REX (The Billionaire Croft Brothers, Book Three)

by Paige North

  Damien totally bamboozled me with that picture of some model guy.

  “Are you Miss Addison?” the older man says.

  “Uh…yes,” I say, thinking of the thousand ways I’m going to murder Damien. At least I got some of the money out of this farce.

  The man opens the door wider and says, “Please. Come in.”

  I follow him across smooth dark wood floors, the expansive rooms laid out with sleek black leather sectionals that probably cost more than I make in a year, maybe two.

  “Your place is very nice,” I say.

  He stops and I almost run into him. He looks down his long nose at me like he’s found a hair in his risotto.

  “Mr. Croft has very fine taste.”

  And that’s when I realize this man isn’t Rex Croft—he must be the butler or something.

  He continues leading me through this palace, up two flights of stairs. At the top he holds the door open for me and when I step through I realize we’re on the roof. There’s an infinity pool that seems to drip over into the hills below. And a man swimming in it.

  A dark haired, muscular man.

  “Sir, your guest has arrived.”

  The man in the pool—Rex—treads water and watches me. I can see skewed images of his body rippling beneath the water.

  “Thank you, Sheldon,” he calls out from the pool.

  Sheldon gives a little nod and leaves through the door.

  I look back to Rex, who continues to watch me. I give him a little wave.

  Rex puts his face down into the water and freestyles toward me. When he’s in the shallow end he stands and give his head a shake and wipes the dripping water off his face. He’s in to his waist, leaving no doubt that he has a very solid, very strong, very ripped body.

  I feel completely awkward standing in my skirt and heels. What are we doing? Is there a dinner thing? Why is he swimming and I’m all dressed?

  And what, exactly, have I gotten myself into?

  REX

  I look at the girl they sent over and my dick immediately stiffens.

  Damn, the service really came through.

  I didn’t know they’d send over someone so sexy. And this girl is sexy as hell—except by the way she’s shifting on her high heels, she doesn’t seem to realize it.

  I’m so used to these L.A. women thrusting their fake tits out and making damn sure you know they’d give up food for a week for one night with you, but this girl definitely isn’t like that.

  I can tell with just a glance that she’s different.

  Not your typical L.A. star-fucker.

  But I want to see more.

  “I’m Addison,” she tells me, her voice sounding cute in its hesitancy.

  “I know. Damien told me.”

  “Oh,” she says, licking her plump lips and shifting again on her feet.

  “Why don’t you get in?” I say. I know she’ll hesitate—it’s clear she’s shy—but it’ll be fun trying to convince her. And I already know I’ll be able to get her in this pool.

  She shifts, her eyes glancing down at the water. The reflection gives her face a cinematic quality; if I were a photographer, I’d shoot her just as she is right now.

  “Are we like…having dinner or…?”

  “Later,” I say. Too much business to attend to first. But even before the business, I want this girl in the water with me. “Come on, get in. It’s heated.” She looks at me skeptically. “Dip your toe in.”

  She bends down to slip her heels off and I get a great view of her cleavage, so full and natural—I can tell from here. God it’s been too long since I saw real tits, what with all the fakeness in this town. What a nice change.

  Addison walks to the steps and puts her cherry-red-topped toe in the water. A smile washes across her face, which makes me smile back. She’s got a great smile.

  “See? Told you.”

  She steps onto the top step with both feet immersed.

  “It’s so warm,” she says, her voice smooth and sweet. “Like bath water.”

  “That’s why you should get in. Come on.” I float on my back for a moment. When I come back up I shake the excess water from my hair. “You’re not going to make me swim alone, are you?”

  “I don’t have a swimsuit.”

  “Are you wearing underwear?”

  “Excuse me?” she asks. “Yes, of course.”

  Man, this girl is a gem. Like the thought never occurred to her to go commando.

  “It’s the same thing as swimwear, right?” I say. “A bra and panties? In fact, I’ve been to some beaches where the swimsuits cover less.”

  “I don’t know…”

  The wheels are turning, though, I can see it.

  Just like in business, I know when to press someone into doing something they’re unsure of, and when to let them do it on their own. I can tell Addison is going to get in.

  She just needs a moment to convince herself—to realize that it’s no big deal.

  “Or I could come over there and throw you in, clothes and all,” I say.

  “Don’t you dare,” she says, turning a little away from me. Her eyes are practically dancing—she’s already picturing herself wet.

  “I’m won’t,” I tell her. “Probably.”

  “Be good,” she warns me, “or I’ll leave.”

  I watch her, standing on that step in her bare feet and skirt, looking at me, assessing me. “Don’t, leave” I tell her. “I’d be too sad if you left.”

  This gets a reluctant smile from her, bringing me a ridiculous amount of joy.

  “Okay,” she finally says, just like I knew she would. “But don’t look.”

  “At what?” I laugh. “Your swimsuit?”

  She’s got her arms crossed over her chest, her chin thrust forward. She’s being defiant.

  “Fine,” she finally says. “But don’t stare.”

  She steps out of the pool and walks to one of the lounge chairs. She takes something out of her little purse and puts it around her wrist. She turns her back to me as she unzips her skirt. She looks over her shoulder, and I lay back again, floating on my back. But I can still see her.

