© Copyright 2018 by Naughty Aphrodite- All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Forever Together
Contemporary Bad Boy Romance Bundle
By: Naughty Aphrodite
Table of Contents
Billionaire’s Confession
Breaking Her Rules
In Hiding
Werewolf’s Mark
Dangerous Proposal
Walking A Thin Line
Alpha’s Rebellion
Billionaire’s Nanny
Never Forgotten
Taming The Billionaire
Billionaire’s Fate
Castaways
Rags To Riches
A Very Sexy Voyage
Billionaire’s Confession
Chapter 1
Leah Branson hated nightclubs.
Everything about them from the sticky, dirt filled floors to the smell of alcohol and urine made her skin crawl. That was not to mention the loud music, drunk patrons, and seemingly compulsory grinding dancing.
She’d never set foot in a bar of her own free will.
Until tonight.
Leah sat in her small, used Toyota Corolla staring at the neon sign for the Palm Spring’s Night Club entrance.
“It’s an assignment,” she told herself. “You’ve been asking for a real assignment for weeks. Even if this isn’t the one you wanted, it’s still a story.”
Despite this self-exhortation, she couldn’t seem to force herself out of the seat. Leah also could not force herself to be nearly as excited about this assignment as she knew she should have been.
Ever since she’d taken the “temporary” job at the St Augustine Gazette as an advice columnist, she’d dreamed of having a true assignment. To prove herself as a real reporter.
She’d been pitching ideas to her editor, Mr. Ben Haynes for months. It wasn’t until she turned in an idea centering on the Gulf Coast tourist town’s annual celebrity charity golf tournament that he took any notice.
When Hayes called her into his office one day before, she’d been ecstatic. Her joy seemed confirmed when he told her that he was assigning her a story.
The excitement was soon tampered, however, when he said that the story she would be writing was not the one she had suggested. Instead, she would be interviewing billionaire, Brent Watt, who had strolled into the town he’d grown up in after ten years of being away and signed up for the Charity Tournament. Most likely to get cheap publicity for his company.
But her editor insisted there was more to it than that.
“He skipped town when he was eighteen,” Ben Hayes had told her. “Even when he and his brother created the biggest social media app since Facebook he never once came back to his hometown. Not even when his dad died. Now he suddenly comes back.”
“Someone has to know why he left,” Leah said. “Why do I have to talk to him to get that story?”
“There’ve been rumors about his dad being an alcoholic and abusive but neither he nor his brother has said anything to prove it. I want you to get a quote from him confirming those rumors. Get me that story and you’ll be off the advice column.”
It certainly was not the story she wanted to write about. But the promise of becoming a real reporter and not an advice columnist was too good to pass up.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself out of the car and moved towards the club’s entrance.
Apparently, word of Brent Watt’s reemergence in his hometown of St. Augustine had gotten out. Dozens of amateur photographers surrounded the building’s entrance with the cameras on their phones poised and ready.
Leah elbowed her way past out-of-town paparazzi and huge masses of celebrity seekers just to get to the front doors. Eventually, she reached the entrance to find a tall, black and broad-shouldered bouncer standing behind a velvet rope.
Taking another deep breath and pulling herself up to her full height, she strode confidently up to him.
“Hi. I’m Leah Branson. Mr. Watt should be expecting me.”
A suspicious look came to his face as he glanced at Leah, clearly taking in her button-down shirt and long black slacks, the skepticism deepened when he looked up at her thick brown hair pulled tightly back into a knot on top of her head. She knew she didn’t look like someone who had been invited to a private party at a club.
Perhaps it was her outfit that caused him to take longer than she knew he should have to look over her ID and let her into the club.
Eventually, he did remove the velvet rope at the entrance to let her pass through. When she moved towards the entrance doors, she saw an average sized man with a slight pot belly, black hair slicked over with gel and a wide grin move towards her.
“Brian said you’d be here about half an hour ago,” the slick-haired man said ushering her through the doors. As soon as she entered, she was immediately inundated with all the things she hated about clubs. Loud music, masses of sweating bodies and the strong stench of alcohol.
“My name’s Marcus Folsom, by the way,” he said loudly as the doors to the outside world closed and they were immediately overtaken by loud, throbbing club music. “I’m Brent Watt’s agent. I hope our bouncer didn’t keep you out here too long.”
“Don’t worry, he didn’t keep me,” Leah admitted. “I just had some stuff I had to finish up at work.”
