The PlayBear Billionaire: A Bear Shifter Romance

by Maria Amor

  THE PLAYBEAR

  A Paranormal Shifter Romance

  MARIA AMOR

  Copyright ©2015 by Maria Amor

  All rights reserved.

  About This Book

  “When A Billionaire Playboy Werebear Meets His Potential Mate...”

  Alexander Oberon is the Billionaire CEO of Oberon Industrial. He is also a Werebear.

  Since he is young, good looking and very wealthy he can have almost any woman he wants and he knows it. Hence, why he has no interest in finding a mate.

  That was, until he met the beautiful and curvy Daphne Jackson.

  For the first time ever, Alexander feels he might have met a potential mate and he wants to make Daphne his. However, when a face from his past shows up things are not going to be that simple.

  Can Daphne really be the one to tame this PlayBear Billionaire? Or is a bear like him impossible to tame?

  READ ON TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS...

  WAIT....

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  Table Of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 1

  “Alex, eventually you’re going to have to find someone to settle down with.” Alexander didn’t quite brush past his mother as he came into the house; he wasn’t surprised to find her waiting for him. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Ever since his father passed, his mother had brought up the subject of him finding a mate at least once a day.

  “Ma, I have an event to get to,” he said, turning to face her. Jessica Oberon was a tall, slim woman—not as tall as Alexander’s father, who had seemed like a giant to Alex when he had been younger, but above average height, with fine features and the piercing blue eyes that Alexander had inherited.

  “You’re always so busy,” she said, not quite complaining as she followed him up the stairs towards his room. “If you’re not working late, you’re out all night partying.”

  “That would be because I inherited Dad’s company when he passed and because I enjoy partying,” Alexander countered.

  “You’re the only heir, Alex,” Jessica said, her voice somehow full of patience and vehemence at the same time. “Your father worked very hard to bring his company to where it is now. You’re doing an excellent job, but there are a lot of people out there who’d love to take it over.”

  “You talk about it like I’m a king of a country,” Alexander said. Jessica stayed in the sitting room attached to his bedroom, while Alexander went into his room to change.

  “Being the CEO of a company as big as the one you’ve inherited is the modern equivalent,” Jessica said from her position on the couch.

  Alexander slipped off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, opening the door to his closet. He was soon heading to a charity gala—a celebration and an attempt to get more donations for one of the causes closest to his heart: animal rights.

  “Mom, I’m in my twenties still. I will find a mate when I find a mate—and yes, I am more than aware of the fact that there are matchmakers available to help me make a choice.”

  “I just want to see you happy, and I want to see your father’s legacy protected,” Jessica said.

  Alexander quickly stepped out of his trousers and tossed his work clothes aside. He knew that technically speaking, the clothing he’d worn into the office was appropriate to the occasion at hand, but after hours of living in it, sweating in it, Alexander wanted nothing more than to get it off.

  He went into the master bathroom and splashed water on his face. One of the few things that Alexander had long before decided he could do without—among the traits he had inherited from his parents—was the higher-than-normal body temperature that came along with their special gift. He splashed more water across his chest and dried off quickly, going back into his bedroom and taking a sharp, pared-down tuxedo out of his closet.

  “I promise you, mother,” he said, changing into the tux as quickly as he could, “I’m not avoiding finding a mate, I’m just taking my time to do it. I want to be sure I’m with the right woman. You and Dad didn’t get together until you were both thirty.”

  “The stakes weren’t as high for us as they are for you,” Jessica reminded him. Alexander sighed, scratching lightly at his scalp. He twisted and folded his bowtie, tying it blindly with the ease of much practice. He put his jacket over his arm and stepped out of his room.

  Jessica stood and looked him over, her bright blue eyes warming at the sight of him. “I find it hard to believe that you have any lack of choices,” she said, stepping closer to him and straightening his bowtie slightly.

  “It’s not a matter of the number of choices, it’s just that I haven’t found anyone yet.” Alexander paused and took his mother’s hands in his, bringing them up to kiss them. “Please, can we drop this for at least a week or two?” Jessica took a deep breath and sighed.

  “Okay, fine,” she said, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulders. “I won’t mention it again for a week. You can hold me to it.” She stood up on the balls of her feet and kissed him on the cheek. “Have fun tonight, dear.”

  Alexander gave his mother a tight—almost crushing—hug, kissing her on the cheek. In spite of his increasing frustration at his mother’s near-constant reminders of his bachelor status and her desire for a grandchild from him, Alexander couldn’t really be angry at the woman herself. He understood that she was looking for some thread of continuity from the husband she had lost. As the only child, Alexander was responsible for making sure that the family business stayed afloat, and that there was someone to inherit after him.

