The Rich List Series: Contemporary Romance Box Set (Millionaire, Billionaire, CEO)

by Hunter, Talia

  “Come on, boy.” He patted his knee, though Rocky hardly needed the encouragement. The old dog was already clambering onto the couch, his arthritis making it a scramble instead of the graceful leap it used to be.

  Damien waited for Rocky to settle his head on his lap before picking up his phone. He scratched behind Rocky’s ears while he dialed Zac’s number and the dog sighed happily. Once Damien used to take Rocky with him wherever he went, and the dog had his own bed on Damien’s private plane. These days, he was more comfortable staying home. The knowledge that soon he’d have to face up to Rocky’s advancing years made Damien’s chest grow tight. Not yet. Not while Rocky could have a daily pill to dull any pain and still managed to wag his tail ferociously when Damien came home.

  “Hello?” said Zac, and Damien raised his eyebrows. Zac usually answered the phone with a grunt, so an actual greeting was a vast improvement. His friend must be feeling good today.

  “Hey,” said Damien. “What’s up?”

  “You had your auction this week, didn’t you?” Zac ignored the question. “Was anyone crazy enough to bid for you?”

  “Crazy describes her perfectly.” Thinking about Geena, Damien found himself smiling. “The woman owns an adult toy store.”

  “Adult toys? You mean like dildos and plastic dolls with open mouths?”

  “That’s not even the best part. She has pink hair and smells like cotton candy.”

  Zac snorted. “The sex toys are definitely the best part. You planning to try them out on her?”

  “She’s not my type.” Judging from the way she’d looked, Geena was probably as wild as Cilla had been, and that was a damn good reason to stay well clear. Not that he’d mention the similarity. Cilla may have died two years ago, but he still found it difficult to talk about her with her brother. Zac hadn’t known that Damien and his sister had been more than just friends.

  “Really? Someone who owns an adult store must have a lot of sexy lingerie.”

  Damien fought off a mental picture of Geena dressed in a lacy bra and panties, holding up a vibrator and winking. He cleared his throat. “She wants business advice. Strictly professional. And dating a pink-haired sex store owner wouldn’t exactly be good for my image.”

  “You know what else isn’t good for your image? Telling a reporter to go fuck himself.”

  Damien grimaced. “You saw that, huh? My PR agency isn’t going to be happy.” They’d told him the television interview would focus on his bid for the entertainment center, but the reporter had deliberately turned the topic to the Kingston, trying to provoke him.

  “You really think they’ll give you the contract for the entertainment center?”

  Damien’s lips tightened. Besides being immensely profitable, the building would be his crowning achievement and a legacy that would remain long after he was gone. He’d already spent hundreds of thousands making sure his design and costings were the best, and if the election wasn’t coming up, the council would probably have rubberstamped it already. But he was public enemy number one, and they were afraid of a voter backlash.

  “If my reputation improves,” he said.

  “Better stop calling people names then.”

  “Yeah, I’ll try to remember that.” After Cilla’s death, grief and frustration had made him strike out at people he shouldn’t have. Like publicly accusing the police of incompetence or telling a reporter that he was considering buying up and leveling the whole of King’s Cross. But he hadn’t officially become Sydney’s most hated man until he’d purchased the historic boarding house where Cilla had died just so he could wipe it off the face of the earth.

  Zac was obviously thinking along the same lines. “At least it wasn’t as bad as the news footage of your hired security holding back the protestors while the bulldozers tore into the Kingston. That was a real low point.”

  Wincing, Damien thought back to the public outrage. “The headlines were vicious.”

  “Are they making you rebuild it?”

  Damien grunted. “I should have had the bulldozers grind the bricks into dust while I had the chance.” He’d been served a restoration order that said he had to use the original bricks to rebuild. But there was no way he’d let the building rise again like something out of a horror movie - an evil structure coming back from the dead.

