Pick Up: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  EPILOGUE - JEN

  EPILOGUE - RICH

  PICK UP

  ONE - WILL

  TWO - WILL

  THREE - JEN

  FOUR - WILL

  FIVE - JEN

  SIX - JEN

  SEVEN - JEN

  EIGHT - WILL

  NINE - WILL

  TEN - WILL

  ELEVEN - JEN

  TWELVE - WILL

  THIRTEEN - JEN

  FOURTEEN - JEN

  FIFTEEN - WILL

  BONUS STORY WRECKED

  ONE - JOY

  TWO - RICH

  THREE - JOY

  FOUR - RICH

  FIVE - JOY

  SIX - RICH

  SEVEN - JOY

  EIGHT - RICH

  NINE - JOY

  TEN - RICH

  ELEVEN - JOY

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  More by Lucy Wild

  PICK UP

  A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

  Lucy Wild

  ¶

  PRONOUN

  Thank you for reading. If you enjoy this book, please leave a review or connect with the author.

  All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.

  Copyright © 2017 by Lucy Wild

  Interior design by Pronoun

  Distribution by Pronoun

  ISBN: 9781641861458

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PICK UP

  ONE - WILL

  TWO - WILL

  THREE - JEN

  FOUR - WILL

  FIVE - JEN

  SIX - JEN

  SEVEN - JEN

  EIGHT - WILL

  NINE - WILL

  TEN - WILL

  ELEVEN - JEN

  TWELVE - WILL

  THIRTEEN - JEN

  FOURTEEN - JEN

  FIFTEEN - WILL

  EPILOGUE - JEN

  BONUS STORY WRECKED

  ONE - JOY

  TWO - RICH

  THREE - JOY

  FOUR - RICH

  FIVE - JOY

  SIX - RICH

  SEVEN - JOY

  EIGHT - RICH

  NINE - JOY

  TEN - RICH

  ELEVEN - JOY

  EPILOGUE - RICH

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  More by Lucy Wild

  PICK UP

  A BILLIONAIRE BAD BOY STORY

  LUCY WILD

  © Copyright 2017 Lucy Wild

  Want to hear about my new romances before anyone else? Love alpha males and innocent girls? Sign up to my mailing list and get the novel, Don’t Touch, completely free.

  ONE - WILL

  THE WOMAN WAS STILL GRINDING on my lap, oblivious to my disinterest. I pushed her onto her feet whilst stifling a yawn. I was bored. Sure, the club was cutting edge, so exclusive there was a two month waiting list just to join the queue outside. But what did that count for when money bought you membership and you’d been there every Thursday night for a month?

  Back in my youth, I’d have killed to own a place like this. But now I could buy it with a click of my fingers, that idea didn’t excite me, it just made me want to yawn again.

  Across the floor, a group of stockbrokers were trying to get past the bouncer and into the VIP lounge. I couldn’t hear what they were saying over the music but I could guess.

  “Why can’t we come in? Our money’s as good as theirs?”

  I doubted it and so did the bouncer, only taking their abuse for another few seconds before shoving them bodily away.

  The woman I’d just pushed to her feet had already moved across to Grant, trying to squeeze onto his arm. She was competing with two other girls who were laughing dutifully at his lewd jokes.

  I thought about the younger me again. Teenage, poor, virgin. He’d have been agog at the thought of me not wanting those girls on my lap.

  They were beautiful, in their own way. Tall, thin, poured into their dresses, drawn to men such as me like bees to honey. I thought I might take one of them home to fuck but I doubted it. I didn’t think I could fake the enthusiasm.

  “What’s up with you tonight?” Carl asked from the other side of the table. “You look like you’re at your Grandma’s wake.”

  “I had his Grandma,” Pete called across. “She was awake after I was done with her.”

  They laughed and I managed a half smile. What was I supposed to tell them? “Sorry but I’m going through some kind of mid thirties crisis, I don’t think I want the clubs or the girls anymore, I want something more…”

  What did I want? I didn’t know, I just knew it wasn’t the club and it wasn’t the woman sashaying over to me with her tits spilling out of her dress.

  I never used to feel bored looking at someone like her, I used to think how a couple of notes would unzip that dress and get her on her knees with her mouth open. But I didn’t want to do it. I just wanted something else and I couldn’t work out what the hell it was.

  “She’ll cheer you up,” Lionel said, pointing at her before throwing his wallet onto the table. “Someone get me more champagne before I die of thirst.”

  The women all leapt on his bankcards like hyenas, you could almost hear the growling as they fought to get the best tip from him.

  That was the problem, right there. These women were only here because we had money. I might have had nine eyes, green skin and a cock the size of a walnut and they’d still grind on it as long as I had billions in the bank. I wanted something more, someone who wasn’t just after my bank balance.

  As they walked off, still fighting over the wallet, Lionel shuffled over to me. He was old money, much older than self made me but he affected a working class accent in places like this. I had no idea why, probably just for his own amusement.

  His father was the Marquis of Railsbury but he sounded like he was about to audition for Mary Poppins. “What’s up with you, Will?” he shouted over the music.

