Sharing the Billionaire (Billionaire Ace #1)

by Ryan, Jessica

  “Thanks, so do you!”

  “I just threw some clothes on. This place isn’t fancy; I guess I should have told you that.”

  “I just wanted to look my best; you never know who you’ll run into!”

  “That’s true, I guess I wasn’t thin…..” I never got the sentence out. Everyone in the bar jumped up and ran to the windows. There was a huge commotion out front and people were staring in shock.

  “What is it?” I asked, starting to stand up. I turned to look down at Tracy who was sitting in her chair, smiling smugly. Something clicked in my brain and I squatted down beside her. “What do you know?”

  “I’m so excited for you!” She yelled, grabbing me and pulling me in for a hug. My face buried itself between her breasts as she squeezed hard. “I wish I could join you!”

  It took all my might to yank myself away from her tiny herculean grip. “What is going on?”

  “Look outside!”

  I heard the unmistakable sounds of tires screeching outside and, was that a helicopter? I knew I heard a helicopter outside as bright lights began to shine in the front windows and door. There was a rush of cool outside air as the doors flew open and a tall, broad shouldered man walked in like he owned everything he saw.

  My eyes adjusted to the lights, which I realized were spotlights for a camera, and the man came into focus.

  “Oh my god,” I said, about to wet myself with excitement. “Ace Pearson!”

  “That’s right Amy,” he said, walking forward and taking my hand. I felt electricity shooting up my arm from his manly touch. Was it possible that a billionaire’s skin was better than a normal persons? It certainly felt that way right now. His piercing green eyes were here in person, staring straight at me. There was no mistaking the eye contact now.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said. I was half-aware there were cameras trained on me, so I tried not to look like a screaming teenager meeting Justin Timberlake.

  “Amy please,” he said, pulling me in close to his body. “We’re going to be spending several weeks on a private island together. We have to hug.”

  He smelled musky, like I would expect a rugged man to smell. His suit was soft against me and I could feel the muscle in his arms and chest. I felt my nether region begin to tingle as his mere touch turned me on.

  I held the hug as long as I could before he broke contact and looked down at me. “Are you ready to be on “Sharing The Billionaire”?”

  “Yes I am!” I said, excitement taking me over.

  “As part of the rules of the show you are allowed one lifeline to run to when things get too heavy. That’s right you won’t be going to the island with just me and the other girl. You will have backup if you need to gossip or need a break from us.”

  “Nobody told me that,” I said. The thoughts began to fly through my head wondering who I should ask. Would my mom want to go on such short notice? My best friend from home, Selina, had just had her second child at the ripe old age of 22. My brain wasn’t functioning correctly and I just blurted out the first name that came to mind. “Tracy.”

  “REALLY?” Tracy jumped up from her seat and began to hop up and down. “You want me to go on the show with you?”

  Ace turned to the cameras, his magnetic smile beaming across America. “Well folks looks like she’s closer with our fetcher than we thought! Amy will be competing for my hand and she’ll have Tracy, who just narrowly missed making the show to back her up.”

  The camera lights flipped off and Ace turned back to me, his smile still radiating through the dank bar. “I’m sending a limo to pick you up tomorrow morning. Tracy you will be taking a different ride to the island. The show will actually begin on my private jet as we make our way to the island, so be prepared.”

  Prepared for what? Nobody had actually told me the rules of this game. “Excuse me Mr. Pearson?”

  “Please honey, call me Ace. You can bet I won’t be calling you Ms. Davis the entire time we’re out there.”

  “What exactly are the rules of this show? Nobody has told me what the prize is or what I’m doing.”

  “The prize is me darling,” he said, putting his arm around me. I was definitely getting turned on now, feeling the warmth between my legs growing. “As for the rules. You just have to impress me.”

  He winked at me and turned towards the door about to leave before stopping and turning back. “You look incredibly sexy dressed down. Make sure you bring that sweatshirt.”

  As he left I nearly melted to the spot I was standing on. Ace Pearson had just called me sexy and all I was wearing was a college sweatshirt!

  “This is so exciting Amy. I can’t believe you picked me!”

  I turned back towards Tracy, now aware of what I had done. “Well yeah, you’re all I really have out here.”

  “I guess we should cut our drinks short right? We have to get home to pack!”

  “Did you know that was going to happen?”

  “Of course I did!” She was beaming at me; it was going to be hard to be mean to this girl even if she did grate on my nerves. It would be like yelling at a puppy; the poor animal is too dumb to know any better, it just wants to love you. “I was actually fourth place and they asked me if I wanted to lure the winner out to meet Ace. They gave me your number and I called you.”

  This was all happening very fast; these TV executives didn’t waste time.

  Wait a minute, Tracy almost got picked? That just didn’t seem right to me. Sure she was cute, but she was so short and perky it bordered on cartoonish.

  “Do you know who the other girl that got picked is?”

  “Yeah she’s some model that’s only done a few minor shoots. She’s kind of tall and has big fake boobs.”

  “Wonderful,” I said, looking down at my C-cups. I thought I was down-home pretty, but there’s no way I was Hollywood pretty.

