Daddy Billionaire Read online

  Daddy Billionaire

  Tilly Pope

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Tilly Pope

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  About Daddy Billionaire

  Vicki

  Vegas isn’t my ideal home.

  I don’t like the glam or glitz or even the bright lights of the city.

  However, I do like my new job. And my new boss.

  Maybe moving here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  Michael

  Designing stages and clubs used to give me an adrenaline rush.

  Now it just gives me a headache.

  Until she walks in.

  Vicki.

  She’s got a good eye when it comes to design.

  But my eyes are only focused on her ASSETS.

  She’s smart, funny and totally off limits.

  And I’m going to make her mine.

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  Who’s your daddy?

  1

  Vicki

  In college, I was voted most likely to change the world.

  I scoff, my eyes filling with tears. My degree, my work, it’s all left me alone, in debt, and unable to find a decent freaking job. It doesn’t matter that I graduated with honors; it doesn’t matter how gifted I am. I’m a woman in a male dominated engineering field. I could be the most gifted engineer in the entire world and no one will take me seriously because I happen to have tits instead of a cock. It’s just not fair.

  Sliding my fingers up the flaps of the box to close it up, I feel the sudden sting as the paper edge of the cardboard slices through my skin. With a hiss, I stick my finger in my mouth as if that’ll ease the pain.

  It doesn’t.

  I plop down onto the edge of my bed and plant my elbows on my knees. Cradling my head in my hands, I let the tears fall and blink to clear my eyes. I know crying won’t help a damn thing. But I’m tired of holding it in.

  I’ve been strong for the last twelve months since I graduated college. I’ve been strong for my worried parents who’ve been helping pay my massive student loans while trying to be upbeat about my future and potential opportunities. I’ve been strong for myself, trying to be optimistic, but as I sit here, I realize none of it was worth it.

  None of it.

  I poured all of myself into school. Every spare second spent studying, every offer of friendship and parties turned down in favor of cramming more and more into my exhausted brain. And it hasn’t paid off. I mean, who wouldn’t want a degree from Georgia Tech? I should be looking at a bright and exciting future.

  With a sigh, I stand up and continue packing. Adding the rest of my clothing to the box, I close the final two flaps carefully to avoid another paper cut.

  I’m only twenty-three. I’m broke, desperate, and packing away my life for this final Hail Mary that might save me—a real job. Something better than the stupid waitress shift I’ve been doing at night to try to help my parents pay for things.

  It’s been a day and a half since I got the call. The numbness and fear hasn’t worn off yet and I’m still waiting for the guy to call me and cancel. I almost want him to. Better for him to call me now and cancel rather than move from my hometown of Edmond, Oklahoma all the way to Las Vegas only to be fired when they decide I’m not a perfect fit.

  I’m not excited for any part of this new job. I don’t want to move. Vegas sounds about as awful as can be. I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard stories. I don’t gamble. I’m not a drinker. I don’t go to shows or concerts. I work. I study. I do riddles, puzzles, and brain games as well as read or watch movies and TV shows for fun in my downtime. Vegas seems like it’s all wrong for me.

  But the money is amazing and I’ll at least have some experience in a few years. If I stay that long.

  I put the rest of my stuff into the few boxes I have left. With a deep breath, I remind myself I’m strong. Change is hard. Change is scary. But I’m adaptive. I’m smart. I can do this.

  “Honey, are you sure you don’t want any help?” My mom calls out from the door. I don’t want her to see me like this. She’s been great, but I have to do this. I have to get out on my own.

  I take a deep breath and turn to her. “Yeah, Mom. I’m okay, almost finished.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” She walks into my room and gives me a hug.

  The job might not be everything I want, but it pays well. “I’ll be all right. Mom, I got this.” I say into her hair.

  “You sure do, honey. I’m so proud of you. So is your father.” She smiles. My parents had me later in life and Mom is sixty three now. Old school. My dad moved out when he was eighteen. Mom at nineteen. Here I am at twenty-three and still in my childhood bedroom.

  Well, for a few more hours, anyway.

  It’s a long damn drive, about sixteen hours, but my little SUV can make it. It won’t be too cramped either, since I’m not taking any furniture, just my personal things. And living in the dorm for four years cured me of excess baggage..

  The apartment is furnished with a couch and a bed. A small dinette too. Other than that, I don’t need much. I’ll use my laptop for movies and shows – I’m firmly convinced Netflix is a girl’s best friend—not diamonds. A dresser would be nice, but I can hang clothes or leave them folded neatly in a box. I can do this. It might not be perfect, but it’s a step in the right direction.

  It’s silly to expect my first job right out of college will be perfect. The company that hired me, Lite-It-Up, designs concert venues in Vegas. I’m an expert in all things electrical, but I thought I’d wind up working on incredible high rise office buildings in New York City or Los Angeles. I hoped for fancy office buildings that would actually challenge my abilities. Maybe that sounds stupid, but every office strives for a different feel and ambience. The challenges might be invisible to the layperson, but I know full well how much thought goes into every aspect of lighting in every building around the world.

