The Billionaire's Spark: Secret Billionaire's Club, #5

By Tracey Pedersen

La La Land. The best and worst place to keep a secret...

Cole Grant is at the top of his game. Adored in Hollywood, and pursued by women everywhere, he's made savvy business decisions in his acting career and now he's enjoying the spoils. With his little black book bursting at the seams, he can't help but win the game he agreed to play with his friends.

If he can't get a date for the biggest Fourth of July party in history, the rest of them might as well give up and go home.

Melody Aimes is just starting out in Hollywood. She's worked her whole career to land a leading role like her latest opposite Cole Grant. She's got stars in her eyes, a brain between her ears, and a plan to set herself up for a comfortable life. The prestigious Fourth of July party is the next step in her master plan and she needs to attend with someone memorable. Someone cutting edge.

Will sparks fly between Melody and Cole? Or will Melody discover that fame doesn't always equal fortune?

 

The Secret Billionaire's Club Books:

The Billionaire's Heart
The Billionaire's Luck
The Billionaire's Treat
The Billionaire's Duty
The Billionaire's Spark
The Billionaire's Club
The Billionaire's Scare
The Billionaire's Feast
The Billionaire's Gift
The Billionaire's Surprise

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tracey Pedersen
• Release date: Jul 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9780648584032

Tracey Pedersen

Tracey Pedersen is an Australian USA Today Bestselling author who has finally accepted that she is meant to write, write, write! In 2016 she released her first romance novel and hasn't looked back. Now writing full time, and fighting the urge to write every second of the day, she loves travel, crocheting, replying to reader emails and spending WAY too much time on Facebook!

Book preview

Chapter One - Cole

C ross! A little bird tells me the state of Nevada is having trouble getting rid of you.

Cross laughs, his smile relaxed and his eyes crinkled. I peer at my laptop screen, seeing a man who looks genuinely happy for the first time in ages. I’m so confused by that look. From what Danny and Wyatt just told me about his recent problems, he should be anything but cheery.

He also shouldn’t be shacked up in Vegas with the woman sent to pull his business to pieces for the amusement of the Australian government.

At this very second I feel like I never want to leave. Life sure is good when you don’t have to hide who you are.

Ahh. Mystery solved.

Cross Ronstein, one of my best friends, has discovered what I already know. Travel outside of Australia means a degree of freedom for a secret billionaire. Fewer eyes to watch your spending behaviour, and less interest in why. Of course, when you’re an actor like I am, you’re in the public eye in any country, and excessive spending can always attract attention.

I feel you, brother, I say, raising an eyebrow. Is that what I think it is on your neck?

Cross blushes and that’s confusing, too. I’ve rarely seen this man embarrassed in the twelve years we’ve known each other.

No comment. He raises his hand to his neck and rubs the exact spot where I’m staring. Suffice to say I’m enjoying myself this week.

A woman crosses the room behind him, quickly disappearing through a doorway.

So I see. Not just this week, though. Weren’t you due home the week after Memorial Day? Cross shrugs as I begin my lecture. That was three weeks ago.

Did Danny ask you to call me? He’s called me every day this week, asking when I’m going home.

If he’s harassing you, it’s for a reason.

So, he did call. He frowns and rubs his hand over the back of his neck. Tension creeps into his posture and his eyes tighten. Wyatt, too, I’d guess.

I guess you don’t need me to tell you what they already have? I laugh to myself and a moment later he smiles.

Not really. I’m ignoring any and all advice on this matter. Adding another voice to the mix won’t change my mind.

Fair enough. How about we catch up on Friday, then? I’m staying at the Bellagio for a couple of nights while we shoot some scenes.

That I can do. His tone is serious, like he thinks my invitation is some kind of trap.

Bring your lady friend, yeah?

Now he doesn’t hide his frown. Why do you want me to bring Jessa?

Err, because I’d like to meet her, and why should she hang out alone on a Friday night in Vegas? You’re not hiding her from us, are you?

Nope. Everyone will meet her soon enough.

Great. Let’s choose a place later. I’ll pencil you in for Friday, unless you fly the coop to go home before then.

He groans. Not gonna happen.

There’s a light knock on my hotel room door and I glance to the side. I have to go but see you Friday, okay? Both of you. I give him a last hard look and he laughs as we disconnect. There’s a second knock and I frown.

Can’t the staff use the hotel phone?

A courier in a cute pink cap, and a teensy tiny mini skirt stands at the door. Her eyes travel up from my waist to my face, and then widen. She quickly looks down, holding out her mobile phone and tugging her cap over her eyes. Mr. Grant. I have a delivery that needs your signature, please.

Sure. Why didn’t the desk accept it on my behalf?

Special delivery. I’m under strict instructions that only the recipient should sign. I can’t see her whole face, but I can see the grin she’s sporting under that cap.

Got it.

I hold out my hand for a pen, but she wiggles her phone and says, Just with your finger on the screen. I do as she asks, then watch as she submits my signature online. She hands me an envelope but keeps her eyes down as she says in a voice full of that smile, Have a nice day, Mr. Grant.

Thanks. I don’t look up, my eyes already on the envelope, but as she turns to leave her skirt flares out and that does catch my attention. I lean out the doorway and watch her move toward the elevator, her long bare legs moving quickly. There’s something vaguely familiar about her and I suddenly wish I’d paid more attention when she looked at me. She taps the button, then doubles over like she’s in pain. For a second, I think she might need help but then she stands straight and fans herself, letting out a giggle as she slips into the elevator.

I duck back into my suite before she turns around. The last thing I need is a slightly-odd courier telling some magazine that Cole Grant ogled her.

Her odd behaviour has me examining the envelope with a different type of interest. Can poisoning occur by courier? If there’s powder in this envelope wouldn’t it spill out the gaps and I’d notice? It wouldn’t be the first piece of hate mail I’ve received, but you can never be too careful when you’re famous. All of my mail goes to my registered business office to be screened. It’s not usually delivered by a smiling assassin with legs that go on forever.

The paper is thick, the front embossed in gold foil print. The name of the hotel and my room number show in fancy script, but my name isn’t printed. I tap it against my hand as I let the door close behind me, all the while puzzling over who knows I’m staying here tonight. That’s a fancy envelope and even more fancy print. Someone went to a lot of trouble.

There’s no sign of powder, and I tear the envelope open, the mystery quickly solved. I laugh out loud at the drama my over-active imagination tried to inject into a simple courier delivery. My day just improved more than I could have guessed when I was asked to run my finger over that mobile screen.

In my hand is the most prized invitation in Hollywood this year—an invite to the annual Fourth of July Gala Ball, hosted by Jemima Chase of Chase Magazine.

If anyone could track me down, it would be one of Jemima’s feisty assistants. In fact, if I needed any kind