Bought by the Billionaire Read online

  © 2015 Mia Caldwell

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  Kindle Edition

  Cover images: Depositphotos.com/tommyandone; konradbak; rabbit75_dep

  Author’s Note: This is a modified and lengthened version previously published as “Blackmailed by the Billionaire,” which I wrote with a partner. The rights reverted to me, and I decided to make it what I’d wanted it to be all along. There are several differences, but readers of the previous version should consider if they mind rereading this updated and expanded version before purchasing. Thanks!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Epilogue

  MORE FROM MIA CALDWELL!

  Here’s a little excerpt for my loyal fans!

  A Bonus Excerpt of “Falling For the Secret Billionaire”:

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  Bought by the Billionaire

  Mia Caldwell

  Chapter One

  A screech of metal heralded the collision of Keela Goodwin’s beater car with the one in front of her. She cursed and dropped the phone. Why the hell had she tried to send a text message while driving? Even with the stop-and-go traffic, it had been a stupid thing to do.

  As she looked at the car she had crashed into, the magnitude of her stupidity hit her. The twisted metal in front of her used to be sleek and elegant. She didn’t know cars, but she thought that was one of the expensive kind, like Lamborghini or Ferrari. The kind billionaires bought with couch money and drove recklessly. Except she’d been the reckless driver. She was screwed.

  “Dammit,” she said softly as she remembered just how super-screwed she was. Last month, the decision had come down to car insurance or food, and she’d stupidly chosen to eat. Why hadn’t she embraced the starvation diet? She could stand to lose a few pounds. Now, she was going to lose who knew how much trying to pay for the damage to that luxurious car.

  Reluctantly, she slid from the car, feeling as though concrete blocks weighted down her feet as she forced herself to walk toward the shining red automobile in all its mangled glory. The driver got out as she reached the vehicle, and Keela had to bite back a whistle of appreciation.

  The first thing she noticed was his long legs in gray slacks. Her brown eyes followed the line of them up to his trim waist, over a flat stomach covered by a white shirt and striped tie, to the broad expanse of his shoulders. The suit jacket did nothing to hide the latent strength in his physique.

  Her mouth was dry by the time she forced herself to look at his face. Of course he was gorgeous. Perfectly cut blond hair, piercing blue eyes, a beautifully sculpted face, and full lips—turned down into a frown of annoyance. She swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  His scowl deepened. “What? I can’t hear you.”

  Lord, his crisp English accent made her knees wobble. Clearing her throat helped dislodge the sodden ball blocking it. “I’m sorry about your car. I got distracted.”

  His scowl was fearsome. “Distracted? That’s your excuse for slamming into my new car?”

  She nodded miserably, wanting to look away from the blue eyes full of anger, but unable to stop staring. He looked livid enough to chew her up and spit her out, but she couldn’t look away from him.

  With a long sigh, he removed his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket. It appeared to be top-of-the-line, of course. Keela squirmed as she thought about her old bar phone with its prepaid minutes about to expire. She was super-duper screwed.

  “Who is your insurance agent?”

  She nibbled on her full lower lip, still bearing a trace of the strawberry Chapstick she’d applied after her shift ended at the diner. The stale air and all the sweating often left her lips dry and cracked. “Um…”

  If his brows dipped any lower, they would take up residence at the bridge of his nose. “Well?”

  The impatient prompting couldn’t make her produce a name she didn’t have. “I—” She cleared her throat. “I don’t have one.”

  Words couldn’t adequately describe the level of anger on his face. “You must be joking.” When Keela shook her head, he laughed harshly. “Well, young woman, how do you plan to pay for the thousands of dollars in damage you’ve inflicted on my car?”

  She shrugged helplessly, not verbalizing the answer hovering on the tip of her tongue. Bankruptcy seemed like the only way out of the debts she’d accumulated, and this had probably sent her over the edge. The shame of filing had kept her back, along with the desire to want to be different from her financially hopeless parents, but she couldn’t afford pride any longer.

  He stared at her for a long second, his intent gaze raking over her in an assessing fashion. Abruptly, he nodded as he reached into his pocket for a business card.

  She took the crisp cream rectangle engraved with a large M that looked suspiciously like real gold. Barely managing to focus on the name printed there in her nervousness, she finally made out Simon Magnus, Magnus Industries. Even his name sounded like a fancy rich guy that probably came from generations of money. Could she get anymore screwed? “What—”

  “You can work off your debt. Come to my office at seven p.m. tonight.”

  She glanced down at her neat maid’s uniform with its cheerful company logo emblazoned on the pink polo shirt, and it clicked. He wanted her to clean his office until she had worked off her debt. With a nod, Keela slipped the card into her pocket. “Yes, Mr. Magnus.”

  “Don’t be late.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Looking just a little less angry, he waved his hand at her. “Go now, if your wreck on wheels will start. I have to call a tow truck.”

