The Billionaire Bargain: Untamable Billionaire Series, #2

By Sierra Rose

This is book 2. 

With chemistry this hot, it's hard for Luke and Paige to keep the marriage platonic as planned. Sparks fly! But when everything crashes around Paige, her world is shattered.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dark Shadows Publishing
• Release date: Apr 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386885351

Book preview

Chapter 1

Paige

PAIGE HAD NEVER WORN a dress like this. Sure, she’d spent plenty of time on Rent the Runway fantasizing about which gown she’d like to borrow for a weekend. She usually went for red. There was no point in renting a real designer gown in some don’t-look-at-me boring color. If she ever got to put one on, she’d be damn sure it was flashy enough to stop traffic.

Except now, instead of fire engine red, she was draped in a cool blush pink, a weightless satin whose dull sheen showcased every line of the stunning bias-cut dress whose hem swept the floor. The straps cupped her shoulders softly as rose petals. Her hair had been bundled up and pinned in a hundred places with tiny jeweled hairpins so it looked effortless, feminine, like she’d just wandered out of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, naturally elegant.

Her shoes, which were so delicate they might as well have been glass slippers, were gorgeous, crystal-encrusted stilettos, nothing more than a web of fragile straps around her lovely foot. Paige was surprised they were solid enough to walk on. They were so pretty. She pivoted her right foot before the mirror, enchanted by it. She took a surreptitious shoe-selfie with her phone.

She couldn’t believe she looked like this, dressed like this. A woman had come to her and done her makeup, contouring and blending until she looked like a much more beautiful version of herself. Paige was all dressed up to go to the zoo. It was unbelievable. Soon, Luke would come and escort her. He’d be devastating in a tuxedo. He’d offer her his arm. He’d probably say something sly that made her knees go weak and remind her why it was a serious mistake to agree to marry him.

She liked him. That was the problem. He was a means to an end, just like she was for him. He needed the respectability of a marriage to soothe his board of directors. She needed the money she was granted in the prenuptial agreement to pay for her sister’s cancer treatment.

They’d agreed explicitly, time and time again, that there would be no romantic and certainly no sexual involvement between the pair of them for the course of a two-year marriage. Two years was a long time not to sleep with Luke Conners. Hell, an evening was a long time to keep herself from touching him.

She went to the window to watch for him, knew he’d be along at any moment. Just as she knew that soon it would be even harder to meet the terms of their agreement because they’d be living together. She knew that one of these days she’d be pouring a cup of coffee only to turn around and see Luke Conners, fresh from the shower in only a towel. Her insides would melt, and her bra would unhook itself voluntarily. 

Paige saw the chauffeured black car slide up in front of her building. She knew she should wait for him to come to the door. She couldn’t wait. She dashed down the stairs, amazed at how easy it was to walk in the fancy shoes and nearly crashed into him at the front door of her building. He stepped back, looking predictably gorgeous. His chiseled jaw was freshly shaven, his intense eyes hidden behind sunglasses which made him, impossibly, look even cooler. He belonged in an ad for expensive cologne or a Ferrari, she thought, not for the first time. He looked like a model.

Luke wasn’t a model, of course. He was only the grandson and heir of the founder of Conners Enterprises, the single largest multinational conglomerate in the state. Unfortunately, when he took the reins a year and a half before, the board didn’t handle the transition smoothly. His arrogant, I’ll-do-what-I-want attitude probably didn’t reassure them much. So as a last resort, he’d taken his publicist’s advice and looked for a marriage of convenience. No drama, no real personal involvement. Just a business arrangement between polite acquaintances. Acquaintances who knew too much about each other to keep it casual. Acquaintances who flirted and had amazing chemistry. Acquaintances who maybe had kissed that one time. 

Well, twice. But that time in the elevator barely counted. It was interrupted after like four seconds. Not that she’d been counting because when Luke kissed her, she couldn’t exactly do math in her head. The only kiss that really mattered was the one on the squash court. She’d been terrible at his rich-boy sport; they’d argued and flirted. He’d kissed her. She could think about it now, weeks later, and still feel like she needed to sit down and catch her breath.

It hadn’t meant anything. It was just that they were in close quarters in the private squash court, and he’d been trying to guide her hands. One thing led to another. Who wouldn’t be totally aroused by doing poorly at a new sport in a small, ugly room that stank like a thousand dirty sweat socks? Fine, so maybe it was the nuclear sex appeal of her inconvenient fiancé. Anyway, she wished she could sit up front with the driver and not in the back where her leg would brush against his.

