The Billionaire's Secretly Fake Bride (MANHATTAN BACHELORS Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter1

  chapter 8

  chapter 12

  chapter 13

  THE BILLIONAIRE'S

  SECRETLY FAKE BRIDE

  MANHATTAN BACHELORS BOOK 3

  SUSAN WESTWOOD

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  Summary

  He was rich. He was sexy.

  And he wanted to pay her a million dollars to marry him.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  It was a ludicrous offer!

  The infamous billionaire bachelor Ryder Carrington was offering to pay me a million dollars if I would marry him.

  I was not sure why he needed to do this but I definitely knew that I would be crazy to turn it down.

  Now I must begin a new life as a secretly fake bride to a gorgeous billionaire. This should be seriously fun, or so I thought....

  Copyright Notice

  The Billionaire's Secretly Fake Bride © 2017, Susan Westwood

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Contents

  Chapter1

  Chapter2

  Chapter3

  Chapter4

  Chapter5

  Chapter6

  Chapter7

  chapter 8

  chapter 9

  chapter 10

  chapter 11

  chapter 12

  chapter 13

  chapter 14

  Chapter1

  The tinkle of expertly touched piano keys sounded out an old Cole Porter song and sent the notes drifting through the low hum of several conversations and the chime of utensils on plates, and clinking of ice in glasses. The room was shielded from the busy city buzz of Manhattan just outside its thick walls, canvassed in fine dark woods and gleaming brass. The carpet was thick, soaking up the sounds over it, the footsteps on it, and occasionally a spilled drink from the bar.

  Small tables were set about the room in varying intervals, giving just enough privacy to the people who sat at them, engaged in their discussions of business or flirtations. Tiny candlelit lamps gave off a soft glow at each table, while the rest of the light in the room was dimmed just enough to make it feel cozy and comfortable. The piano player sat up on a small stage in the corner of the room, a low light shining on him, his black coattails draped over the back of his bench, his hands moving back and forth as his fingertips brushed lambent over the ivories. They tickled out a song that no one was really listening to, yet couldn’t have done without.

  The bar was a cornerstone gem tucked away off of the main lobby of a swanky hotel that sat in the center of Manhattan, rising up from the pounded concrete and towering over many of the buildings around it; a giant among its contemporaries. It was early evening, or late afternoon, and the empty seats in the bar had begun to fill with people who had just checked into the hotel, with businessmen and women who were meeting coworkers for drinks, with travelers weary and looking to relax, with anyone who was looking for a cocktail and a little company.

  Most of the patrons sat at the tables around the room, and one man sat alone at the bar. He was dressed in a cobalt colored button up shirt made of brushed silk, and dark hand tailored trousers. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, and the buttons on the front of his shirt from the neck to the middle of his chest were undone, offering the slightest hint at the dark curls of hair on his muscled chest.

  He was slim, but not thin; his body was toned and sculpted with strength from the thick tumble of black waves of hair on his head all the way down to his feet. He looked as if he might be a fitness model with a dangerous edge. He had a dark and even brow set over a pair of crystal blue eyes the color of a tropical sea, just where the water gets deep. His bottomless eyes were framed with thick black eyelashes, and they took in everything around him.

  He had an aquiline nose and a set of full lips beneath it. His chin and jaw looked as if they might have been sculpted from marble by Michelangelo himself. He wasn’t just good looking, he was beautiful in a masculine and stunning way, and people often stopped in mid-step, mid-thought, mid-breath just to look at him and try to somehow wrap their minds around what their eyes were seeing. He knew that his looks were arresting, and he played his beauty card heavily when he felt that it would serve his desires and ambition.

  Profound beauty was only one of his assets. It seemed unequivocally unfair to many of the people who knew him that he should be so blessed in attractiveness and have in addition to it a wicked intelligence and a wealth of financial means in the billions. The balance came in the form of his attitude and lifestyle.

  Ryder Carrington was the youngest of three brothers; he and his twin sister were the babies of a billionaire businessman and Ryder was the wildest, most unpredictable, rebellious, and contrary of them all. He lived as if every rule pushed at him was made to be broken by him, and then destroyed, because breaking them was never enough.

  He sat there silently, a double shot of bourbon in his hand, his deep blue eyes set on the mirrored wall behind the bar. He was watching everything going on behind him as he drank and listened to everything going on in the room.

