The Billionaire's Beginning: A Billionaire Romance

by M. Never

  The Billionaire’s Beginning

  M Never

  Copyright © M. Never 2017

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from author.

  All rights reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Author Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by M Never

  Author Note

  The Billionaire’s Beginning

  Cut throat housing developer sets his sights on the beautiful, mysterious niece of his number one business rival. A seductive, modern day Romeo and Juliet tale.

  Prologue

  Ty

  These fucking things are a total bore.

  I down another glass of champagne as I glance at my Rolex. Almost midnight. My misery will soon be over.

  Not only running but being the face of a multimillion-dollar company has its perks and its pains. I could think of a thousand other things I’d rather be doing on New Year’s Eve than spearheading potential business connections. But at least the fight was entertaining. I’d hoped this night would be less of a snooze-fest with Shane and Chase here, and maybe even win some brownie points with Jenn, but that plan backfired when they informed me about their alternate arrangements and surprise proposal.

  I swallow another large sip of crisp champagne, draining the glass. At the very least, I can get drunk and not let the night be a total waste. And the band is good, so there's that.

  I meander around the large ballroom littered with A-list actors and actresses, celebrity chefs, and business elites. Some I recognize, some I don’t. I’ve been entitled my entire life, so galas like these don't impress me like some others. It's just another function to wheel and deal. A quarter in, a dollar out.

  I need another drink.

  Turning to head for one of the bars, I spot a beguiling face illuminated under the purple uplights. She’s talking and laughing with two men and a woman. It looks like she doesn't have a care in the world. I envy her. It feels like I have weighted shackles locked around my wrists and ankles at all times. I watch her converse as I stand at the bar, studying her the same way I did at the fight. She has an air. A gravitational pull. I can't tear my gaze away from her athletic silhouette, or her enchanting smile, or her long, flowing, chestnut hair. She's not the blonde, waif-like type I’m usually attracted to, yet I can't divert my attention at all. She had me the moment she looked back at me at the fight. Like she recognized me but didn't. It was a strange initial connection, but memorable, nonetheless. Bonding almost, until she ran into the arms of another man. Who’s nowhere to be seen at the moment. I would never abandon a woman like her. Not for a moment. Not so a man like me could move in on my territory.

  I sip my champagne slowly, the same pace at which I’d explore her body. With my tongue. Starting from the ticklish spot behind her ear, I’d work my way down her neck, over her bare chest and peak of her breast, stopping only momentarily to tease her nipples until they’re puckered and hard. Then I’d slide down the center of her abdomen until I reached the candied spot my sweet tooth has been aching for. Like indulging in dessert, I’d lick her until I'm content, which would take a very, very long while. Needy and wet, she’d beg me to fuck her with more than just my mouth. And I would, in every angle and in every position. Until neither of us could see or hear or think. I can almost feel that tight pussy coming all over me as I silently stand here and stare.

  She suddenly looks my way, as if cosmically pulled in my direction, and when our eyes meet, her breath noticeably catches. Does she feel the connection as strongly as I do?

  “Can I have another?” I hold up my glass of champagne to the bartender. The man in the black tuxedo and white gloves places a flute in front of me and pours the golden bubbly until it's frothing at the top. By the time I pick up the glass and start striding across the lavishly decorated room, she’s saying her goodbyes to the people she’d been talking to. It’s like a perfectly planned movie scene.

  She stands alone for several short seconds, watching me approach with wide, entranced eyes.

  “We meet again.” I hand her the champagne.

  She takes it obligingly. “It must be fate.”

  “Perhaps.” I clink the rim of my glass against hers, and we both take a sip. “Where is your husband?” I immediately fish for information.

  She looks at me oddly, the brown of her irises picking up the hues of purple from the lights.

  “I’m not married.”

  “Boyfriend, then?”

  “No boyfriend either.”

  “Then whose arms did you run into earlier tonight?”

  She smiles. “Jack. He’s an old friend.”

  “And where is this old friend now?”

  “Probably with his wife somewhere.”

  I like that answer.

  “Where are your friends?” she inquires.

  “Getting engaged.” The odd look returns to her face.

  “All three of them?” she asks with humor, but I hear the true question in her tone.

  “Yes, all three. They’re an item,” I confirm.

  “Oh.” Her pretty eyes widen as she takes another sip of champagne. “How modern.”

  “Extremely modern,” I agree. “I’m Ty, by the way,” I formally introduce myself. “Ty Winters.”

  That amazing smile reappears. Damn, I feel the fucking thing in my groin.

  “Simone.” She lifts her hand, and I immediately take it. The electric charge is instantaneous. We both vibrate from it. It's magnetic.

  “It's a pleasure.” I’m unable to peel my eyes away from her.

