by Emelia Blair
Hot Tycoons Boxset
A Contemporary Romance Boxset
Emelia Blair
Copyright © 2020 by Emelia Blair
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Rule #1. Don't fall in love with your client.
Oops! Too late...
I didn't need a job but he made an offer I couldn’t refuse.
I became his daughter's nanny.
He was super hard to deal with, being an overbearing single father.
Overprotective but ridiculously hot, irresistible and insanely sexy.
His temper is even hotter than his chiseled body.
I can't get him out of my mind.
His touch makes me lose all control.
But he’s damaged and shuts me and everyone else out.
Until he needs me… and I need him even more.
Secrets from my past have put me in danger and it turns out he’s the only one who can protect me and keep both of us safe.
Will my past and his temper will ruin any chance of love?
Contents
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THE WRONG GROOM
1. Philip
2. Charlotte
3. Philip
4. Charlotte
5. Philip
6. Charlotte
7. Philip
8. Charlotte
9. Philip
10. Charlotte
11. Philip
12. Charlotte
13. Philip
14. Charlotte
15. Philip
16. Charlotte
UNEXPECTED PROTECTOR
1. Fergus
2. Sarah
3. Fergus
4. Sarah
5. Fergus
6. Sarah
7. Fergus
8. Sarah
9. Fergus
10. Sarah
11. Fergus
12. Sarah
13. Fergus
14. Sarah
OFF-LIMITS BEST FRIEND
1. Ian
2. Agatha
3. Ian
4. Agatha
5. Ian
6. Agatha
7. Ian
8. Agatha
9. Ian
10. Agatha
11. Ian
12. Agatha
UNFORESEEN DADDY
1. Zayn
2. Eve
3. Zayn
4. Eve
5. Zayn
6. Eve
7. Zayn
8. Eve
9. Zayn
10. Eve
11. Zayn
12. Eve
13. Zayn
14. Eve
15. Zayn
16. Eve
17. Zayn
18. Eve
19. Zayn
20. Eve
21. Zayn
Epilogue
THE WRONG GROOM
BOOK 1
1
Philip
I glide up the steps of the church, not at all bothered by how late I am. If Agatha hadn’t kept sending me text after text, I would have tried to delay my attendance even further. I do not want to be here.
A quick ping from my pager reminds me that I have a meeting in about three hours.
The church doors are wide open, and as I stroll inside, I mentally try to recall the face of the investor I am supposed to meet. The doors leading to the ceremony room are shut, and I frown, vaguely annoyed.
Going around the room for the side entrance seems like such a hassle. Glancing at my watch, I consider bailing for a moment, but I can already imagine Agatha nagging me for the rest of the summer, and I quickly discard that idea.
I don’t know where my younger sister learnt to nag, but it is an art of hers. She never nags Fergus or Ian, though. I am the only one privileged enough to get that treatment. The way my childhood friends treat her, one would think she is their sister instead of mine.
The door to the side gallery stands wide open. Nobody seems to be there for the meet and greet.
Maybe I missed the ceremony?
That can’t be it. I can hear people chattering in the ceremony room. I duck into the gallery and begin to make my way to the end of the corridor, when passing by one of the rooms I catch a glimpse of the one person I don’t wish to meet today.
The bride.
Charlotte Evans is as beautiful as the day I last saw her.
Of course, ten years ago, her striking dark brown eyes had held devastation as she locked her gaze with mine.
Now, fixing her white dress in the mirror, she looks happy. Or at least, she looks happy from where I can see her.
I duck into a corner to stay out of sight, unable to tear my gaze away from her stunning form. She is tall; not too tall, but tall enough that when she wore those small summer shorts, her legs would make all the boys drool.
Now these legs are covered in a long, fitted white dress that is so simple and yet makes her stand out even more. Her hair is curled and lays gently over her bare shoulders. My eyes move over her painted red lips to her darkened eyes, and I think to myself that her soon-to-be husband is a lucky man.
She looks like a fairy from one of the books that Agatha used to love to read as a child; so ethereal and delicate.
I force my hands into my pockets as my heart skips a beat.
My eyes blink and I turn my head away, not wanting to look at her any longer. I don’t have that right.
Quietly I move past the room, my black leather shoes not making a sound against the marble floor.
I scowl as I stroll through the hallway, my hands deep inside the pockets of my pants. Thinking of the past brings nothing but twinges of guilt, and I have already moved past that.