  Maybe if the police had been able to find the men responsible for Cilla’s death, he’d feel differently. But he couldn’t live with the idea that her murderers would ever get to revisit the scene of their crime.

  Rocky was starting to snore, and Damien stroked the dog’s head as he changed the subject. “Anyway, how’s retirement?” It was a nice word for the isolation Zac had wrapped around himself. After his sister died, he’d sold his export business and bought his beautiful but remote home. Damien had sometimes wondered if Zac spoke to anyone except him, and that was only because Damien had refused to stop calling.

  “You’ll be pleased to know I’m thinking about rejoining the world again. I’ve been looking at business opportunities.”

  Damien blinked, surprised. “That’s great news. Anything you want to share?” When it came to business, Zac was just as capable as Damien. At just twenty-nine, the sale of his export company had made Zac enough money that he’d never have to work again. But Damien hated that since his sister had died, Zac had spent his time brooding.

  “I’ll tell you about it once I’ve decided what I want to do,” said Zac. “If you tell me about the sex toys.”

  “It’s a business meeting, that’s all.”

  “A business meeting in a sex store with a woman who smells like candy. Already a million times better than any I’ve ever been to.”

  “Then you need to get out more.”

  After Damien hung up, he scratched under Rocky’s ear the way he liked. The old dog groaned and stretched. When his snores started up again, they were even louder than before.

  Damien could also hear singing coming from the kitchen, and he smiled to himself. His housekeeper was used to having the place to herself during the day and had probably forgotten he was still home.

  He checked his watch. Almost time to go, but he had one more call to make to the head of his PR agency.

  “The auction didn’t go well,” he said when Bryce answered his call. “I think everyone there must have read Thursday’s editorial section in the Sydney Morning Herald.”

  “That piece was vicious. We won’t be giving the reporter any more interviews.”

  “That’s not all. It’s been a year since I got a restoration order to rebuild the boarding house. In a couple of weeks, I’ll officially be in violation of it. I’ll be called back to the Land and Environment Court and stung with another penalty.”

  “It won’t help your public profile.”

  “You think?” asked Damien dryly. “So what are you planning to do about it?”

  “We’ve developed a complete media plan, and your assistant already has the schedule.”

  “You mean more interviews?” Damien shook his head. “I’ve organized something myself. I’m helping a King’s Cross business owner out with her store and getting an article written about it for a high profile blog.”

  “Which blog?” Bryce’s voice sharpened.

  “The one that ran those big stories about Max Oberon.”

  “Liaison?”

  “That’s it.”

  “They’ve got good numbers. If the story goes viral like the Oberon one did, it could be huge.” His tone was grudging, as though he hated to admit that Damien was doing something to help. “Who’s the business owner you’re helping?”

  “Actually, she’s a pink-haired sex store owner.”

  Bryce barked a laugh. “No, really. Who is she?”

  “Relax, Bryce. It’s only for a few hours.”

  “You’re serious? Mr. Courtney, this could backfire. I strongly advise against doing anything the media could use against you.”

  “Have you got any better ideas?”


  Silence for a moment. Then Bryce asked, “What about a love story?”

  “Say what?”

  “We set you up with someone famous and a photographer just happens to catch you out on a date. We do this kind of thing all the time. It gives the press something to focus on. And her good reputation should help you.”

  Damien considered it. As crazy as it sounded, anything that distracted attention from the boarding house had to be a good idea. “You have someone in mind?”

  “Alexa Washington.”

  “Who?”

  “She was in the last Bond film. Small part, you might not have noticed her. And that’s the thing, she needs to get noticed. She’s too sweet. Too wholesome. She should be edgier and this’ll be just the thing.”

  “And she’s okay with it?”

  “She’s one of our clients. We’ll explain her reputation is a little too clean cut to get the media attention she needs.”

  “So her boring sweetness will reflect onto me, and she benefits from my bad reputation?” Damien shook his head. “Sounds like a long shot, but I’m willing to give just about anything a try.”