  There’s a shy but strong air about her. A little bit of bait and a whole lot of intrigue.

  One touch just isn't enough. The band slows down the music, providing me the perfect opportunity. “Would you like to dance?” I ask as an edgy rendition of “Wonderful Tonight” flows through the speakers.

  “I would love to.” A dark pink stains her cheeks as she accepts. I mentally list a few other ways I can cause her face to blush that color.

  Placing our glasses on a nearby table, I lead her out to the dance floor as it crowds quickly.

  There’s a momentary awkwardness on her part as I slip my arm around her waist and pull her flush against me. This isn't a platonic encounter. It's a bold statement.

  After several beats of the music and a few sways, her body softens, succumbing to my insistent hold. She feels like perfection in my arms as I inhale her floral scent.

  We dance silently, cheek to cheek, getting swept away in the hypnotic notes. It’s crazy. I don’t know this woman past much more than her name, but I'm drawn to her like a mesmerizing flame. I rub my cheek then my nose against hers, inching the corner of my mouth closer and closer to her lips. An overpowering need to taste her takes over. A breath away from kissing her, she looks up at me with conflicting brown eyes. I pause, awaiting her permission. Armed and ready to cross the line.
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  We listen to a set of the chorus, trapped in a spellbinding stare. Then she moves, closing the tiny gap between our mouths. I seize her head immediately, delivering a heart-stopping kiss right in the middle of the dance floor for everyone to see. It's one of the most epic moments of my life. An unexpected embrace with an unexpected stranger on an unexpected New Year’s Eve.

  Our tongues tangle, our lips compelled as we’re enslaved by the heated bond. My pulse is pounding, my head is throbbing, and my hands are shaking as we both fight for the kiss to continue. Neither one of us willing to break the tie. But basic human need wins over, and we pause for an intake of air.

  “I know this is forward.” I breathe heavily with my eyes closed and my forehead pressed against hers. “But…”

  Simone looks up at me with utter terror. “I can't.” She cuts me off right away. It's as if she can read my mind. Read my rampant desire. All my yearnings. I need this woman tonight, like I need oxygen to survive.

  “Yes, you can. No one has to know, if that's what you're worried about.” I try to persuade her. “I'm a discreet man.”

  “It's not that.” The terror in her eyes has morphed into despair. “I just can’t . . . be with a man.” The strong, confident woman who was just standing before me has withdrawn suddenly into a timid wallflower.

  “You can be with me,” I press.

  “I'm sorry, Ty.” She rubs her arms agitatedly and looks everywhere but at me. “I can't be with anyone.”

  “If you give me one night, I can change all that.” I don't know what her dilemma is, but I'm confident I can overcome it. We can overcome it.

  “I wish that were true. I really do.” Simone sighs apologetically. “But no one can change it.”

  “You’ve never met anyone like me.” I rise to the challenge. One side of her mouth curves up.

  “I have a feeling that's true. Your reputation precedes you.”

  “You know who I am?” I cock my head. “You’ve known the whole time?”

  “I had a suspicion at first, but wasn't one hundred percent sure until you told me your name.”

  “Have we met before?” I rack my brain. I would have surely remembered meeting a woman like her.

  “Not officially.”

  “What does that mean?” I question.

  “Our families run in the same circles,” Simone provides me with a vague response. I scrutinize her.

  “What’s your last name?”

  She pauses before answering. “Travers. Simone Travers.”

  I freeze. Her first name isn’t familiar, but her last name punches me right in the gut.

  The company two families built from nothing bears both our names. The same company my family is sole owner of now.

  “Is this some kind of fucking joke?” I back away from Simone. To say the company split was nasty is putting it mildly. It was a bloodbath that almost put us under. Even just conversing with her is like pitting a Montague against a Capulet. “Why are you here?” I demand suspiciously.

  “Because I was invited.”

  “Why?”

  “My family contributes a lot of money to the organization.”

  “This particular organization? I find that ironic.” I scoff.

  “Helping Vets is a noble cause.”

  “Travers’ don't know a thing about being noble,” I spit.

  “You’re one to talk. You and your family sit on a high horse, thinking you’re superior. But you’re just like all the rest. Lots of money and an expensive suit doesn't make you any better than me.” Anger flashes over her exquisite features, and the woman I was originally drawn to returns with a vengeance.

  I seize her arm securely, adamant to make a point. “I’ve got news for you. I’m better than most everyone.”

  “You are one cocky son of a bitch.” She tries to tug her arm out of my tight grip.

  “Damn right, sweetheart. You don't get to where I am by being a pushover. Confidence is key.”

