Hawke : Bad Boy Billionaire: Miles Brothers Romance, #1

By Nikki Riker

Hawke is shocked to find that he's inherited the art museum his father had owned. He thought his father would take his riches to his grave, but he has given Hawke another chance at life. It's about time he grasped it; he always harbored the opinion that anything could be a canvas.

 

Despite being out of his depth, Hawke is ready to make some changes as he meets his new staff – particularly the elusive Jenna Camden. She has fought through blood, sweat, sacrificed, and tears to get the management position in the museum. She speaks her mind – and her sharp-whip intelligence staggers Hawke.

 

A wager is drawn up between them, which will make the difference between business and pleasure. If he loses, he must step back and run the museum-like his late father had done. The museum is under new management – and Hawke is not one to have his authority challenged. The more Hawke gets close to Jenna, the more he wants to paint her sculpted body with sinful shades. Will they yield to the temptation, or will it be another easel fallen off the stand?

 

Publisher's Note: This is a steamy and sexy billionaire bad boy bachelor romance with a HEA and can be read alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Majestic Owl Publishing LLC
• Release date: Aug 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201809652

Book preview

one

HAWKE

O ne more color, I mumbled as I stepped back to look at the art I’d created. A quick glance around to make sure the cops weren’t standing in the shadows to bust my ass, and I grabbed a can of blue spray paint. I shook the can and tilted my head to the side, studying my work.

A smirk lifted my lips. My father would have disapproved not only of me vandalizing public property at my age but for being late to his funeral. He was a good man, a distant rich man, but good nevertheless.

Hey, you! What are you doing over there? A loud voice interrupted my thoughts.

Fuck. I sprayed a bit of blue, leaned down and signed the graffiti art, and grabbed my shit. The voice got louder, and the sound of several feet hitting the pavement filled my ears. I couldn’t get arrested.

Not again. Not on the day of my father’s funeral. I would never hear the end of it from my brothers.

I got in the car, slung my bag of spray paint over to the passenger’s seat, and prayed the baby would crank up. It started immediately.

There you go, Kitten. I reached up and patted the dashboard, and movement caught my attention. Security guards. Two of them. Running right the fuck toward me. Let’s go.

The sound of my tires burning up the road gave me a sweet sense of satisfaction. At twenty-eight, I wasn’t exactly a rebel anymore, but I could pretend in my dreams that I still had it in me.

I let out a laugh and turned onto a busy street, losing the guards in five o’clock Friday afternoon traffic.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do it.

You fucking rebel. My older brother, Kade, shook his head as he stood just outside the open door to the funeral home. The smile on his face let me know that he respected my bravery to see my art through, no matter what.

Nah, man. I’m all grown up now. I brushed my hands down the front of my black buttoned-up shirt and peered over his shoulder. People filled the room behind him, most of them faces I’d never seen before in my life.

Well, I’m sorry to hear that then. My brother patted me on the chest and turned a little to face the open door. I’m not sure how to feel about today. About all of this.

I agree. I moved past him and scanned the crowd, looking for the sanctuary. Several older people smiled kindly and nodded my way. I brought the average age in the room down to sixty at least.

It’s to the left. Where all of the flowers are. Kade moved up beside me and rested his hand on my upper back. He looks good. Even with the cancer eating away at him, they did a great job of making him look like he did ten years back.

Dad always looked good. It was his job to fool the world, to make them believe he was unstoppable.

Kade chuckled. And he did. He dropped his hand from me and walked toward the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave me a small smile. You’re most like him in that way.

How’s that? I lowered my voice a little and walked through the crowd toward the sanctuary door.

He was good at hiding how he felt. Kade shrugged and walked down the long aisle between rows and rows of church pews. You do the same.

Nothing to hide. I shrugged and focused my attention on the open casket at the front of the room. I’m good.

You’re the one that stayed behind when we all left. He pressed his shoulder to mine as we stopped in front of Dad.

