The Billionaire's Risk Read online

  The Billionaire’s Risk (Loving the Billionaire, #3)

  Ava Claire

  Copyright © 2018 Ava Claire

  Loving The Billionaire Series

  The Billionaire's Kiss, #1

  The Billionaire's Caress, #2

  The Billionaire's Risk, #3

  The Billionaire's Mistake, #4

  The Billionaire's Secret, #5

  The Billionaire's Vow, #6

  E-book License Edition Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Loving The Billionaire Series

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  I’d lost count of how many times I was out in public and things got so out of hand that management had to make themselves known.

  It was one of the reasons I made sure if my mother and I had a lunch or dinner date somewhere, I did thorough research. I checked out Yelp and Facebook for clues, trying to determine if the prospective restaurant or store followed through on the ‘service’ part of ‘customer service’...and how they handled difficult scenarios. My mother didn’t eat out often, and she only shopped if she had coupons in tow, which meant that when she darkened your doorway, she expected five star service...or else.

  Or else she’d spend fifteen minutes explaining to the server why having to flag them down for a refill was unacceptable.

  Or else she’d lean over and ask the other patrons how their meal and service was, and if they said anything other than amazing, she’d escalate to the manager.

  Or else she’d spend another fifteen minutes quickly recounting the atrocities that already occurred, then chastise the manager for letting it happen in the first place.

  When we reached peak ‘Pissed Off Mom’, I’d scan the general vicinity, spraying ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Forgive my mother’s crazy antics’ looks around the room like a crop duster. Trying to make it clear that I was the normal one. The rational one. The unembarrasing one.

  I glared at the three people before me—Jacob, his brunette, who was gawking at me like I was insane, and a manager who looked like she wished she never accepted the promotion.

  We had officially reached peak ‘Pissed Off Leila’.

  My mother would be proud.

  I turned my ire to the manager first, who decided to insert herself in the situation when she (and the entire cafe) heard my shrieks. Her timing was impeccable. She breezed in right before I cemented my transformation into some sort of caricature from The Jerry Springer Show, clawing out the brunette’s big, blue eyes.

  “Ma’am,” the woman squeaked, wringing her black apron in her nervous hands. “I’m not sure what’s going on here-”

  “That makes two of us.” I blasted right through her interruption, every pore in me on fire.

  Who was she?

  Why didn’t Jacob have this little meeting on the books? And most importantly, why couldn’t I silence the whispers in my head?

  See? You were right to be suspicious. He’s keeping secrets.

  Jacob snapped from his wide eyed stupor, taking a step toward the manager. His voice was a stark contrast to mine. Mine was a tiny step below the pitch that would set off dogs. His was calm. Steady. Way too steady considering the circumstances, IMO.

  “It’s alright, Marcia,” he told the manager, who had gone from pale to ‘I should have called out sick today’. “She’s my wife. Give us a minute.”

  “The wife who conveniently was supposed to be at the office right now, allowing this secret little rendezvous to occur!” I said in a single breath. Literally huffing and puffing. And when the brunette took a step toward Jacob, I was dangerously close to razing this building to the ground. “What the hell is going on here?!”

  Marcia the Manager was finally regaining her color, making a wide arc to get to the door. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

  She pulled the door shut. Not a crack. All the way, like that would transport us all to some island. Keep us from being overheard by the rest of the customers.

  Me? I could care less about being overheard. The only thing that mattered to me was being brought up to speed. Quickly, before the conspiracy theories that were running wild took root. I knew for a fact that this space was in high demand and usually required advance notice to reserve. I’d used it in the past for client meetings when I needed a break from Whitmore and Creighton, and I always had to call at least a week ahead to even have a shot...unless I got lucky.

  I pivoted to face my husband, frustratingly sexy in his two piece suit and smoldering blue eyes. Reminded that we weren’t alone when the other woman cleared her throat.

  Clearly, Jacob got lucky.

  Emotion threatened to take me under. To do the worst thing I could do in this situation: cry.

  I put both hands on my hips, blasting right through the darts he threw my way. “You know what I just realized? I know more about the manager who just booked it out of here than the woman you secreted to this place.” I didn’t look at her, but the last bit was addressed, stamped, and sent directly to her. “The woman who has the audacity to eyeball me like I’m intruding.”

  Jacob’s eyes narrowed to cobalt blue slits and I prepared for him to finally give me some answers. To finally explode so I wouldn’t be the only one standing out here on the ledge, out of my mind. With worry. With questions. With fury.

  But he didn’t say a word. He hooked my arm and steered me out of earshot of his little visitor.

  He didn’t have anything to say?

  Alrighty then.

  I had plenty to say.

  I yanked from his grasp. “I’ve asked what’s going on twice now and-”

  “And I’m not going to answer that question until you calm down.”

  I burned holes into his skull, but I tried to breathe in.

  Out.

  In.

