Billionaire's Fake Fiancé (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #10)

by Claire Adams

  I gave him, and the rest of them, a stone-cold look. “Seriously? You wanna joke about this? You guys all know I can’t handle all of that planning on top of running the record company while we’re touring. It's just physically impossible. Not to mention mentally. I’d lose it. There aren't enough hours in the day. Literally.”

  “I know, Mr. Young CEO Slash Rock Star. Sounds like you need another solution aside from depending on us slackers, huh? C'mon, bro, you know us. We're, uh...well, we're just not cut out for that type of shit, you know? I'm good at banging—chicks and drums, mind you—but that's about all I’ve got to bring to the table,” Tal said.

  I sighed again, always wary of any solution he came up with. “What exactly do you have in mind, there, little brother?”

  “They are called assistants. Ever heard of 'em? Seriously, dude, they not only do all the grunt work, but they also bring you coffee and snacks, and, oh yeah, they generally have really nice asses to look at as they are running off to get your shit done.”

  Of course, his solution had to do with bringing a woman into the mix. I wasn't even the least bit surprised. Still, it was a solution worth considering. “I don’t know, man. And why do you just assume I would have to hire a woman? Why can’t we get a male assistant?”

  “Um, first off, total sausage fest. There are enough swinging dicks in this room already. I think some feminine company on the road could help keep things in line. Secondly, they just smell better. Plus, they’re just more fun to look at.”

  I frowned at him, but I had to admit that he did have a point in terms of getting an assistant. Not necessarily the other stuff, of course. It didn't have to be a woman, and even if it was, it didn't have to be an attractive one. No, efficiency and reliability were my top priorities in that regard. But yeah, getting an assistant in on the mix really could help to make things go a lot more smoothly for sure.

  But at the same time, I hated bringing a stranger into the mix, and a woman at that. There was already the possibility that complications could arise with the band, as they had in times past, and I certainly didn’t want any sort of tension to get between us by adding a new element.

  However, there was absolutely no way I could handle managing the tour all by myself. Not even a chance. And with these bozos not being able to do pretty much anything aside from play their instruments and rock out, it was quickly beginning to look like I'd have no other option but to hire somebody, as much as I wasn’t sold on the idea of someone outside our circle handling some of the load. Sometimes, the only solution was the uncomfortable one, and it really didn't seem like there'd be any other way to do this.

  I sighed and shrugged my shoulders, conceding to the idea. “Screw it; I guess I’ll make a few calls, see what’s out there. I have a business contact that has a staffing services agency that can probably hook us up,” I said.

  “Why don’t you give him a call this afternoon, before we start partying at your place tonight?” Jeremiah suggested.

  I supposed there was no time like the present to get the ball rolling.

  “Yeah, I think I’ll do that. And no, Tal, we are not getting some groupie-wannabe tour manager just for you to play with. I’m finding someone professional, reliable, organized, and detail-oriented. And if she happens to look like the rear end of a donkey, so be it.

  “And before you ask why... It’s so that, as you said in your own words, she can keep you assholes in line. I’m not playing road mom, not again, not this time. Without someone focused and disciplined to hold everything together, this whole thing is gonna fall apart. I refuse to let that happen. Not on my watch. We are not going to disappoint millions of fans out there, not if we can help it. And you guys better remember that.”

  “Road mom,” Talon snorted. “You were kinda like that last time. I remember you having to hold Jay’s hair more than a few times while he puked his guts out. My apologies for being too busy puking in the shower to help.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “You two together are like drunken Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb.”

  Both of their grins only widened at my comparison. Those two had way too many stories from the road before and would no doubt get their asses into some more trouble this go around. I just hoped, for our sake, this time it wouldn't require any bail money. I'd had enough of postponing gigs because of having to haul those two out of jail cells.

  “All right, enough goofing off. Let’s work through a few more songs before we break. We can start with the one Jeremiah wrote.” I tried to bring things back to order.

  The others grumbled, albeit jokingly, and we all got back to business mode. We worked through five more songs before calling it quits, then I excused myself and headed to my home office to make that call regarding a tour manager. The phone only rang a few times before a familiar voice picked up.

  “Hey, Mike,” I greeted him. “I need your help with something.”

  “Owen, good to hear from you, man! Hit me – what do you need?” he asked from the other end of the receiver.

  “I need an assistant. Preferably female,” I explained, rattling off the long list of my own qualifications and even a couple Jeremiah had suggested.

  I tended to be picky when it came to hiring people to work with in any capacity. I liked to think that was one of the main reasons I’d become so successful. My high expectations made me careful in choosing who to do business with and who I hired to help me run my record company.

  “I think I can help you out. I have a few ladies in mind who'd fit your bill. When did you want to set up interviews?” Mike asked after taking in my laundry list of needs.

  “How does Monday afternoon sound? Think you can get some candidates together over the weekend?” It was a lot to ask, but I was confident Mike could do it. He’d found me some great talent to work at the record label before on short notice. I’d never worried about him delivering.

  “Of course, man. Don’t even sweat it.”