  “Nothing much, just bored.”

  “Bored? You see how much pussy is begging to be fucked in here and you say you’re bored?”

  I nodded.

  He pulled out a cigar and handed it to me. “Have a sniff of that.”

  I shook my head. “What’s your point?”

  “It smells of money. You smell of money. You’re rich, my friend, you can do anything. You’re bored? Think of something to do and do it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything. Want to get a new Ferrari and make a bonfire out of it? Do it. Want to buy up a football club? Fuck the cheerleaders? Do it.”

  “I know what we could do,” Grant said, leaning forwards in his seat. “We could have a bet.”

  “Yeah!” Larry slurred. “Like the good old days.”

  “We’re not doing that,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re not kids anymore.”

  “Hark at the mature chicken over there. What’s the matter, scared?”

  That riled me, I felt my fists clenching. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Don’t back out of a bet then. I bet you…”

  He beckoned the others over and they whispered together, leaving me the sole focus of the woman who had reappeared with a bottle of champagne the size of her. The others trailed behind, trying to get my attention. I let them think I was interested, it gave me something to do until the guys sat back down, grinning conspiratorially at me.

  “What?” I asked impatiently. “What is it?”

  “We think y
ou should try and fuck someone at your work.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t mix work and pleasure.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve fucked the last three of your secretaries.”

  They had me there. That was why I’d hired Robert a month earlier. It removed the temptation having a man old enough to be my father handling my appointments.

  “That’s too easy,” Grant said and they began conferring again. I waited, yawning and not bothering to conceal it this time.

  Lionel spoke for them when they separated again. “The solemn order of Amalgamated Bettors United issue you, William Bailey, a wager that you cannot place a telephone call to a random woman in your company directory and after said call, procure her services in fourteen days. Put bluntly, to phone then fuck her within a fortnight.”

  “Is that all?” I asked. “Piece of piss.”

  “So confident,” Grant said with a laugh. “Will he be so cocky when we pick blue rinse Gladys in the canteen?”

  “There isn’t a Gladys in the canteen,” I replied, not sure if I was right. I wouldn’t know. It wasn’t somewhere I’d ever been.

  “The point is,” Lionel said, leaning over to collect his glass as one of the women filled it to the brim, “that you don’t know who you might be ringing. It could be an eighteen year old virgin intern with a cleavage you can ski down. Or it could be a ninety year old cleaner with varicose veins and cobwebs where a snatch should be.”

  Shit, I thought. He was right. Picking a woman to fuck was easy, having to fuck a woman I might not want to, well that was a whole different ball game. Still, a bet was a bet. I wasn’t backing down, it wasn’t my style.

  The terms were waiting for me when I got home. I was old school with my phone, no email, no internet, it made calls and sent messages, that was it. A month ago, Apple had sent me an exclusive Iphone engraved with my name on the back. They had hoped I’d agree to advertise for them but I hadn’t even bothered to turn it on. When emails came through to my phone, the thing was lit up like a Christmas tree twenty-four hours a day. I couldn’t be doing with it.

  So I didn’t see the email from Lionel until I turned on my laptop. It was there waiting for me, all in the formal language of the old days, back when we used to bet over the most stupid things, who could be the first to fuck triplets, who could get a woman to beg for anal on camera, juvenile stuff that seemed funny at the time and now seemed utterly pointless.

  If it wasn’t for being called chicken, I’d have deleted his email. But I couldn’t have my honour impugned like that. I was going to do it just to prove a point. I’d fuck whoever was on the other end of the phone at bet time, whether I wanted to or not. And more to the point, whether they wanted to or not.

  Not that I thought I’d have much trouble in that department. They’d take one look at me and be begging to be fucked, just like the girls in the club. It hardly seemed worth the effort.

  I read through the email. Lionel would come to my office tomorrow at ten. I was to have a printed company phone directory to hand. He would scroll through and pick a woman’s name at random. I’d then ring that number while he listened to the call. Then the clock would start ticking. I’d have a fortnight to get her into bed. Two weeks. Piece of piss. I only had to fuck her once to win the bet. Enough money chucked at the lucky victim and she’d say yes. They always said yes in the end. The only question was who was he going to pick? Whoever she was, she had no idea she was about to be fucked by her billionaire boss just so he could win a pointless bet.

  TWO - WILL

  I SAT AT THE HEAD of the table, only half listening while Robert ran through the figures at the front of the room.

  All the seats were taken by identical figures in identical suits all looking at Robert and nodding. They knew same as me that all the dressing it up was unimportant. What mattered was we were up. As long as the stock price kept going up, the rest was mere details, not something I needed to trouble myself with.

  None of them knew the planning that had gone into building this company. None of them knew that at sixteen, I was planning for now. I was looking twenty years into the future and working fourteen, fifteen hour days to make sure I got the calculations right.

  It had paid off in the end. By twenty I was a millionaire, though I’d run in the red for two years before that, coming nail-bitingly close to having the bank take everything just when I was on the cusp of a breakthrough.

