The Billionaire's Board

by Lark Anderson

  I watch him leave, wondering just when I’m going to hear from him again.

  EPILOGUE

  Gabriel’s mother thinks Remi is a baby incubator…

  Boy, can Gabriel Icor cut a rug!

  I mean, I could too, if I wasn’t stumbling over my own two feet. Hopefully, no one saw that, but who am I kidding—everyone saw! Why? Because I’m at Gabriel’s and my wedding.

  That’s right! We just got married.

  Did we seek out the wildest and most exotic locations to get hitched?

  Nope! We had a small ceremony, or rather a tiny one.

  We got married in the boardroom at Icor Towers, where we first met. Cregor walking me down the aisle.

  Then everyone met up at the Mother of Mercy Children’s Hospital, where our reception is being held in the cafeteria. We turned it into a charity event, and the hospital is making oodles of money for the kiddos!

  It’s not what you’d expect a billionaire’s wedding to be like, and there was more than one look of horror throughout the night, but it’s perfect for us, and that’s what matters.

  Gabriel’s mother looks beautiful as she glides across the dance floor with Mr. Sokolov, and I can’t believe I’m going to be her daughter in law! I mean, I used to watch her on television growing up, and now, she’s asking me to call her mom.

  And…she’s asking me how soon she’ll have grandbabies. Like, every chance she gets. I go to dinner, and as I’m forking beans in my mouth, there it is again, “Do you track your ovulation,” or my favorite, “I hear missionary position gives you the best chance of conception,” oh, wait, there’s this one, “If I were dating a billionaire, I’d want to get knocked up as quickly as possible!” said under her breath LIKE SHE’S PLANTING THE IDEA IN MY HEAD OR SOMETHING!

  It’s insane. But a crazy, insane loving mother-in-law is just what I need in my life right now.

  Analise and Meghan act as my bride’s maids, and Kibbles was escorted down the aisle by Gabriel’s mortified mother to present the ring.

  I get to meet Gabriel’s friends, Cassius, Zev, Sven, and a bunch of others I can’t quite keep straight, all accompanied by gorgeous and beautiful women.

  I swear I saw Sven eyeing Meghan, though. It’s something I’m going to keep my eye on.

  Everything is going wonderfully, despite the fact that I’m scrambling to stay upright with the loud music, long dress, and my janky dance moves.

  Oh, and Meg now lives at Icor Towers, filling some PR positions she’s perfect for.

  Lindel and Cregor are dancing together, and…it seems like they are really enjoying each other’s company. Let’s just say—it’s enough to start some gossip.

  Gabriel suddenly takes me in his arms, and I’m being whisked across the dance floor. He’s staring intensely into my eyes. I’m totally lost in the moment.

  “I can’t wait to have you all to myself. For two weeks!”

  “That’s the longest you’ve been away from the company since you took charge, isn’t it?”

  “Yep.”

  “Aren’t you nervous?”

  “Not with Analise in charge. Enough talk of work, though.”

  He holds me close, and I’m in heaven. I never thought in a million years I could ever be this happy. That I could marry Gabriel the 10! But here I am, a blissful idiot—with an advanced degree and a high position in a billion-dollar company. Just to clarify that statement.

  A video begins to play on a large screen at the head of the reception. It’s various stills of Gabriel and me together, with a few short videos. My heart is near bursting when a video of me stumbling out of an elevator flashes on the screen.

  He didn’t!

  The room is laughing, and I’m turning red. Gabriel grabs the microphone.

  “That there, ladies and gentlemen, is a video I’ve watched no less than a thousand times since I met Ms. Remi Stone, or shall I call her Mrs. Remi Icor.”

  All eyes are on me, and I wave to the crowd.

  He’s so dead.

  “This feed was taken right after we first met. Shortly after she stepped onto that elevator, I tracked down the feed so that I could see her one last time. I knew then that she was the one, even if I didn’t know how to make it work.”