  She shimmies her hips a bit as pulls her skirt down, revealing lacey underwear and a very fine, round ass.

  “You’re not looking are you?”

  “Of course not,” I say, keeping my eyes on her. She slips off her top, and when she turns she’s got her arms crossed over her ample breasts and she hurries on tip-toes into the water. I stand back up as she walks down the steps like a sea nymph. As she gets to the bottom, her face is alight.

  “See?” I say.

  She gathers her long chestnut hair, tilting her head back to catch it all and really showing off her tits in the process. I can’t help but look. She twists her hair into some sort of messy bun thing then dips down to her shoulders, covering most of her body with water.

  “It feels amazing,” she says.

  I already want to grab her and pull her into me, feel all of that body pressed up against mine. But I refrain. There is business to attend to here, and before we go too much further I should really get her to sign those contracts.

  However badly I might want to fuck her, bury my face in those full tits, ram all of my cock into what must be a tight little pussy…the real point of this thing is to make it all official.

  The fact that I want to screw her is just icing on the cake.

  “Your place is beautiful,” she says, looking back at the house.

  “Our place,” I correct. “Remember, what’s mine is yours.” Up to the specifications of the contract, anyway.

  She watches me carefully, moving around in the water. “Right,” she says, her brow furrowing. “But we simply must do something about the upholstery. All those dark colors—how depressing.”

  “You know, you’re absolutely correct,” I say, smiling. This girl is funny, and I’m already thinking about how perfect she’ll be as my wife.

  I’ll need to send Damien a bonus.<
br />
  I wanted nice, small-town, wholesome—not L.A. trash. And he managed to get me exactly what I would have wanted if I could have designed this girl myself.

  And then I think, Why would anyone date when you can have the perfect person sent right to you, no fuss?

  Dating in L.A. is fun up to a point. When you have money—and I have more than God—you attract a certain kind of woman. And when you’re twenty-five and living like I do, it’s all right there at your fingertips. But now with this mess with the future of the company at stake and my brothers fighting to take control, it’s time I made my biggest move yet.

  And here she is, swirling in my pool, gorgeous and ready to do this crazy thing. “What else?” I ask her. “Tell me what else you want.”

  “A new car,” she says, laughing. “Mine might not make it out of here.”

  “Consider it done.”

  She rolls her eyes. “And some new clothes. Something…elegant. Aspirational.”

  I shrug. “Okay, I’m not sure what that looks like but I’m sure that can be arranged. Anything else?”

  She cocks her head, thinking. “That’s all for now.”

  “If you think of anything else, just ask Sheldon.”

  “The old guy?”

  “Yes,” I say. “He’s been with me since I moved out here. He’s the best, and extremely trustworthy.” That’s probably his most important quality. Also the fact that he gets me what I need before I even know I need it.

  Addison drifts further into the deep end, her feet now just off the floor of the pool. I swim toward her, wanting to be close. The water cascading over her tits is perfection.

  “Yeah,” she says thoughtfully. “I could get used to this. So when do I move in?”

  “As soon as it’s all done,” I say, glad she’s so eager. “The church is booked, and I thought we’d honeymoon on Swanwick Island. That’s the island I own in the Caribbean.”

  “Of course you own an island,” she says. “It would be embarrassing if you didn’t. But I was thinking maybe a castle in England. The royals could join us—even Prince Harry.”

  “That could be arranged,” I say. “But it’d be much more fun to stay on a secluded island, don’t you think?”

  She cocks her head thoughtfully. “Do I have to wear shoes?”

  “You don’t have to wear clothes,” I say, the image flashing in my head. Our bodies are slowly moving around the pool. She’s just out of arm’s length, and it feels like miles.

  “Very funny,” she says. “You know, I’ve lived in L.A. for nine months and I still haven’t been to the beach.”

  “You’re kidding.” I stare at her. This girl really is like something out of a movie. Small-town girl moves to the big city and then…well, then she wins the lottery and meets me.

  Addison splashes as she waves her hands. “I tried to go to the beach once but couldn’t find parking.”

  “That’s why I own a house on the beach,” I say.

  “The private island?”

  “No, here in L.A.,” I say.

  “You own two houses in one city?” she asks. “Why?”

  “Because I can,” I say, watching her more closely.

  Now that she’s in the pool all I want to do is see her out of it, dripping wet in her lacey underwear.

  “Oh,” she says.

  I find that I like it when she’s at a loss for words.

  “So the church is booked,” I say, ticking off items, “and the honeymoon is set.”

  “Private island all the way,” she says, moving a little closer to me, closer than arm’s length.

  “The only thing left,” I say, reaching out for her hand and pulling her into me, her breasts just touching my chest, “is to consummate the marriage.”

  Addison’s playful expression drops. She darts away from me, the little sea creature. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she says from a safe distance.

  “We should open the champagne to celebrate don’t you think?” I offer.

  She looks over her shoulder at me, curiously. I swim to the edge where a house phone has been placed. I pick it up, and it rings to the staff. “Sheldon. Have the lawyer bring out the paperwork.”

