by Jolie Day
FAKING IT WITH THE BILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR
A HOT ROMANTIC COMEDY
JOLIE DAY
CONTENTS
Prologue: Miles
1. Miles
2. Miles
3. Rose
4. Miles
5. Rose
6. Miles
7. Rose
8. Miles
9. Miles
10. Rose
11. Miles
12. Rose
13. Miles
14. Miles
15. Rose
16. Miles
17. Rose
18. Rose
19. Miles
20. Rose
21. Rose
22. Miles
23. Miles
24. Miles
25. Miles
26. Miles
27. Rose
28. Miles
29. Rose
30. Rose
31. Rose
32. Miles
33. Miles
34. Miles
35. Miles
36. Miles
37. Rose
38. Miles
39. Rose
40. Miles
41. Miles
42. Miles
43. Rose
44. Miles
45. Miles
Epilogue: Rose
Bonus Epilogue: Miles
Billionaire Baby DADDY Sneak Peak
Crushing on My Billionaire Best Friend Excerpt
Also by Jolie Day
Connect with Jolie Day
Faking It with the Billionaire Next Door © Copyright 2021 Jolie Day
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Warning: This story contains mature themes and language.
Faking It with the Billionaire Next Door; Kiss a Billionaire Series; Jolie Day
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Cover Design: ARP Book Covers
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ABOUT THIS NOVEL
Billionaire. Next-door neighbor. Mortal enemy.
I knew it was a bad idea to get on the elevator.
Because now, I have three problems.
#1 I’m stuck in the elevator.
#2 I’m soaking wet from the rain.
#3 HE got in before the doors closed.
Miles Humphries.
My neighbor. The one I HATE.
Cocky. Tall. Infuriatingly hot. The biggest jerk I’ve ever met.
Mr. Bachelor-for-Life and I, Rose Taylor, are like night and day:
I’m reserved, he’s the life of the party.
I love my cat, he loves his motorcycle.
I live quietly, he lives to annoy me.
Imagine my jaw drop when he asks me to be his fake fiancée.
And move in with him.
Together with my cat.
Hello? That’s disaster waiting to happen.
It’s insulting, ridiculous, and inappropriate.
But then he makes me an offer I can’t refuse.
And suddenly, I’m engaged and living with my nemesis.
Did I say he’s torturously sexy? Sinfully tattooed?
Not that it matters.
He wasn’t supposed to give me the best kiss of my life.
I wasn’t supposed to like his deliciously naughty rumblings in my ear.
Or crave the toe-curling nights.
And I sure as hell wasn’t supposed to fall for the world’s biggest heartthrob, Miles Humphries.
PROLOGUE: MILES
I pressed the elevator button. Twice.
Then I went about adjusting my dark-blue tie, jaw tight.
Don’t ask me how, but just a few seconds ago, my tie almost got caught between the elevator doors, after I tried to reach in to make it stop.
Too late. The elevator was gone.
My first thought: She had been inside, no doubt—my neighbor.
The she-devil next door.
Rose Taylor. I’d caught a peek of her just before the elevator doors closed.
What the hell? Couldn’t she have waited? Would it have been so difficult to hold the doors open? Wouldn’t that be neighborly thing to do, so I wouldn’t be late?
Being “just on time” or “almost late, but not” is a skill I’ve perfected throughout my life. Typically, I was an early riser, but this morning, I’d been “held up.” When you’re dealing with the lack of sleep I’m dealing with here, you’ve got to squeeze out every second you can get.
Unless you’ve got a neighbor like mine. Then all your timing goes to shit.
Why the fuck was I still standing here?
I pressed the button again.
Slow piece of junk.
City apartments and high-priced luxury residential applications required one elevator for every fifty to sixty units. There was a service elevator, but it was under maintenance. I glanced at my watch, my unread newspaper tucked firmly under my arm. Dad was going to tear my ass up if he caught me punching the clock even a minute late. Safe to say, my father, the CEO of Humphries Properties, was a man you didn’t want to fuck with—and I wasn’t up to any challenge.
Screw this.
I turned and took the stairs. No sense in waiting.
Seventeen floors, then down to the garage, plus twenty-three minutes’ drive to the company’s offices.
I will definitely be late.
Wasn’t there a back door I could sneak in and creep into my office unseen?
I could take my motorcycle. Hell, I just might, in my three-piece suit and all. Ha!
“Billionaire Casanova, Miles Humphries,
Flying High,
Caught with his Pants Down.”