  Everyone’s clapping now, and tears are streaming down my face. How can I be mad at that? Gabriel Icor the 10 is just so perfect!

  I’m in his arms again, his hand around my waist, we’re gliding across the dance floor.

  So in love!

  ❦

  Remi and Gabriel get it on…

  My heart is damn near bursting from my chest as I wait for Gabriel to emerge from the bathroom.

  It’s well past midnight, we’ve been married for under 24 hours, and I can’t wait to finally be in his arms again—as his wife!

  I wish I could say I look super sexy in some high-end lingerie, but that would be a lie. I have a form-fitting white tank top on and a pair of matching white boy shorts. I have plenty of sexy things to wear on the honeymoon, but for our wedding night, I want to keep it simple.

  He saunters out, towel around his waist, and I see his sexy six-pack flexing. I can’t wait to get my hands on it!

  “God, what a day!” he says, stretching his arms in the air so I can get a good view of his flank.

  “I’ll say. I’m lucky I didn’t roll an ankle out there on the dance floor.”

  He looks anxious. A grimace crosses his face.

  “About that…it appears a video has already made it onto YouTube.”

  My hand shoots to my mouth. “No!”

  He chuckles. “What’s really funny is one of the replies, Billionaire Marries Klutz to Get Out of Liability Claim!”

  “You’re joking!”

  “I’m not!”

  “Well, it’s been a busy day. I guess I’m off to bed,” he says as he pulls back the blanket from the bed.

  “Excuse me?” My hands are on my hips to show him I mean business.

  “Getting married is busy work!” he says, feigning offense.

  “Work? Is that what you call our union?”

  “I mean, I can’t think of a better word, but if you can, I’m all ears.”

  I climb up his body, throwing the covers aside and sit on his rock-hard abs.

  His eyes brighten as he positions his hands behind his head. I lean down to kiss him before pulling off my shirt.

  I never thought a man would enjoy staring at me so much, but Gabriel Icor goes into a trance every single time I’m naked. And I swear, once he even drooled.

  “Hello, Sexy!”

  I feel him beneath me, wanting me. I want him too, and soon, our bodies are pressed together, hungry and on fire.

  “Remi Icor, I love you,” he says between kisses.

  I’m so lost, I haven’t words to return to him.

  He rolls me over, kisses down my body, pulls off my panties, and our night begins.

  Reviews & Arcs

  If you enjoyed reading The Billionaire's Board, or if you would like to leave feedback, please do so in the form of a review at the links below:

  Amazon

  Goodreads

  Even a short review helps!

  If you would like an ARC review of one of the upcoming Beguiling a Billionaire novels, please email: mims@mimsthewords.com

  About the Author – Lark

  Lark Anderson was raised near Syracuse, New York. She joined the USAF at 19 as a Flight Manager and eventually discharged in pursuit of a college degree. Her passion for writing manifested in elementary school, but she waited until she was in her 20's to pursue her dream. Now, she writes and assists other authors in reaching their greatest potential full time.

  Twitter: @mims_words / @lark_anderson

  Instagram: @mimsthewords

  Facebook: @LarkAndersonAuthor

  Website: www.larkandersonbooks.net

  THE BEGUILING A BILLIONAIRE SERIES

  BOOK 2

  A SNEAK PEAK AT.....

  THE
<
br />   BILLIONAIRE

  FIXER UPPER

  (subject to revisions)

  CHAPTER 1

  Fiona Fables…is homeless…

  What in the heck is this?

  I rip the red sheet of paper off my door, waving it in the air, not that there’s anyone around to see me.

  “Evicted? I’m being evicted?” I yell as though I were not alone. “What coward left this on my door?”

  I pace the hall, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

  “How is this even legal? Spoiler alert: It’s not! How could no one have the balls to come and tell me that I’m going to be homeless.”

  I knock on my neighbor’s door, then the door across the hall. I move from door to door, trying to get someone’s attention.

  Why doesn’t anyone care we’re about to be homeless?

