Three Cranky Billionaires and a Bratty Girl: Three Guys and a Girl, #3

By Chloe Kent

She's a back-talking, disobedient, rebellious brat and they'd just inherited her from their fathers' best friend until she turns twenty-one… in thirty days.

 

Fallon Lantree is determined to make it in the world on her own terms.

Working as a waitress at a popular nightclub while wearing six-inch heels, and saving all her tips, is only a stepping stone to the life she wants. And all the money in the world won't stop her from doing things her way, especially the insanely ginormous inheritance coming her way when she turns twenty-one. It's a hard no thank you from her.

Except her new guardians, three cranky billionaires, carrying out her grandfather's dying wish, break into her apartment, and won't take no for an answer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chloe Kent
• Release date: Oct 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215519172

Book preview

THREE CRANKY BILLIONAIRES AND A BRATTY GIRL

Chloe Kent

Copyright © 2022 by Chloe Kent

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Join my newsletter, get a free ebook and keep up to date with all my book news!

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

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Also by Chloe Kent

About the Author

Author Links

Chapter One

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Fallon Lantree kicked off her red high-heel pumps, unzipped her pleated flare mini skirt, and unfastened the crisscross ribbons on the front of her corset before she shrugged out of it.

Being a waitress at Slinkies, a high-end dance club, was an arduous endeavor.

She had to parade around in six-inch heels, a skirt so short half her ass hung out and a corset that squashed her boobs together so ardently they spilled over.

The corset also cinched her waist so effectively that she couldn’t eat anything while she worked or breathe comfortably for that matter.

But this was her life. She was in charge. She answered only to herself no matter how grueling her days and nights were but now exhaustion threatened to tip her over.

Besides working at the club, at night, she also waited tables at a fast-food restaurant called The Chili Castle during the day. That had been her first job when she came to the city, and she kept it because every little cent helped towards her future plans.

She had worked two shifts in a row at both her jobs, two days in a row with as little as two hours of sleep between each shift.

She just had to last long enough tonight to take a shower so she could scrub away the grime of the day that clung to her skin and climb into bed so she could sleep for hours and hours on end. 

But then she remembered the jewelry boxes inside her closet in which she deposited all her tips, mostly twenty- and fifty-dollar bills, and knew her tiredness was worth it. 

Come next week she was going to be filling in for one of the pole dancers at Slinkies, who had broken her ankle falling down a flight of stairs in her apartment building.

Fallon would be hitting pay dirt then.

It was a private show, only for the club’s rich clientèle, very classy and very sophisticated.

Mitzi Malone, who had taken Fallon under her wing and was teaching her pole dancing for the last three years had told her she was a natural and could make up to six to eight thousand dollars in tips alone in one night, besides the fee the club would pay her.

Not only was Mitzi her dancer instructor, but she was also the owner of Slinkies and had been the one to hire Fallon as a waitress, who at eighteen was still a green, wide-eyed innocent.

No one wanted to hire someone with zero experience, a little too timid, or too naive for a better-paying job.

Slinkies had been desperate, and Mitzi had offered her the job as long as she could walk in six-inch heels because she was pretty enough, could be toughened out enough and her tits were big enough.

Fallon had never practiced harder or more religiously than learning to walk in stilettos. She needed another job, and, in her position, any job would do.

She was definitely on her way up and out thanks to Slinkies.

She had lived on the bare minimum for the last four years or so, saving every penny because she had grand plans for later.

She was this close to leaving New York forever. Not that she had anything against New York personally. She rather loved the city, but she looked at it as a steppingstone to her bright future. She also wanted to start fresh in a completely different place.

She slipped into an oversized t-shirt while her boobs sighed in relief from being liberated from the prison that had been the corset, Slinkies very own uniform for their waitresses.

She walked to the fridge in her tiny but neat open-plan apartment and snagged a can of Coke and the last half of the apple tart which had served as her dinner two nights in a row.

Tomorrow she’d do better.

It was her day off and she intended to make full use of it. She’d go shopping and get some eggs and avocados and chia seeds and yogurt, a steak, and maybe even a whole serving of vegetables, the green kind.

She had been neglecting her diet recently. But of course, her grocery list also included a few bags of chocolate.

She had learned the importance of balance and it wasn’t something her mother had known how to practice; Fallon had soon come to realize.

She was going to oil her hair. Give herself a pedicure. Nap. She even had a self-help book to read. Undone and Incomplete: A guide to life and rotisserie chicken.

But as much as she tried, she couldn’t fully keep her attention off the envelope still lying on her kitchen countertop.

She was just about to fling it into the trash when her cell rang.

Please tell me you’re not eating pie for dinner again, Ruby Harlow said from the other side of the line.

Ruby was her confidante, her caution, her encouragement, and her logic all rolled into one best friend. Six years older than Fallon, Ruby was the first person Fallon had met when she stepped off the bus from Connecticut with not a clue what to do next.

Ruby was raising two kids by herself, worked as a receptionist for a group of dentists at a dental office, and was the sweetest person alive. She had helped Fallon get her bearing and they’ve been close ever since.

It’s got fruit in it. It’s practically a superfood, Fallon said seriously as she swallowed the last piece of the pie.

She hadn’t been allowed any sugar growing up. When she’d had her first bite of chocolate at the age of seventeen, she thought she had died and gone to heaven. It was also the awakening of her sweet tooth.

It’s not, Ruby argued. I don’t know why you just can’t come over and eat with me and the boys. We eat, you eat, we should all eat together.

Ruby barely got to