“What the fuck?” I stared at my “O” face on Page Six of the New York Post, about half an hour later.
Monique was on my lap, while Brittany was bent over giving me a full view of the delectable nakedness beneath her miniskirt, whiskey, and wine bottles strewn across the floor.
My chipper mood, nice and puffed up from having made it to the office on the tick—this time, without a Five-O love note for doing ninety—deflated instantly. Staring at the ceiling of my office, I leaned back in my chair and wondered who the hell had leaked the damn pics.
That wasn’t even the worst part. The photo had a clear shot of me and two women in the company helicopter with “Humphries Properties” clearly emblazoned on the side. Apparently, the New York Post had become desperate for news. And since when did they publish shit like that? Not that anything was really visible, just enough to get my ass handed to me. Dammit! I had to give the assholes credit, though. The image of the three of us together was hot as hell, if it weren’t for the fact it starred me front and c
enter. Or that it would result in a shitstorm of epic proportions.
I speared my hands through my dark-brown hair and sank further in my seat.
This was bad.
Memories of that night flashed in my mind, and I closed my eyes, trying to remember every last detail.
I’d gone to an upscale nightclub, Club Grandeur, on the Upper East Side to take a load off after a grueling day at work. I’d been the Chief Operating Officer at my father’s company for a couple years, where I researched and developed marketing plans to purchase new real estate or locate properties at a steal that had the potential to make us millions. It’d always been something I had an eye for: making money—a shit-ton of it. And that’s why my father, Charles Henry Humphries, had specifically chosen me for the job.
“Miles, do you want to get out of here? Find a more…private place?” Monique had winked at me, then at Brittany, the redhead.
I’d met the girls several weeks back at a party in Vegas—they were models from New York—and we’d hooked up a few times. They never disappointed.
“Sounds like a great idea.” I smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve got the perfect place.”
“What do you have in mind?” Brittany purred in my ear, pressing her tits against me.
Fuck, we needed to get out of here. Fast. “Ladies, I need my wallet.” I straightened in my seat, sliding their hands away. I tossed five, crisp one-hundred-dollar bills on the table and stood to my feet, my fucking dick hard as a rock. I buttoned my suit jacket to make it less noticeable.
“All right, ladies, come with me.” Slinging my arms around their shoulders, we half-stumbled out of the club and onto the sidewalk where I hailed a cab.
“Where are we going?” Monique trailed a red-tipped nail down my arm, her voice a sultry mix of sex and desire.
“It’s a surprise.” I leaned in and ghosted a whisper across her mouth. “You’re going to enjoy every minute of it.”
Both girls wrapped their arms around my waist. “We can’t wait.” Brittany licked my jaw to the corner of my mouth, then kissed me hungrily, while Monique stood at my back and grabbed me from behind. Fuck yeah.
The cabbie honked his horn, breaking up the party.
We climbed in the backseat, and I routed us to the nearest drive-thru liquor store first, where I bought a couple more bottles of Scotch and the finest Cabernet for the ladies.
I knew my idea was risky, but I thought to myself, to hell with it. No one would be around this time of night. It was almost one in the morning. I was going to have an evening I’d never forget—one chick eager to jump on my cock, while I licked the other’s pussy, fifteen-thousand feet in the air. What more could a guy want? And what a way to take a load off.
We entered the helicopter from the helipad off the roof of Humphries Properties. I’d called in a favor from Jackson, our pilot. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d said my secret was safe with him, after I’d paid him a grand to keep his fucking mouth shut. Money could buy just about anything.
As soon as we climbed on, secured for takeoff, the fun had begun. Monique soon started her striptease while I watched, sipping scotch from the bottle, Brittany rubbing my dick and watching her friend as well. She was sexy as shit. She slowly slid the tiny straps off her shoulders and inched the slinky number down, turning to give me the full view of her naked ass. She wasn’t wearing any panties. My dick got harder seeing her bare, glistening pussy, as she wildly shook her head of black hair between her legs, then let the dress puddle at her feet. When she rose and turned, she was bare to me—no bra, either.
Brittany stood from her seat and went to Monique, touching her tits, and I let out a grunt of pleasure, unzipping my fly.
I slammed my hand against the newspaper and tossed it in the trash, bringing myself back to reality. Yeah, it’d been a great night. But at what cost? And how the fuck had a picture been leaked? You’d think the helicopter windows would’ve been too fogged up to get such a clear pic. Fuck-sticks. I couldn’t fucking remember much because I’d been drunk off my ass. I was surprised I’d had so much stamina after drinking all that alcohol, especially knowing I’d had even more fun with the girls this morning before I’d come to work.
