Taming the Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle

by Sierra Rose

  An image of Mrs. Claus flashed through my head, and I nodded.

  “Oh yeah—her.” I stretched up my arms with a sleepy yawn. “I was in the hot tub when she came in. I’m pretty sure she saw my breasts.”

  His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “Abby, I fucked you against a skyscraper window. I’m pretty sure all of Manhattan has seen your breasts.”

  I smacked him half-heartedly in the arm.

  “That’s not funny. You know, I’m pretty sure there was a guy down there with binoculars. I see him...” I trailed off with another yawn. “I see him all the time...”

  He grinned and pulled up the comforter higher up around me.

  “Okay, back to dreamland for you.”

  I nodded with a sleepy smile and nestled back into the pillows. The tips of his hair brushed against my cheek as he leaned down to kiss my forehead. A kiss both sweet and chaste.

  But instead of straightening back up, he paused. Hovering a few inches above me.

  “Abby,” he spoke softly, “do you mind if I sleep in here tonight?”

  My eyes fluttered opened again, and fixed on him curiously. The next second, they widened in self-defense.

  “Nick, I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I’m really not up for any more—”

  “No sex,” he said quickly, “just...sleep.”

  There was a deep uncertainty to the way he was asking, and as I gazed up at him in the darkness, I could swear he looked almost shy.

  “Of course you can.”

  Without another word, I scooted over on the mattress to make room. He turned off the light in the hall, undressed quickly, then slid under the covers beside me. For a moment, we both just lay there. Then, ever so tentatively, he slid his arm around my shoulders.

  It was a good thing it was dark. He couldn’t see the giant grin that spread across my face.

  In a move that felt oddly natural, considering it had never happened before, I flipped over onto my side, and flung a slender arm over his chest as I rested my cheek upon his smooth skin.

  There was a slight hitch in his breathing, and his skin heated just at the touch. But we didn’t kiss. Didn’t move. At that point, we didn’t even speak.

  We simply fell asleep. Lying in each other’s arms.

  And for a moment, just a fleeting moment, all was right in the world. For a moment, just a fleeting moment, I could honestly say that I’d never been happier...

  Chapter 7

  I GOT UP EARLY THE next morning. Earlier than even Nick—who always beat me to go on one of his insufferable runs. (The man had learned long ago that getting out the door by five a.m. was a sure-fire way to avoid the press.)

  We hadn’t moved an inch in the night, and I was still sprawled out across his chest when I woke up, snuggled safely beneath his arm. His body warmed mine, and for a moment, I simply gazed up at him—hypnotically lulled by the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

  He looked so much younger when he slept. Less troubled, somehow. Although the Nick I’d come to know didn’t usually have a care in the world. His face was perfectly relaxed, not a line in sight, and his messy golden-brown hair spilled haphazardly across his forehead.

  Still, it was easy to see how such a face could brighten into a smile. And knowing him as well as I did, it was easy to see the mischief lurking just below the surface.

  Moving as carefully as I could, I lifted his arm a few inches so that I could slip underneath. For good measure, I replaced my body with a pillow—which he immediately clutched against his chest. Like a kid with his teddy.

  Adorable. How had I never realized that Nick Hunter was utterly fucking adorable?

  After groping blindly in the darkened closet to find some clothes, I slipped on a bathrobe and headed downstairs to fire up the coffee. My bare feet made hardly a sound as they skimmed over the checkered marble, and as I hopped up onto the counter—waiting with an empty mug—I was surprised to realize how normal this all felt.

  Not being in Nick’s kitchen—over the last two years, I had come here all the time. But waking up in Nick’s apartment. Padding barefoot down the stairs. Swinging my legs against the counter as I peered out over the early Manhattan skyline.

  I had to hand it to him. The city was beautiful at this time of day. Peaceful. Undisturbed. I was hardly ever awake to see it, but I could easily imagine how someone could grow attached to the unnatural quiet. To that charged anticipation—waiting for a sleeping giant to come to life, with no idea what wonders might happen that day.