  “Perfect. Thanks so much,” I told him. “I’m so ready to get back on tour, but not quite willing to deal with every single aspect of it by myself again. I mean, I really just can't, there is simply way too much to do. And, as usual, the others are not the planning, organized types,” I said just as a belch and laughter came from the other room with perfect timing. I shook my head.

  Mike laughed on the other end. “Totally understand. And, you gotta keep those assholes in line, too. Especially that brother of yours and his sidekick. Instigators—that’s what the two of them are. But don't you worry about the admin side of things. I'll find you the perfect person to keep everything under control while you guys do what you do best: rock people's socks off.”

  “Exactly. Thanks again, Mike. I really appreciate it. I’ll talk to you later,” I laughed and hung up the phone. He had heard most of the stories from the road during our first stint and knew exactly what I was talking about. And I’m sure having done this before, finding touring assistants for other bands, he knew exactly what to look for.

  Still, I couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive. While touring with just dudes sometimes stunk, quite literally, I didn’t want to find myself feeling self-conscious or distracted by a woman during the whole tour. And I certainly didn't want anyone else getting distracted for that matter. Things had to be damn near close to perfect this time around. This was our big comeback tour, and I didn't want anyone to blow it.

  Chapter Two

  Nalia

  “Hey, Nalia, could you pass me a wine cooler?” Grace, my best friend, asked while reaching out a hand and looking over her sunglasses at me with a smile. It was a beautiful day at the beach, and we were there to just lounge and enjoy it—a rare day of just taking in the relaxing atmosphere. I loved San Diego enough to live there, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards. You need more money than I made to be able to afford it. Still, they had the best beaches.

  Grace and I had driven down for the day just to relax on the sand, catch a few rays, and listen to the wave
s. The whole day had been organized and paid for by Grace, since I was currently out of a job. Did I mention she’s my absolute best friend in the world? Without her offering to take care of it, I wouldn’t have been able to come with her today, and I was more than thankful for her generosity.

  “Here, you lush,” I teased, handing her a cold bottle. Money had, unfortunately, been scarce since I had been laid off from my position as a personal assistant for a powerful CEO. I suppose when a company is going under, the assistants are the first to go. And, in my case, they let go of me pretty quickly. I didn’t necessarily miss the stressful job and crazy hours, but I was sure missing my paycheck.

  I'd been hunting for another job for quite some time, and Grace knew I needed a break from the stress of finding another job. According to her, I was turning into a grouchy bitch and needed a little fun in my life–and she was probably pretty spot on about that. My severance pay had finally dried up, and that meant it was time to get super serious about another job or start panicking, whichever kicked in first. If you asked Grace about which was hitting me at the moment, she’d have said panic for sure.

  “You okay?” she glanced at me over her sunglasses again, giving me a look that just dared me to lie.

  “Just…wish my music would take off or something. I’m completely broke. Like seriously, I've barely got two pennies to rub together.”

  “What you need is a job. Like, ASAP, girl.” She took a sip of her wine cooler and nodded for me to pick up one. I grabbed a bottle and popped it open, taking a sip.

  “I don’t want another job like the last one. I swear, my hair started thinning from the stress…and my waist did the opposite. Hell, I have only just managed to get back into my skinny jeans after all the Häagen-Dazs therapy I went through while working for that asshole. I honestly don't think I can do that again. Not like last time. It'll kill me for sure.”

  This time, Grace took off her sunglasses, looking me in the eyes. She meant business. Crap.

  “Look, I know you’re an amazing musician and you seriously have the voice of an angel, but it’s still really hard to get noticed, even with how exceptional you are. There's just so much competition out there, it's honestly more a matter of blind luck than anything else. And I know...I KNOW you have been trying with open mic and booking small, crappy-paying gigs, but you need to seriously consider a regular job for now.

  “I know it breaks your heart to think about it, but we have to be realistic about this. I don't wanna see my best friend lose everything she’s worked so hard for and have to sell off all her possessions on eBay just to put food on the table and keep a roof over her head. Because we both know you won’t let me help you out in the money department like that.”

  My head fell back against my rolled up towel. I knew she was right, unfortunately. Breaking into the music business was not for the faint of heart. It was a lot of work with very little payoff, unless you got very lucky, and luck was certainly not something I could count on. It would happen if it happened, but there was a far greater chance of that not being the case. I would probably have had better luck gambling with slot machines in Vegas, to be honest. As it stood, I was desperately lacking in the luck department.

  “I just don’t know what to look for. I’ve always done the personal assistant thing, but it just gets so stressful, and I want to do something that will actually help my music career, not take me farther and farther away from my music like the last job did. It kills me to do stuff that forces me to put my music on the backburner.”

  Grace emitted a thoughtful “hmm” before taking another sip from her wine cooler. “You know, you could maybe try to find a job at a record label. I mean, they hire office people. Or find a job as a roadie or tour assistant for a band or something, since you love music. There are ways to have a real job while keeping music in the foreground, and that way you might actually meet some people and make some connections who could help you get a foot in the door.”

  “I’m not lugging speakers.”

