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Single Dad’s Virgin: A Fake Marriage Romance
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My billionaire boss needs me to do something absolutely crazy.
Housekeeper for a stunningly handsome, male-model billionaire? Yep, that’s my job and it’s as dreamy as it sounds. I get to live in his ridiculously huge mansion, and all I have to do is take care of his mom and daughter, who are practically family. To top it off, the notoriously bossy Mr. King has been away for business since I started.
But he came home today.
Liam King looks like he stepped out of a GQ magazine, and the way he undresses me with his eyes should be illegal. He ignites my body. Every part of it. But It doesn’t matter how tempting he is. I can’t have him.
I can’t risk my job. Even if a guy like him was actually interested in a twenty-two year old virgin like me, I can’t give in. I’ve been in enough relationships to know how they all end: disaster. And if I lose my job, I lose the closest thing to a family I’ve had since my mother passed.
But a fake engagement doesn’t really count as a relationship… Right?
**This is a full-length, standalone fake marriage romance. No cheating or cliffhangers, and as always, Happily Ever After guaranteed. Bonus content included!
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“You knew it would end up like this,” he says, tracing a path between my bare breasts with his finger. Goosebumps form in the wake of his touch, rippling across my skin.
I never thought I would be here. Not with him. Not in a moment like this. Things like Liam King don’t happen to girls like me.
I could lose myself in the green of his eyes, like a forest lit by the sun. I could trace the perfect line of his jaw for days. But he’s not mine. Not really, at least. Why is that so hard to remember?
“Maybe you knew,” I say, laughing my insecurities away and into the crook of his neck
He kisses me softly beneath my ear, smirking. “You can’t lie to me, sweetheart. You wanted it to be like this. Admit it.”
I roll away from him, giggling as he tries to pull me back. “I won’t,” I laugh.
He pins me down, bare skin against bare skin, eyes boring into mine. There’s a fire in his gaze more real than the sheets beneath me or the room around us.
He’s not really your fiancé, Aubrey. It’s not real. Don’t turn it into more than it is. You’ll only end up hurt.
The smile on my face fades, but he kisses me, not noticing. I let myself melt away in his embrace, pushing down the doubts, fears, and even the hope. Those are all problems for tomorrow. Right now, I’m just going to enjoy this. Whatever it is.
It feels good to be back home after a month out of the country. Some people buy houses on the cheap and flip them for a profit, but that’s small time shit, as far as I’m concerned. I flip businesses, corporations, fortune 500 companies–the sky’s the limit. I buy them out, gut them, and then streamline the infrastructure, reorganize the customer experience, and increase productivity. I can make a powerhouse out of a flop, and I’ve been doing it for fifteen years. It has made me billions, sure, but that’s not what I’m after. It never has been.
Doing what I do is a fucking addiction, and it’s the only thing in the world powerful enough to get me to leave my daughter for weeks at a time. I spend many nights laying awake, wondering how I can say I love her more than anything and not feel like a fraud, because I know as soon as the next conquest presents itself, I’ll jump on it. My actions might contradict my words, but there it is… I love my daughter more than anything, but even that’s not enough to squelch my addiction to success.
I tell myself this was my last trip. This time I’ll stop and stay home for good, that I’ll work on fixing the damage the divorce caused. I’ll spend more time with Sophie and my mom. I’ll be a new man.
I scoff as I toss my bag into the back of the car I had sent to the private airport. New year, same promises. At least the irony isn’t lost on me. I’m the best in the world at fixing failing businesses, and yet I still haven’t fixed my failing home life.
I just hope the new live-in caretaker I hired this time is better than the last few have been. Firing the live-in caretaker has also become something of a ritual when I come back from business deals. Part of it is seeing that my daughter, Sophie, hates their guts. Another part is whatever list of complaints my mother has compiled about them. Maybe the biggest part is just wanting to get rid of the reminder that I left again. It lets me pretend for a few weeks or months that I’m a good father and son, one that would never put anything before his family.
I wanted my daughter to have something close to a normal life after the divorce, so I moved us to the suburbs of Jacksonville, Florida. She goes to a regular elementary school and has normal friends. When I divorced Julianne five years ago, she refused to be involved in Sophie’s life, with the exception that she decided to have her house built only about twenty minutes away from ours.
I stop at Toby’s on my way home. It’s a little family owned grocery store just a few miles from my house. I want to grab ingredients to cook Sophie’s favorite dinner when I get home–fried salmon patties with macaroni and cheese. It’s still before noon, and there’s hardly anyone in the store at this hour. I’m reaching for the last box of macaroni and cheese when my hand brushes against a woman’s smooth skin. I look up, not realizing someone was in the same aisle.
“S-sorry,” the woman stutters.
She has light brown hair and the eyes to match. She has thick lashes that frame the most perfect, innocent doe-like eyes I’ve ever seen. If that wasn’t enough, there’s a hint of something mischievous and sexual behind them, like she could be the proper little preacher’s daughter in the open and a devil between the sheets. Breathtaking. I’ve heard the word and read it in books before. I’ve always thought it was just something someone thought up because it sounded good. But the breath literally slips from my lungs at the sight of her. It’s not because she’s the most textbook beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, either. It’s because she carries so much passion in those big, light brown eyes. So much, in fact, that I feel like I know her from one glance.