  “I’ll set it up,” promised Bryce.

  4

  Before Damien arrived, Geena rolled up her sleeves and tidied the little office above her shop. The last thing she wanted was for him to guess that she wasn’t just working out of that room. For the last couple of months she’d been sleeping there too.

  Sleeping in the store was saving her money, so giving up her flat had been a smart move. That didn’t mean it wasn’t humiliating. The only one who knew was Billy, her single employee who worked nights and kept her from going insane. She’d sworn him to secrecy. The thought of anyone – especially her mother – finding out she was sleeping here made her feel all hot and itchy.

  She wouldn’t tell Damien either. Geena looked around, trying to see the tiny, unkempt room through a billionaire’s eyes. It held a desk, a chair, and the narrow bed she’d brought in when Ally was desperate for a place to stay. Several boxes of stock stacked against one wall made the room even more claustrophobic. No doubt Damien had cupboards that were bigger.

  Geena made up the bed so it didn’t look slept in, stuffed her clothes under it, then took her makeup and toiletries out of the bathroom and hid them in one of the boxes of stock.

  On the desk was a large, messy pile of paperwork. A lot of it she hadn’t got around to opening yet. Damien might want to see it, so there was no point in tidying it away completely. Maybe she could make it look smaller and less overwhelming if she made the pile neater and squashed it down a little?

  As she fussed with the papers, her cell phone rang. She looked at the number and groaned. Maybe she should let it go to voicemail? Only come to think of it, hadn’t she’d done that last time her mother called? And she’d completely forgotten to call her back. Yup, better answer it. She took a deep breath and forced a pleased tone when she said hello.

  “Oh, there you are, darling,” said her mother, as though Geena had just walked into the room. “I need to talk to you about your sister’s wedding. A lot to organize, you know. Busy, busy.”

  So much for the pleasantries. “I thought Ally had hired a wedding planner?” Geena sat in her office chair. Her attempt at making the pile of paperwork on her desk look smaller hadn’t worked. Should she try to hide the fact she’d never gotten around to opening some of her mail?

  “That woman doesn’t know what she’s doing. Anyway, your sister’s spending a lot of money on this wedding. Too much really, not that she listens to me. Someone needs to make sure the day’s taken care of properly. It’s the details, isn’t it? The things only a mother knows how to do.”

  “I’m sure she appreciates you taking the time.” No doubt Ally would be rolling her eyes and complaining to Max about their mother’s meddling. Geena felt a sudden pang. She used to be the one Ally confided in, the one Ally would complain to. Not anymore. It was only natural that Max would fill that spot now, but where did that leave Geena?

  “Anyway, I need to know that you’ll look respectable for the wedding. You don’t still have that dreadful pink hair, do you?”

  Geena reached up to touch it. “It’s not so bad.”

  Her mother gave a sigh so exasperated Geena could swear a breeze came through the phone’s speaker. “Darrrr-ling. You’ll ruin the photos.”

  Geena got up and headed downstairs to the store so she’d have more room for irritated pacing. “I don’t have to be in the photos.”

  “Of course you do. Think of your sister. It’s her day, not yours.”

  Geena gritted her teeth. Ally probably wouldn’t mind if she turned up with rainbow streaks. This was all about her mother.

  “Doesn’t that pink wash out? A soft brown would be nice instead. And you’ll need a dress with sleeves, of course.”

  A dress with sleeves? Geena frowned, then realized that long sleeves would cover her tattoos. “Ally’s already picked out my bridesmaid’s dress and I’ll have bare arms. If you have a problem with that, maybe you should talk to her about it.”

  “There’s a problem with the head table.” Her mother went on as if Geena hadn’t spoken. “Ally’s having both you and Lacey as bridesmaids, but Max only has a best man, so there’ll be five at the table and it’s going to look uneven. I tried to tell the wedding planner, but she didn’t want to listen.” She heaved another sigh. “Not to mention that your father and I will be sitting with some woman from Max’s past who’s not even a relative.”