  “Well I’ll see you when you get there!” Tracy said, tossing some money for the drinks down on the table. “Thanks again for picking me!”

  I stood there in the bar alone as she walked out; I was the object of everyone’s attention. I sheepishly waved at the stunned bar patrons and edged my way out the door.

  “I need to call mom,” I said, rushing back to my apartment.

  Chapter 3

  Of course my mother didn’t answer, so I had to leave her an extremely long winded message telling her the good news and apologizing that she wouldn’t hear from me for the next month or two. It was kind of upsetting to hit my big break, run away to paradise with the perfect man and not get a chance to tell the most important woman in my life.

  I wanted to call Selina, but she was probably already in bed. I sat down at my computer and sent a group e-mail to my mother and Selina explaining everything, and then I sent a separate one to my boss at Staples before logging off and heading to bed. My bed was soft and comfortable, the best bed I’d ever owned. I crawled into it and let it envelop my entire body like a cocoon.

  I wonder if the beds on the island will be this comfortable? That was my last thought as I drifted to sleep.

  The next morning came way too quickly, as it usually does. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to pack, but there I was dragging myself out of bed to the sound of intense knocking at the door. It was only seven; I was never up before nine on most days. I opened it to find the female TV executive, from the day before, standing at my door.

  “Are you not ready?” she asked with absolutely no emotion in her voice. “Please be downstairs in ten minutes.”

  “I need to pack,” I said, barely able to speak. It was so early and her perfume was not the first thing I wanted to smell.

  “Pack the bare essentials,” she said, looking at a sheet of paper. “We’ll have clothes provided for you on the island as well as toiletries.”

  “Ok,” I said, shutting the door in her face. “I don’t think that woman feels emotion.”

  I tried to look as cute as possible with the limited time I had. I quickly dressed in a shiny
top I went clubbing in with some tight jeans and heels. Then I threw on some makeup, made sure to toss the sweatshirt into my bag and left. Nine minutes later I was downstairs and ready to go.

  “How’s that for ten minutes?” I asked the executive as she opened the limo door for me.

  “Not bad Ms. Davis. Watch your head.” I don’t know if I can communicate with words how robotic her voice was at that point.

  Inside the limo I found several men in suits, each with a pad-folio and stacks of paperwork.

  “Ms. Davis,” the robot lady said. “I’m Tina McBride, producer for this show. These men are some of the show and Mr. Pearson’s lawyers.”

  Each of them gave me a curt nod, barely looking up from what he was reading.

  “We have some paperwork we need to go over with you before we get to the airport. At the airport you will be boarding Mr. Pearson’s private jet and the show will begin. You will also meet the other contestant, Cookie Miller, when you board the plane.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, trying to hold back my laughter. “Her name is Cookie? Like that’s her given name?”

  “Is something funny?” she asked. I studied her eyes trying to figure out if she was serious or not. She was serious.

  I let out a long sigh and sank back into the seat of the limo. I was the only one on the rear bench; the others were in front of me, like a pack of Jackal’s moving in for the kill. “Nope. Nothing is funny at all.”

  “Ok then,” she said, returning her gaze to the paper she was holding. “You and Ms. Miller will begin the competition onboard the plane. The competition is simple, be yourself and try to impress Mr. Pearson.”

  “That’s it? There’s no games? No competitions?”

  “There will be certain games throughout the show, but those will be explained as they happen. Right now you are just competing for Mr. Pearson’s affection. But, there are some rules.”

  “Of course there are,” I muttered.

  “What was that?” the closest lawyer to me said. I was surprised he heard anything with his nose buried in his paperwork.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all.”

  Tina continued without missing a beat. “First of all you are not to initiate any contact with Mr. Pearson. Only touch him if he touches you first. He is very particular about who touches him and why. Second of all you are not to ask him about his personal life unless he initiates the conversation. By initiate I mean he has to bring up his past first. If he is asking you about your personal life then you can answer but you do not turn the conversation around to him.”

  “Got it,” I said. Was this even going to be any fun? So far I had to sit on my hands and keep my mouth shut. I felt like I was in fifth grade at the Sadie Hawkins Dance again. Only this time instead of being too shy to talk I was forbidden to talk, but the outcome was the same: the person I desired most was right in front of my face like a dangling carrot.

  “Third you must never use the word love when talking to Mr. Pearson, even if you win the show.”

  “What does happen if I win the show?” I asked.

  “You will go on several dates with Mr. Pearson and then return to the island at a later date for a reunion show.”

  “So this isn’t a show where he asks my hand in marriage or anything like that?”

  “Oh heaven’s no darling. This is all for the TV cameras. You win Mr. Pearson’s affection for the cameras.”

  I tried to sink even lower in my seat. This was turning out to be a disaster. I had had the hots for Ace Pearson for a long time, but it appeared it was all for show. He’d probably shake my hand and say “good job slugger” after the cameras stopped rolling. At least I’d have the exposure to a national audience.

  “Also if you win the show you will be paid two hundred and fifty grand.”

  I nearly jumped into her lap when those words hit my ears. “Excuse me? Did you say two hundred and fifty thousand?”