“Ah, I see,” he said, his eyes, like the bouncers glanced over her conservative outfit. Leah felt her cheeks grow warm with a hint of embarrassment. She wondered if she should, at least, unbutton a couple of the upper buttons on her shirt. That way she could at least show some skin.
Immediately, she threw the impulse aside. If the billionaire playboy’s agent couldn’t handle a woman who didn’t dress like she wanted to get laid, he would just have to learn to live with it.
They walked into the club’s main room where the throbbing music grew even louder.
This was probably the fanciest nightclub in the small tourist town of St. Augustine. Unlike in the bars Leah’s father had frequented when she was a girl, the floors were not sticky and the smell of urine didn’t permeate the place.
“Don’t worry,” Marcus called over the loud music. “We’ll be in a private room in the back for the interview. I’ve just got to grab Brent. He’s still at the bar.”
Leah followed Marcus’ indicating hand towards the long, gleaming silver bar at the back of the dance floor. When she did, her eyes immediately landed on the tall, rugged form of Brent Watt.
His longish black hair fell elegantly into his tan face as he leaned over to smile at the busty blonde on the bar stool next to him. The long hand that reached out to touch the blonde’s shoulder matched his long legs and slender though muscular torso exactly.
His bright, warm smile widened as he leaned down to whisper something in the blonde’s ear. Even over the music, the girl’s annoying and obviously forced laugh could be heard ringing through the club. Leah saw, rather than heard, Brent chuckle with the girl beside him. His laugh, which looked much more genuine reached his blue eyes and made them sparkle.
When she and Marcus moved clos
er to the bar, those bright blue eyes turned and looked straight at Leah.
Leah’s cheeks grew warm for the second time that night and she felt her stomach perform a slight flip. She’d seen pictures of Brent Watt before, of course. As the CEO of the biggest tech company since Facebook, he was on the cover of many a business and pop culture magazines. She’d always known he was very good looking. But now that she was seeing him in person, she couldn’t help but think that the pictures didn’t do him any justice at all.
“Brent,” Marcus said as they reached the bar, casually ignoring the busty blonde who was still giggling. “This is Leah Branson. The reporter I told you about.”
“Reporter, huh?” Brent asked looking Leah up and down with a raised eyebrow. “Well, you certainly look the part.”
At those words, all the tingling and stomach flipping Leah had felt upon seeing Brent Watt disappeared entirely. She was getting really sick of people in this club making disparaging comments about her outfit.
“Good,” She told him fiercely, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s what I was going for. Now, if you can tear yourself away from your…friend…I’d like to get to the interview I was promised.”
At this, Brent raised an eyebrow and his mouth curved upward into a smirk, almost as though he was impressed.
“Ok then,” he said. “You two go ahead. I’ll just take care of this tab and I’ll be right in.”
“Come on Brent, that won’t take long,” Marcus said with a slight chuckle. “We don’t mind waiting out here for you.”
Marcus didn’t check with Leah to see what she thought of this plan. If he had, she would have told him that she would much rather retreat into a private room than spend another second listening to this pounding music.
But, Marcus’ feet seemed firmly planted and he stared down Brent as though expecting a fight. Brent rolled his eyes.
“Sorry Brent,” Marcus said half apologetically. “Your brother told me not to take any chances.”
With another roll of his eyes, Brent turned his back on them and irritably motioned the bartender over.
“When you mentioned his brother, I assume you mean Jordan Watt. Brent’s business partner,” Leah said to Marcus as soon as Brent’s back was turned.
“Well, he doesn’t have another one, so, yes,” Marcus answered. “There’ve been some…incidents involving Brent, alcohol and a few female companions. They’ve been a PR nightmare for the company. So, his brother’s asked me to keep an eye on him.”
Leah suppressed a triumphant smile. That little tidbit was certainly interesting. Jordan Watt ordering a third party to babysit his brother was exactly the kind of thing her editor would love to hear about.
As though sensing Leah’s triumphant expression, Marcus’ face fell as he turned back to her.
“Of course, that’s strictly off the record,” he said hurriedly.
Leah nodded feeling only slightly crestfallen. She knew she would have to play nice with Brent and his agent this evening. Otherwise, the interview would never happen at all.
It wasn’t long before Brent tore himself away from his female companion and followed Leah and Marcus into a room behind the bar.
