Bought by the Billionaire

  Bought by the Billionaire

  A Billionaire and Virgin Romance

  Riley Love

  Vivienne Savage

  Copyright © 2018 Riley Love All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to authorrileylove@gmail.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  Snowed in with the Stuntmen

  COMING SOON - The Billionaire’s Bargain

  Also by Riley Love

  Also by Vivienne Savage

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Kelly

  A blast of warm, coconut-scented air greeted me when the door opened to Leila’s apartment. She’d called me over to help her bundle up packages and address boxes for her start-up business, a book-bundling service where she packaged romance novels, treats, and goodies to monthly subscribers.

  After ushering me inside, she shut and locked the door behind me. “About time you arrived.”

  I wiggled out of my coat and stomped the slush from my boots. The weather had taken a spontaneous turn for the worst and dumped three feet of snow over the Chicago area earlier that week. “Sorry. Had to run a few errands.”

  Errands like dropping off a few applications at the Chicago-area businesses because I was now a jobless bum. My boss was closing down his crafts store because he couldn’t compete with online retailers anymore. Between the ladies selling their home-dyed yarns on Etsy, big box stores, and internet-based retail giants, he didn’t have a chance anymore.

  “Well, come on then. Let’s get this party started.”

  I left my boots by the door and followed her around the couch to sit on the living room floor. A row of cardboard boxes lined the wall, filled with romance novels of different kinds. She had two subscription choices—paranormal or contemporary, books like Twilight going to readers who ordered the former and Forever My Girl to chicks who wanted the latter.

  “What’s going in this month?”

  “Since it’s still cold in most states, we’re going to risk these chocolate truffles. I managed to get a great deal from the owner,” she gushed before pushing a box of the sweets toward me.

  I took one and bit into it, discovering a creamy center and the flavor of Irish cream. It melted in my mouth. “That’s heavenly.”

  “Yup.”

  We filled sampler bags with two truffles a piece and tied them with red ribbons.

  Two hours later, we’d stuffed over a hundred thirty-five-dollar subscription boxes of novels, candies, and soap. I gazed over them all, and the worst sense of absolute failure crashed over my mood like a sledgehammer. Leila had so much going for her, a good job and a side business, while I still lived at home with my poverty-stricken parents, hopelessly in student debt from a failed year of college.

  My life was shit.

  I wanted to fix it. But how? What was I good at?

  A few tears slipped down my cheeks. Before I could wipe them away, Leila slipped close and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s this? What’s wrong, Kel?”

  “I’m sorry. I just… lost in my own head.”

  “About?”

  I sniffled and wiped my cheek. “Mr. Greer is closing the shop. I was late because I wanted to put in as many applications around the city as I could.”

  “Oh no,” Leila breathed.

  “I can’t afford Mom’s medical bills on unemployment. Dad’s already working two jobs to support us, and B-B-Brian only has a paper route.” It all spilled out in a rush, though I choked halfway.

  Leila squeezed me again and stepped into the kitchen. She came back a minute later with tissues, two glasses, and a bottle of Disaronno. “Here, drink up.”

  “Not sure that’s gonna help.” Satisfying my love for amaretto wasn’t going to fix my mom’s cancer or pay the outrageous prices the hospitals billed.

  Our family was running out of money fast—no, we had run out of money weeks ago and were charging groceries on credit cards. Mom’s comfort meds added up to the hundreds after the insurance company paid their portion. And then there were the oral chemotherapy drugs. I’d picked up over two hundred dollars in medicine a couple days ago, and that was only a half-portion of her prescription until the rest of the expensive medicine was in stock.

  I swallowed a large sip of the syrupy sweet cordial and closed my eyes.

  “Listen, I think I know a way you could get the money.”

  I cracked open one eye. “I’m not going to work at a strip club.”

  “Hey, I made good money working at Tony’s, but no, I wasn’t going to suggest that for you.”

  “Then what?”

  “There’s this place, and they’re looking for girls.”

  “No. Whatever it is—”

  “Just hear me out, please.”

  I scowled and crossed my arms. “Fine. I’ll listen.”

  “Thank you. It’s an escort service. Totally exclusive and very legit. I’ve been working there for three months now myself.”

  “You never said anything.”

  “Like I said, it’s very exclusive and not something you toss around, but with my reference, you can get in super-fast without the longer wait. Everything is legal. You get hired to be a date, get paid, go home, and that’s it. Sex is not in the contract.”

  “Why do I sense a but coming?”

  “But you can do it, off the books, if you want. Look, I know what you’re gonna say, but I’m talking about major money here, Kelly, and you don’t have to do anything beyond what’s in the agreement. If they try something, the bosses take action. Not a single woman working there has had any problems.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “There’s, um, something else. You’re still a virgin, right?”

