Marrying a Billionaire Box Set

Author’s note:

There will be more books coming soon from Erica Storm. Look around you might find what you’re looking for. You can contact me at ericastorm02@gmail.com  and I will answer you. I will try to add books to your favorite series in 2019 as well as publishing more series.  As you wait, try some of my books you haven’t read. You might find something you enjoy or visit my website: https://www.bwwm-ericastorm02.com/

Copyright 

Copyright © 2019 by Erica Storm

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. No reproduction of this book part or whole is permitted. This book should not be scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the author’s permission.

Chapter 1

Alani Cole

W e’re going to Las Vegas with or without you. You can keep your happy ass home and sit on the sofa and cry over Trent if you want to. But Southwest is taking off every hour on the hour, and I’m going to be there. And so is Patrice, Tamika, and Andre, Kimberly said as she paced from one mirror to the next, flicking her hair around and combing through it with her long curved nails.

I glanced up at her. She knows I don’t like her messing with her long hair in my kitchen. I like that color. What was I going to say, that red isn’t that flattering on her not with her dark skin. To me, it clashed with everything she wore. From the yellow pantsuit to her white shoes. But who am I to talk?

We have a schedule to keep. Get to the airport, park, get to the gate and wait for hours, and by that time, I’m ready for a drink. I want to be drunk before and after I arrive in Las Vegas. I don’t want to know who I fuck. And I can tell you now that I’m ready. Ready willing and able to take a hard dick, Kimberly said. Taking out her phone, she looked down at her cell phone swiping through Facebook as she checked on her hair salon.

I sat a cup of coffee in front of her, and she pushed it to the side. Anything to keep her hands out of her hair.

Just look at this shit. Kimberly holds up her phone. I just gave them all phones, and they’ve dropped them already and broke the screen. Are they doing this shit on purpose?

They probably don’t want your invasive ass spying on them, I said. And to my credit, I wasn’t crying over Trent. Kimberly wanted me to sound like a drama queen, which I’m not. Sure he fucked around on me, and I forgave him one time too many, but I moved on. Not like Kimberly with her last man. Misery loves company. She fucked up his car window and stabbed his tires. He called the police on her, and she spent a couple of nights in jail until I bailed her out. Now she’s bent on going to Las Vegas to forget she will have to pay a lawyer, pay a fine and do community service. 

Why the fuck not spy on them? It’s my business. And all that’s my shit in there. I have to keep my eye out for light hands. They should be happy I gave them a phone. Look at them. Half of them couldn’t afford an iPhone and the others well, they’re too busy buying second hand Mercedes to compete with me.

Then they can afford their own phones, and they don’t need you giving them anything. You just wanted to do that because you want them to like you and you wanted to spy on them, and they know it. That’s probably why they’re breaking the phones. I would too if I had you fucking with me every minute of the day.

That’s called hands-on, Kimberly said.

It’s called control, I said. Then Kimberly turned to me and threw her long hair to the side, huffed and then pointed her finger at me. I have only three days of vacation, and I’m not letting anyone ruin it for me.

Then why did you tell Andre that he could come along with four women?

He’s my personal hairdresser, and he’s gay.

But he likes to wear women underwear, I objected.

I know, but can’t you keep that to yourself. Andre told me that in secrecy and he doesn’t expect me to tattle on him.

Well he doesn’t know you very well does he? 

Never mind that. Kim waved her hands around dismissing me as she tapped something on her phone. Day one. Fuck a stranger. Day two. Have a strange man eat your pussy. I raised an eyebrow. She ignored me. Day three fuck a rich man and don’t forget to use a condom.

Shouldn’t that be day one? She continued tapping with her long nails.

Day four get to the airport on time and leave all that shit in Vegas and come home to Houston completely replenished, and ready to get back to work. Now if you’re not down with that, you can sit at home and watch me live stream it on YouTube.

If you stream yourself fucking a stranger, then you will find the authorities at your door for indecent exposure.

Well I hadn’t thought about that, Kim said throwing around her false hair.

Why don’t you take a few minutes from that phone, and do some thinking. Because you if you did, you wouldn’t have booked us on a cheap flight and into one of the most expensive rooms in the Aria.

All I can say in my defense is that I roll cheap, but I live high. I’m sure she just thought about that like she does everything else. Why didn’t you book us all separate rooms? I know why she did that so she could take this off as a business expense. The only one going that work at her Salon is Andre. I had my own business, and I should have taken care of my own business.

Because Tamika and Patrice couldn’t afford separate rooms and I wanted to enjoy myself, and besides we all won’t be in the suite at the same time.

What are we going to do about Andre?

Oh him, he’s just like one of the girls.

As long as he doesn’t borrow my dress or my wigs and rummage through my panties. I draw the line with him walking around naked in women’s underwear.

Don’t be so judgmental. I don’t think he’s the women underwear type. I think he likes to wear a training bra. I rolled my eyes. 

I’m not judgmental. There are some things I don’t want to see. If it’s not on a man I’m sleeping with, I don’t want to see it, I said to her after narrowing my eyes. I just want a few quiet days where I have nothing to do but lie around the pool and dream.

That can be arranged. Andre will be hanging out with the three of us, and you can do whatever that floats your boat because Tamika, Patrice, and I are going to be on the hunt for live bodies and swinging hard cocks. If you know what I mean.

Standing and leaving my coffee cup on the counter, I walked into my living room. It was a small apartment separated by a bar. Kimberly followed and plopped on the sofa.

After Kimberly said hard cock, she raised both her eyebrows up and down in a suggestive way. I knew exactly what she meant. She said as much as she gestured with her hands. Then one false eyelash fell on a cushion. She lay her phone down on the table next to where she sat and searched around for it, finding the lash under the cushion, then she placed it in her purse.