  Ryder saw her when she came in; tall, thin, delicate curves. Her dark brunette hair with golden highlights all throughout curled in big rolls and waves, set about her shoulders and the middle of her back, hugging the pointed curves of her breasts. Her lovely face was flawlessly made up, but her eyes told Ryder a different story when he got a good look at them in the mirror. She sat further down the bar from him, alone.

  Her red lips were set into a slight pout and she ran her red painted fingernails back and forth over the napkin set beneath her martini glass. Her dark brown eyes were troubled, and Ryder knew as he watched her, that whatever it was that was weighing down her mind, she was there to resolve it in her own way.

  She took a sip of her drink and looked around, noticing him. Her eyes locked on him, as most people’s eyes did when they met him. She stared at him. He gave her a nod and a half smile, revealing a dimple in one cheek as he did so. He said nothing to her, but shifted his gaze back to his drink, knowing what would happen.

  After she had finished most of her drink, she stood up from her bar stool and walked toward him. Her black skirt, resting a few inches above her knee, and her thin red satin blouse seemed almost like a second skin, clinging to her form as she walked, hinting as to what lay just beneath the material.

  He caught the scent of her perfume. It was a spicy exotic scent. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. He knew that a woman’s perfume was the shimmer of a reflectio
n of what she was inside, and he knew as he breathed her in from her slight distance that she was a tiger on the prowl; or more accurately, a cougar. He knew that she was older than him, though not by more than a decade.

  “It looks like you’re drinking alone,” she began, purring in a velvety voice, “I’m all on my own, too. Do you mind if I sit and drink with you?”

  He turned and faced her fully, giving her a mischievous smile. “I’d be the luckiest man in the bar to enjoy the company of such a lovely woman. Please, have a seat.” He indicated the bar stool beside him and she slid onto it without taking her eyes off of him.

  “Thank you.” She smiled wide at him. “I’m Ellen.” She held her hand out and without taking his eyes off of her, he took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, brushing them lightly over the back of it. She drew in a shallow breath and he let his breath and the merest touch of his mouth linger on the back of her hand a long moment before he released it.

  “Hello Ellen, I’m Ryder. It looks like you’re out of a drink. I’ll replenish that for you.” He asked the bartender for another, and the bartender went right to work on it. Ryder turned his attention back to her. “What brings a lady like you into a place like this?” he asked, already knowing what the answer was likely to be. It was a game that they would play. A little cat and mouse. A little gentle tug of war, though both of them would be tugging toward each other until they met.

  She sighed and her shoulders fell somewhat. “Business.”

  “Not your business, I’d bet.” He said smoothly, watching her.

  Ellen shook her head. “That’s very astute of you. No, it’s not my business.” She answered, reaching for her new martini and sipping long and slow on it before setting it down.

  “So, you’re really captive while someone else is here on business, and your boredom and loneliness has driven you to the bar where you are hoping to bide your time with a few drinks.” He added a knowing half smile.

  She gave him a flirtatious grin and lowered her lashes a little. “You’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you!” she began coyly. “You’re right. I did come in here to bide my time with a few drinks, and maybe a handsome man if I could find one. I didn’t think I would find one quite like you, though. Especially sitting on his own. You’re a rare bird, Ryder. I think I must be lucky to get your attention and your time…” she trailed off a moment, her eyes dropping to his lips as she continued, “and whatever else I get from you.”

  Her pretenses were intriguing him. He liked that she was playing along with him the way that she was. He knew what she wanted, and he was interested in seeing how she went about getting it. Women were all different in their approaches to him, and he found it entertaining to watch them go after what they wanted.

  He decided to turn it up a notch. “What do you want to get from me?” he asked with a low voice as his eyes searched hers and he sipped his bourbon.

  Ellen hesitated a moment and a soft laugh escaped her as she leaned closer to him. “The truth? I would love to get to know you very, very well in an intimate way in a very short amount of time.” She paused and breathed in slowly, watching to see his reaction and getting nothing but a poker face from him. She bit at her lower lip gently. “Am I too bold? Maybe it’s the martini talking for me, but you just look so… delicious… I could just eat… you… up…” she trailed off quietly, leaning a little closer to him and resting her hand on his thigh nearest her.

  “Maybe it’s not the martini. Maybe you just know what you want.” He told her bluntly.

  She grinned and nodded slightly. “I think you’re right. I do know what I want.” She paused for a long moment again. “I’m older than you, obviously. Does that bother you?”

  He turned to face her then, and placed his hand over her hand where it was on his leg. He moved her hand a little further up his leg and looked her straight in the eyes. “A cougar?” he smiled a little. “I love women. I’m not worried about age, as long as the woman I’m with knows how to have a good time.”

