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

by Claire Adams

  I paused for a moment before I answered. I was already feeling a little buzzed from the two bottles of champagne we'd already had. With all these feelings starting to boil over, I wasn't sure what would happen if I got more alcohol in me and had my inhibitions lowered even more.

  But I didn’t particularly care at the moment.

  “I have some vodka in the freezer and freshly squeezed orange juice I picked up this afternoon. We could make screwdrivers, if you'd like?”

  “Screwdrivers! I don't think I've had one of those in years. That sounds good.”

  “I'll bring it all out with the popcorn.”

  “Sounds great!”

  I paused for a moment, taking note of how surreal the situation around me was. I had, sitting on my sofa, one of the most powerful men in the PR industry, a man who had become a billionaire by age 20, the CEO of the corporation in which I'd landed my dream job. We were about to eat popcorn and drink Screwdrivers together like a couple of broke college kids.

  I couldn't help giggling.

  “What are you laughing at in there?” Asher’s voice echoed from the living room.

  “Nothing, nothing at all,” I replied, doing my best to stifle the laughs.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . if you say so,” he replied. “I can smell that popcorn, by the way! It's starting to smell like a movie theater in here!”

  “You can start the movie,” I said. “The first bit is just a song and credits.”

  “Okay.”

  “Turn it up, though, it's a great song!”

  I heard the open beat and chords of Simple Minds' “Don't You Forget About Me” echoing through my living room as Asher started the movie.

  “You’re right! This is a great song!” he exclaimed. “Man, I haven't heard this in years!”

  When the popcorn was ready, I put it into a bowl, grabbed a couple of glasses, got the orange juice and vodka, then placed it all on a serving tray and headed to the living room.

  “Ah, that smells great,” he said.

  He looked up as I walked in and smiled, then stood to help me with the tray. Once we were both reseated, he took the cap off the vodka.

  “Single or a double?” he asked.

  “Make it a double.”

  No clue why I'd chosen that, or whether it was a wise course of action, but it was done and I had to go along with it.

  “Feeling adventurous, huh? Well, I can’t be outdone by a girl,” he winked. “Guess I'll make mine a double, as well.”

  He poured and mixed the drinks, and I settled back on the sofa even nearer to him than I had earlier. Our legs were practically touching, and all I had to do was lean a little to the left and I'd be in his arms. He handed me my drink and I immediately took a big gulp—probably a little too big. The champagne had definitely gone to my head, and a sober me wouldn’t think drinking a vodka double was the wisest thing to do under the circumstances. But sometimes you just need to let go and lose control for a while.

  When I lowered my glass, he was staring at me. Our eyes locked and an incredible wave of desire rushed through my entire body, catalyzed by the alcohol. Timidly, I smiled and looked away. He shifted closer.

  “Umm . . . Let's watch the movie,” I half whispered trying to avoid the pull between us as I placed my glass on the table next to the popcorn.

  “Yeah . . . movie. Right. Let's watch,” he replied softly, a hint in his voice of what I could only guess was the same struggle I was facing.

  I shifted on the sofa, trying to get comfortable. I ended up leaning ever so slightly against him.

  His arm slipped around my shoulder and pulled me in closer. I rested my head on his shoulder, trying to focus on the movie playing.

  The gentle touch of his fingertips stroked down my cheek as he brushed a strand of my hair back. It felt like a familiar touch, but still sent a shiver down my arm. I imagined my hair had wandered into his face and he was simply repositioning it, but then his fingers retraced their path and moved down until they came to rest under my chin. Slowly, he guided my face to turn toward him and then tilted my chin up until our eyes met. My pulse quickened.

  His hand threaded through my hair as he leaned close, his lips covering mine possessively, but tenderly. I melted into his embrace, into the mad, desperate, passionate kiss I had dreamed about since our first one. Only, this kiss was hungry—more ravenous than that of a pack of winter-starving wolves.