Now that’s what I need Andre for. He has to keep me beautiful for at least three days.

Kimberly rose, glanced at me and strolled over to me with her comb. You need a touch-up, but if you want I can give you one when we get to the hotel.

You’re not doing anything. I can go to a salon in the hotel if I need my hair done.

You know well enough that those people know absolutely nothing about black hair. I bet if I opened a salon in Las Vegas I could make a killing. She and I knew that was a lie. Girls weren’t interested in perms anymore. And some couldn’t afford the high price of getting their hair weaved or whatever it was they do. She would be bankrupt inside a week and back to Houston in a fast New York minute.

I think we’ll get tickets for Chippendales, Kimberly said after she stopped playing around in my head. Once a hairdresser always one. She even gave her bald head boyfriend a weave and ended up snatching it out because she caught him wearing it with one of his girlfriends at happy hour.

What did she expect? He couldn’t leave it at home like you leave a dog. She would have done better giving him a puppy. But then that wouldn’t satisfy Kimberly, she would have taken the puppy once she found out he was cheating on her.

They say most of those dancers are gay, I said looking up at her prance over to her purse and drop her utensils inside. She always seems to walk around with a hot comb, blow-dryer, and scissors. For what I didn’t know, and now I didn’t give a rat’s ass because I was tired of her conversation and I knew I had three or four days with that group. I wasn’t exactly a happy camper at that. 

Gay men what do I care. I’m not going to marry them. I just want to see an incredible body and a good looking face I can masturbate to.

Who? What? I said absentminded.

Chippendales. We’re there for three days, and I don’t think there will be any crazy shit like marrying a stranger. If you notice that’s not on my to-do list.

All right. Go home and let me finish packing. I’ll meet you at the airport.

Chapter 2

Guy Christian

F or fuck sake. Can’t you guys get anything straight? I have to get to the IT convention on time. Not because I have to, but because I’m the fucking guest speaker. If this happens again, I’m going to fire the entire crew and my staff and get me someone who can organize my life better than you guys. There must be competent people out there who can do more than use their ass for their brains.

There was a long silence. Then someone had the balls to speak.

But... Mr. Christian... I interrupted him.

But Mr. Christian my dick. Do your job, or I’m going to replace all of you immediately. Then I slammed the phone down for my own satisfaction.

I narrowed my eyes and glared at Amelia my secretary, but she ignored me and my choice words. She’s used to this, and she asked that I place more women in some key positions, but I resisted because of the Me Too movement. She said they could organize this place better than these damn men. But I guess I was too stubborn to listen, and it’s about to cost me big time.

Don’t look at me like that Amelia. She’s watching me over her half-moon glasses. And I can read the expression on her face, but instead of her remaining quiet which she never does, she opens her mouth.

Well, Guy, I told you so. I don’t usually allow the people who work for me to call me by my first name, but since she’s been working for me for years and is quite efficient, I make this exception. And another thing. You have this account pending, and it’s the biggest that our company can handle, but there’s one problem.

I’m trying to put on my jacket so I can catch a plane. A plane that carries people like sardines, and I have to wait in line. I neither expected this nor embraced this. My incompetent crew didn’t get my jet inspected in time for my trip to Las Vegas, and now I have to sit on one of those fucking airlines that reminds me of a can of Tuna. I turn to Amelia with a raised eyebrow.

Well, what the fuck is it this time? I don’t have a suite booked at the Aria? I have to sleep in one of those corner suites overlooking a drainage pipe or something? I glare at her, and she shoots me a wicked smile. I stop talking because I could be right.

No. Nothing so drastic. But I wished that was our only trouble? Amelia helps me with my shirt collar, and I pick up my satchel and look at her.

Well get on with it. You know how I dislike you dragging this on and I have to get to that fucking airport. That Bush airport is halfway across town and who knows what kind of delays is waiting for me.

As I strode to the open door and Amelia stands behind me, I turn and glance at her. What the fuck is it?

The account that you said we needed to keep our company afloat without you having to add your own capital, and you know that if you put your own capital up, you could go broke in a day.

I turn around and meet Amelia’s concerned glance. Her forehead is furrowed and not from age. She’s in her sixties, but she looks like the same woman I inherited from my father when he turned over the company to me. She’s the captain of this company, and she knows where all the bodies are buried. And I depend on her and trust her advice. I believe in her before I would trust those fucking managers who said that my airplane would be ready and waiting for me today. Or the board of directors whose looking to replace me.

Looking at Amelia, I place my satchel down near my feet. This sounds serious.  Tell me. What do I have to do to get that account?

You have to get married. Not today but yesterday.

What the fuck did you say? My mouth falls open.

I said that the head of FBD called and said that although you were what they were looking for to guide there company into the twenty-first century, you had one drawback.

And what the fuck is that? My age? I’m fucking thirty. The youngest fucking billionaire they’ve met who could make their company the richest in the world. I have years of making them money. I cursed under my breath. A word Amelia probably wouldn’t appreciate. They know I can make them money and they’re willing to let me slip out of their hands because of what?

Because you’re not married.

Did I hear you correctly? I narrow my eyes and shoot her a sour look. I’m not running for the fucking President. What does me being married have to do with anything?

Guy. You don’t have to stay married. You just have to be married.

Did he or she say it had to be a woman? She snickers at me because by now I’m considering anyone.

No. But everyone knows your reputation with the women, and they want to be certain that you’re stable. You’re after all thirty-something and not married. They don’t want to take any chances.

I’m not gay.

The board of directors at FB don’t care about the gay part. They just want you to be married.

"I’m not married because I