  His mother’s chauffeured car was waiting for her at the door to the house, and she gave him a pat on the back as the driver opened the back door for her. Alexander watched her settle in the seat as the driver went to his post; his own limousine was parked behind, waiting to take him to the charity event.

  In a moment, her car was pulling away and Alex’s driver was pulling up. Alex took his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. He would arrive a little after the festivities started—perfectly in keeping with his normal habits.

  During the drive to the gala, Alexander considered his mother’s insistence on him finding a woman to settle down with. He could see her perspective on the issue, but he’d had more than his fair share of warnings to be very careful in his dating life. Alexander Oberon, the wealthy son of a powerful CEO and billionaire, had never lacked for woman for bed partners. But he had only allowed a few women to truly get close to the essence of who he was.

  When the changes had started happening during his teen years—when he came to terms with the destiny that his father had t
old him about from childhood—Alexander had suffered through insecurity and shame, knowing that if most of the world outside of the special prep school he had gone to knew the truth about what he was, they would label him a freak.

  The first time he had transformed, around the age of sixteen, Alexander had decided that he would never date a woman seriously who wasn’t of his own kind. He couldn’t imagine ever being able to completely trust anyone who didn’t share his secret—who didn’t feel the pull of the moon every month, who didn’t have the urge to hunt and bury themselves in the safety of the deep woods to answer the call of an essence that was far from human.

  If he had wanted an arranged marriage, it would be easy; he would only have to apply to one of the matchmakers in the community and he or she would give Alex a list of eligible and interested potential matches, all of them shifters like himself, all of them from good families. But Alex—in spite of his normal pragmatism—wanted more than just a marriage with someone who happened to have compatible interests. He wanted someone who he could trust not just with his animalistic secret, but his human mind as well, someone interesting and able to keep up with him. He wanted someone who would understand every level of the being he was.

  In college, studying, and partying alike—and his father had encouraged him in both pursuits—Alexander had started to see regular human women casually. He would go on a few dates, invite them to stay the night at his apartment in the city, and then break up with them before anything serious could happen.

  The one time he had let himself veer from that course, the one time he had let a human woman in past his normal level, she had seen him partially transform in the grip of a nightmare—had seen the fur burst through his human skin, his hands begin to shift into broad, blunt paws—and had been terrified.

  He had managed to convince her, since it had been late at night and she had been sleeping too, that it had been her own terrible dream, but once she had put the thought of him becoming, in her own words, “some kind of creature” out of her mind, he had carefully ended the relationship.

  Since he had assumed control of his father’s business interests the year before, Alexander had felt the need to live up to the image of a bachelor CEO, seen about town with women of all types on his arms—dates he hired from a modeling agency. Some of them he slept with off the official clock, some of them he sent back to their own apartments in his personal limousine. He never lacked for physical comfort, but in spite of the fact that he was terrified of the prospect of settling down, Alexander had to admit to himself that it would be nice to come home to someone.

  The limousine pulled up to the entrance of the hotel hosting the gala and Alexander stirred himself. He was prepared to make a more lavish donation to the Animal Rights Coalition—ARC—because it was a cause that was very important to him; maybe, if he was lucky, he would run into someone interesting at the party. It would at least liven up my evening, he thought.

  As he stepped out of the car, Alexander put on a perfunctory smile, hearing the snap of photos and seeing the flashing of lights immediately. He wasn’t the biggest celebrity of the evening—there were actual celebrities who worked with ARC—but he was an interesting enough target that the paparazzi would be glad of a few pictures of him walking into the gala. He made his way up along the walkway leading to the entrance, waving a few times, thinking to himself that in some respects losing the prestige and power he had inherited would almost be welcome.

  The party was well underway when he walked into the ballroom, scanning the crowd for anyone he might want to avoid. His first glance around the room told him that it was mostly safe; there were a few bores who had known his father, but there wasn’t anyone who held a particular grudge against him waiting to start a fight.

  “Alex, it’s so good to see you.” Alex turned to see the president of the nonprofit, Amelia Blaise, walking towards him.

  “I’m sure it is,” he said with a slightly more genuine smile. “Don’t worry; I brought my checkbook with me.” Amelia rolled her eyes.

  “We’re not out for just money tonight, Alex—we want spokespeople. You’ve always donated so generously to us in the past; why won’t you do us the honor of speaking for our cause now that you’re in the public eye so much more?”

  “I made an agreement with myself never to promote anything other than myself,” Alexander said with a wry twist of his lips. “Tell me how much you need, Amelia, and I’m happy to give it, but I’m not cut out for the spokesperson role.”