I’d been a fucking idiot taking out the company helicopter, and now my “extracurricular” activities were splashed across the damn tabloids. Again.
Yeah, this hadn’t been the first time I’d been in the papers. But this was the worst kind of publicity our company needed.
My father would be all over my ass for this one.
1
MILES
“Mr. Humphries, your father is on line one.” Gretchen’s voice sounded through the speaker of my desk phone. My assistant was a woman in her mid- to late-forties with impeccable tact and composure. “Would you like me to put him through?”
I picked up. “Yeah, thanks, Gretchen. I’ve got it.” Taking a deep breath and preparing myself for another of his lectures, I pressed “Line One” and waited for the dressing down I assumed was about to commence. He rarely called me for anything else. This shit never got old.
“Hey, Pops. What’s up?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“Miles, I need to see you in my office in twenty minutes.” My father’s voice was curt, and I could tell by his tone he was pissed. “Don’t be late.”
Just fucking great. Let the fun times begin. “What’s this—?”
The line clicked.
He’d hung up on me.
I stared at the receiver for a moment. Dad had never hung up on me before. I set the phone back in its cradle and raked a hand down my face. I’d known something was coming. Hell, I could feel it. But this? This was different.
Standing from my desk, I went to the bathroom located inside my office to freshen up. When I looked in the mirror, my blue eyes were almost red-rimmed. I’d need some eye drops before I faced my father. Once that was done, I straightened my tie and buttoned my navy Armani suit jacket. I’d rather be early for this meeting and get it over with. I’d already worked most of the fucking day.
“Gretchen, please hold my calls or take messages. Tell them I’m in a meeting. You know the drill.”
She glanced up at me from her computer, her burnt-auburn hair pulled into a tight bun, dark-brown eyes searching. “Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?” she asked. “Would you like a cup of coffee—double espresso—before you go?”
“You know what? That’d be great,” I said with a smile. “Thank you.”
“Right away, sir. One moment.” She rose from her seat and rushed to make me an espresso, just the way I liked it. Gretchen was a good assistant. She always seemed to know exactly what I needed.
Leaning against her desk, I wondered just what the hell awaited me in my father’s office. This had nothing to do with my recent “adventure,” I was optimistic. I contemplated whether a deal had gone bad, or if a property had gone under. If one of my risky ventures had lost the company money, it’d be a first, but shit, I was only human. The thought of losing money—Nah, fuck that. I’d make more—make it right. I knew my job inside and out. Shit happened. I could handle it.
Gretchen arrived with my coffee in hand. “Here you are, sir.”
“Thank you,” I said, giving her a brief nod.
With that, I strolled down the corridor and toward my father’s office and through the glass double doors leading to his suite.
Showtime.
As soon as I entered, his assistant, Mrs. Gardener, stood up to greet me. “Right this way, Mr. Humphries. Your father is waiting.”
Like I hadn’t been in this office a million times. I sipped my coffee and just went with this little charade. She opened the door. Dad was sitting behind his large mahogany desk with his hands steepled in front of him.
He narrowed his steely gray-blue gaze on me. “Sit down.”
I sat in a leather club chair opposite his desk and crossed my right ankle over my left knee. “Did a deal fall through?” I tried playing dumb,
hoping Dad hadn’t read the damn article.
“No,” was his harsh reply.
“Well, fuck,” I groaned under my breath. I could only guess what this was about now. Been there, done that.
“Watch your language, son.”
“All right, then.” I leaned back in my seat and set my cup on the side table, preparing myself for what was to come.
My father took a measured breath before he spoke. “Miles, I’ve given you opportunity after opportunity to get your life in order, but it seems partying and women are much more important. While your work here is flawless, your activities outside of the office have begun to embarrass the company.” He paused and ran a hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair.
Embarrassed the company? Okay. Here we go.
There was no way to weasel out of this one, so I’d just have to stand here and take it like a man. I mean, what was the worst that could happen? Dad would calm his tits eventually. It wasn’t like I’d taken the fucking photos and sold them to the Post.
“I’ve watched your name, along with that of Humphries Properties, splashed across the tabloids one too many times. This last stunt”—He sucked in a breath and shook his head—“it needn’t be mentioned, as you so carelessly involved company property.”