  “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “If you apply to be auctioned on the European site, there’s a little box you can check, and if the site administrators approve you, they’ll flag your account as a virgin. You get the opportunity to make twice as much—no, hundreds of thousands. It’s rare, but it happens sometimes.”

  “What?”

  “There are guys overseas who will shell out millions for a virgin.”

  “To fuck them?”

  Leila nodded.

  “That’s weird. British dudes will do that?”

  “British, German, Japanese, Arab, any of them will if they’re surfing the site and you catch their eye. I mean, it happens here occasionally too. Technically, none of the American contracts can stipulate sex, but I’m told that a few of the girls got, um, off-the-books payments to have their cherry popped. I’m not talking a few hundred either, girl. One girl, she got a million dollars.”

  The number was so ridiculous I gasped. “You’re lying.”

  “No. I’m not lying. Look, there’s a girl from Iowa who received four million dollars over in Germany for submitting to their special collection and another mode from Jersey who got five. They only a
ccept the best.”

  My mouth flattened into a tight line. “The best.”

  “You won’t know until you try. I mean, everybody has different tastes. I saw a rumor on the forums once about it. Girls think it depends on who’s doing the approvals that day and their personal tastes. Some of the admin like big girls. Some like them rail thin and tall like models. If they think a girl will sell, she gets fast-tracked to making millions.”

  “And you think I should apply?”

  “Why not? You’re cute and in good shape. The only reason you haven’t gotten laid is because you’ve been looking after your mom and that’s been your only focus for years. You didn’t have time for boyfriends.”

  “I dunno…”

  “Look, you don’t have to submit to the auction. Even if you just do the normal service and play date with a guy for a few hours, you’ll make money. More than you did for Mr. Greer.”

  “Okay. Um, so let’s say you do fill it out, check the box, and this rich dude buys you—what stops him from doing things you don’t like?”

  A wide grin spread across Leila’s face. “Thought you weren’t interested.”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “Okay, so when you’re applying to be auctioned, there’s a drop-down menu that lets you select kinks and no-nos. If you won’t let him do anal, you can redline that.”

  “That’s just… ew.”

  Leila shrugged. “It’s okay once he gets it in all the way.”

  “I don’t even want to know.” I paused, curiosity already piqued. “Really?”

  “Uh huh. You just have to get past the bad part. I mean, it’s a little rough at first, especially if the guy’s really huge. But most of those rich guys aren’t.”

  “Okay, so dick size isn’t proportionate to bank account?”

  She shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately not.”

  “I’ll consider it, but no promises.”

  “I’m just saying keep an open mind and leave all of your options open.”

  Leila pulled her laptop over. I made an account on the American site to become an escort, filled out an employment form, and agreed to an interview over video chat with upper management. I copied my application to another site based in Germany and made a profile. The little checkbox was there, inviting me to be submitted for consideration to their elite clientele service.

  “See? Easy. I have no idea exactly what they’ll ask you for the extra stuff since I, you know—”

  I snorted. “Gave it up to Douglas our freshman year of high school?”

  “Yeah, no millions for me, but I make good money.”

  “Have you ever…?”

  “Slept with a client?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No. I’ve only been there a few months, but a guy did get handsy once, even after I said no twice. I told the boss, and he got his ass blacklisted. The company keeps dresses and provides stylists. I’ve been to charity dinners and even attended a movie premiere. Nice dates. None of this ordering off the value menu shit. These guys take you to five-star restaurants and don’t even look at the bill when they pay. They just slide a card in there and leave wads of money for tips sometimes. Wads. Like they want everyone to know just how rich they are.”

  “Must make up for having a little penis.”

  We both laughed over that, and I welcomed the relief it brought. The tension in my chest eased up, and each breath came easier.

  “Ah, what the hell.” I clicked the checkbox and disabled all of the gross things I’d never let a guy do to me. “What the fuck? Bukkake?”

  If Leila wanted to poke fun at me for my sudden change of heart, she didn’t show it. “Some guys are into it. And not just the Japanese ones. I guess it’s some power thing. Like a dog marking his territory.”

  I chortled and disabled the anal option along with a few others. No bondage. No whips and clamps. No threesomes with men or women. Would I wear a strap on?

  “This list is, uh, really detailed,” I said, selecting my refusals on the kink catalog.

  “Oh come on, now you’re declining all the good stuff. How can they approve you if your vanilla ass says no to everything? Are you just going to lay there beneath him with a blanket pulled up to your chin?”

  “Fine.” I deselected blowjobs and oral.

  It took another ten minutes to sort that out, pluck a few photographs from my phone, and upload those to my profile.

  “Don’t forget those photos we took at the beach. That swimsuit was hot on you.”

  I added those, trying to think of this as a fun game. Meet people, eat good food. No guarantee they’d invite me to either service anyway. At the end, I hit submit and let it go.