  “I know one person who can convince you otherwise,” Amelia said, with a little self-satisfied smile.

  “I would like to meet her, then,” Alexander said, shaking his head. “I’ve already decided against it and I’ve never gone back on a decision in my life.”

  “Well, we have a new recruitment hire—and I personally think she could convince a T. Rex to speak for us.”

  “This could be fun,” Alexander said, smiling slowly. “Lead the way.”

  *

  The woman who Amelia led Alexander to was in the midst of a conversation; as they approached, Alex studied her with a practiced eye. She clearly wasn’t a shifter—she didn’t have the body type he associated with shifters, or the energy that seemed to crackle around his kind. She was a regular human, but the animation in her face, in her gestures, was enough to get Alexander’s attention.

  She was tiny, but somehow even knowing that objectively didn’t quite seem right. She was easily a foot smaller than him, dressed in green and black velvet, her dark hair pulled back into a fashionable style that gave no clue as to its real length. Her short frame was as curved as an hourglass—the neckline on her dress was only a few crucial steps away from outraging modesty, not because she had deliberately chosen it, Alex thought, but because her bust was so full that it would be difficult for her to pull off dressing demurely.

  “Daphne,” Amelia said, calling the younger woman’s attention away from the person she had cornered. The woman turned and Alexander briefly felt himself caught by her big, dark eyes; up close he could smell the scent of her body and the mingled combination of her young, pixie-like face and her scent almost distracted him.

  She smelled faintly of soap and perfume, but the fragrance she had chosen was unobtrusive—probably a natural scent, he thought, not some complicated, overpowering perfume made of synthetics. The underlying smell of her body was warm, almost spicy, and Alexander had to exhale sharply—almost sneeze—to get it out of his head.

  “Daphne, this is one of our most dedicated donors, Alexander Oberon.” Daphne extended her hand and Alexander shook it politely, admiring the professional firmness of her grip but keeping his face blank of all but polite interest. “We love him very much but we’re also very frustrated that he steadfastly refuses to be one of our spokespeople.”

  “Oh? What’s holding you back, Mr. Oberon?” Alexander felt himself smiling. He thought to himself that the younger woman was a gambit he could see a mile away. He applauded Amelia for the attempt—he was sure that Daphne’s charms probably worked miracles on plenty of other patrons of the charity.

  “I just don’t have very much time to commit, and I made a firm promise to myself that the only cause I’d ever put my name on is my own business.” Daphne’s dark eyes went shrewd, and Alexander fought back the urge to smile. Amelia, having delivered him to his adversary, wandered off to chat up other dignitaries.

  “If I remember correctly,” Daphne said, picking up her glass of champagne and sipping it lightly, “you recently inherited your family business—and you have kind of a reputation problem.” Alexander raised an eyebrow at that.

  “I’m not aware of any issues that I have with my reputation,” he said firmly. He had to give the woman credit—she went directly for the toughest spot.

  “You’re a playboy, a bachelor—not a serious guy, in spite of the fact that you’ve taken good control of your family’s business interests.” Daphne shrugged. “Becoming a spokesperson for a cause that you’r
e obviously dedicated to will give you some serious credibility.”

  “It will dilute my brand,” Alexander said, still smiling slightly. He felt a lingering attraction towards her—but she was not the type of woman who would have a fling and then go quietly onto the next guy, he was sure. If he slept with her, she’d cling. “I appreciate the good work that this organization does, Daphne, but becoming a spokesperson would cut into time that I am already dedicating to things I actually enjoy.” Daphne’s dark eyes peered up into his face.

  “You’re serious about helping animals, aren’t you?” The inflection in her voice made it barely a question—she was confirming the fact, not asking.

  Alexander shrugged. “It’s a cause that I’m very passionate about.”

  Daphne crossed her arms over her chest and Alexander’s gaze went—almost against its will—to the swell of her breasts, the deepening cleavage that the movement caused. But he looked away an instant later, meeting her gaze once more. She probably knew, he thought with a tingle of resentment, that her movement caused exactly that effect and that it was nearly impossible for any heterosexual man not to look.

  “If you’re passionate about the cause, why wouldn’t you want to lend your voice to it?” She raised a dark eyebrow. “We appreciate the money you donate to us, but consider that by becoming a spokesperson for our organization, you could generate much more money for us than just your donations.”

  Alexander frowned. “These are very good arguments, but they don’t put a dent in the fact that I am disinclined.” He saw a waiter passing through and snagged a glass of champagne from the tray the man was carrying through the ballroom. The waiter paused and Alexander took a second one; he handed the first to Daphne. “Come on now, Daphne. This is supposed to be a fun time, a night out to enjoy some company and conversation.”