  I don’t want to work in the entertainment industry. The glitz and glam of Vegas are not appealing to me at all. But I need a paycheck. I need independence. I need to stop letting my parents pay my bills. I’m a grown ass woman and I need to take care of my own responsibilities.

  I stand up and start shoving things in boxes with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. This job is exactly what I need right now. Well, it’s mostly what I need right now. Ugh, no, it’ll pay me. That’s what I need.

  With one more look around my bedroom and my pitiful stack of packed boxes, I pick one up and carry it out to my SUV.

  The long, hot drive wasn’t fun by any stretch of the imagination. Saying goodbye to Mom and Dad damn near killed me, but I’m sure Mom got on the phone with her credit card out, buying cruise tickets for the both of them the minute I hit the highway.

  I pull into my numbered parking space and look around. I suck in my breath for a few seconds, then blow it out slowly.

  I made it.
/>   My hands drop from the steering wheel and I get out of the SUV. The heat hits me like the blast of the oven when you open the door to peek in on food. Making a face, I tuck my keys into my pocket. With a bit of a hurry in my step, I head for the elevator. The place has an elevator, so there’s that.

  I step into the elevator and press the button for the third floor. Internally, I promise myself I’ll take the stairs more often than not to get some exercise. It’s only three stories to my apartment, so it’s not too bad. I doubt I’ll be hitting the hiking trials like I did back home considering the heat of Vegas. Although I hear Mount Charleston is beautiful.

  The door slides open to my floor and the cooler air washes over me. With a sigh of relief in the air conditioning, I make my way to my brand new apartment.

  The door swings open, revealing the one bedroom place with the kitchenette and master bath. It’s nothing fantastic, but it’s not an awful, either.

  I pull out my phone and shoot my parents a quick text. Made it! Love you guys.

  With another sigh, I scan the place. It’s not perfect. It’s even a bit on the ugly side, if I’m being honest. But that’s okay. It’s mine.

  2

  Michael

  What the fuck am I still doing here?

  I scan the Vegas Strip from my office. With both hands behind my head, I wait for the new electrical engineer we hired out of Georgia Tech. She’s not late; I’m early. Rocking in my leather chair, I wonder how I managed to let it get like this.

  I learned early on that marriage isn’t for me. I’ve got the divorce under my belt to prove that. I fucking blinked and I’d gone from twenty to forty without a second to catch my breath in between, and everything has changed.

  What used to be a challenge to me is now just a headache. With the new laws, the building codes, not only from the city, but the federal government as well, it’s just not fun anymore.

  Over the last twenty years, I’ve built some of the hottest stages and clubs in the world right here in Vegas – no small feat. That old adage that everyone is a critic is absolutely true, but what they don’t tell you is that everyone’s a fucking expert, too.

  At least, everyone thinks they’re an expert.

  I glance at my watch. Fifteen minutes until she’s supposed to be here for our meeting. I tuck my arm behind my head again. It’s Friday afternoon and I have no plans for the weekend. Which means I’ll likely find myself at a bar tonight picking up some woman that’s too hot and knows it. The faces change, but the dance never does. I’ll take her home. She’ll wind up getting attached. Things will end up ugly and eventually she’ll hit me where it counts; my wallet.

  I’ll be lying if I say I’m not tired of it.

  My internal clock warns me she has about five minutes to spare. In my pocket, my phone buzzes and I pull it out. Placing my finger over the button, I let it scan my fingerprint and unlock before checking the message. It’s a text from my secretary; your appt is here.

  I stretch my back and plant a hand on the back of my neck. Giving it a quick, rough rub, I roll my shoulders. I pull up her hire info. Victoria ‘Vicki' Baker. Twenty-three. Top of her class. No real work under her belt.

  I lower my chin to my chest, rolling this info around in my brain. Checking my watch, I see it’s exactly two minutes ‘til. Stretched and slightly more relaxed, I text back my secretary to send the new girl in.

  A moment later there’s a knock at the door. I don’t bother to turn around. Instead, I mentally go over the important points to hit while saying, “Come in.”

  The door opens and clicks closed. With my hands loosely clasped behind my neck, I scan the blue, cloudless skies. Despite the hard work of the air conditioner, heat still radiates slightly off the glass and the wavy lines warn of the heat outside.

  I fucking love Vegas.

  “Mr. Hanson?” The soft, feminine voice behind me has me closing my eyes and imagining her. In my mind’s eye, she’s plump and plain, brown hair, brown eyed, the type of quiet, chubby girl you’d see as the counterpart to the smoking-hot blonde woman in some office sitcom.