  Then I noticed the hand-prints streaked down the glass.

  A burning blush colored my cheeks, and I glanced guiltily around the empty room before hopping down to wipe it clean with fistfuls of my robe. While I was at it, I glanced down again for good measure—trying to gauge ‘pedestrian visibility’ whist not under sexual duress.

  Yeah—people could definitely see us. They might not be able to make out any details, but they could tell what was going on.

  And that’s how Abigail Wilder became a Manhattan exhibitionist...

  Determined to put the thought forever from my mind, I poured myself a cup of espresso and wandered into the living room to clean up my room service from the night before.

  Except...there wasn’t anything there.

  I paced around the hot tub with a slight frown, searching for the remnants of my little feast. I’d been too heat-drunk and tired last night to do anything about them, but they were definitely there when I’d left. The tray was still there, so housekeeping hadn’t been back yet...

  Which means that Nick cleaned it.

  I stopped in my tracks, profoundly touched by the little act of kindness.

  Nick was no stranger to grand gestures or extravagant gifts. The Christmas bonuses he gleefully doled out at the end of each holiday season provided my food budget for the next twelve months. At least once a year, he delighted in sending his staff to the far corners of the globe on glorious vacations. One time, he had even gone so far as to call up the Chief of Police just to get me out of a parking ticket on my birthday.

  But this? Throwing away my takeout bins? Cleaning up my dinner?

  This was different. This was personal. And to be honest, it almost mattered more to me because it was small. Because there was no reason in the world for him to have done it—the man had people for that. And yet, he did it anyway. Making it just...incredibly sweet.

  My eyes flickered up the stairs with a tender smile, before I headed down the hall to one of the guest bathrooms to begin getting ready for my day. I had spent long enough cooped up in this beautiful apartment. The outside world beckoned, and I needed to touch back in with reality.

  The outfit was a standard work dress. Nice, but not too flashy. Expensive, but the kind of expensive that still let you pay the bills afterward. The kind of clothes worn by New York’s business professionals.

  Because that’s still you, Abby. Even if you did wake-up with a trillion dollar view of Fifth Avenue in the arms of the world’s most coveted man.

  I paired the dress—a fitted wrap in slate grey—with some silver tear-drop earrings, lethal looking stilettos, and just enough makeup to make it look like I didn’t even try.

  A strange sense of calm washed over me as I gazed back at my reflection in the mirror.

  This felt more like me. As much as I liked the barefoot girl padding around in a bathrobe, this was me. This was what I’d worked for. It might be possible to have both. Honestly, I didn’t know. But either way, I had to make sure not to lose sight of the girl standing in front of me.

  Although, it had to be said, even she looked a little different.

  There was a flush of color in my cheeks, and a strange kind of glow lighting up all of my features. I’d always thought that was a weird saying. That people had the capacity to glow. The only person I’d ever seen do it was Nick, but he tended to defy most laws of physics so it didn’t really count. But this...? This was a glow. No two ways about it.

  Sti
ll casting my reflection suspicious glances out of the corner of my eye, I raided the downstairs guest closet, emerged with a fabulous trench coat, and headed out to the elevator. A part of me couldn’t believe that Nick was still sleeping. It was after five. Well past his normal wake-up call.

  Maybe you weren’t the only one pushed to your limit yesterday. Maybe even the great sex-god himself needs a little sleep...

  The thought pleased me greatly, and I rode down to the lobby with a little grin. From there, it was just a quick cab ride to get to my office.

  I paid the driver swiftly, and deliberately avoided looking at any newspapers on the way in to my building. As long as I didn’t spot a boxing ring out of the corner of my eye, I didn’t much care what they were reporting. This was going to be a normal day. A day to tug me back out of the clouds and place my feet firmly on the ground where they belonged.

  No Nick Hunter nonsense. This day was all Abby.

