Billionaire Daddy (Daddy Knows Best Book 4) Read online

  Billionaire Daddy

  Kelly Myers

  Copyright © 2020 by Kelly Myers

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Excerpt: My Secret Daddy

  Invitation to join Kelly’s Newsletter

  Blurb

  Devil, Shark, Beast…

  Drew Carson is known by a lot of names.

  Beyond ruthless, he’s the king of hostile takeovers.

  Now, I’m his new assistant and, I have to admit, a little scared.

  Because I can’t seem to do anything right and Drew expects competence.

  Yet, something lurks beneath his intense, increasingly heated looks.

  Something is missing that his billions can’t buy.

  He’s used to getting what he wants and I’m pretty sure his new target is me.

  Despite our increasing attraction, he’s my much older boss and off-limits.

  It’s a line we vowed not to cross.

  Until the electricity becomes too much to ignore and passion ignites us.

  We’ve both been burned by past relationships and Drew has demons.

  Together, I know we can heal each other.

  Because I’ve never known a love so intense, so all-consuming.

  Then, secrets are revealed and the two most important people in my life come to blows.

  I feel like I’m being torn in two, my loyalties tested to the limit.

  And, I’m left with a horrible choice to make.

  Do I choose love or family?

  Chapter One

  Ashley

  As I sit at a small table outside the cafe and wait for my best friend Laurel, I sip my coffee, hot and black, and can’t help but wonder what’s going on? Everywhere I look, I see couples. Smiling, happy paired-off men and women and enough PDA going on that I want to tell them to go get a room.

  I feel like I’m stuck in some romantic comedy. And, I’m not even the lead. That’s the sad part. It’s my life, my story, and Ashley Monroe barely has a supporting role. With a sigh, I tuck a stray strand of golden blonde hair behind an ear and wonder why dating is so hard for me.

  Again, I blame the movies for giving me unrealistic expectations.

  Who am I kidding? I’m an optimist and dream of a meet-cute with a dashing stranger who will whisk me away on some romantic adventure. If only life were really that perfect, I think.

  “Ash!”

  I look up and see Laurel Simms make her way over and plop down across from me. Even though she has dark hair and darker eyes, she couldn’t be any more of a California Valley Girl.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” she says, “but, I have a really good reason and you’re totally not going to believe it.” Laurel lifts her left hand to reveal a diamond engagement ring and squeals.

  My mouth drops and I jump up and hug her. “Oh, Laurel, I’m so happy for you.” I grab her hand and lift it up so I can get a closer look at the rock. “It’s gorgeous,” I say as she flashes the stone this way and that way to catch the light.

  “He was so nervous and it was beyond adorable,” she says, unable to take her eyes off the ring. “He got down on one knee and even asked my Dad for permission. It was all very traditional.”

  “Ryan’s a good guy. Any chance he has a brother we don’t know about?”

  Laurel laughs. “Sorry, just a sister. But, there are plenty of good men out there and I think it’s time we find you one. It’s been what? A couple of years since Ben?”

  At the mention of my ex’s name, my stomach clenches. Talk about a toxic relationship. “Two and a half years. And, he’s probably the reason I’m still single.” Even though we were only together four months, he managed to mess me up pretty good. My self-esteem went out the window and I never felt like I was good enough for him. I ended up finding out that he was seeing another girl at the same time we were dating and he chose to be with her over me. Ouch. It was a definite blow to my ego. Thank you, Ben Miller, for taking twenty-two years of self-confidence and trashing it in a matter of months.

  “I still think you should try online dating.”

  I immediately shake my head. Absolutely not. “I’d rather be single, thanks. Too many weirdos out there and how do you even know who you’re really talking to anyway?”

  “You meet him!”

  Elbow on the table, I lean my head against my palm and frown. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It is easy,” she says. “I’ll even help you do your profile.”

  I shake my head again and release a sigh. “The idea of dating online makes me cringe. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I need the moment.” Laurel squints, not understanding. “You know, like when you walk into a room and your eyes meet over the crowd and everything seems to stand still. And, there’s this electric current between you and him. The moment.”

  “Do you want to fall in love in a movie? Or, in real life?”

  I laugh. “Online dating just seems so superficial.”

  “Okay, let’s back up,” Laurel says, a smirk curving her mouth. “When you walk into that room and your eyes scan the crowd, you know you’re actually judging every man in there on how he looks, right?”

  Sometimes Laurel is too smart for her own good. “Touche,” I say. Maybe she’s right. What did it matter if I was choosing a man’s picture online or his face in person? All dating is pretty superficial. “Okay, you have a point,” I finally admit.

  “Thank you.”