He politely waved the chauffeur away and opened her door himself. Because being a gentleman made it so much easier to resist him—not. She was irrationally annoyed with him for being so hot. Then she slid over so he could join her in the car. She sat on something hard and jumped up, hitting her head on the roof of the car. Muttering and rubbing her head gingerly to avoid dislodging hairpins, she moved past the thing that had poked her in the ass.

Hardly the ideal presentation, he smirked, but this is for you. I had planned to offer you the box once we were on our way. Next time I’ll have to plan a contingency for your exuberant ass.

You’re not exuberant, but you’re kinda being an ass, she grinned.

I liked douchebag better. Isn’t that what you called me when you were eavesdropping on my phone call in your bare feet? he said. I swear I heard you whisper it.

It does sound vaguely familiar.

Luke handed her a soft blue velvet box, large and flat. She flipped it open on the hinge to reveal a glistening diamond choker. Eyes round, she looked at Luke. His Cheshire cat grin told her that, yes, it was for her. He snatched it from the cushion and arranged it around her neck, his warm fingers brushing her nape as he fastened it. She flipped down the visor to look in the mirror.

There, wreathing her neck, was a strand of round diamonds, brilliant and blue-white, graduated in size from tiny to medium to the big, thumbnail–sized one that nestled in the hollow of her throat. It was beautiful. It elevated her gorgeous designer gown to next level glamor.

Thank you, she said.

I thought it would suit you.

It would suit anyone. You’d have to be an idiot not to like this.

Another of your uniquely artless responses. I’ve come to count on them. It wouldn’t occur to you to say simply that it’s perfect. You work in the use of idiot, moron or ass.

Douchebag is your favorite.

I confess a soft spot for douchebag, he said with an eye roll, Champagne?

We’re going to the zoo. Who drinks on the way to the zoo?

People with chauffeurs primarily. Such as ourselves, Luke said.

He reached into the wine fridge (yes, actual wine fridge inside the car!) and withdrew a split of Moet. He poured it into flutes, the amber liquid bubbling right to the crystal rims.

It’s perfect, she said in a singsong voice as he passed her a glass.

In this case, I’m afraid it isn’t what you say, but how you say it. If you’re going to be sarcastic—

I’m awake, aren’t I? she said.

You do make a compelling point there. I’m not sure in all the time we’ve spent together that you’ve ever had a completely sincere conversation with me.

If you don’t learn to laugh at yourself, you’ll go bald.

What? Cite a single peer-reviewed study to confirm that ridiculous statement.

Look at that. A hair just popped out right now while you were sputtering, she said with a giggle, Stress is bad for you. Laughter is healthy.

So is cauliflower, but it’s my understanding you won’t eat it.

I don’t object to cauliflower. It’s good with that cheese sauce. It’s when people go around grinding it up and saying it tastes like rice or pizza crust or whatever the hell they’re pretending it is. They’re just fooling themselves.

I know your stance on a healthy diet.

I eat salads! she protested.

Yes, and I’m tremendously proud of you for occasionally consuming a vegetable that isn’t coated in melted cheese.

Melted cheese is really good, in my defense.

Do you know what else is good? Not dying of a heart attack before age forty.

Show me one peer-reviewed study that proves melted cheese will kill me before I’m forty!

I’m sure there are several.

Right. You totally picked an age at random, and now you have to pretend to stare at your phone before you say you found one but it’s in Greek or something so I wouldn’t understand it. You could literally show me Mary Had a Little Lamb in Greek and say it was a study that proved beyond a doubt that nacho cheese is suicide.

Greek? I was thinking Arabic, but I’m not certain they share our nursery rhymes. He thumbed his phone screen and appeared to stifle a laugh.

She wanted to kiss him. He was infuriating and funny, and she liked him.

It’s a zoo gala, you know, we’re not just going to the zoo to feed peanuts to the elephants, he said.

I thought you were never supposed to feed the animals. It’s a rule. It’s on signs.

I’m fairly sure that given the donation Conners Enterprises made to the new koala habitat, you can feed them if you want.

Koalas? I love those little guys! she said, practically squealing.

That’s...good. I’ll be sure to mention your enthusiastic support for the project in my speech.

You’re giving a speech?

Yes, certainly. It’s what one does when being honored as a platinum donor. I expect I’ll receive a collectible plaque as well. One can always dream.

