Filthy Rich: An Age Gap Romance

By Matilda Martel

Declan McCormick is filthy rich. He’s gotten everything he ever wanted, but always wanted the wrong things. At thirty-eight, he’s single, works seventy hours a week and comes home to an empty house every night.  

Something needs to change. 

Ava Jameson has come to New York to finish school. With rich parents, she’s gotten everything she ever wanted, except their time. But she swears to do things differently. She has big dreams and one of those dreams is building a better family than her own. 

When their paths cross, sparks fly. Declan charges full speed ahead but soon discovers the love of his life isn’t so easily impressed and isn’t interested in being the heroine of her own billionaire romance. 

This is a short, sweet and steamy, instalove contemporary, older man younger woman, billionaire romance novella with two people who quickly learn the best things in life never have a price tag. Enjoy! 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matilda Martel
• Release date: Nov 29, 2023

Matilda Martel

Matilda loves many things---her husband, dachshunds, cats, the two terrible Chihuahuas who live with her, Paris, New York, a few select friends and family, Nutella, books, lots and lots of books, and writing sweet, steamy romance for nerdy girls-- because that's who I am.If you like your romances steamy but sweet. Sexy, but on the shorter side. With smart and sassy heroines who fall for soulful Alphas- then you might like my books.I write A LOT of OMYW, cause that's just my bag. But no matter what kind of story it is, my ladies are always adored and my endings are always HEA.Please head to my blog: www.matildamartel.com, to learn what's in the final stages and will be coming out soon!Want a free Ebook? Join my mailing list to get my monthly newsletter at : www.matildamartel.com/mailinglist/

Book preview

Chapter 1

Declan

Money can’t buy happiness. Don’t let anyone fool you. Wealth brings comfort, and a life of luxury makes you believe you’re happy. But a day will come when you realize you’re surrounded by shit you don’t want and missing the one thing you desperately need.  

As for me, I have everything I’ve ever wanted. 

I just wanted all the wrong things. 

Six years ago, my father passed away, and I took my place as the head of his media company with my younger brother, Jude, heading up the rear. Neither of us has fond memories of the old man. Nothing good. Nothing bad. But he had other priorities. 

Why worry about raising your sons when you have an empire to run?

Magazines, newspapers, and a cable news network filled his life and made him a wealthy man. McCormick Media was his baby. He built it from nothing and groomed me to run it with no less dedication than him. And I have. I’ve poured every waking hour of my adult life into expanding another man’s creation. I’ve worked seventy hours a week, traveled the world, met with Kings, Presidents, and Prime Ministers, and ushered us into the 21st century. Thanks to me and, to a lesser extent, my feckless brother, we’re a global conglomerate. 

But too much of a good thing is dangerous. Money brings power, and power contaminates your soul. It numbs your senses and hollows you out until you feel like an empty shell, unworthy of joy. I’ve never loved it the way he did. It’s a means to an end, and the deeper I dive, the more I feel my soul slipping away. 

This work has cost me everything. Unlike my father, I never married. I never had children. Every evening, I go home to a luxury penthouse that is as empty as my life. And every morning, I start my day and make the same mistakes that got me where I am.  

I’m filthy rich, but I’m a miserable failure. 

And if I don’t change things now, I’ll be stuck in this rut forever. 

Are you listening to me? Arthur, my friend, and Chief Financial Officer, stares at me from across my desk. He’s been waiting patiently for the last twenty minutes.   

No, sorry. I didn’t hear a damn word you said. I’ve been in my own head. I stand and stride towards the window.  

I’m leaving early to fetch Ava from the airport and take her uptown. Her mother and I pitched in and got her a place near school. He stares and waits for an answer. 

Ava? I’m utterly confused. 

He squints and cocks his head. My daughter, Ava. My only child. The one, my ex-wife, carted away to Boston after the divorce? He sighs and rubs his temples.  

Yes, of course. I nod and pretend to care. "Why is she coming here? 

Jesus, Declan. Where’s your head? She just transferred from Boston University. She’s attending school here. I’ll finally have my daughter in the same city again. Which is why I’m picking her up and taking her to her new apartment. It’s a big surprise. You haven’t listened to anything I’ve said in the last week, have you? He takes offense. 

Sorry. I’m distracted. Good for Ava. I’m glad you... have her back. I struggle with an appropriate response.  

His brows crease with annoyance. As I said, I’m leaving after lunch, but I’ll come in early tomorrow. We’re buying furniture for Ava's place and then grabbing dinner. 

Sure. Say hello to Ava. I’ll see you tomorrow. I wave and fake a smile.  

Yeah, yeah. He rolls his eyes, grabs his jacket, and darts from my office. 

Arthur’s daughter is in college. Wow. Time flies.

On top of everything, now I feel fucking old. Arthur Jameson, the man with one of the worst divorces in New York, has a better life than me. He works as much as I do. I’m pretty sure he never dates or socializes with anyone. But at least he has his little girl to show for it. I have nothing.  

I’m the king of nothing. 

And every year, it grows worse. 

Chapter 2

Ava

P ick out whichever one you want, sweetheart. We can expedite the delivery. How about that one? My father stands before a group of antique couches and points to the most expensive one. He always does this. He’s been buying my love since I turned twelve. 

It’s his favorite pastime. 

I purse my lips and sigh. I was thinking something a bit comfier. Something soft with pillows. Maybe, in a nice beige.

I clutch my purse to my chest and search the room for anything that looks semi-comfy. I don’t want to seem ungrateful. Dad just surprised me with an apartment within walking distance from campus. But I’m nineteen years old and don’t need my new place to look like Jane Austen’s parlor room. A simple loveseat will do. Maybe, some shag rugs. Nothing extravagant. 

He pauses and brings his hand to his chin. Leather? 

I shake my head. No, not leather. Come on, I think I spotted a store a few streets down. No need to break the bank.  

Are you sure, honey? You don’t need to scrimp. It’s on me. He