  When it finally happened, it went big. From then it was plain sailing, the planning had been worth it. I was still surfing off the back of it now, two decades after that first tentative step. I remembered it well, just me, the financial software I’d built myself and a gallon of black coffee.

  “Projections for the next quarter are as follows,” Robert said, clicking through to the next screen of the presentation.

  I turned to look out of the clock. Quarter to ten. In fifteen minutes I’d be in my office with Lionel. A few minutes after that I’d be on the phone. Who would be on the other end? Would it be one of the women here in the boardroom?

  I looked from one of them to the next. Would I fuck them? What would Sarah look like with that suit of hers on the floor? Her cheeks flushed, that pristine hair of hers knotted and flat to her head? Would it wipe that bored look off her face?

  I nodded across to Robert and he got the message at once, just another reason why he was a better choice than my last assistant. She was gymnastic in her bending abilities in the bedroom but she did not do subtle. One time I told her to call me out of a boring meeting in ten minutes and she burst in announcing, “You told me to come in and make up an excuse for you to leave,” while everyone stifled their laughs and I glared at her.

  Robert was a good choice, Harvard educated before coming over to Blighty, probably taking on this post because butler to the Queen was taken.

  One slight nod and he wound up the meeting in seconds. No complaints, no stalling. I was done so it was done. The rest of the presentation could wait until tomorrow. I had somewhere to be.

  Lionel was waiting in my office, smoking a cigar, his feet up on the corner of my desk.

  “Make yourself at home,” I said as I pushed the window open. “You know you’re not supposed to smoke in here.”

  He grinned, getting to feet and wandering over to the window, flicking the cigar out into the air. It sank from sight at once. I wondered where it might land but he’d already forgotten it existed, returning to his seat before speaking. “No matter,” he said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “More important things to do anyway. Where’s that staff directory of yours?”

  “Here,” I said, tossing it across to him. “Do your worst.”

  He flicked nonchalantly through it, muttering, “No, no, no way. Aha, here we are.”

  He took my pen from the gold holder and then circled a name before passing it back. “IT department, I bet she’s a real catch.”

  I looked down at the name he’d circled, ignoring the fact he’d just pocketed my pen. What was it about him? He had enough money to buy the Mont Blanc company but he still felt the need to steal my pens whenever he came to see me. Maybe it was a bet he had with someone else.

  The name wasn’t one I knew. Jen Murphy. There were thirty names listed under I.T but she was the only woman. I could picture her already. Stained tee-shirt referencing some twenty year old sitcom, skirt to her ankles, her mother’s sagging tights, probably with greasy hair and no sex life, maybe a virgin, definitely single.

  “Time to make the call,” Lionel said.

  I smiled, trying not to appear concerned. The phone rang for twenty seconds. “She’s not answering,” I said, about to give up when it finally connected.

  “Hello, I.T?”

  “Hi,” I said, nodding to Lionel who leaned forwards to listen, grin fixed to his face, he’d not had this much fun in ages. “Is that Jen?”

  “Yep, who is this?”

  I ignored her question. “I’ve got a laptop needs fixing.”

  “Bring
it down and I’ll take a look if you like?”

  Lionel reached over and hung up before I could say anything else. “Right, stud,” he said, getting to his feet. “You’ve got a fortnight starting now.”

  “Piece of piss,” I replied, following him to the door. “Usual amount?”

  “This isn’t Trading Places,” he said. “Grant might be happy betting a quid but I want real money.”

  “How about a hundred thousand?”

  “How about five hundred thousand?”

  “Done,” I said, shaking his outstretched hand.” And my pen back if I win.”

  “What pen?” he called over his shoulder as he walked away.

  I went back into my office, taking my private lift down to ten before realising I didn’t know where the I.T department was. I got out and strode over to the plan of the building on the opposite wall before crossing to the main bank of lifts. The basement, it figured. I had to travel from the top of the building all the way to the bottom, from heaven to hell. What was waiting for me down there?

  The lift pinged and out I stepped into the basement. The whirring noise of machinery filled the air as I walked down the corridor, pushing open the first door I found that was unlocked. Inside was half open plan office, half computer graveyard. The desks were piled high with the guts of computers although I couldn’t see anyone anywhere.

  I strolled through the office until I heard a chair creaking. Turning round, I realised I’d missed her.

  She was sitting low in her chair behind a laptop, her eyes fixed on the screen, lost in concentration, presumably working on some knotty technical problem.

  I was loathe to interrupt her. Normally, I’d storm up to the staff and bark out orders but one look at her and I couldn’t do it.

  She was too beautiful. That was why. Not the plastic beauty of the women in the club but something much different, far more pure and innocent. The image in my head of what Jen Murphy would look like was swept aside as I stared at her in the flesh.

  Cute round face, button nose, long blonde hair, big round eyes. Her clothes were awful but they couldn’t take away from how fucking hot she looked. I wanted her almost at once. How had I not seen her here before? My cock twitched as her tongue protruded momentarily from between her lips before vanishing.