  There was some distance, but I looked over his broad shoulders and sized her up, exhaling. When I interrupted their little meet up, the first thing that made my stomach drop was how gorgeous she was. The second go round just confirmed my first observation. She had flawless, fair skin, and there was plenty of it on display. Her crimson, sleeveless dress would have been all-business on anyone else but on her, it was all sex. It flaunted her waif-like frame, complete with toned arms and legs that went on for days. She was the personification of a model, and it was more than her physical appearance; it was the way she carried herself.

  Effortlessly beautiful.

  Her facial structure reminded me of Jacob’s, patrician and elite. The angles were soft and inviting, though her glares were as severe as mine. Glares that made me want to go back to my original plan: taking her down.

  Jacob must have been able to read my mind, sensing that I was moments away from really losing it because he took a step to his right, blocking my view of her. Taking his powerful hands and putting them on my shoulders.

  Fuming, I looked at my right shoulder, ready to shrug him off before I worked my way back to him. Back to his eyes.

  I saw all that I needed to see.

  All that mattered.

  It’s me and you, Leila.

  Always.

  He still hadn’t answered my question, but I felt my heart let go as I swam in th
e blue waves that washed over me. The blue that belonged to me and me alone. Eyes that promised me that whatever theories and possibilities I had brewing, none of it compared to one simple fact.

  He chose me. Period.

  The hands on my shoulders lifted, but only slightly. He brought them to my face, cradling the cheeks that were suddenly on fire with embarrassment. I squeezed my eyes shut, the heat in my throat twisting into knots.

  “You make me crazy, Jacob Whitmore,” I eked out.

  He would have been totally justified if he pulled away, incredulity twisting his face. Not willing to take responsibility for my behavior in any way, shape, form or fashion.

  He did one better. He leaned in and pressed his lips against my forehead. “Right back at ya, Leila Whitmore.”

  So he hadn’t forgotten about me after all.

  I sniffed and gripped his hands, just as the chick cleared her throat a second time.

  Jacob released me, his dark brow arched like he’d forgotten all about the mystery woman. That alone was enough to erase any lingering questions about who this woman was to him.

  Beautiful? Yep.

  Sexy? Sure.

  And he was mine.

  He turned back to her, finally performing the introductions. “Leila, this is Jada Whittaker.”

  “Whittaker...” I trailed off, the name familiar to me. I pinched the bridge of my nose, the embarrassment coming back with a vengeance. “She doesn’t happen to work for Whittaker Industries, does she?”

  Whittaker Industries was an up and coming marketing company that specialized in new technologies. Their business was 100% online, social media, blogs. They were basically Whitmore and Creighton when we first burst on the scene, slowly making a name as the premier PR firm in the industry. They’d been gobbling up talent and influencers, including a couple of targets we had on our list. I’d been so slammed with my own clients and all the stress at home that I forgot Jacob mentioned he was trying to nail down a meet with someone from Whittaker. Keep your friends close, and your competition even closer, as they say.

  And you just introduced yourself to a woman who built her business from the ground up like you’re some crazy, jealous spouse. Way to go, Lay.

  She glided over with a crisp grin on her face and eyes that told me she was already filing this encounter away for future use. She could have forgone the introductions since my little display made it very clear who I was—and now I knew that I’d interrupted an innocent business meeting, not a tryst. She still held out her hand, chin raised with an air of self righteousness. Like she was more than happy to educate me on how real professionals behaved.

  “Jada Whittaker. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Whitmore.”

  I bristled, but I swallowed it and shook her hand with a tight grin of my own. When Jacob called me ‘Mrs. Whitmore’ it made me tingle from head to toe, warmed from the inside out because I felt his love. His pride that I was his wife.

  Jada? She used the ‘Mrs.’ as a weapon. I was just his wife. And his crazy wife, at that.

  “Nice to meet you too.” I wrenched the words from behind clenched teeth. “So, I’ll-”

  “We were just chatting about what our two companies have to offer in this day and age,” Jada interrupted with a sultry ease that made me wish I had a compact or my iPhone handy so I could make sure I didn’t have something on my face. Besides the egg.

  “O-Of course!” I cleared my throat, still wearing my uncomfortable smile as I turned back to Jacob. Now that I knew I didn’t have to kick anybody’s butt and I could hear that the world was still turning outside of this room, I remembered that Jacob wasn’t the only one that was having a meeting his partner didn’t know about. “Could you give us a moment?”

  Her jaw ticked, telling me she’d rather not, but her red lips released two words. “Of course.”

  I hooked Jacob’s arm this time and guided us away from Jade. “Sorry about that.”

  A smile danced in his eyes. “Uh huh.” He bent down, lips brushing my ear. “If you think an apology gets you off the hook little sub, you are mistaken.”

  Lust flickered between my thighs, my mind more than happy to trade my crazy what if’s about Jacob running off with her, to wondering what naughty things were in store. I only lingered briefly because the big C was right outside, probably rubbing his hands together with glee, feeding off the drama from afar.

  I pushed my bangs out of my eyes and tired to make my voice relaxed. Like everything was all good. Like I wasn’t about to drop a bombshell.