  “Morning, Carl!” I called as I sailed past the morning security guard.

  His mouth dropped open in shock as I passed by. In all likelihood, we had never seen each other at this time of day. If I ever had to come in this early, chances were that my assistant, Allison, was wheeling a comatose version in on a cot with an IV of caffeine stuck in my arm.

  “Uh...good morning, Miss Wilder. Lovely day.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  I flashed him a bright smile and disappeared into the lift—riding it up to my floor.

  As hard-working as they were, my staff tended to despise the mornings as much as I did myself. It was a rare day indeed if anyone showed up before seven, and I was actually looking forward to having a few hours of peace and quiet before the horde descended. A little office-time relaxation to sort through the chaotic whirlwind that had become my—

  “Abigail!”

  I felt back against the elevator wall, clutching my chest, only to see a dozen shell-shocked people staring back at me. My entire team. Frozen like Manhattan statues.

  “Abigail?” It was Jake who had first called my name, but Allison, my pint-sized assistant, approached me now. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and she kept preemptively flinching, like at any moment, I could faint dead away. “What are you doing here?”

  A rather strange question to ask your boss, no matter what the hour.

  I pulled in a deep breath and peeled myself off the papered wall, trying to gather what was left of my composure. “I happen to work here.” The doors dinged closed behind me, as I stepped out onto the busy workroom floor. “What the hell are all of you doing here? You realize that the sun’s not even awake, right?”

  The smell of burnt coffee hung in the air like a sleepless fog, and twelve pairs of unblinking eyes stared back at me. Finally, it was Jake who stepped forward.

  “We’ve sort of...been here all night,” he admitted.

  My eyebrows shot up.

  “All night?”

  The last time the team worked through the night was when Nick was accidentally declared a god by a remote tribe in the Amazon who refused to let him leave. The only time before that was when the entire Hunter family had been discovered harboring runaway members of the royal family of Norway. (Result of a croquet match gone awry.)

  Needless to say...these things were few and far between.

  “Why—what happened?” I asked in an instinctual hush. An overpowering wave of frustration tightened my chest at the fact that I didn’t already fucking know—but that was a matter for a different time. “Did someone die?”

  A strange hush fell over the room, and I glanced automatically behind me, wondering if someone new had come in. No one seemed willing to open their mouths, and eventually, it was only my dear Allison and Jake who stepped forward to tell me. They did so slowly—strategically fanning outward to block as much of the room as possible from view.

  Why? What could possibly be so...

  It wasn’t until they were standing right in front of me that it clicked. An answer so absurdly obvious that it smacked me right in the face.

  “It’s me.”

  When no one refuted it, I sucked in a halting breath. The room spun a bit, and I bowed my head to my chest—wondering why I’d possibly thought I could have a normal day.

  “We didn’t think you were going to be in today,” Jake said, lowering his voice almost apologetically. “I would have confined this to the conference room or something—”

  “Don’t be silly,” I interrupted. My voice was a bit higher than usual, and I fought to get it under control. “This is the job, right? Just another...just another day at the office.”

  Except this time, the person on the chopping block was me.

  Determined to be professional to a fault, I cleared my throat briskly and marched in a straight line through the chaos toward my office.

  “Allison—please bring in the top papers, please.”

  “And how about some coffee too?”

  “That sounds wonderful. Thank you so much.”

  Yes, I needed coffee. Lots of it. By the looks of things, I was going to need it...

  Chapter 8

  I WENT THROUGH THE newspapers one by one. Dropping each one down on my desk with growing disgust. My own face stared up at me a millions times over. Judging me all the while.

  BOXING, BOOZE, AND BLOWJOBS.

  Alliteration, much?

  NICK HUNTER’S BROOKYN BOMBSHELL STARTS OUT WITH A BANG

  How the fuck is it that everyone somehow knows I live in Brooklyn?

  A SHOTGUN WEDDING FOR WORLD’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR?

  Do I LOOK pregnant?