  Asher growled as my fingers drifted over his broad shoulders and chest, sighing as I finally touched bare skin at his neck. He groaned as I traced the column of his throat with my fingertips, excitement building within me. I wanted him under my touch more than I had ever wanted any man.

  Through a fury of kissing and hands exploring, I began unbuttoning Asher’s dress shirt, tracing the contour of his well-defined chest as I did. It was more than I could handle.

  I stood abruptly and disengaged myself from our mad embrace.

  “Follow me,” I commanded, trying to catch my breath.

  He nodded and followed me to my bedroom where things took a very different turn. A strange impulse came over me and, in a sudden rush of power, I took over. I wanted to make the most powerful man I’d ever known see what it was like to not be in control for a change.

  “I'm in charge here,” I insisted as I removed my T-shirt to expose my black, lace bra. “And, you're going to do exactly what I say.” I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them off, standing before him in matching boy shorts.

  He grinned cheekily and reached out to touch me, but I slapped his hand away.

  “No, no, no,” I said. “You were not given permission. Now, if you can’t follow orders, I'm putting my clothes back on. Do you understand?”

  My blood was racing through my veins, hot and eager. Part of me wanted to give in and let his hands explore every inch of my body, but another part wanted to show Asher Sinclair that I was capable of power and dominance.

  And that was the part that won.

  “I'll do whatever you say,” he responded.

  “That's what I like to hear,” I said. “Now take your pants off—nice and slow.”

  He did exactly what I instructed—and that's when the fun began.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Asher

  I awoke with a slight pounding in my head. We'd definitely had far too much to drink the night before. Lilah was lying next to me, sleeping soundly. My eyes roamed appreciatively over her exquisite curves—those that were revealed outside of the sheets, at least. I leaned over and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was just after 5:00 in the morning: the time I usually woke up.

  The last thing I wanted to do was leave, but I needed to get back to my place. Bryce would be waiting to begin our training session in an hour, and he would have no sympathy for me being late for any reason beyond one that involved a life and death situation.

  I tried to ease out of Lilah's bed, not wanting to wake her. Memories of what we had done together the previous night were blasting through my mind. Certain parts of my anatomy began coming to life rather quickly, but I didn't want to disturb her from what looked like a very restful slumber.

  I gathered my clothes, crept out of the room as quietly as I could, and pulled the door closed quietly behind me. I got dressed in the living room, where I'd left my wallet and keys the night before. I thought about leaving her a note, but couldn’t find anything to write on and I wasn’t about to start snooping through drawers. I slipped out of her apartment, making sure the door was locked behind me.

  The streets were quiet and relatively empty at such an early hour, so I was able to drive fast. To try to clear my head of the thoughts of Lilah and our steamy encounter, I focused on the speed and thrill of pushing my Maserati to its limits, which demanded sheer and utter concentration. I reached home just before 6:00. I managed to get to my gym, where Bryce was already waiting with a scowl on his face, just after the top of the hour. In Bryce’s eyes, even a minute late was late. And, I paid for it.
/>   During my post-workout shower, my phone rang. Everything in my home was connected to a central media system, so I simply leaned across the shower and hit the answer button. I was hoping that it would be Lilah's voice that came through the quadrophonic speakers installed across the bathroom, but it wasn't.

  “Mr. Sinclair, it's Carlos Cerros.”

  I arched an eyebrow, surprised by the fact I was getting a call from Carlos. Carlos was the manager of an eco-tourist wildlife sanctuary I'd set up in Costa Rica. My grandfather had always been a benevolent man with his wealth and seeing all the good he had done. I felt it was my duty to use at least some of my wealth for good causes, as well, such as saving virgin rainforest and preserving endangered species. I visited every few months when I needed to get away from city life and work.

  “Hi, Carlos, how's everything down at the sanctuary?”

  “We've got problems, Mr. Sinclair, big problems.”

  From the tone of his voice I could tell it was serious.