  “That is correct.”

  Wow, I could afford to quit Staples and go on whatever auditions I wanted. Plus I’d have the exposure to land a few better gigs. Screw Ace Pearson’s love, I was going to be rich and be a star! Then again, Ace Pearson was a great prize. I’d had a crush on the man since I first saw him mosey down the red carpet in a blindingly expensive Armani suit. I think I was only 14 when that happened, but he’d been the object of many fantasies from that point forward.

  “Does runner up get anything?”

  “Twenty five grand,” she said.

  I could still do a lot with that much money, this was going to be a pretty good experience after all.

  “Now let’s get to the nitty gritty. We have confidentiality agreements for you to sign.”

  “What are these?” I asked as they began to prepare a large stack of documents.

  “Basically if you learn anything about Mr. Pearson off camera you are not allowed to share it with anyone, ever. That includes interviews, movies, television shows, late night talk shows, books, magazine articles, blogs, made for TV movies and personal conversations.”

  This guy really was private. I thought maybe he just hated the media and that’s why you never heard about him, but he was going to great lengths to hide his private persona from his public one.

  “Also if Mr. Pearson does initiate contact you are not allowed to describe the experience to anyone, ever. That includes interviews, movies, television shows, late night talk shows, books, magazine articles, blogs, made for TV movies and personal conversations.”

  “You never said anything about spoken word tours!” I giggled at my joke, until I remembered who I was talking to.

  “There’s a clause in here that includes anything not listed.”

  “Of course.”

  “Will you sign?”

  “Yes, why wouldn’t I?.” What choice did I have? Besides if the cost of fame and riches was not describing Ace Pearson’s mouth while he kissed me then sign me up.

  “Just so you know we will be playing you up as the all-American girl on this show. Your wardrobe will reflect that look as well. What you are wearing right now doesn’t reflect it at all. We are going to be stopping at a boutique up the street here and changing you into something a little more country.”

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “Seriously,” she replied as if I asked a genuine question.

  “Also we’re going to put your hair into pigtails. That chin length thing you have going is way too Hollywood.”

  Thing? Did she just describe my hair style as a thing?

  “So what’s the other girl’s angle?” I asked, feeling I already knew the answer.

  “Hollywood pretty of course,” she said. “She’ll be showing off her incredible body to Mr. Pearson to win his affection while you’ll be using your innocent charm.”

  Was this show rigged or something? Did I even have a chance to win?

  “That is of course the angle we will be playing with the narrator. You just act natural dear.”

  The word dear sounded so forced, like it was painful for her to spit out.

  Finally the car stopped in front of the little dress shop. I had long legs, so dresses usually agreed with me but I was fearful of what she would come up with. I looked out the limo window at what was displayed in front and my heart sunk. I was going to look like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz by the time she was through with me.

  Chapter 4

  We pulled onto the private airstrip an hour later, the jet’s doors already open and waiting for me. I stepped out of the limo, the sun nearly blinding me after being cooped up in the dark with a coven of lawyers.

  I felt a little silly in the yellow sundress they’d chosen for me, but I could make it work. My breasts weren’t large enough for it to hang and make me look pregnant, plus my legs looked great in it. I wasn’t thrilled about the sandals they’d chosen for me to wear with it, but I guess this was how I’d been cast.

  Ace was waiting by the ladder to the jet, a smile beaming on his face.

>   “Is the brightness the sun or your smile?” I asked, walking up. Smooth Amy, really smooth.

  “A little from A and a little from B,” he said, laughing. “Are you always this charming?”

  “Only when I’m meeting my teenage crush,” I blurted out. I quickly slapped my hands over my mouth, my eyes growing wide. Ace raised one eyebrow and smiled slyly at me. I’m sure I turned so many shades of red that I invented new ones.

  Wonderful, I thought. I’ve already screwed this up.

  “I mean you know if you’re into teenagers or something like that,” I said. Why was I still talking? That didn’t even make any sense.

  Sometimes my attempts to be funny fell short, and not in a “that’s not funny but I’m laughing because you’re stupid” kind of way. It was more of a “I can’t believe you said that, I’m embarrassed for you” kind of way. Judging by the look on his face he found my joke the latter.

  “Please continue onto the jet Ms. Davis,” Tina said, walking up behind me. I slowly climbed the steps, looking back to see Ace having an intense discussion with Tina. He was probably making sure I signed everything, or he was trying to replace me last minute.

  I walked into the main cabin of the jet and was nearly blown away. There were several comfortable looking leather seats, a full bar and a giant TV. There was also the very definition of an LA girl sitting in one of the chairs. She had the fakest tits and tan I’d ever seen. Her lips were pretty big, probably collagen injected and her platinum blonde hair was streaked with red. She wasn’t as tall as me, but her legs seemed to go on for miles.

  “Oh my god you must be Amy,” she said, hopping up and shuffling over to me in her stripper heels. “It is so great to meet you.”

  “You too,” I said, giving her a quick hug and moving back. “You must be Cookie.”

  “That’s me,” she said, sticking her hips out in a quick pose.