Savagely Broken (Billionaire romance)

By Alexx Andria

It's only temporary, baby. Don't go catching feelings because I will tear you apart.

GAGE

Mari Jones is an itch under my skin that I can't satisfy. The sassy, long-legged cocktail waitress is everything I shouldn't want. Smart-mouthed, take-no-shit, sexy-as-hell, and the worst thing I could throw into my life but I want her.

The thing is…I've always wanted her.

She doesn't remember me but I've never forgotten her.

And now I'm going to put her into my bed.

Don't get me wrong — I'm not about forever — I see what I want and I find a way to get it but it's always a temporary fix.

No amount of money in the world can fix what's broken inside me — and I should know, I'm fucking loaded — so don't even try.

I'm damaged. Broken to the core.

If she catches feelings, I'm going to ruin her.

Even though I know I should walk, I can't.

She's everything I ever wanted…everything I will never deserve to have.

Right or wrong…she's mine.

Publisher's Note: This is a full-length novel at 40,000 words. It's everything you've come to expect in an Alexx Andria read — hot sex, witty banter, and dark angst — if that sounds like your thing, feel free to one-click this bad boy billionaire and settle in for a deliciously wicked and entertaining time. Oh, and fans of Alexx's Buchanan series...you might just recognize a character or two. Enjoy!

Excerpt:

"I want you, Mari," Gage stated, leaning back, kicking his leg out casually beneath the scratched and ruined table. "Name your price."

"N-name my price?" I stuttered, incredulous. "What does that mean? And what makes you think I even have a price that I would offer? I'm not a vendor at a flea market, ready to haggle over an item…especially when that item is me."

His smirk did crazy things to my belly even as his answer pissed me off fresh. "Everyone has a price. Even you. I'm willing to bet your price is a lot lower than you think it would be."

Oh, hell no, what? "Did you just insult me?"

"Not at all. Just sharing a bit of what I know about human nature."

"Well, you don't know shit about me," I said, rising. "I'm done with this ridiculous game. I don't care how rich you are, you can't buy me."

Screw Manny and his greed. He could find someone else to pander to the rich jerk, I was out.

"You're broke. You'll be homeless by the end of the month because you can't pay your rent and something tells me you aren't going to make enough in tips to get what you need by month's end."

His calm voice at my back froze my feet. I turned slowly. "How the hell do you know my personal business?"

He waved away my question as if I were naive. "Nothing is private, sweetheart. I can get everything I need to know about you with the push of a button. Financial records are the easiest." He paused only to punctuate his point. "Is my intel wrong? Do you have a secret stash of cash in your mattress that you're holding onto for a rainy day?"

No, he wasn't wrong — Gage knew how precarious my situation was and he had zero qualms about using the information to his advantage.

Indignation aside...could I afford to refuse his offer? 

Damn him, he knew I couldn't.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexx Andria
• Release date: Sep 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386840169

Alexx Andria

Alexx Andria is a USA TODAY best-selling author who writes hot, contemporary stories about strong women and their difficult men. She loves bringing an Alpha man to his knees through the cunning and wit of a woman who knows her worth. Happily-ever-afters are a must but it's a rocky journey to that sweet spot, which is part of the fun. Discover your newest obsession with an Alexx Andria read!

Book preview

1

Inoticed him the moment he stepped inside the dive bar, even though I was slammed between customers waving me down, shouting their drink orders while I dodged the pinch of their fingers on my ass .

Typical night at Jimmy’s Tavern. Loud, rude, perverted clientele, the smell of sweat and piss that seemed to permeate the walls, and the occasional sharp tink of glass breaking. Yep, everything seemed in order.

Except for him showing up.

You see, guys like him — tall, broad-shouldered, shock of dark hair and a chiseled jaw — didn’t just waltz into Jimmy’s because it wasn’t a place where seemingly normal people ended up.

I’m not being a bitch when I say Jimmy’s caters to the lowest common denominator — the sad dregs, the disillusioned, the teetering-on-the-edge-of-committing-a-felony type.

But I made good tips (I know, shocking) and their money (dirty or otherwise) paid my bills. Plus getting a job in the city was hard to come by when you were only working with a high school diploma.

So yeah, I noticed him.

And so did every other female in the place, the sound of panties dropping over the din of the crappy band was near deafening.

Good God, I’ve just looked into the eyes of my future baby daddy, Sasha gushed, sliding her tray across the bar for refills. Did you see him?

I gripped my tray of drinks. Yeah, I saw him. Hard to miss. Take my advice, steer clear.

Why? Sasha asked, confused.

