The Billionaires Club Read Free Page A

if I were to have such a chance, I would
want it to be because of genuine mutual interest, not because he
had been paid-off to sleep with me.
    I plan the entire thing out in my head.
When I see Anders on Thursday, I'll tell him that his services
aren't needed. He can have my month off or pick up another girl,
whatever he usually does when clients fall through. No hard
feelings.
    I slip into my bikini and head
downstairs to the pool. A few other women are already sitting out
and sunning themselves in the California heat. There's really a
diverse mix of women here. Fat, skinny, old, young. Though I'm
pretty sure that I'm the youngest.
    I take a lounger next to a woman who is
easily in her late sixties. She stares intently at a man less than
half her age who is scooping leaves out of the pool. The infamous
pool boy. The entire staff here is male and all for our pleasure.
The cooks, the maintenance, the cleaning crew. They're all readily
available for a romp between the sheets with any one of the
clients. And they're all gorgeous.
    These guys aren't billionaires. They're
just blue-collar workers, college guys, and guys who enjoy getting
paid to sleep with women. While I'm sure that's not drawn up in
their employment contract, you know that's what they were really
hired for.
    Mister Pool Boy is casting a glance
across the pool to Late Sixties. He burns into her with a seductive
gaze, and she throws it right back at him. Her confidence makes me
a bit jealous. If he was giving me that look, I would be a
blushing, blubbering mess.
    But then he does notice me, and his
gaze shifts. I instantly lower my eyes. Late Sixties huffs in my
direction, though I can't tell if it's from anger or amusement. By
the time I look back up, a tall shadow is being cast across my
body. Mister Pool Boy is standing at the edge of my lounger, and
then he kneels beside me, taking my hand into his in a way that
makes my heart skip a beat from nervousness.
    “ You look like you need
something,” he says, his accent thick and exotic. Spanish
perhaps.
    “ I-I'm fine,” I stutter. I
just want him to go away. He's hot, but I'm not interested in what
he's offering. I just want to sit by the pool and read.
    “ I don't bite, unless you
want me to.”
    A hard lump forms in my throat, and I
quickly lose focus of everything. His voice is so sensual,
practically beckoning to me. I won't fall for it though. I
can't.
    “ Tessa. There you are,”
another man's voice says, this one behind me. My entire body tenses
as I recognize it. I feel like I'm being tag-teamed by two
predators, though it's quickly apparent which one is the
alpha.
    Mister Pool Boy pulls himself to his
feet and returns to his duties, backing down from the prey. The
impending presence behind me stands firm, and I don't understand
what he's doing there. We're not supposed to see each other again
until Thursday.
    “ Anders.” I turn toward him,
but the sun almost instantly blinds me.
    “ I hope you weren't having
too much fun with Vernon.”
    Vernon. That's not a Spanish name. I
can't help but wonder if the accent was fake or if the name is a
moniker.
    “ He just asked if I needed
anything.”
    “ I'm sure he was willing to
take care of all your needs,” his tone sounds almost bitter. He
extends a hand to me, and since I'm confused, I take it. “Shall
we?”
    He pulls me to my feet, and I realize
he's leading me inside. I cast a nervous glance back at Late
Sixties and Mister Pool Boy, who are already locked into another
lecherous staring match. Maybe he'll show her a good time instead.
The thought oddly doesn't bother me at all.
    “ I'm sorry about last
night,” Anders says as we stand in front of the
elevator.
    “ It's no trouble. I thought
I wasn't supposed to see you again until Thursday?”
    “ You weren't, but I couldn't
be without you for that long.” The look he's giving me makes me
feel weak in the knees. It's at that moment I figure out that he's
taking me back up to his suite. He