We both moved past that.
She is my sister’s best friend. But to me, she will always be the young girl who watched me with that dark, bruised gaze of hers. Her eyes, more mature than those of anyone else I ever knew, held secrets that her soul couldn’t seem to bear.
Not that she ever shared them.
Some I figured out myself, and others she kept to herself. After all, Charlotte never liked to ask anyone for help.
My head cocks when I read Agatha’s sudden message, demanding that I show up or she will trash my new Mercedes. Knowing that little hellion, she probably will.
The door of the side entrance is around the corner of the hall , and as I reach it, I hear two male voices. Normally, I wouldn’t stop, but the words ‘bad idea’ force me to halt.
I stand still, their voices reaching me clear as day.
One of the men, who has a nasally voice, grumbles, sounding a little worried, “I don’t think this is such a good idea, Erik. All the guests are here. Your whole family is here.”
The other man, whom I presume is Erik, growls, “Well, I don’t have any other choice, do I? I’m not going through with this fucking charade. Besides, this was Madison’s idea. I didn’t know she would take it this far.”
The other man tries to change his mind.
“This will ruin her. Look, just go and tell her now. At least save her the embarrassment!”
Erik doesn’t seem to be in any mood to listen.
“For fuck’s sake, Jason. You’re acting as if she means something to you. Just stick with the fucking plan.”
I hear the footsteps move in the other direction, while I remain still in my position.
What was that?
I glance towards the ajar door I’d just left behind me.
It can’t be –
My calculating mind is racing with the possibilities, trying to decipher the conversation. The name Erik sounds very familiar, and I frown.
Shaking my head, I move forward, hoping this is just some random discussion between friends. However, a niggling doubt remains at the back of my head.
Agatha looks beautiful. And very angry, as she stands next to what is my designated seat, her silver-clad toe tapping impatiently on the carpeted ground.
Her delicate blonde hair is swept up in some complicated hair style, and I can make no sense of her earrings except that they look like something shiny that I would usually buy for the women who waltz through my life.
She looks very pretty, though, and I lean over and plant a kiss on her cheek.
“Sorry. Traffic was hell.”
Her pink lips part in an annoyed smile.
“Yeah? Funny how Mr. Anderson managed to arrive before you, even though he left fifteen minutes after you and his office is ten kilometers further away than yours, Philip.” I just smile at her, and she shakes her head, sighing. “Just sit down. I have to go and see Charlotte.” As she is leaving, she glances over her shoulder and her blue eyes gleam at me. “Nice tux, big brother.”
I take a look around the room, and realize that aside from the few men that I perceive to be the groomsmen, everybody else is following a black-tie dress code.
I roll my eyes. My sister sucks at pranks.
As I settle into my seat, I wish I wasn’t seated in the third aisle, which is going to have a very good view of the bride and groom. With nothing else to do, I start studying the people in the room.
There is nobody from Charlotte’s side of the family, which isn’t surprising. I heard her stepfather disappeared a few years back, and her mother passed away when she was young. Grams would have come, but she is by my father’s side in Germany as he recovers from a skiing accident.
I would have thought that by now she would have realized that her son and daughter-in-law are always going to be wild and reckless. From what Agatha told me, our paternal grandmother is pretty upset that she is missing Charlotte’s big moment.
Yet, I see that my sister made sure that the bride’s side is full of people I don’t recognize. I assume they are Charlotte’s colleagues or something.
My gaze moves over the groomsmen, and I watch with brows knitted when I sense the tension in the room. Their shoulders are stiff, and I watch the groom arrive and stand in his place.
He seems familiar. What is his name? I know Agatha told me, but I can’t recall it.
He looks jittery and excitable, his eyes constantly moving to the second row, where a brunette woman sits. I am not able see her face from here, but I sense that her eyes are focused on the groom. I wonder how she is related to this man.
Not that he is much to look at. The man is of an average height, with dark brown hair and light blue eyes. Women might find his type attractive, but as a businessman, he screams smarmy to me, and I wonder what Charlotte possibly sees in him.
Even from here, I can see his bow is a little crooked, and his shirt is untucked from various angles. His pants are wrinkled, and there are creases on his vest. He looks terribly untidy, as if he just rolled out of bed in the tux. This is not usual for someone that is about to get married.
My eyes narrow at the tufts of hair that he was unable to slick down. It almost looks like he had a quickie in some closet or something.