  “No, not that kind of roadie! I mean, some bands and musicians need someone to organize all the admin aspects of their tours–and believe me, there's a lot. You remember when I was dating that drummer from the heavy metal band? I mean, they weren't that popular, but even on their tour, there was a mountain of tasks to get through just to get everything organized. Musicians need reliable, disciplined people who are good organizers, and with your planning superpowers and OCD organization skills, I could totally see you doing that. Not to mention, like I said, that might just put you in good with some people in the music business.”

  I weighed her words, and, to be honest, it didn't seem like a terrible idea. “But how exactly am I going to do that?”

  “Um, hello? I’ve been trying to get you to talk to the people at the staffing agency I used to work with for how long now? They are usually looking for office help or personal assistants for things like what I've just been telling you about. I could help you get in to see the right people.”

  “Really? That would be amazing!” I suddenly felt a little more excited at the prospect of getting a new job. “Do you know of any bands that are looking?”

  “Well, according to what Sheila told me, Bleeding Heart is getting prepped for going on tour in a month. I think she said something about Mike asking her if she’d be interested in some kind of position for the tour. I just can’t remember exactly what she said. You know I tune her out half the time.”

  “Bleeding Heart?” I raised an eyebrow. The name didn’t sound familiar to me.

  “Oh my God, Nalia, how have you not heard of them?” Grace sat straight up, this time pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. “They’re an alternative rock band. Granted, they’ve been on hiatus for the last five years while the lead singer Owen Young was building his record company—which is hugely successful, by the way—so I suppose I can cut you a little slack there, but they were big while we were in college.

  “You should seriously know who these guys are, though, especially considering that they are as easy on the eyes as they are on the ears! Man, I had such a crush on Talon, the drummer, when I was a freshman. He's super hot! And, like I said, their music is pretty awesome, too. From what I’ve heard, they've just got back together. I think I saw it announced on Twitter they’d be touring soon.”

  “Wait, he also owns a record company?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Young Records.”

  Now that name I had heard of, at least by way of many big names they’d recently signed and new artists they had churned out. And the singer of this band ran that record company? That could prove to be a stroke of luck for sure if they were, in fact, looking for an assistant and I happened to fit the bill. Working with artists of his caliber was sure to net me some decent connections and help me get a foot in the door of the music industry. And then when I got that breakthrough, I wouldn't ever have to worry about being a personal assistant ever again.

  “Are you able to find out if they actually are looking for help? Because if they are, I need that job. Like, desperately need it! I can't think of anything that would be more perfect!”

  Grace shrugged nonchalantly, pushing her long, blonde hair over her shoulders. “It shouldn’t be a problem to find out. I got you, girlie. I’ll make a few calls when we get back. Now, you ready for some surfing?” She put her sunglasses down on the blanket with her phone and wrapped them up before she hopped up, grabbing her board as she did. I followed suit, grabbing my own board. We’d both loved surfing ever since we were little kids.

  “Yes, definitely ready to catch a few waves,” I said, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. Both of us headed for the water. I sighed happily, optimistic for the first time in weeks as the water lapped over my feet and the sounds of crashing waves grew louder in my ears. One of my favorite places to be was in the ocean. I was with my best friend, and the job prospect was looking a little brighter. Things were looking up.

  Once we reached a certain point, we climbed on our boards
and started paddling out. Grace smiled, looking over at me as she took note of the size of some of the approaching waves. It was a good day to be out. When we got out far enough, we turned around, waiting for a good wave. When one came, we caught it and rode it out back to shore. I tried to show off a little, but Grace showed me up, as usual. Of the two of us, she was the better surfer, though she didn’t look the part, being such a girlie girl.

  She was the essence of what you’d expect a gorgeous actress to be—beautiful, with bright, blue eyes and a perfect figure. She was an actress on a daytime soap opera, and her character on the show was even girlier than she was in real life. I doubted most of her fans would be able to picture her riding waves. Growing up, on more than one occasion, we’d gotten some condescending comments from idiot surfer boys…that was, until they saw her actually surf.

  “Again?” she called over, whipping her wet hair out of her face and adjusting her bikini. I nodded, and we turned around starting the journey all over again. We did this for a while until our muscles grew tired of paddling out. That’s when we headed back to shore to lay out in the sun a little more.

  I laid my board in the sand, then dried off some before spraying a coat of sunscreen on. I tanned easily, rarely ever burning, so my skin had a nice, honey color, but sunscreen was still a priority as often as I was in the sun. Oddly enough, that was one thing my little, blonde waif of a friend envied about me. She had to practically bathe in sunscreen to keep from getting burnt. I pulled on the hair tie and let my long, brown hair free, trying to untangle some of the wet, wavy tresses.

  “So, you really think that job could be a possibility?” I asked before I even situated myself back onto my towel. “More importantly, do you think touring with a bunch of dudes is even a good idea? I mean, you know what kind of reputation rock bands have with the way they treat women, especially when they're on tour.”

  “Sure, why not? You’re professional; you can handle it. And while some of the guys in the band have a reputation—I can think of one especially—I think they're probably decent enough guys,” Grace said as she lay back on her blanket and replaced her sunglasses. “And, you can call and tell me all the fun stories from the road. I'm sure there'll be a ton of those.” She smiled at me.