  I continue down the hall until I reach the stairwell and turn back to see Mr. Everwell staring at me.

  Mr. Everwell is an older gentleman, late 60’s, a blues player. I’ve lost countless hours of sleep to him playing well into the night. Needless to say, there’s a bit of a rivalry between us.

  “Fi fi, why you actin’ all crazy?”

  Crazy? He has the audacity to call me crazy?

  I take a deep breath, feeling much bolder than my usual rational, well thought out self. It’s feels almost as though I’m walking into battle, and I wonder if this is what it’s like walking into a courtroom.

  No, I don’t think I’m being dramatic. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that we’re basically always at war with something. For me, it’s usually my lactose intolerance. Today—it’s eviction.

  Crossing my arms over my chest I saunter up to Mr. Everwell, glaring daggers.

  “Mr. Everwell,” I hold up the eviction notice, “they’re trying to oust me from my home when I haven’t been late on even one payment.”

  “Yeah, but you got some janky shit over there on that side of the hall. Black mold. Rot. Faulty wiring.”

  My brow furrows. “Look, I’m well aware we live in a slum. I’ve had to put myself through college while living in one of the most expensive cities in the world. If you’re trying to shame me for living in a shitty apartment right across from your own shitty apartment, than let me tell y—”

  “Whoa, whoa, I don’t think you heard me right.”

  “So, you didn’t just bring up my mold, rot, and faulty wiring?”

  “Your side was deemed unfit for habitation. They’re redoing your row.”

  “Redoing my row?”

  “Getting rid ah da mold. Fixing it up. Gettin’ it up to code.”

  “Why wasn’t I told about this? I know there’s some city regulation that’s gotta state how much time they’re allotted before forcing me out.”

  “You were told. Everyone was told. They came around every day for two weeks.”

  “What? I’ve been studying for finals at the library. Why didn’t they leave a note on my door?”

  “They did, and if I remember correctly, you cursed them damn witnesses whenever you saw them.”

  Realization hit me like a slap in the face.

  “Oh, my God! That’s what those were. Holy crickets! It looked like a damn coming to Jesus flier.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  Mr. Everwell turned to go back in his apartment.

  “Wait! You can’t go.”

  “Yes, I can. I got some shows about to come on.”

  He shuffles not his apartment, slamming the door behind him, and leaving me alone in the hall.

  Where the hell am I supposed to go? They can’t do this. Don’t they need to tell their tenants in person?

  I try to remember the various rules and regulations regarding housing in New York City, but they elude me. For once, I wish I paid more attention to things outside of entertainment law.

  Think Fiona! You don’t want to be going apartment shopping and job hunting at the same time.

  My friends that I graduated with are off traveling the world, all on their parents’ dollar. My one good friend left, Teagan from the coffee shop I work at, is a squatter and chances are she doesn’t have so much as a couch I can sleep on.

  In other words, I’m completely screwed.

  The stairwell door opens, and a man comes into the hallway. He’s dressed in jeans, and a red tee shirt, a grey baseball cap pulled low on his forehead.

  What has my interest piqued is the toolbox he’s carrying.

  “Hey!” I say as he walks by.

  He ignores me completely, continuing down the hall.

  Who does he think he is ignoring me like that?

  I follow him down the hall, eviction notice in hand.

  “Hey—hello! Who do you work for? Hello? Listen, I just got this notice saying—”

  He comes to a sudden stop before me, which I fail to do.

  I walk straight into the man, but he doesn’t budge even an inch, and suddenly, I’m on the hallway floor looking up at him through my frizzy red hair that’s fallen over my face.

  I’m startled. He’s startled.

  Oh, wow—this man is smokin!

  He doesn’t look at all like I expect a handyman in a slum to look like. Bright blue eyes, at least six-feet tall. Strong jaw and perfect white teeth. And those muscles—exactly what a woman needs wrapped around her.

  His brow’s furrows in clear confusion, which doesn’t seem possible with how loud I was shouting?

