Playing Their Game : Billionaire Menage Romance

By Sandra Cole

Shelby Stuart can't decide if she loves her job or absolutely hates it. Newly appointed CEO Jackson Archer is tap-dancing on her last nerve. Sure, he's handsome, rich and charming, but he's also arrogant, demanding and irresponsible. When Andre Kennedy, a self-made billionaire, invites Shelby to Paris to attend an important business conference with him, can she bring herself to succumb to his charms? And should she, or is Shelby just a pawn in their billionaire's game.

---

Standalone Romance Stories With No Cliffhanger!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Cole
• Release date: Feb 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386036722

Book preview

Playing Their Game

Chapter 1

Shelby Stuart stepped into the pristine, marble foyer of Archer Enterprises, took a deep breath and crossed her fingers that her boss, Jackson Archer, would be in a good mood that day. Sometimes Jackson was a dazzling charmer, sometimes he was in a dark temper. When you worked for the world’s most handsome billionaire, you never knew what you were going to get.

People milled around Shelby as they waited for the elevator, some greeting her, some avoiding her. She didn’t really mind that people kept their distance. As Jackson Archer’s personal assistant and senior member of his personal staff, she thought it best to keep the rest of the company at arm’s length.

I don’t trust any of them, Shelby, Jackson had said to her on more than one occasion after a board meeting or stockholder conference. Jackson had inherited Archer Enterprises after his father’s death only a year ago, and it was obvious that some of the senior staff had a deep-seated resentment toward the boy who seemed to have usurped their places.

Not that anyone would dare call Jackson Archer a boy. Shelby was positive that if you opened the dictionary and looked in the M section, she would find a picture of Jackson right next to the definition of the word man. Sometimes, Jackson was too attractive to be believed.

Shelby glanced across the lobby of Archer Enterprises, to the enormous painting of Jackson that hung behind the security desk. From his position on the wall, Jackson’s smiling, oil-painted doppelganger seemed to inspect everyone who walked beneath him, and he clearly found them all wanting. His grin was broad and white, his clear blue eyes sparkled, but there was a hint of disdain in his expression that the artist couldn’t seem to avoid.

Perhaps that natural disdain is what sparked an intense dislike of Jackson among his peers. The upper-echelon of billionaires in America was a bit like a fraternity: everyone knew each other, and everyone knew each other’s business. But Jackson remained apart from all that. None of the other men—old white men, for the most part—were particularly cordial to Jackson. He tended to get the cold shoulder when he arrived at social events.

Which reminds me, Shelby thought, glancing down at the gold embossed invitation clutched in her manicured hands. He’s going to hate this.

The card had arrived weeks ago, an exclusive invitation to a charity gala at the Central Opera, a centuries-old institution in New York City and one of the chicest non-profit boards in town. Jackson had waved Shelby off, agreeing to attend but insisting that Shelby take care of the details.

As Shelby responded to the invite in the outer-office, Jackson had been entertaining the Greek ambassador’s daughter in his inner-office. Shelby rolled her eyes as the sound of the Greek girl’s laughter tinkled through the firmly closed door, but still wrote down Alecta Eliopoulous as Jackson’s plus one to the gala.

That turned out to be a mistake, because the next day, Jackson was out with another heiress, Ana Estes, treating her to a picnic on his private yacht. It looked to Shelby like Anna was in and Alecta was out, so she’d contacted the Opera and changed the name of Jackson’s plus one. Turns out, Shelby had moved too quickly yet again.

Jackson had a steady stream of dates that week, and Shelby eventually grew exhausted trying to keep up with which woman would be attending the Opera gala with him. Finally, she told the nice, slightly frazzled woman who was coordinating the benefit to just leave the place card for dinner seating blank and that she’d let them know on the day of the gala. Between now and then, Jackson could switch dates dozens of times.

It was