Pawn of the Billionaire

By: Kristin Frasier & Abigail Moore



“Well, if you get that sort of tip, girl, you’d better watch out.”

I rounded on him, then thought better of it. I sighed, “I suppose.” The man was gone. The most attractive, sexy devil I’d seen in a long time had walked out of my life, and I had no means of ever finding him again.

I looked around. The few remaining customers eating studiously, heads down. Tables cluttered with used dishes, waiting to be cleared. The smell of greasy food in the kitchen. My life wasn’t about to change any time soon.

I went to get Sam a refill of his coffee. Marco glared at me. But he wouldn’t say anything more to me today. I knew him well enough to know that.





James





I strode down the sidewalk, my coat shrugged up over my hunched shoulders against the rain. I’d even forgotten about the car, until it slid up alongside me, and Steve leapt out to open the door.

I shook my head. “Sorry, Steve. I forgot you were waiting.” That sounded lame, even to me, so I shut up and got in the back, letting him close the door behind me. I darkened the screen between us and thought back.

What the hell had happened? I’d abso-fucking-lutely had to get out of that shit place as quickly as possible. Just one look at her had me all knotted up inside — and that had never happened before. When that stupid, bloated owner had started in on her, I’d so nearly upped and punched him. But then she’d leapt to her own defense, and her sheer mastery of him had me sitting there in gaping admiration.

I could absolutely see her controlling Edward without difficulty.

And at the thought of handing her over to my weak and ineffectual brother, my belly clenched and my heart went cold. I knew I was scowling. The car headed home. I hadn’t told Steve any different, and he was probably a bit scared of asking me. He was fairly new, and I could sense his uncertainty.

I was too deep in my thoughts to bother putting it right though, and I thought back to the diner.

She was tall, not nearly as tall as I was, but she might take an inch or so off Edward. She was ungainly, stooping with an adolescent awkwardness. But she’d grow out of that soon enough. She wasn’t quite twenty, and in a few years, with the right training, she’d have an effortless elegance and her height would be an advantage to her and us. I leaned back against the seat and shut my eyes.

How did I know her body so well? Her face was familiar to me from the photo in the dossier. But I knew how she’d feel in my arms. I could scent the luxury perfume she’d soon be using. I could tell what her creamy skin would feel like when I slid my hand down the luscious curve of her ass, the perfect handful of its rounded cheek.

My cock stiffened in my pants. I tensed. I had to control myself. She wasn’t mine. And my heart sank.

I considered her background information in the dossier that Lawrence had given me a couple of days ago. This girl was Antonia Chapman, the great great granddaughter of the Earl of Amherst.

Back in the eighteenth century, the Earl’s only son had been killed in a hunting accident, and his three daughters couldn’t inherit. When he died, the title became extinct. Two of the daughters had married wasters, weak, ineffectual men who’d quickly ruined the family finances as well.

I smiled tightly. The beautiful old mansion had been sold. I believed it was now owned by a wealthy footballer. I sat up abruptly. I couldn’t — wouldn’t — let that happen to my own family home.

No one ever knew what happened to the third daughter. But the eldest, Antonia, had gone to America with her husband. Their family history made interesting reading, but children had been few, and when Antonia’s only surviving daughter had become pregnant out of wedlock, she’d vanished from the family records. None of her surviving nephews and nieces knew of her existence, or what had happened to her.

I slipped the file from the folder still sitting on the back seat of the limo. Before I opened it, I stared out. The car was driving through the city outskirts now, a wider, cleaner street. Up to the billionaire’s part of Silicon Valley. Better than the narrow, crowded downtown street where the diner stood, and the bitter taste of the cheap coffee was still in my throat.

I looked down. I was surprised how interested I’d been in the history of this family. Normally, I’d have been bored. This girl? Okay, if you say so. Give her money, send her off to that finishing school, pass her to Edward and let me get on with my comfortable life.

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