I have a bad feeling that I can’t shake off. His appearance is not normal.
However, it is at that very moment the band starts playing the wedding march, and I can’t help myself as I turn around to see Charlotte enter.
I usually pride myself on being a very cool and composed man. I have to be, considering I am the CEO of a successful company and amongst the wealthiest men in Chicago.
But even so, I feel myself gaping as Charlotte enters the room, her beautiful features set in a happy smile, and her white dress emphasizing her form and yet making her seem modest. There are no frills on that dress, something I failed to note before, just embroidered white roses on the edges of the gown. The simplicity just makes her shine more, and I hold my breath.
I quickly turn around, not wanting her to see me looking at her like that. My eyes catch the groom staring at her and then he quickly turns to look at the brunette again.
My fingers tap on my leg, and my instincts scream at me that this whole thing is going to go south within minutes.
Charlotte doesn’t notice me while she passes by. She walks gracefully to the altar, murmuring something to the priest, who beams at her. It doesn’t escape me that she has no one to give her away, and I clench my teeth.
I watch as Agatha accepts the bouquet from her; her pink dress is very understated, which is something new for my sister, who believes in flash and glamour. However, she just delicately dabs at a corner of her eye and smiles broadly as the ceremony begins.
Everything runs smoothly, until the priest asks, “Do you, Erik take Charlotte to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
As if a trigger was just pulled, things went downhill from there.
I start to rise from my seat, recalling the conversation in the hall with horror coursing through my veins, a bad premonition, just as Erik smirks at Charlotte and says, “No.”
Everybody freezes.
Charlotte blinks, and she raises a hand to touch his wrist as if she is trying to understand, when he slaps her hand away.
“Don’t touch me. I don’t want to make you my wife. God, woman, I can hardly fuck you.”
Charlotte’s face grows white as she takes a trembling step back.
I am on my feet just as Agatha rushes to Charlotte’s side.
“Erik.”
His name leaves Charlotte’s lips in a pleading whisper that I can’t stand, but the man isn’t done yet, his lips twisting into an ugly sneer.
“What the fuck would I do with a barren woman like you?”
Barren?
The word barely processes in my mind as I see the broken look on Charlotte’s face, and I find my feet moving.
From the corner of my eye, I see the brunette stand up and make her way out into the aisle, just as the groom walks down the steps leaving his shattered fiancée behind. He barely takes one step towards the brunette woman before I throw my fist in his face, making him fall to the ground with the force of the blow.
Fury pours through me, my blood boiling at the cruelty this man just inflicted on Charlotte. My body rages at the injustice, my protective streak when it comes to this woman in full boil, demanding blood.
I hear the startled cries and the scream of the brunette woman, who turns to look at me and gasps in recognition, her hands going to cover her mouth. I give her a cold look, a part of me knowing she has something to do with this.
Erik groans from his position on the ground, his groomsmen running over to help him up. None of them speak a word. Erik’s nose is bleeding, and he squints through his hands that are trying to stem the blood flow.
“Who the fuck – I’m going to sue you, you fucking bastard!”
“Go ahead,” I invite him calmly, letting him see the violence simmering just beneath the surface. None of his friends defend him.
All the guests stand by, holding their breath. Everyone is silent. The brunette grabs him by the arm, and drags him away.
“Let’s go, Erik! Come on!”
Erik glares at me, and I let him see the promise of pain in my eyes. Oh, yes. Erik is definitely going to be hearing from me, and soon.
I don’t lose my time watching him walk out. My eyes turn towards the altar where the priest has his arm around Charlotte, who is st
aring blankly at me. There is nothing in her eyes. Obviously, she’s shocked.
I move towards her with determined strides, each step strengthening my resolve for what I am about to do. The analytical part of me knows that this will have dire consequences, but I would be damned if I let Charlotte be humiliated in front of this huge gathering.
I march up to the altar, facing the woman I haven’t seen in ten years, and say, “Marry me.”
2
Charlotte
“Marry me?”
The words echo in my brain as I stare at the man in front of me.
What is he saying? Why is he saying that?
My whole world has been rocked and I feel everyone’s eyes on me, and my body feels cold and numb. I take a step back, bumping into Agatha, who is also staring at her brother.
“Philip?” she shouts over my shoulder.
Philip.
I want to run away and curl up in a corner somewhere and just cry. Hide myself in a place where the world can’t see me.