  “Ms. Baker,” I say, turning around. I blink, carefully masking my response to the girl that meets my eyes. Her tawny-colored hair has the slightest hint of red in it and her huge blue eyes are the same color as the ocean and twice as deep. Her full, naked cherry lips curve beautifully into a perfect bow. A slight smattering of freckles dust over her nose and across her sharp cheekbones. She’s fucking beautiful and that fact hits me like a sucker punch to the gut.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her lovely eyes are unsure as they lock on mine. She offers her hand and I take it, sliding a finger over her wrist to gauge her pulse as I shake; an old habit I can’t seem to shake. Her heartrate is already thumping but spikes the second we touch and I know she’s feeling that same shocking draw that’s surprising me.

  “The pleasure is mine.” I murmur the words and her eyes close, a hint of a shiver sneaking down her spine as goose bumps break out all up and down her arms.

  “So, you think you can cut our bid price by fifteen percent?”

  I jump right in, needing to find out if she thinks on her feet and can jump from one place to another. This is a demanding and tough field of work. I need to know if she’s up to the task.

  To my surprise, she pulls her bag off her shoulder – the thing is big enough to hold enough food to feed a small army – and pulls out a manila envelope. “Done.” Her delicate voice leaves me wanting to hear more, so I gesture to the chairs and we sit opposite one another at my desk.

  “So you already cut my costs?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at her and holding up the envelope she’d given me.

  She nods.

  “Why?” I ask. It wasn’t part of the basic information I’d sent her to look over. So why had she gone above and beyond what was asked?

  She shrugs. “I was bored. Needed something to do. I’ve been in Vegas a few days, you’re paying me, I don’t like not working.”

  Good answer; not that I’d tell her that. But why wasn’t she out on the town? Why not gambling, bars, entertainment? The normal things people do when they get here?

  Not that that’s a question I have any reason or right to be asking her.

  I open the envelope and look over the report inside. “This is… thorough,” I say, impressed.

  She nods. “Thank you.”

  I set the papers down with every intention to go over them with a fine-tooth comb soon. Instead, I focus on her.

  She meets my gaze, then glances quickly away. As I study her, her nerves begin to fray. Her leg bounces, her teeth begin to torture her lower lip, and she scans the room while carefully refusing to look at me. Interesting.

  Any other woman in her place would be making eyes at me. Suggestively licking their lips. Putting a hand on mine. All those not so subtle ways women try to seduce or prove they’re into me.

  She does none of them. Instead, she seems to be actively ignoring me.

  “Straight talk. What issues do you see with this project?” I plant both elbows on the desk, steeple my fingers together and peer at her over them.

  She still won’t look at me. “It’s a small team for such an ambitious project.”

  She’s right. I have thirty full timers and various temps I call on a job to job basis. It’s a small crew. A tight knit crew. A crew I can count on. Because I want a team that’s rock solid.

  “Very astute of you.” I want to pick her brain, but she’s just not forthcoming. “Please speak your mind. I won’t ask again.”

  Her eyes meet mine and her lips part in shock. “I, um…”

  She’s beautifully off guard and I like it more than I should. Will she rise to my challenge? Or will she crumble like so many before her?

  “I had an idea.” I see it; that light in her eyes, that click as something slips into place and she locks onto her thoughts and the moment with a zest I admire. A zest I used to share. She’s excited. And I find my heart rate speedi
ng up. She’s excited and that’s got me growing excited.

  She pulls out her plans. “What if we got rid of these old lights?” She crosses them off and writes neat notes in the margins. “And replaced them with a rigging system like this.” She bites down on her lower lip while concentrating on her sketch. Within a moment, her idea comes to life on the paper and I stare at it.

  So simple, so elegant. And an absolute game changer. Maybe there is something to those fancy school degrees after all.

  She glances up at me with those incredible blue eyes. “And it would save money on the front and back end. Pitch to them how much they’d save over the traditional model in electricity each month and say the additional cost up front is worth the savings on the back end.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t go to business school?” I arch an eyebrow at her and she laughs, showing off even, white teeth. Her laugh, as soft and delicate as the rest of her, sends a shiver down my spine and wakes my cock up. Fuck, if her laugh makes me hard I must be in worse shape than I thought.

  “I’m sure. Do you think this is do-able?” Her wide, trusting eyes meet mine and I fucking want to kiss her full, luscious lips.

  “Very do-able,” I say, meaning she’s very do-able.

  My double meaning seems to surprise her. She inhales through those slightly parted lips of hers. Her eyes drop to my lips and I know she’s thinking about me kissing her too. “It’s a clever idea and I think you’ve earned your first raise and bonus. Not bad for your first real day on the job.”

  A smile plays at her lips like she’s not sure if I’m serious or not. But I am very, very serious. This idea of hers just gave me an edge I didn’t have before and she’s woken up that excitement in me. That part of me I thought was gone is now cranking to life and whispering the kinds of ideas that I’d use to get to the top once more.