I glanced down and took a sharp breath. And I’m glad I did. We didn’t get along when I was a kid, but there was a part of me that wanted to give back to him and Mom, to thank them in some special way for adopting all of us fuckers, you know?

Kade snorted. "Not sure you’re allowed to say fuckers in here."

Fuckers. I winked before reaching out and fixing the bright blue handkerchief they had tucked into my father’s breast pocket. Dad didn’t understand my need to express myself through art.

Which is funny, seeing that he loved art himself.

Right? I smiled and clasped my hands in front of me, taking in the moment. A million memories raced past the back of my eyelids as I closed them and took it in.

All four of my brothers and I had been adopted by Geoffrey and Linda Miles. They were beyond wealthy, and Linda wasn’t able to have kids. A part of my heart ached for her when we were growing up, but she loved each of us rowdy bastards as if we were her own. Geoffrey? Not so much.

You all right? Kade touched my back again.

I glanced over to his kind blue eyes, filled with that intellectual look he got from time to time. Yeah. Glad you’re here. Where the hell is everyone else?

He shook his head and glanced over his shoulder. Asher and Lars are back at Mom and Dad’s house. They don’t do funerals. You know that. They didn’t even come to Mom’s.

And Jagger? My youngest brother had been off the grid for a few years. None of us had been able to keep up with him, which was just the way he liked it.

No clue. He moved back and cleared his throat. I’m going to go shake some hands. The service should start soon.

Cool. I turned back to the casket.

Remember, we’re meeting with Dad’s lawyer on Monday. We have to go over the will.

And then you guys are all heading back out, or are you staying in Seattle for a few days?

I’m staying, but I’m not sure of anyone else’s plans. He turned and walked off, leaving me to my thoughts.

I was the only one that stayed behind, but it wasn’t for Mom and Dad. It was for me. I loved the northwest. Seattle was a part of my soul, the art community and creative freedom movements a huge part of my identity.

A tall older man moved up beside me. You must be Hawke.

Yes, sir. And you? I turned and offered my hand to the guy.

I’m Raymond Kant, your father’s best friend.

Oh, yeah. Mister Ray. Good to see you. I offered him a tight smile. The only thing I hated worse than mingling with people I didn’t know was getting thrown in jail for the night. Or maybe it was the other way around.

You too. He smiled down at my father. I know Geo wasn’t your real father, but you look like him.

This is true. I reached up and ran my fingers through my dark hair. He was a good-looking bastard, right?

The old man laughed heartily. He was, and he was quite the talent with the ladies.

Oh yeah? I rolled my shoulders. I’m thinking that’s where me and Dad are different. I can’t seem to snag the right one no matter what.

Love waits on the right one for the right moment.

Maybe so, but I’m getting a little impatient. I smirked and reached back down to touch Dad’s shoulder. He didn’t talk much about his love life before Mom.

Most fathers don’t. The old guy shifted a little to face me. If you need anything, just call. Any of you boys. You were your father’s pride and joy. I know he had his fingers in a lot of pies around the world, and I would imagine he’s divided all of those responsibilities up for each of you. Just let me know if there is ever anything I can do.

Yeah, thanks. I took the card he offered and tucked it into my pocket.

Funny how love got brought up at a funeral. People didn’t really show up to pay their respects because they were good business partners or excellent poker pals. They showed up because they had some semblance of love for the deceased.

I found my way to the front row and sat down, assuming Kade would join me shortly.

A cold chill ran up my spine as my thoughts danced around at a million miles a minute.

How many people would show up at my funeral if I died young?

Right. Three. Kade, Zak, and Lars. Hell, maybe Jagger would bring his rebellious ass out of the woods to say a final goodbye. Maybe not. None of us shared blood, only history, struggle—life.

You look awfully contemplative over here. Kade dropped down next to me. You thinking about your next painting?

I snorted. No. I was thinking about my own funeral.

And? He lifted an eyebrow.

And don’t play this sappy-ass music. Bring in Imagine Dragons or someone to bust loose the celebration.

"Why am I not surprised to hear