You’re one to accuse me of sarcasm, she said lightly.

Do you like the necklace? he said, looking out the window rather than at her.

Yes. I like it. It’s beautiful, sparkly, and a wonderful surprise. Thank you for thinking of me.

I’m glad you like it.

Do you like my shoes? She held out a sparkling sandal for his admiration.

Yes. They’re very—lively.

Is that a ‘no not really?’

No. It’s an ‘I didn’t know shoes were supposed to have glitter on them.’

Everything is supposed to have glitter on it that possibly can. Except food. I don’t think glitter would be good on food.

What about cauliflower? Would it be improved with sparkles? he teased.

That depends. If it’s regular cauliflower, not masquerading as something like garlic bread, then it’s fine as it is. If it’s cauliflower pretending to be a bread product, glitter it up because anything would be an improvement, Paige said.

We’ll have photos before the cocktails and speeches. The goal of this event is both to reinforce the philanthropic character of the Conners family and to emphasize the happy and wholesome image of a newly engaged couple.

I wore the ring, Paige said, brandishing her hand in front of his face to showcase the huge emerald-cut solitaire on her finger.

I would consider that a basic requirement. You’re to wear it anytime you leave your apartment. It should be on your hand at work, at the gym, at the grocery store. Paparazzi should never catch you without it because it will spark rumors that we’re not getting along.

I’ll wear it. Even though it weighs like eleven pounds and makes it nearly impossible to lift my hand. Look, my wrist is so exhausted! she demonstrated by lifting her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear only to give up and let the hand drop to her lap despondently.

So you wanted a smaller ring? he challenged.

I didn’t want a ring. If you remember, I said you could just tell everyone we were engaged, then donate money to a cancer charity instead.

I did donate to the charity. I also need you to wear the ring because it’s an obvious symbol of our commitment. Our two-years plus engagement time commitment.

Right, I get it. Do you need me to get a tattoo that says Property of Luke Conners? Because I hear it hurts to have those things removed. I’d have to order like seven hundred temporary press on ones.

I think it’s likely that if you ordered seven hundred custom made temporary tattoos, somehow the press would find out about it. It seems suspicious.

What? Is that not a normal thing to do? she teased.

He laughed. I love how you keep me on my feet.

That’s my job as your lovely fiancée.

When they reached the zoo, Luke offered her his hand and helped her from the car. She pasted on a beaming smile as if the place she most wanted to be was right there in front of dozens of digital cameras and recorders.

She swept her skirt smooth with one hand, posed beside Luke. His arm was around her waist, and she carefully positioned her hand at his lapel to display her massive engagement ring. She pivoted, tilting her face up to approximate an adoring gaze into Luke’s face. He’d taken off his sunglasses, so his whole handsome face was on display. She didn’t even blame the reporters for taking pictures of him. If Paige didn’t have to pose, she might have snapped a sneaky photo or two with her phone. He really was that good looking.

On her desk at work, where she was an assistant to one of the VP’s in Luke’s company, she had an engagement portrait in a silver frame. They’d been posed and highly retouched photos taken less than a day after he put a ring on her finger. She thought she still looked a little stunned in the framed picture like she’d been tumbled down a rabbit hole into another world. One that looked similar but which operated under very different rules. She’d worn a pretty yellow sundress chosen by a stylist to convey her sweetness and to remind the stockholders of the Disney princess Belle.

Luke had protested that his board of directors wasn’t exactly a Beauty and the Beast crowd, but the stylist had insisted that yellow was cheerful and endearing, that it would strike a princess-y chord with viewers. He had worn a white shirt, a navy-blue blazer, and no tie. The stylist had been emphatic about the lack of a tie because he was

Reviews for The Billionaire Bargain

[Jonora Jones · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

The story has now become ABSURD after starting well in book 1. No one would act this childish with someone she professed to care about and certainly not a business professional. Certain scenes are just dumb, poorly crafted :-(!

[Marg Campbell-McCauley · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

These books are so funny and awesome - with just the right amount of heartache to encourage a reader to be invested. Luke is oddly relatable for a billionaire. Paige is one of the coolest heroines ever, can't wait to finish Book 3 (I am forcing myself to do some work during my holidays with reading Bk3 after as a reward). These ones are sexy too - hope to read more of the same from Sierra Rose. I recommend this serial for everyone that loves romance.