I blew out a short exhale. I didn’t have time to explain but I did anyway because Sasha was a sweet girl (barely twenty-one to my wise twenty-six) and incredibly naive. Look, why would a guy like him show up to someplace like Jimmy’s? One of these things don’t belong and it’s clearly him. So, that begs the question…what’s he here for? Slumming for a good time with a girl who’ll lick his balls and whatever else because she’s so grateful to be with a guy like him? Or, he’s a psychopath looking for a victim. Fuck either of those scenarios.

Maybe he’s just low-key and likes the ambiance, Sasha countered with a reproachful pout. I mean, not every guy is a douchebag, Mari.

"You’re smarter than that, Sash. And most men are douchebags."

I had the empty bank account to prove it. Promise me you’ll just deliver drinks and nothing else. For the love of all that’s holy…do not give him your phone number. Let Carli have him. With any luck she’ll give him The Herp.

Sasha giggled but still said, You’re no fun, pulling her laden tray before reluctantly agreeing, Fine. I’ll give him a pass.

Good girl.

Karma points, I needed them. My advice to the girl ought to count for something.

But my gaze seemed to find him in spite of my attempt to ignore him completely. Even dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt, he had an air about him that screamed money. It was like a pheromone that all the women (and some men) got high on like a dog eagerly sniffing unwashed butts.

While Sasha stuck to her word, even though she did send me a few pained looks begging for me to ease up on my dictate, the other girls were practically throwing every signal known to man that they were ready and willing if he so much as winked at them.

Not me, though.

Money didn’t impress me but it was nice to have. Like when the rent was due. A flush of impending panic threatened to upset my game face. I’d figure something out about the rent. Right now, I had to make tips.

Lots of tips.

Sure, he had a look that screamed I’ll-ruin-you-in-the-best-way-possible but I really wasn't in the market for any of that nonsense.

No more good-looking, sexy-as-fuck, superior-DNA guys in my future.

Maybe I’ll start cultivating an attraction to the awkward type; you know, the ones who start stuttering when someone of the opposite sex starts talking to them.

That’s cute, right?

Okay, don’t answer that but it was way cuter than finding out that your hottie, model-cute boyfriend was a raging manwhore who would probably fuck a McChicken (and probably had) if he thought he could get away with it.

Ugh. Don’t think of Landon. If only his face and body had reflected the ugliness of his soul, I would’ve kept walking instead of letting the asshole buy me a drink two years ago.

Landon had seemed like a dream. Handsome as fuck but with an adorably lazy wit that I’d mistaken for smarts when in fact, he’d just been an ass. He’d ran with my sarcasm and tossed it right back. God, I’d been hooked from the start.

And so charming! I mean, he had the charisma of a used-car salesman. Hell, he’d sold me on his used bit of goods and I’d fallen hard for his empty promises.

I’m talking empty as a depression-era soup bowl, you know what I mean? Landon had turned out to be nothing but hot farts in church — smelly and socially unacceptable.

Sasha interrupted my tiny pity party by rushing over, bumping into me with her monster tits to whisper/squeal, Oh my God, Mari…he wants to buy you a drink!

What? Why? I let my gaze drift to the out-of-place stranger, my consternation etched on my face before shaking my head. That’s weird. Wait, how do you know?

Because he flagged me over and I thought maybe, he needed a refill, Sasha answered but her cheeks flared.

Little liar. You were hoping he wanted your number, I surmised, calling her out.

"Okay, so, yes, maybe just a little but it doesn’t matter because he’s interested in you. Go figure. The one person who isn’t interested in the least, is the one he wants."

I refused to be flattered, laughing with healthy derision. Men like him only want what they can’t have. It’s all about the chase. No thanks. Then I hefted my tray, ready for my next round. He can just find someone else to stalk. I’ve got work to do.

Maybe if I wasn't still licking my wounds over Landon, my last terrible mistake, the walking dick on legs, I might've been open to talking to the stranger but the reality was, my Spidey-senses were fully functioning and kicking hard.

There wasn't a man alive who could convince me to let down my walls. Honestly, at this point, I was ready to let my vagina close up shop permanently.

Sasha stared, incredulous that I was walking away from such a catch. She took on a motherly tone. "The best way to get over someone is to get under someone new. You can't let opportunities like this go by. If nothing else you can use him to make Landon jealous. A jealous boyfriend is always a more attentive one."

In case you've forgotten, Landon and I broke up. He fucking cheated on me, Sash. I’m not going back to him.

Yeah, but you were pissed off at the time when you broke up. Think of all the good times you guys had. One mistake isn’t a deal-breaker, you know?