  FROM PUBLICIST TO PARK AVENUE PRINCESS

  ...okay, that one’s not so bad.

  WHO IS ABIGAIL HUNTER?

  A question I had been asking myself a rather lot lately...

  There was a quiet knock on my door, and I rolled back my chair—dropping my head onto my arms with a defeated little sigh.

  “Come in.”

  The sound of quick-moving heels echoed on the floor, and I lifted my chin an inch to see Allison scurry inside. Without being asked, she shut the door quickly behind her.

  “I thought these might cheer you up.”

  She set a bouquet of dead roses on my desk.

  I blinked at them for a moment. Then blinked at her instead.

  “You really shouldn’t have.”

  She bit her lip, trying to hold back a grin.

  “Read the card.”

  With great trepidation, I reached forward and extracted a single sheet of stationary from amongst the thorns. I had to tug it a little, but it finally came loose.

  Hope you two are so happy together.

  - Ella

  That, at least, brought a smile to my face.

  The last I’d heard of Ella Campbell, she was embroiled in a nasty lawsuit with her ex-landlord. He had tried to evict her. She had tried to claim squatter’s rights. The faithful manager she’d brought from Oklahoma was nowhere in sight.

  “Well, I guess in a way I deserve that.” I kicked back in my chair, and put my heels up on the desk with a wistful little smile. Oh—for the days when the biggest stresser in my life was Ella Campbell. Who would have thought I would ever actually miss it? “Thanks, Aly.”

  She nodded quickly, but paused again on her way out.

  “Abigail?”

  I glanced up in surprise. Jake was the only one who ever called me that. To most everyone else, I was Ms. Wilder.

  “Yeah?”

  She studied me closely for a moment, before going out on a limb.

  “Are you...are you okay?”

  Something about the soft-spoken question caught me entirely off-guard, and I realized, all at once, that no. I was absolutely not okay. Not by a long shot.

  My eyes misted up, but I pursed my lips with a tight smile.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  She’d been with me since the office had opened. Over two years. She knew better than to believe me right now. But she also knew bette
r than to press.

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Coffee,” I reminded her. “And actually...can you connect me with Bree Miller?”

  She frowned in surprise.

  “Bree Miller? Right now?”

  I nodded briskly and turned on my computer.

  “Yep—thanks, Allison.”

  She disappeared a second later, leaving me alone with my pile of newspapers. I glanced down again in spite of myself, scanning the headlines with a growing feeling of rage.

  So what? Mitchell stopped a journalist from leaking the photos, but then ended up letting them leak the actual story anyway? Like that was so much better?!

  Blowjobs in a boxing ring...

  It was no wonder my own staff could hardly meet my eyes. It was no wonder Jake and Allison had tried to shield me from the worst of it. By now, the entire city thought that I was some kind gold-digging, sex-in-a-public-venue whore. A publicist who fucked her own clients.

  In my business, it was the kiss of death. A blow you could never recover from.

  No pun intended...

  And I didn’t believe for one second that Mitchell didn’t know exactly what he was doing when he made that deal. He knew exactly what he was sentencing me to by letting them run that story, and he knew exactly what was going to happen to both me and his son in the aftermath.

  Was this seriously all about punishing his son? Had he finally had enough of Nick’s antics and saw the perfect opportunity to paint him into a corner?

  And what about me? Was he really so furious that I would dare cross that professional line with his son? As if Nick hadn’t already slept with half the city? And like Mitchell cared one way or another! He didn’t give a shit about who Nick may or may not have had sex with!

  No—this was cruel. No other way of looking at it. It was intentional, and it was cruel.

  My phone lit up with a sudden blinking light, and Allison’s voice crackled over the intercom: “Ms. Wilder, I have Bree Miller on line one for you.”

  “Thanks, Aly.” I picked it up and clicked over, pausing for a split second to regain my composure and catch my breath. “Bree—it’s Abigail. It’s been a long time, how are you...”