  She resisted the urge to thank him for not calling the police to report the accident. Driving without insurance would have been a costly infraction. Her stomach was still tight with knots as she got back into her Nissan. It started with the third try, which was typical, and she backed away before easing around the crushed car. Catching a glimpse of a horse on the car made her think it was a Ferrari, though she couldn’t be sure.

  How many hours would she have to spend cleaning his office to pay for the missing bumper and crumpled frame? The idea was daunting, since she was already working two full-time jobs with shit pay. Was it even worth it? Maybe she should just throw in the towel now and go to the bankruptcy attorney’s office tomorrow morning.

  She shivered slightly as she remembered his vivid blue eyes. It was embarrassing at twenty-three years old to admit she would seize any excuse to see him again, even if the circumstances involved more cleaning—a task she had always hated that had grown to pure loathing during the last six months she’d spent working for the maid service.

  Chapter Two

  That evening, she arrived at the steel and glass building in the heart of the city. Feeling a bit lost, she approached the parking garage attendant’s cubicle warily, but was surprised to find she had a badge waiting for her. Keela smiled a bit when she saw the name recorded on it: Distracted Driver. Oops, she hadn’t given Mr. Magnus her name.

  She drove to the designated employee space the attendant had assigned her and parked
her car. It looked out of place among the late-models surrounding her, all from expensive manufacturers like Lexus and Mercedes. Apparently, working at Magnus Industries paid well. Perhaps he would overinflate the value of an office cleaning, and she wouldn’t have to do it for long.

  It had been silly, but she had taken time to shower before coming to his office. It would have been more practical to come from her last job without the need to rush, but she couldn’t face him without feeling clean and looking somewhat presentable.

  Discreet signs pointed the way inside the building, and she smoothed down the black T-shirt over her dark jeans. They weren’t her newest pair, since she would be cleaning, but they flattered her rounded hips and bubble butt. She had an hourglass frame, though her mother and sisters kept harping that she should gain a few pounds to add more padding to her top area. They liked to joke she was a few minutes shy of an hour in her bust line.

  A large reception desk shaped like a horseshoe dominated the middle of the floor where she exited the walkway from the parking garage. She half-expected a perfectly coiffed blonde receptionist, but found only Mr. Magnus himself leaning against the polished mahogany.

  He was even more attractive with the jacket removed and his sleeves rolled up. The tie was gone, and he seemed more approachable. For one thing, he wasn’t glaring at her. His lips were more neutral than curved into a smile, but it was an improvement over his anger from the scene of the accident that afternoon.

  “You’re a few minutes early. Thank you.”

  She nodded, not bothering to explain she’d anticipated seeing him again almost as much as she dreaded cleaning. “Where would you like me to start, Mr. Magnus?”

  “Come with me.” He stood up, reminding her once again how much taller he was than her, despite her average height.

  She licked her lips and followed the man, unable to keep her gaze from straying to the seat of his trousers. They were tailored tastefully enough to hide the shape of his bum, but she just knew it would be taut and muscular.

  He led her into an office down the hall, flicking on the lights. She blinked at the immense space, smothering a groan. The place was larger than her entire apartment building, which comprised three small apartments on one level. It would take her hours to clean, even though everything looked immaculate. Keela had to blink back tears at the idea of being up so late and having to get up again at five to make it to her six a.m. shift at the diner.

  Struggling to hide her emotions, she asked, “Where might I find a cleaning cart, sir?”

  Simon blinked. “A what?”

  She almost snorted, but realized he’d probably never cleaned a thing in his life. “I’ll need cleaning supplies.”

  His lips quirked with amusement. “For what, Keela?”

  “To clean your office.” She trailed off. “How did you know my name?”

  “I had my security man run a background check on you from your license plate. I copied it down as you drove away.” He made the admission casually, as though it was no big deal to illegally obtain information about someone. Not that she could blame him for wanting a way to track her down, in case she hadn’t shown up tonight.

  “Oh.” Her lips felt numb as she wondered how much he’d discovered. Did he know she’d racked up thousands of dollars in credit card debt, and she owed so much in student loans that the monthly bill could make her sob just by seeing the envelope? Would he understand she’d had trouble finding a job with her useless degree and had lived on credit long past when she should have? Pretty much until the polite (and then not-so-polite) calls started coming in, and they cut off her limits.

  What did it matter? She was here to work off yet another debt. It didn’t matter what he thought of her. Tapping the badge, she asked, “Why the subterfuge?”

  His smile held a predatory edge. “I didn’t want you to become alarmed that I knew all about you and take off before you could settle your debt.”

  Resisting the urge to glare at him, she struggled for a neutral tone. “If you’ll direct me toward cleaning supplies, I’ll get started.”

  Simon shook his head. “I don’t want you to clean my office, Keela.”