  He tilted his head almost imperceptibly. “You’re neglected and lonesome. You want to be spoiled and you want to be ravaged.” His voice was smooth and deep.

  She raised a brow and drew in a sharp breath. He grasped her hand in his and pulled her to him, leaning to her and whispering in her ear. “I would love to tease you, to run my tongue from your lips down your neck to your nipples, and down even further than that to a place where I would leave you breathless.”

  He brushed his lips and the tip of his tongue ever so lightly over her earlobe and down an inch or two of her neck before leaning back a little again. She gasped and stared at him as he looked at her and smiled.

  “I’m married,” she whispered back, unblinking.

  “I don’t care.” He gave her an impish grin, pulling her a little closer toward him again. “I just want you for a little fun. Nothing more.” He knew that she wanted that too, but she was playing the game again, giving him just a little resistance to make it more exciting, to mix in the elements of danger and sin and fire.

  “He’s a senator,” she told him, looking uncertain, as if knowing that might change his mind.

  Ryder stopped short for a beat. He hadn’t expected that. It was rare that he was caught off-guard, and he grew curious. “Which one?”

  “Senator Franklin Hargrove,” she answered, barely breathing.

  A smile formed over Ryder’s face and he reached for her hips with both hands, pulling her into the space between his legs. “Now I want you even more.” There was a seductive edge to his voice. “I knew you were in need of some attention, but he’s twice your age. There’s no way he’s satisfying you the way that you need to be satisfied…” he squeezed his fingertips against her hips, “making you feel the way that you need to feel.” His gaze bored into hers.

  With a fluid movement, he lifted his hands from her hips and placed them on either side of her face, lifting her chin as he stood up and brought her mouth to his, kissing her firmly, pressing her lips against his for a long moment before he parted them and delved for her tongue with his.

  A quiet moan escaped her as she kissed him back. He felt her body tense entirely at first, but as she began to kiss him back, she softened against him, leaning into him and reaching her arms up behind his back to hold him. Her answering kiss deepened and the sparks that had been flying between them erupted into flames of desire.

  They surfaced for air a few minutes later and he held her face in his hands, running his thumb over her lower lip as the tip of her tongue tasted his thumb. “Where do you want to go?” he asked her, his blue eyes moving from her heavily lidded stare to her mouth and back to her eyes again.

  “I know a place.” She managed to whisper urgently. “It’s a perfect spot.”

  She let go of him and looked around, becoming aware again that they weren’t at all alone. The bartender was standing at the far end of the bar, wiping glasses with a white towel, pretending to be oblivious to what was happening between them. No one else in the bar was looking at them.

  “Let’s go,” she said quietly, looking up at him. He took her hand in his and followed her as she walked purposefully out of the bar and down a couple of hallways.

  She stopped before a set of double doors and after looking around seeing no one, she opened them and pulled him inside. It was a ballroom, and there were large round tables set up for a banquet, set all about the room. There was a stage area at the front of the room, erected three feet above the ground. There were overhead spotlights set on the stage, but the rest of the room was shadowed.

  Each table was set with dishes and bouquets of flowers, stemware and silver, lined with luxurious linens. It was an elegant setting. The stage was set with a podium at the center and the state and national flags behind it.

  “What is this?” Ryder asked, looking around.

  “It’s where my husband’s banquet will be served later, when his press conference is over. There won’t be anyone here for ages; we have t
he whole place to ourselves.” She reached for a chair at a nearby table and pulled it out, turning it toward them. Then reaching up, she began to unbutton his shirt, kissing his mouth, his neck, and every bit of skin that she uncovered.

  He looked down at her, watching her, and she paused and looked up at him. “Don’t worry, no one is going to come in here for a while.”

  “Oh, I know we’re going to cum in here pretty soon.” He lifted her chin to kiss her. She laughed at his naughty joke and they began to pull at each other’s clothes as they kissed and touched and tasted.

  His hands moved from her hips to her breasts, squeezing and massaging them over the material of her blouse. He felt her nipples harden beneath his touch and he pinched at them lightly, making her gasp as she kissed him.

  He trailed his mouth from hers down her neck, sucking and kissing sensually as his fingertips deftly pushed each button open, revealing more and more of her chest as he made his way down to her cleavage. His body hardened for her and he let go of her breasts and reached his hands around to the roundness of her ass, pulling her against him as he rubbed his groin against the front of her skirt.