  “So, you know, er, Corbin?”

  The smile in his eyes evaporated.

  “H-He is, uh, apparently working with Missy.”

  “WHAT?!” Jacob roared, everything in the room that wasn’t nailed down shuddering.

  “Jacob!” I hissed, scissoring into my bottom lip when he gave me a look that told me I was in no position to chastise him about overreacting. I kept going, wanting to share the most important and pressing matters before he joined me in Crazy Town.

  “And he’s here but-”

  Jacob didn’t wait for the rest. He was on the move, snatching open the door and storming into the main cafe. I followed him, panic rising in my throat like bile until I realized that the table where Corbin and I were sitting at was unoccupied.

  No cups.

  No napkin with a hurried, scribbled explanation.

  “Looking for your friend?” The barista who’d been getting her flirt on earlier was wiping down a table nearby. I didn’t miss her emphasis on ‘friend’, like she was already staking her claim. “He left a few minutes ago.”

  “WE NEED TO TALK.”

  The sense of deja vu almost rivaled the embarrassment that I’d been navigating from the moment I realized that Jacob was in a business meeting, instead of meeting his lover in some cafe. It spiked when it dawned on me that my self righteous ‘Aha!’ moment was a little hypocritical, since I too was having a meeting, off the books. It didn’t compare to the realization that my meeting had been summarily ended by Corbin, leaving me to try and quickly explain to Jacob what I knew and what was still left to discover. Ultimately, it ended up being moot because the first thing that was waiting when I got back to the office was a pissed off Missy. Apparently, Corbin had texted her that he was going with a different firm, and if she had any further questions, ‘address them to Mrs. Whitmore’.

  A rumbling sound from my husband snatched me from my recap of my awful day. Dropped me smack dab in the now, where Jacob was eviscerating me with a look that made me quiver and apologize again.

  “I’m sorry again-”

  “Let me clarify,” he cut me off, rounding the counter. Leaning against the edge as he crossed his arms and flashed me a delicious view of his muscled arms. Forcing me to get carried away as my eyes drifted to naughty, dangerous territory.

  “Eyes up here,” he commanded.

  I obeyed, cheeks warming when I saw the playful spark dance in his eyes before it fizzled and he got back on track.

  “When I said we need to talk, I really meant that I need to talk, and you need to listen. Then, after I’m done and you’ve had a chance to reflect, you respond.”

  The last bit made me snap my mouth shut, because he knew me all too well. I’d spent the span of his sentence armed with my reply. Armed with excuses. Ready to dole out rapid fire responses that would get us to the sex as quickly as possible. His cerulean eyes drifted slowly over my face, studying every inflection, trying to make sure I understood what he was asking of me. I parted my lips to say as much, but he beat me to the punch.

  “I’m not looking for confirmation. I see that you understand.” He gestured at the couch. “Have a seat.”

  I sniffed and shuffled over, like a wayward student being sent to the principal’s office.

  “I guess I’m in trouble,” I muttered under my breath. I couldn’t help myself.

  Apparently, neither could Jacob. “Not yet, but you’re well on your way.”

  I dropped
onto the couch with a sigh, squaring my shoulders as I gazed up at him from behind thick eyelashes. Pretended I didn’t notice that his eyes rounded the curve of my breasts before they returned to my face. I knew changing into a v-neck t-shirt was a good idea. I was playing dirty, but I wasn’t above distracting him a little and delaying the reckoning a little while longer.

  Jacob remained on his feet, within eyeshot of the couch, arms still crossed. I thought it was because he wanted to lord over the situation. Remind me who was in charge in that alpha way that made me hot and drove me crazy. When my eyes veered from his face and he cleared his throat again, I realized that he probably didn’t want me catching a glimpse of his crotch because I’d discover just how crafty my t-shirt really was.

  And all things considered, you’re the one that says you guys don’t talk. The only talking you’ll get done if you continue down that road is of the ‘yes and no sir’ variety.

  I sat up and folded my hands in my lap and gave him my full, undivided attention.

  “I apologize for neglecting to mention my meeting with Jada-”

  “Jacob-”

  He gave me a look that made me zip my lips so he could finish.

  “It was a last minute arrangement,” he explained, losing his defensive stance as he pushed a hand through his dark locks. “She’s apparently a very busy woman. Her assistant informed me this morning that this was her only availability until two months from now. I thought it prudent to get it over with.”

  That made complete sense and just confirmed the fact that I was too dialed up and looking for evidence of wrongdoing, but I didn’t say so. He wasn’t looking for any feedback from me besides just being there. Listening. So that’s what I did.

  “You’re familiar with her company? The prime clients they’ve scored over the past couple of months? The board had a proposition, to join forces...all of which you are aware of.”

  I nodded slowly. I’d recently lost a prospective client to Whittaker. They were the new, shiny thing in PR. The new girl at school who spent her summer abroad and spoke several languages and pulled off fancy without being obnoxious. Whitmore and Creighton still dominated the field, but ignoring the steady business Whittaker was acquiring would be foolish.