  “It's been raining for two days, and the river is rising. Things didn’t look critical until a few hours ago. Now, it's looking like the river is going to flood the visitor's center and possibly destroy some of the offices, probably within the next 12 to 15 hours. Some of the animals in rehab might drown, too. We don't have enough manpower to sandbag everything in time and move them to higher ground as well.”

  “Oh no.”

  “We need help, Mr. Sinclair, and we need it desperately. If you've got any connections here—”

  “No, I can’t say that I do. But this is an emergency, so I'm coming myself. I'll bring reinforcements with me. I'll call up some people I know, and we'll charter a flight immediately. Hang on, Carlos, do what you can. We'll be there as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sinclair. We'll do everything we can until you get here.”

  I cut off the call and immediately brought up the contacts menu on the touch screen in the shower. I knew exactly who to call, and what to do. The only question would be whether we could get there in time.

  There wasn’t a moment to waste. I had to get on this immediately. Calling Lilah, as much as I wanted to do that, would simply have to wait.

  ***

  It was well after midnight when I finally got some rest. We'd been shoveling, digging, and hauling things around in the mud all day and night. The river had overflowed its banks but, thankfully, the floods hadn’t been as severe as anticipated. We'd managed over the course of the afternoon and evening to get all of the injured animals to safety and to sandbag the buildings on the lower-lying areas to protect them against damage from the rising waters. It had been an incredibly strenuous day, and I found myself whispering a silent thank you to Bryce for keeping me in peak physical condition. Without my fitness and strength, I would have collapsed hours ago.

  Sitting there in the aftermath, though, I was on the verge of collapse as were all of the other members of the team I'd brought with me on my private jet. I had no idea how Carlos and the local workers were still conscious. They'd been doing it since the early hours of the morning and were still up, smiling and joking in Spanish as they mopped the sweat from their brows and brushed the mud from their coveralls and boots.

  Carlos walked up to me with two bottles of beer in his hands. He offered me one with a grin on his face.

  “Cerveza, Mr. Sinclair? You have earned it today, my friend!”

  “I'll take that, thanks!”

  He popped the cap off and handed me the ice-cold bottle. I wrapped my fingers around the beads of condensation. I could almost taste the refreshment just by looking at it. It would be just the thing I needed to knock the edge off of the jungle humidity that was combined with the sweat from all of the physical exertion of the day.

  “Salud!” exclaimed Carlos as he clinked his bottle against mine.

  “Salud!” I replied with a grin and drank a mouthful of the cold, refreshing liquid.

  “You and your team really saved the day here, Mr. Sinclair,” Carlos said after he downed a mouthful of his beer. “We're grateful that you came here yourself to help.”

  “I wouldn't have had it any other way, Carlos. And, don't give us all the credit. You and your team have been working since before sunrise. You guys put in far more effort, with far less manpower, for far longer. I think we all know who the real heroes are here.”

  He smiled and drank another swig of his beer.

  “Thank you, Mr. Sinclair. I appreciate that,” he said humbly.

  “I appreciate everything you guys are doing down here. The ownership papers of this place might be in my name, but it's you guys who run things who have made this place the success it is—and don't you forget that.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sinclair. I'll tell the team.”

  “And, tell them they can drink whatever they want tonight: it's on me. They've earned it, many times over.”

  “I'll tell them, Mr. Sinclair. Thank you.”

  “Just relax and have a good time. Make sure nobody overdoes it, though. We're going to have a lot of work to do tomorrow, on top of what we've already done. I think my team and I will have to stay here until Tuesday to get the cleanup operations done.”

  “Should I get the staff to prepare the presidential suite for you then, Mr. Sinclair?”

  “No, don't worry about that. I'll just sleep in the regular cabins.”

  “All right. See you tomorrow, Mr. Sinclair, bright and early.”

  “See you then, Carlos.”