"No, actually, some mistakes are deal-breakers, I corrected her, incredulous. I caught him with his dick in someone else’s mouth. That’s as final as they come. I wouldn’t touch him with someone else’s hands at this point."

Sasha’s eyes widened with sudden contrition, bobbing her head. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you’re totally right. You were totally right to push Landon to the curb. I mean, who does that? So fucking rude.

Rude doesn’t even begin to describe what Landon did to my heart. I didn’t want to admit it but…I’d thought he was The One. Yeah, as in babies, marriage, the white-picket fence…all the domestic shit you can imagine because I was so head over heels. Now I think of myself back then and wanted to vomit.

I realized Sasha was still talking, wistfully at that.

I’m just saying that if I had a guy like that eye-fucking me from across the room and asking to buy me a drink…it probably wouldn’t take much to get me to ride him right there in front of God and country. Suddenly, Sasha paused as if she’d discovered the true reason for my aversion. Oh, girl, are you on your period? Because if you are, I have a porn star trick that totally works. You just stick a make-up sponge—

I’m good, I stopped her right there. Not on my period. Just not interested.

Like my period would be only reason why I wouldn’t fuck a total stranger.

Sasha, disappointed that she hadn’t solved the dilemma, asked plaintively, So, what do I tell him?

I don’t care. Tell me him I’m not interested, or tell him I’m gay and I have a really jealous girlfriend. Make something up, it doesn’t matter to me because I’m likely never going to see him again.

Sasha pushed away from the bar, casting a look that clearly questioned my sanity as if I were foolishly giving up the opportunity of my life. I watched as she delivered my message. The stranger lifted his shot glass in salute and I turned away.

That guy was probably accustomed to people bowing and scraping to do whatever he wanted. Must be a rude awakening to be rejected. I probably took a wee bit too much enjoyment out of rejecting him. Maybe I was punishing him for my broken heart but Landon wasn’t available.

Landon was shacking up with his new girlfriend, the one whom I caught servicing my boyfriend in my apartment.

Such a fucking asshole. And just when I thought he couldn't sink any lower he had to go and add salt to the wound by draining every last dime from our bank account.

All I had to my name were the sweaty tip dollars that smelled like they’d been previously wedged between someone’s ass crack. I was starting from zero and that didn't feel very good at all.

I half expected the stranger to be more persistent — those type usually were — being told no just wasn't in their purview. But to his credit, he left me alone. I was grateful. I just wanted to end the night, finish my shift, go home and cry quietly into my pillow.

Either that or drink myself stupid until the following day. Either/or would work.

But after an hour or so, he left and my night went on as usual. I said my goodbyes to Sasha and the rest of the crew and stepped out the back door, ready to walk to the subway station.

My eyes burned and my feet were barking because working a double in shitty shoes was murder but when you were on a fixed income, quality footwear wasn't exactly the biggest priority.

And besides, I was never one of those women who lived and died by their shoe collection. If you were to look in my closet right now you'd see three pairs of shoes: a pair of running shoes, a dusty pair of heels that I rarely wore because I never had the money to go anywhere, and flip-flops that were nearing the end of their days but still got the job done.

To be honest, I preferred being barefoot. Probably a consequence of growing up in the country. How a country girl like me ended up in New York City was one of those stories that deserved to land in the How-I-Fucked-Up-My-Life column.

But then, I guess we all had decisions that ended up in that column at some point, right?

This was ‘Merica and we got the right to fuck up our lives however we choose — so said my inner redneck without apology.

And boy howdy, if fucking up were an Olympic sport, I’d medal in gold.

Go. Me.

2

The backdoor had barely clicked shut when a voice startled the shit out of me .

You refused my offer for a drink.

I whirled, my fingers digging into my purse for my pepper spray, my pocketknife, or even an eyeliner pencil

Reviews for Savagely Broken (Billionaire romance)

[Christy G · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

** Spoiler Alert**
WTF happened to the Cat she fought tooth and nail for custody between her and her Ex? Once she won custody, the cat went MIA in the storyline. Did she forget the cat she couldn't bare to lose in New York when she moved to California? Also her car... why was it important to throw out there, that she got a new car in New York when she already had plans to jump on a plane to move back to home to Cali? Why did she not just road trip it with her cat and put the camera she was gifted to good use during the trip vs her flying if she had a new car? Or why didn't she just wait to buy a car in Cali if she was going to fly vs drive? Also why was the exact amount she was paid never fully disclosed? This is the second Alexx Andria novel I've read. I have been pretty disappointed with the dry conclusions. Alexx cuts the storyline off once a truce is made between the lovers, in both of her novels that I've read. But very little or nothing at all is to be said about their lives once they have reached the "Happily Ever After" point in their story.