page 1