  I take a sip of my coffee and my gaze wanders over to a nearby couple. They’re completely wrapped up in their own little world. Holding hands, whispering secrets, sharing long looks. I have no experience with that kind of emotion. Never had that deep connection. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be for me. Otherwise it wouldn’t be this hard.”

  What a sad and depressing thought.

  “Of course it is,” Laurel assures me. “You deserve love just like everyone else and I’m going to help you find it. If you’ll let me.”

  For a moment, I don’t say anything as I consider my options. Or, lack thereof. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? I wouldn’t meet anyone and then I am still in the same boat, right? No harm, no foul.

  Take a chance, a little voice whispers.

  I bite my lip. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but...okay!”

  “Yay!” Laurel claps her hands. “I’ll come over later and help you set it all up. I promise, you’re going to
get a ton of dates.”

  “I don’t know about that, but hopefully there’s a nice guy out there somewhere for me.”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “Maybe you can help me find a job, too,” I say. “My student loans are killing me and I’ve sent resumes out all over town. But, nobody is calling me. At this rate, maybe they’re hiring here.” I look into the coffee shop window.

  “You’re a business woman, Ash, not a barista.”

  “I’m finding out that college diplomas are a dime a dozen nowadays. So, I kinda need to be whatever I can to get a paycheck.”

  She slides me a sympathetic look. “Why don’t I talk to my Dad? Maybe he can set up an interview with one of the companies he does consultant work for?”

  “I would love that!”

  “If I can find you a job and a boyfriend, I am seriously the best BFF ever,” Laurel says.

  “The best,” I agree, and give her a bright smile. Maybe it wasn’t too late for me to ditch the supporting role and be the star of my own story after all. With a little luck, I knew I could turn things around.

  Chapter Two

  Drew

  With a little luck, I figure I can duck past Charles Whitmore and avoid the death stares. Maybe I deserve them for sleeping with his wife, but she’s the one who threw herself at me. What was I supposed to do? Besides, I’ve been available and wife-free since Tabitha and I divorced three years ago. God, what a messy shitshow that was, I think.

  As I make my way through the Pacific Club, an iconic clubhouse in Nob Hill, I avoid talking to any of its other members. I’m not in the mood for small talk and I came here tonight to sit in the corner, drink ridiculously old Scotch and form Plan B to take over the latest company I want.

  I lower my 6’3’’ long, lean frame into a large, comfortable chair and slouch down, looking as unapproachable as possible, and prop an ankle up on my opposite knee. My gaze wanders over the dark-paneled room and masculine decor. Founded in 1888, the club boasts members that are the crème de la crème of San Francisco elites. Growing up in a poor Chicago neighborhood, never in a million years would I have thought I’d be sitting here one day, part of such an exclusive group, and drinking three-hundred dollar Macallan single malt whisky.

  Lucky me, right?

  I sigh and once again wonder what the hell is wrong with me? I grew up eating fried bologna sandwiches and riding the bus. Now I’m a billionaire with a personal chef and drive a Lamborghini. I live in Pacific Heights, atop a series of steep hills with the best view in the city of San Francisco Bay. The little slice of real estate heaven that stretches from Lyon Street to Divisadero Street is better known as Billionaire’s Row and I live there because I own and run Carson Industries, an extremely successful company that deals in mergers and acquisitions.

  I literally have the best of everything that money can buy. But, lately, I feel like something’s missing. Maybe I’m just jaded, I think, and take a sip of my drink. I’m 45 years old, as fit as though I were still 25, but now polished and desired. Men want to be my ally, women want to sleep with me. According to the ladies, I’m told it’s the striking combination of my dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. Whitmore’s wife said the moment she saw me, she creamed her knickers.

  She’s British, by the way.

  I don’t know about all that, but I do know that with one look, every pair of La Perla silk panties drops. I’m not complaining, but at the same time, it’s become so easy and predictable. No one challenges me anymore. They see Drew Carson, San Francisco billionaire, and bend over backwards to please me whether in the boardroom or in the bedroom.

  Jesus, Drew, stop whining. No one feels bad for you.

  Actually, I feel bad for me so why can’t I sit here and sulk for a bit? I pay enough in membership dues every year to this damn place so if I want to keep drinking their Macallan and have a pity party then who’s going to stop me?

  No one is going to stop me. Because no one cares. Not really, anyway.

  As I contemplate lighting up one of the club’s fancy Cuban cigars, I spot my prey.

  James Douglas, the current CEO of JD Unlimited, walks into the room and pauses to greet a group of men. Hmm, he’s not a member so I wonder who invited him? Not that it matters. When he finds out I’m a member here, he’ll never join the Pacific Club since he hates my guts.