This room was much brighter and the decorations were, thankfully, more subdued than the dark, strobe light filled club outside. Leah couldn’t help but feel thankful when Marcus closed the door and she realized that the pulsing music could no longer be heard.
“So,” Brent said looking Leah up and down again as the three of them sat at a black stained table in the middle of the room. “You’re Leah Branson of the St. Augustine Gazette? I’ve gotta say, you’re not quite what I expected.”
“I thought you said I looked the part.”
“You look like a reporter,” Brent admitted. “But, when Marcus told me about you I was picturing someone…older. You know, iron gray hair, pearls, glasses.”
“Not a particularly flattering picture,” Leah said glancing at Marcus. The agent let out an embarrassed chuckle.
“Brent’s exaggerating,” he said. “He tends to do that. It’s just, your editor, Ben told us you were a perfectionist and a workaholic. A very no nonsense type.”
“And from that description, you immediately thought elderly maiden Aunt librarian?”
Leah kept her eyes on Brent, raising an eyebrow at him. His lips quirked up in the same, impressed smirk he’d given her at the bar.
“I’m very glad I was wrong about that,” he answered. “I generally prefer answering questions from attractive women. It’s much more fun that way.”
His smile widened and he winked at her. As soon as he did, she felt her face flush and the flipping sensation in her stomach returned. Clearing her throat, she reached down for her purse and began fumbling for her notebook.
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re ready to answer some questions,” she said willing the pink in her cheeks to go down as she emerged with her open notebook in hand. “Because I do have quite a few for you.”
“Happy to answer anything you ask,” Brent said putting his arms behind his head and casually tilting back in his chair. “I’m pretty much an open book.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Watt is exaggerating again,” Marcus said with a furtive look at his client. “There are, of course, some things we won’t be able to discuss. Company secrets, some family matters. You understand.”
Leah turned to the agent and put on her best most professional smile.
“Of course,” she said. “This isn’t an interrogation or anything. Just a friendly chat.”
She was only slightly disappointed by this news. And she couldn’t say that she was at all surprised. She expected there would be skeletons a famous billionaire would not want to be pulled out of his closet. She also knew that those skeletons were exactly the sorts of things her editor expected her to expose.
She would, again, just have to get very creative about how she did that exposing.
“First thing’s first,” she said opening her notebook and putting her pen to the first blank page.
“Why did you sign up for the St. Augustine Charity Golf tournament this year?”
“Why not?”
“You didn’t sign up last year.”
“Had other things to do last year.”
“And this year?”
“I figured I might as well,” he said with a shrug. Though, the cocky smile he gave her told her that wasn’t the truth. It also told her that he was being difficult on purpose.
“So, should I tell my readers that you’re participating in an event that will benefit hundreds of impoverished children in the area where you grew up because you had nothing better to do?”
Leah felt her lips curve up into a smile every bit as cocky as Brent Watt’s. The familiar gleam slid slowly into his eyes as though, once again, he was impressed with her.
They stared each other down for a moment before Marcus’ chuckle broke their connection.
“Brent’s joking, of course,” the agent said with a hint of nervousness. “He’s very involved in all sorts of charities and when the opportunity to volunteer for the CAA after-school clubs came along, he was more than happy to help.”
“Is that true?” Leah asked prodding.
“Yeah,” Brent answered without conviction. “Pretty much.”
“Because from what I’ve seen, the only money you’ve personally given to charities is to the CAA Foundation. That’s the after-school group the Golf Tournament is assisting.”
Here Brent shifted uncomfortably. Just as he looked about to answer, Marcus cut him off.
“Brent likes kids,” Marcus answered. “And the CAA foundation is the best organization for underprivileged children in the area.”
“So, there’s no personal connection between you and the CAA after-school clubs? They have nothing to do with the reason you left town so suddenly and haven’t come back until now?” Leah asked.
This was the one piece
of information she’d found on Brent Watt that Leah was actually interested in. For the past few years, the city’s “charity” golf tournament had been very high on celebrity publicity and very low on coverage for the CAA.
If she could work the foundation fully into her story about Brent, she may be able to turn this sappy, celebrity gossip profile into an in-depth article that could actually do some good for the organization.
Brent, however, didn’t seem to want to cooperate. His cocky grin disappeared and he looked down at the ground. It was, once again, Marcus who answered on his client’s behest.
“Brent and Jordan would rather not bring up family issues in public. Brent’s here for the charity. That’s what matters.”
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