  “Lawyer?” she says. “Am I already being sued for something? Is it because I called your décor depressing?”

  “Not at all,” I laugh. She gets out of the pool and I follow her. The night air is cool, but Sheldon prepared for this. “Here, let me help you,” I say before she starts shivering.

  She lets me wrap her in a warm plush robe, and I guide her to the table with champagne, which also happens to be beneath a toasty heat lamp. “Would you like to sit down?”

  Once Andrew brings the legal papers, she can sign and we can move on. And I can call my dead father’s bluff and shock the hell out of my brothers by taking over Croft International despite being the youngest son.

  Addison sits down and wraps the robe tight around her. Too bad, I think, but then she crosses her leg and part of it falls away, exposing killer thighs.

  Just then Andrew arrives. I can tell he’s annoyed to be here this late, but he knows better than to say anything about the hoops I make him jump through.

  He’s well compensated for his trouble.

  “Thanks, Andrew,” I say once he sets the papers down on the table.

  “Sir,” he responds. “I’ll be inside once they’re signed. Please let me know if there’s any questions.” He turns to leave.

  “Okay,” I say, clapping my hands together. “It’s pretty standard stuff. Prenuptial as well as a nondisclosure agreement. Feel free to read through it but it’s quite basic. You can ask Andrew if you have any questions.”

  Addison’s eyes dart between the papers and me. I push the papers a little closer—she looks as if she’s afraid they might bite.

  “Um, I don’t mean to be rude,” she says, “but what the hell is this?”

  Part of me deflates—I should have known she was too good to be true. Another part of me flares up with anger—why did she waste my time by coming here if she didn’t already agree to all this?

  Trying to salvage the moment, I stay calm and pleasant. “Take your time. No pressure. Andrew can wait. Read through it all. It’s boring legalese but it is standard.”

  Addison stands up and says, “I’m not signing anything. And I’m pretty sure there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”

  Suddenly I realize that this girl actually isn’t what I asked for at all.

  Damien fucked up. And now I’m pissed off.

  ADDISON

  M y heart is racing and I’m wondering what in the world I got myself into.

  When I got here I decided I’d relax and just hang out with this guy, play the role of a sweet, easygoing girl. Seeing him in the pool, and how unbelievably hot he is, all I could think was, What’s there to lose?

  Now I realize: my dignity.

  What is he playing at? What is this contract business?

  “What’s the problem?” Rex asks me, and I feel like there’s a hint of annoyance in his voice.

  “The problem,” I say slowly, “is that I’m just here for the evening to hang out.”

  “Listen, I don’t need a prostitute.”

  It’s like I’ve been slapped. “Good for you because I’m not a freaking prostitute.” I knew I shouldn’t have come here. What a raging idiot I am to have done this in the first place. “Look, there’s obviously been a big mistake here.”

  “Clearly,” he says. “So what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know!” I say, my face hot, cheeks burning.

  I’m so confused by what’s happening that I can’t fully comprehend it all. All that time in the pool, could he have been serious about having a church booked and the private island ready to go?

  Glancing at the contracts on the table in front of me, I think he is serious. Or insane.

  Maybe both.

  All I know is that I have to get out of here. I get up and go to get m
y clothes.

  “Slow down,” Rex says, his tone softening. “Hang on, let’s figure this out.”

  “There’s nothing to figure out and there’s no piece of paper you can hand me that I will sign,” I say, scooping up my skirt and top and hooking the strap of my heels over my finger. I march inside the house, which is now dimly lit and quiet as can be and try to retrace my steps down to the front door.

  Where did I put my keys?

  “Addison,” Rex says. “I want to figure out what happened.”

  I stop and turn to him.

  He seems genuinely confused and I am a little curious myself about why he was under the impression that I came her to sign my life away.

  It’s funny, but in a strange way, from the second I saw Rex, I felt a real connection between us. Maybe it’s my method acting, but I was actually starting to enjoy myself until he brought those contracts out.

  The fact that Rex is standing before me in only swim trunks, still dripping wet from the pool, doesn’t hurt. This guy’s body is ridiculous, totally ripped. No way could someone this hot go for someone like me.

  “Tell me who sent you here,” he asks, his voice calm.

  “A producer named Damien,” I say.

  “Right, Damien,” he says. “So…?”

  I take a breath and explain. “I had an audition this morning and Damien was one of the producers. I didn’t get it. But he caught up with me outside and mentioned this whole thing called Stand-In Girlfriend. I only did it as sort of a joke but also because I really need the money. I can see now that it’s a huge mistake so…I’ll just get going.”

  I turn to leave once again, and Rex reaches for me. His hand stops just short of touching my arm, like he doesn’t want to spook me anymore by touching me. Or maybe he’s just repulsed by me.

  “Wait,” he says softly. “Keep going.”

  “I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything,” I say, turning toward him. “Damien said it was just for the evening, like a date. I thought we would just go to dinner or something. I didn’t intend to have sex or doing anything more than just hanging out. Damien told me it was just for some light companionship and nothing more.”

  Rex shakes his head. It’s full of curls, pushed back off his forehead, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think we were in some kind of shampoo commercial.