  I watched him walk out into the darkness of the jungle, took the last swallow of my beer, crawled into the nearest cot, and practically died.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lilah

  I woke up with a bit of a hangover. I'd definitely had too much to drink the night before. And that, of course, wasn't the only problem. No, it had merely contributed to the other problem: Asher. Well, Asher and myself. Together. Naked. Doing things that I couldn’t manage to stop thinking about. Things we probably shouldn’t have done.

  I guess I wasn't surprised to see that he was gone when I woke up. What was I expecting, anyway? Morning cuddles, or breakfast in bed?

  I was feeling a number of things at that moment—a number of conflicting thoughts and emotions, all raging around inside of my mind. For starters, I was upset, but not at Asher. At myself, more than anything, for letting things get that far.

  Yet, at the same time, part of me was happy it had happened. I couldn't deny that he had been absolutely amazing in bed. It had been so, so long since I'd experienced such a deep, physical connection with a man. Not even with my ex-fiancé had I felt such an intense tangible attraction.

  There had been other men, of course. It wasn't as if I'd been celibate since Jacob and I had parted ways. However, they'd been flings, and they’d been few and far between. I hadn't been willing to let any of them get as close to me, as intimate with me, as Jacob had once been. Because, after all, that would only end with me getting hurt, with me getting my heart broken . . . again. And, I was not about to let that happen.

  Yet, there I was, lying naked in bed after a night of passion with my boss, and despite everything, part of me was still craving his presence, still longing for his nude, sculpted body to be alongside mine—and to be inside me.

  Somehow, he had made me want him, hunger for him in a way that I hadn't for anyone in years. I couldn’t even say when I last craved a man like I did Asher.

  Shaking my head, trying to clear thoughts of him, I walked over to the living room where I'd left my purse and looked through it for my phone. The entire situation was way too confusing to be dealing with in my groggy state of mind. I felt my heart start to beat a little faster as I picked up my purse. Irrational as it was, I couldn't help but hope there'd be a message or missed call from Asher.

  There wasn't.

  I wasn't sure if I was relieved or upset about the fact that he hadn’t contacted me at all. Especially considering the time—10:00 a.m., way past the hour I usually got up. It really
had been quite a night.

  Still, seeing if Asher had messaged me hadn't been the primary reason I'd searched for my phone. I needed to make a call. The only way to handle the weirdness of this situation was to talk about it. I needed an unbiased wall to bounce this off of.

  I scanned through my contacts and dialed the one I was looking for. She answered after a few short rings.

  “Hey, Lilah!”

  “Mornin’, Megs, uh . . . How are things?”

  “From the sound of your voice, things on my end are better than on yours. What's up?”

  “Ugh, I'm a bit hungover, but it'll pass. I had a bit of a, er . . . situation last night. Are you free to meet up? Maybe get some brunch and chat about it?”

  “Yeah, of course I am. Crêpes and coffee at the outdoor café by the park near your place?”

  “That sounds perfect. See you there in an hour?”

  “An hour sounds good. See you then!”

  ***

  I walked up to the café and saw Meg sitting at one of the outdoor tables. She waved at me and greeted me with a big smile.

  “Good morning, sunshine! How are you feeling?”

  “Hey, Megs. I'm all right, I guess.”

  “Hmm, that doesn't sound so convincing. Come on over and have a seat. We'll have a chat about whatever it is that's got you all twisted up.”

  I sat down and ordered something to eat and a coffee, then leaned back in my chair and shot a glance at Meg.

  “So . . . it happened,” I said.

  “What happened?”

  “Take a guess.”

  A grin slowly started to spread across her face. “Holy hell . . . you slept with Asher, didn't you?!”

  I nodded.

  “Oh my God! And, well, how was it?”

  I tried not to, but I couldn't help but grin. “Amazing. Like, this-only-happens-in-the-movies amazing.”

  “Lilah! Seriously! Is he . . . as well-endowed physically as he is financially?” she gave me a questioning grin.