  He takes something white from his ear, first one, then the other.

  Is he deaf? Oh, my God—he’s deaf. I’m such an asshole!

  I try to remember the sign language I studied so long ago, but all I remember is certain letters.

  C…A…N…

  He’s looking at me confused. Like I’m crazy.

  I hear a soft mumbling and look in his hands to see a small white ear piece.

  “Are you okay?” he finally says.

  “Are those wireless earbuds?” I ask.

  “Why, are you trying to rob me?”

  My mouth gapes in offense. “Me? Trying to rob you?”

  “Well, I’m not sure what they hell you’re doing, lady. I just kno—”

  I hold up the flier I’ve been gripping in my hand.

  “I’ve just been evicted from my apartment! I need to talk to your boss right now!”

  His eyes shift downward, as if he’s ashamed—which he very well should be if he’s had any part in this!

  “Oh…weren’t you notified four weeks ago?” he says. “About the renovations around The Shire?”

  The Shire is what the group of buildings making up the apartment complex is called, despite the fact that it is FAR from fantasy living.

  “No, I wasn’t. And who the hell thinks four weeks is enough time to up and move in New York City! It could take ten months to find another affordable apartment.”

  “Well, you were given the option to relocate to another unit inside the complex.”

  “Good, I’ll take that.”

  “Unfortunately, they’re all full now.”

  “That’s not possible!”

  Oh, no! Not this! Not again.

  There’s no way I can afford another apartment in the city right now, especially before I’m actually accepted into an internship program. I got this one at a killer discount, and yeah, there’s a bit of a smell, but it’s within my means and I’ve learned to accept its quirky charms.

  “I demand to speak to the owner!” I say. “I just finished law school, and boy is he in trouble.”

  “Well, you probably wouldn’t be in this situation if he were still alive.”

  I blink, confused. “He’s dead? So who’s evicting me?”

  “The city. When his estate went to probate there were a lot of inspections. Failed inspections.”

  “Oh, God. Oh, no. I don’t know what to do? I just finished finals! I don’t graduate for another month! I work as a barista for crying out loud. There is NO WAY I can afford to move.”


  “Do you have a friend you could stay with?”

  “A friend? No, I have no one to stay with. Holy crickets how could they do this to someone?”

  I pull myself up into a sitting position, fanning myself. It’s as if the air is scorching hot.

  “I’m going to refuse to leave. They’ll have to pry me from my apartment. I’ll chain myself to the plumbing.”

  “I hope you know, I have bolt cutters.”

  Is he mocking me?

  “Seriously? I find out I’m about to be homeless, and you’re sitting here mocking me?”

  “Well, you can’s say you weren’t warned.”

  “Wow! Just wow! It’s not everyday a guy takes a shot at a homeless woman.”

  The man sits down next to me, entirely too close for my comfort. Or rather, I’d like him to sit much closer, if the situation were different. You don’t see this kind of sexy every day.

  “So, you need an apartment?” he says with a smirk.

  The way he’s staring at me has me anxious. “If you’re about to turn into some creepy pervert—I’m not game. Holy crickets when did my life turn into a porno?”

  He chuckles, turning red. “No, I didn’t mean anything like that.”

  That’s actually kind of a bummer.

  “Well, what exactly did you mean?” I say.

  “I’m doing work on the entire complex, lining up contractors, getting it up to code. While I’m here, I’ve been given the maintenance apartment, but I don’t need it except to house my tools. Since you are done with finals, you can stay there for free if you agree to help with some of the projects.”

  “Wait! So you expect me, with no credentials, to go around fixing the damn faulty wiring and shit?”

  “Let’s start over,” he says. “Hi, my name is Zev,” he holds out his hand to shake. “Would you like a job?”

  I take his hand, giving it a slight shake, furrowing my brow at him.

  Say something, you idiot!

  “Hi, my name is Fiona. I’m homeless and not qualified to do handiwork.”