  She frowned. “You don’t?” What other position could he have for her? Her degree in archaeology hadn’t prepared her for a corporate job at a place like this. Maybe an internship in the mailroom, but not an actual position utilizing her education, unless he suspected there was a dinosaur skeleton under the building.

  “No.”

  “What do you expect me to do then?”

  The hunter instinct was definitely visible in his eyes when he grinned at her. “For starters, you can take off your clothes.”

  Keela froze, and then shook her head. “What?” She couldn’t have heard him correctly.

  “Undress. Slowly. I want to savor every inch of that creamy brown skin as you reveal it.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You can’t…what do you expect from me?”

  “I expect you to please me sexually.” At her gasp of outrage, he smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get off too.”

  “Fuck you.” She grasped her purse tighter and turned toward the door. His hand reached it a second before she did, keeping it wedged shut. “Get out of my way.”

  “No.” He pressed close to her, bending his head to brush his lips against her cheek. “I’m being generous by allowing you to trade that beautiful little body as payment for damaging my Ferrari.”

  “You’re being a dick.” She glared at him. “And racist too.”

  Simon frowned. “How is this racist?”

  “Would you expect a white girl to fuck you to pay for your car’s damage?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Of course, if I wanted her as badly as I want you.”

  “Oh.” That deflated her outrage slightly and robbed her of the argument of racism. She hated feeling a bit flattered and squared her shoulders. “Okay, but I’m still not doing this, so get out of my way.”

  “You are doing this.”

  She rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing you could do to me to make me have sex with you for a car, Magnus.” Holding up her fingers, she spaced her thumb and forefinger a tiny distance apart. “I was this close to filing bankruptcy before I hit your damned car, and I guess I’m this close now.” Deliberately, she touched her fingers together.

  As she reached for the door, he put his other hand against it, pinning her between the wood and his body. “I’ll pay off your student loans.”

  Her eyes widened. “Now you want me to whore myself too?” Annoyed, she hit him in the stomach with her elbow, growing more irritated when he showed no reaction. “Let go of the door.”

  “I will have you.”

  His hands left the door, but only to grab onto her arms to spin her around. Keela struggled against him as he pushed her against the door, though her heart wasn’t entirely in resisting. There was something amazing about being so desired.

  Simon held her in place with his body and one hand, using the other to cup her chin and tilt her head upward. She glared at him as his mouth descended, but her lips molded to his. The first touch was electric, making her entire body hum. Despite herself, she let him deepen the kiss by parting her lips to accept his tongue.

  He ravaged her mouth, keeping hard possession of her chin to guide her closer. Keela put her hands against his chest, at first to push him away, but soon wrapping her hands in the fabric to drag him nearer.

  Finally, he lifted his head to let them both breathe deeply. Keela kept her hands tangled in his jacket, and he didn’t release her face. His other hand moved from her back to her waist, before drifting lower to splay across her generous booty.

  His hand moving so intimately across her body snapped Keela back to her senses. With a cry, she pressed her palms to his chest to shove him away. Simon reeled backward far enough to allow her to open the door and step out to the other side. She turned to glare at him. “How dare you?” Ignoring the voice in the back of her head reminding
her she had been swept away in a blinding moment of intense passion, the same as him, she took a few steps backward.

  He followed her, allowing her to keep several feet between them. “Keela, come back.”

  She shook her head, panic welling in her. She had to get out of there before she did something she would regret, no matter how much she wanted him right then. “Just stay away from me, Simon Magnus.” Turning, she ran blindly to escape him and the temptation of his offer that would only cost her self-respect.

  Chapter Three

  By the next afternoon, Keela didn’t work for the maid service. Feeling slightly irresponsible, but deciding it was no worse to quit a job without notice than to file for bankruptcy, she called to resign and scheduled a free consultation with the bankruptcy attorney.

  When she came back to the tiny apartment she shared with her sister, she dropped the packet of paperwork from the lawyer on the table and kicked off her shoes. Midway through making a snack to appease the rumbling of her stomach that reminded her she hadn’t eaten since eggs and toast on her morning shift, the doorbell rang.

  She blotted her hands on the dish towel, set aside the tomato she’d been slicing, and approached the door with trepidation. Chase had promised her a lawsuit was next, and she had been bracing herself to open the door to find a process server with a suit for her. She’d seen it happen to her parents before, but had hoped to avoid that fate for herself.

  Casting a reassuring glance at the paperwork waiting to be filled out that would legally, if not morally, free her from her debts, she checked to make sure the security chain was in place before opening the door. It wasn’t a process server. Worse than that, Simon Magnus himself stood on her doorstep. “What do you want?”

  “I came to apologize.” He held out a bouquet of red roses.

  She eyed them with a sneer. Those things must have cost a fortune. They were beautiful, but such a waste. “I’m allergic.” That was a lie, but she gained a nice amount of satisfaction from the hasty way he tossed the flowers out into the apartment complex’s shared front yard.