  Chapter Two

  Grayson

  With three weeks left until my sister’s wedding, I was out of luck and lacking a date. My family—especially my mother—expected me to arrive with the gorgeous girlfriend I had chatted up to them for months.

  Too bad I’d walked into Kelly’s apartment to find her bouncing on some other bloke’s knob about two weeks ago. That was the thanks I received for showing up unannounced to surprise my long-distance girlfriend in New York. I’d flown in from London on an overnight flight without warning her.

  All of that dating rubbish was behind me now. I planned to remain single while focusing on my career, my company, and turning my billion-dollar bank account into the double digits.

  Francois burst into the office with his laptop tucked under one arm. “I have the solution to all your problems.”

  “Huh?”

  He slid the machine in front of me and raised the lid. A photograph of the hottest blonde I’d ever seen was on the computer screen, complete with chocolate brown eyes and cinnamon lashes against her freckled cheeks. I squinted at the monitor. Her name was Kelly.

  “The hell is this?”

  “It’s an escort service. You hire this girl, have her pretend to be Kelly. They’re a bit similar in looks too. Both named Kelly, both blond and freckled. And the going rate on her is only three hundred grand.”

  “Are you serious? Why would I pay three hundred grand for a date with a stranger?”

  “To keep your family out of your business. It’ll satisfy their curiosity and save you the bother of tolerating your mother’s unusual desire for you to have a girlfriend. Since God only knows why you won’t fess up to dumping your cheating ex.”

  “You know my mother.”

  “It’s true, I do. Which is why a hired escort is perfect.”

  I scratched my chin and studied the next photograph, a head-to-toe picture of a quirky blonde with a pixie cut in a sexy one-piece swimsuit, poised at a beach volleyball net. Amazing legs, the kind of thighs I wanted wrapped around my waist. Or my face. I’d settle for having those lovely thighs on either side of my head and wondered if her cunt would taste as sweet as she looked. “And women actually do this?”

  “Would it be on your screen if they didn’t?”

  “This is insanity. They’re… What’s this pink tag? Trending? Why is she trending?”

  “She’d trending because she’s a virgin,” Francois explained.

  “Bloody hell, those still exist in America?”

  “In small quantity.”

  It suddenly occurred to me that my friend had introduced me to a pay-for-sex site. “Are you a customer? Is this what you do with your spare time? Really, mate?”

  Francois scowled. “It’s a legitimate and legal business in most of our neighboring nations. Besides, you know me better. I don’t need to pay for sex.”

  “So what do you use it for?”

  “Remember that redhead I brought to the derby last year? She charmed everyone, even you.”

  “You mean—”

  “Hired date. At least give it a thorough look. What do you have to lose, aside from a bit of money you won’t even miss?”

  “Fine.” I scrolled through her profile and skimmed down her list of allowances. “Not a freak. Maybe even a little on the dull
side.”

  “Well, there’s another one on here who enjoys some kink—”

  “No, she’s perfect. The last thing I need is some desperate virgin wanting to roleplay a ridiculous playroom fantasy. I don’t know about participating in an auction, however. And what’s this elite clientele nonsense?”

  “An annual fee of twenty thousand euros is required to become an elite member.”

  I stared at him. “For the privilege of bidding on their eager product, I’ll have to pay twenty… What is that?”

  “What? Grayson doesn’t know the current exchange rate?” Francois gasped. “It’s twenty-four thousand pounds, give or take. Oh come on, mate. That’s a pittance, and you know it. You’ve thrown that much money away on scotch.”

  “Women tend to be disappointments. Scotch is always satisfying.”

  “The elite clientele fee is donated to charity,” Francois said suddenly. I wondered if he’d been holding that tidbit as a secret weapon in his arsenal, a way to butter me up when I faltered.

  “To which charity?”

  “Into the Light.”

  “Odd choice for an internet brothel. Isn’t that an anti-human trafficking organization?”

  “It is. Every year, DDE donates millions of money from guys who are buying legal, consensual sex from ladies of age to sell it, and they use it to help women in shit situations around the world. After all, it’s about choice, mate. If they want to do it, no one should be able to stop them from doing what they want with their bodies.”

  Against my better judgment, while telling myself over and over I didn’t need to buy a woman to have a good time, I made an account on the site, submitted my personal details for verification, and paid the twenty-thousand-euro fee. The e-mail from the site administrators was prompt, almost too immediate to have undergone the background check I’d authorized, accompanied by a saccharine sweet personalized video welcome to the world of Diamond Dust Escorts, waxing poetic about the glorious selection of beautiful young women available for hire. A woman with steel-gray hair sat behind a desk, smiling as she introduced me to her services, promised excellent entertainment and friendly girls willing to fulfill my every desire.