  Geena took the last few steps at a faster pace. At least she wouldn’t have to share a table with her mother and cope with her disapproving comments all night. In their mother’s eyes, she’d never measured up to Ally. The comparisons had only got worse since her sister had become engaged to a charming heart-throb who happened to be a very rich movie star.

  “Anyway, this is why I needed to talk to you. Are you bringing someone?” her mother demanded.

  At the bottom of the steps, Geena went through the door that led into the back of her store. There was the stray cat who’d wandered in a couple of weeks ago and had made himself at home. He was sleeping on one of the shelves, inside a curled-up whip. No, not just any whip. The rough-looking tom was fast asleep inside a cat ‘o nine tails.

  “I wasn’t planning on it…”

  “Having five at the head table won’t look balanced.” Her mother managed to put enough foreboding in her tone to make it sound as though the imbalance could cause the entire world to tilt off its axis. “What about Justin?”

  “You know we split up.”

  “But he was doing so well in his career. On track to be made a partner in his firm, and you would have both been set for life. Are you sure you can’t smooth things over?”

  Her teeth clenched, Geena managed just two words. “Irreconcilable differences.” Inside, she was screaming. Her mother always managed to find the sorest, most tender place to poke. So Geena hadn’t admitted that Justin had dumped her for someone he’d called ‘more suited to him’, but even her mother must have seen how upset she’d been. Why was she never good enough?

  “Well, never mind then. Max has some rich, successful friends. I’ll make sure Ally sits one of them at the head table with you.”

  Geena closed her eyes, horrified at the thought of her mother forcing some poor, unsuspecting friend of Max’s to be her date. Her blind date, with both of them seated at the bridal table and scrutinized by all their friends and every member of their extended family. “Please don’t.”

  “But honey, you’re almost thirty, and if you want to have a family you—.”

  “I don’t need you to set me up just to balance a table.” Wasn’t patting a cat supposed to relieve stress? Geena went over to try it. The cat opened his eyes and glared.

  “So you’ll bring someone?”

  “What’s the big deal if there’s only five of us at the head table? Surely it just means we can spread out a bit more?”

  When she touched h
im, the cat’s ears went flat and his tail flicked from side to side. She stepped away before he tried to take off one of her fingers.

  “Geena, I’m just trying to look out for your future happiness. Ally will help me pick someone suitable and it’ll be a good opportunity to get to know him. All you’ll have to do is keep an open mind and be friendly. And for heaven’s sake don’t tell him about your store. Mentioning that will give him the wrong idea entirely.”

  “I’ll bring someone,” Geena said firmly, cursing under her breath. What about Ralph who owned the coffee shop next door? He had a tattoo curling up the side of his neck and cute shaggy hair. After protesting together as the Kingston Boarding House came down, she’d bought her morning coffee from him until it had become an extravagance she couldn’t afford. But she’d always thought she should make an effort to get to know him better.

  “Who will you bring, darling? Max knows some very wealthy men. Are you sure you don’t want to—?”

  “No, I’ve got someone in mind. And I need to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  She hung up before her mother could protest and groaned loudly. She’d have got around to talking to Ralph in her own time, but now she had to speed things up. The wedding was only three weeks away.

  Geena grabbed her handbag and headed out of her store. Locking the door behind her, she was alert, as always, for any trouble. During the day it was mostly safe. But drugs were easy to come by in King’s Cross and a number of junkies lived rough in its back alleys. She’d had her share of nasty incidents, but a few weeks ago she’d taken a self-defense course so at least now she knew some moves. Still, most danger was easily avoided if she just kept her eyes and ears open.

  In spite of her brushes with the dangerous side of King’s Cross, she still loved it here. It seemed like all of Sydney came to this small collection of streets to party. Every night of the week — but especially in the weekends — it was the craziest, most colorful, most alive place she could imagine.