  A few weeks ago, I decided to target and acquire JD Unlimited, a technology company. James Douglas wants to stay independent and so far has put up a pretty good fight. But, not all M&A’s are peaceful and he’s about to learn the hard way that once I set my sight on a target, it will become mine. One way or another.

  Shit. He sees me. I swallow the rest of my drink, set the glass down and head for the exit. I don’t need a confrontation in front of the other members. But, he’s on my heels and the moment I step out the brownstone’s front door and onto the sidewalk, he calls my name.

  “Carson!”

  I take a deep, annoyed breath and slowly turn around. James Douglas is 32 and conducts business like the California surf bum that he used to be. Laidback and easygoing. It’s a wonder the company is so successful with that kind of attitude.

  “Douglas,” I say, my voice cool, not in the mood to do this now.

  “Nice try, but my board of directors and shareholders aren’t interested in being run by Carson Industries. They’re not selling their stock to you, so you can take your tender offer and shove it up your ass.”

  This punk really pisses me off.

  I mistakenly thought that a public bid for a large chunk of their stock at a fixed price, higher than the current market value, would encourage the shareholders to sell their shares to me. Didn’t happen. Oh, well, so now it’s cutthroat time. And, I was going to relish ripping the company out of this asshole’s hands.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got other ways to accomplish a takeover.”

  Before I even realize it, the normally laidback James Douglas throws a punch and I feel my face slam sideways. I come back around and, eyes blazing, take him down in a tackle. As we roll across the sidewalk, I can only imagine what the uppity members standing outside the club are thinking.

  Tacky Nouveau Riche, no doubt.

  I don’t care enough to stop, though. I grew up fighting on the South side of Chicago so if anyone takes a swing at me, he’s going down. Fucker, I think, and slam my fist into his jaw.

  “Break it up!” a voice yells.

  A moment later, I feel someone yank me off Douglas. He scrambles up and we glare at each other, breathing hard.

  “I’ll go bankrupt before I sell to you,” he threatens.

  I move my jaw back and forth, making sure it’s not broken. My eyes narrow, as emotionless and black as a shark’s. “We’ll see about that,” I say and walk away.

  Chapter Three

  Ashley

  Maybe this might actually work, I think, as Laurel pours us both another glass of wine and scrolls through my social media photos, on the hunt for the perfect profile picture for PerfectMatch.com.

  “Obviously, you have to look your best, but it’s more than that,” she says. “You need to nail the trifecta- attractive, trustworthy and competent.” She takes a sip of wine and swipes. “It needs to pop. You’re a blonde, so I’m looking for a picture of you in red. You look great in red.”

  “Thanks.” I can’t help but laugh. She’s taking this way too seriously. “And, don’t forget to use Leigh and not Ashley. I’m not comfortable using my real name.”

  “Got it. And, don’t worry. No one uses their real name.”

  I frown. “Wait. Seriously?” If I was just going to meet a bunch of Catfishes then what's the point?

  “Omg, I think I found it.”

  “Which one?” I ask, curious, but she doesn’t show me the picture.

  Instead, she studies it for a long minute. “Eye contact so we can see your beautiful baby blues and that shows you’re trustworthy. A smile showing some teeth, but not too many, which makes you likea
ble and competent. And, you’re totally smiling with your eyes. Excellent “smize.” Tyra Banks would be so proud. And, if I remember correctly, you had a couple drinks before I took this so you look fun and easygoing.”

  Finally, she turns the phone around and I see myself looking happy and carefree from a night we went out a year or so ago. That was a good hair day and my blonde hair fell just past my shoulders in waves. My blue-green eyes looked bright and there’s no denying that the red dress showed off my curves and long legs. When I was little, my brother used to tease me and call me Daddy Long Legs. They’re still too long, but luckily that’s a good thing.

  Laurel starts tapping and swiping. “I’m going to run it through a filter and then we’re good to go. Now, what do you want to say about yourself?”

  I shrug. This is really turning into a production and, honestly, I probably won’t even follow through with it. But, I told Laurel I’d do it, so what the hell. Time to be witty, charming and write a swipe-bait worthy profile. “Hold on. Gimme a sec.”

  I start jotting some things down and, after a few minutes, I look up, eyes sparkling. “Okay, here’s what I have: With me, it’s the little things that make me happy. Strong, black coffee from the cafe by my place. A bouquet of daisies from the farmer’s market. Binge-watching my favorite show and that includes anything that involves organizing. I’m kind of a neat freak. My guilty pleasures are mint chocolate chip ice cream and pizza. My friends would say I’m fun, passionate, a bit of a loner and horribly addicted to ketchup. I put it on everything and I’m not even kidding. If you’re nice, maybe we can share some fries. As long as they’re drowning in ketchup.”