  “Confidence, huh? Is that what you call it? I’m more inclined to agree with your friend. You’re an asshole.” Simone finally yanks herself free. As blindsided and pissed off as I am, our disconnection aggravates me above all else. Despite our family ties, I still want her as much now as I did before. Maybe even more. The notion of fucking a piece of forbidden fruit tempts me as powerfully as the Devil tempted Eve.

  “Why are you really here?” I grab Simone again, interrogating her. Even her name is alluring.

  Hostility radiates from every toned curve of her body. The clingy champagne material plastered to her skin allows me to pinpoint each seductive peak and enticing valley.

  “Because this organization is incredibly important to me.” She looks me dead in the eyes with the heart of a warrior. Jesus, this woman. She’s as fierce as she is delicate. And I have never wanted anyone or anything as badly as I want her. Ever.

  “Why?” I need to know.

  “It helped when nothing else could.”

  “Helped who?”

  Seconds pound away like heavy drum beats until she finally answers.

  “Me . . .”

  1

  Ty

  Six months later

  I never believed something as simple as a kiss could be so life altering.

  But I was wrong.

  Dead wrong.

  Because a single kiss is holding my mind hostage. It's consumed my world. My lips still sting from the feel of hers. The sensation as potent now as it was six months ago on that dance floor.

  I let the red-hot water run over my body and scald my skin. I try not to think about her. I try to forget. But one brush of her memory and my want, need, and outlandish desire reacts.

  I instinctively grab my swelling cock, the water streaming down my hair and over my face as I brace one hand against the wall. The inescapable memories invading—her big, brown eyes, her long, chestnut hair, the curves of her hips, the swell of her breasts.

  My mouth burns for just one more taste of her lips. The ones on her beautiful face, and the ones I never had a chance to become acquainted with between her thighs.

  I bet she’s sweet. Forget bet, I know. I know she’s sweet. As sweet as the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden.

  I blindly took a bite, and now I'm damned in a solitude of hell.

  I stroke my cock until it's painful. One kiss. One fucking kiss is all it took to completely destroy me. Destroy my concentration, my drive, and my interest in any other woman.

  My muscles tighten like strangling vines as I squeeze my fingers around my pulsing shaft. I picture her mouth. Familiar with the feel of her soft, plump lips, I fantasize them wrapped around my cock. Fuck, it's too much. The simple thought. The X-rated visual. The inexplicable power she has over me. My air supply evaporates when I finally explode. My blood racing faster than a Formula One car, and my thoughts more sluggish than a snail.

  I slump against the wall when it's all said and done, winded and pissed at myself I let it happen again. She gets to me every single time.

  She’s under my skin.

  Laced in my thoughts.

  An ever-present shadow cast over my entire world.

  2

  Ty

  I walk down the beach with the ocean glittering in front of me. It's a warm June day, and I find myself at yet another marathon charity function. A surf competition today and gala tonight. My family’s company, Winters Travers, is a prominent developer on the East Coast. We're responsible for much of the beachfront redevelopment and new housing in dying and underpopulated areas. I’ve taken up residence in a small, coastal town in New Jersey that I'm personally overseeing the redevelopment of. Many of the locals were resistant to the change at first, Jenn being one of them, but as the area is growing, so is the economy. A year ago, no one would have ever considered holding a high-profile surf competition or gala in Surf City, but now it's an up-and-coming area families and young professionals are flocking to.

  Saying hello to a few business associates as I mak
e my way to the spectator area, I spot Chase and Jenn lounging on a checkered blanket watching one of the heats.

  I drop my shoes into the sand and take a seat next to a shirtless Chase. He greets me warmly, bumping my fist. Jenn barely acknowledges my existence. I know we have a rocky past, but I really wish she would let bygones be bygones already. The cold shoulder is getting old. Not to be a dick, but if I had never come into her life, she wouldn't have Shane or Chase or a sparkly new restaurant that’s prime real estate on the oceanfront.

  “When is Shane up?” I ask Chase as I scan my surroundings. Tons of people turned out today. A parade of food trucks are parked on the street, a line of mobile surf shops are set up near the announcer's area, and a mega bounce house and sand castle demonstration are occupying children of all ages farther down the beach.

  “He should be up in a few. The competition just started.” Chase leans back on his elbows and laces his fingers with Jenn’s. I’ve known Chase since college. We attended Duke together and then both went on to law school. Once we graduated, I joined the family business and took Chase with me. He’s one of my right hands. Shane, who is currently sitting on his surf board several meters away from us chatting with other contestants, is my other. He looks to be in his element and every bit the surfer now as he was several years ago when I met him. Recruited him, actually. He’s responsible for many of the modern, clean designs of our buildings and housing developments. He has an incredible eye for detail, and with one look at his portfolio, I knew I had to have him on my payroll. Little did I know, I would be making a love connection with him and Chase in the process.