Given to the Billionaires

Book 8 of the Mating Season series.

It’s a simple enough transaction. A fake relationship for PR. Once tickets are sold for the band’s upcoming tour, they’ll never have to see each other again. No feelings. No strings attached. Right?

In the middle of a worldwide tour, Jake and Duncan get caught up in a scandal that goes viral on the internet and threatens to destroy their band forever. As the public boycotts the band, ticket sales dry up and prices plummet. Jake and Duncan need to repair their image quickly before the remaining concert dates are canceled, and the band is bankrupted by penalties and fines. What better way than coming to the rescue of a nice girl like Penny and sweeping her off of her feet? Once the public sees that they’ve turned a new leaf, things can go back to normal. If only she wasn’t their fated mate.

Penny is only doing this so she doesn’t lose her job. She never wanted to be famous or in front of the cameras. When two billionaire rock stars make her an offer she can’t refuse, she agrees to be their pretend girlfriend if it means she can keep a roof over her and her little brother’s heads.

Suddenly thrust into the glaring spotlight of the public eye, Penny ends up the target of voracious paparazzi, jealous fans, and a crazy stalker.

Even if they make it out of this alive, will she want to stay with them if it means putting her life at risk, or will they lose the only woman they’ve ever loved?

Excerpt

JAKE

The chanting and clapping of the crowd roared out in a thunderous beat. Even through my in-ear monitors, the cheers of the audience calling for my appearance pounded in my ears. The rest of the band members were already on stage. Duncan on guitar, Chris on drums, and Aaron on bass. Chris looked over to the side of the stage where I was standing, waiting for my cue.

I took a deep breath, and rolled my shoulders. Like a boxer getting ready to enter the ring, I bounced on my feet. Adrenaline pulsed through my body as I summoned my courage. Even after a decade of being in the spotlight, and four worldwide tours, every performance still felt like life or death. Would tonight be a roaring success, or were we going to be panned in the news tomorrow? As the lead singer, I knew the fate of this concert rested on my shoulders.

With one final silent prayer, I slipped on my imaginary ego jacket. From this moment on, I was the lead singer of The New Tempest, the world’s biggest rock band, not the fuckup who couldn’t get his life sorted out in his mid-thirties.

I nodded at Chris. The beat of the drum and the first notes of our hit song, Only Tonight, set a frantic pace as I ran out on stage.

As soon as I reached the microphone, all of my worries faded away. Under the blinding stage lights, all I could see in the audience were the swaying of bright cellphone lights twinkling in the arena like stars in the night sky.

Like muscle memory, the lyrics came out easily. I closed my eyes and let the music flow through my body, rocking my hips to the beat. All my worries about the future of the band and my life faded away. Nothing mattered except for the music pulsing through my veins, and the cheering of the crowd pounding in time with the beat of my heart.

For two hours, I became one with the band and the audience. Every fiber of my being hummed in sync with the rhythm of the music. The entire arena vibrated as the crowd jumped in time with the beat.

“Good night, Huntington Harbor! You’ve been awesome!” I screamed into the microphone. The rest of the band came up to join me at center stage, and together we bowed. I took out my in-ear monitors to soak in the roar of the applause. This was what made all the hard work and all the months of travel worth it. The boys waved as they walked offstage one by one, until I was the only one remaining.

I blew a kiss toward the girls in the front along the barricade. Every night we went on stage, the same ones showed up over and over again. Sometimes I wondered what they did for a living to be able to afford following the band around the world. They went wild, jumping and screaming as they reached out toward the stage like worshiping parishioners at church.

Shooting the audience a cocky grin, I ran my hand through my sweat soaked hair and waved goodbye one last time as I ran backstage. The sound of their ovation followed me as the lights on stage dimmed to black.

+++

Duncan leaned over my side of the seat and peered out the dark tinted window as our car pulled up to the front of the hotel. “How the fuck did they figure out this was where we’re staying?”

He was talking about the gaggle of groupies camped outside the hotel entrance. I spotted a couple of familiar looking autograph collectors and paparazzi among the crowd.

For the next two months while we went on hiatus until the tour resumed, the Hughes Hotel was going to be our home. Chris and Aaron both caught flights out as soon as the concert was over. Not that I blamed them for being eager to get back to their wives and new babies. A pang of jealousy and longing hit me. What I wouldn’t kill to have a family to return to, instead of the circus outside.

“Too bad the side of the road is considered public property, or the hotel could have banned them for trespassing,” I muttered.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I chose to ignore it. It stopped, and then vibrated again. I pulled it out and grimaced at the text messages. It was Scott, the band’s manager, and Janice, our publicist. Even as I tapped at my phone, their messages continued to flood in.

“What is it?” Duncan asked.

I tilted the phone screen in his direction and let him read for himself. Whatever happened in the short time between ending the concert and leaving the concert arena, it seemed like the world had ended. They were calling an emergency meeting and already waiting for us inside the hotel.

“Fuck.” Duncan ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

The car came to a stop. I slid on my sunglasses and signaled to Hank, our bodyguard.

The flashing cameras blinded us as soon as we stepped out of the car. Hank used his body to form a wall, blocking Duncan and me from the greedy outstretched hands of the groupies. Too bad he couldn’t block out the piercing wail of their voices as they screamed our names. I focused on getting to the inside of the hotel without causing an incident that would end up all over the internet, like sending my fist into the face of a sleazy paparazzo.

With Hank acting as our privacy shield, Duncan and I rushed past the front doors of the hotel. As soon as the doors closed behind us, I let out a sigh of relief. There was only blissful silence and the soft trickling of water flowing from the fountain in the middle of the lobby.

This was why we were paying five figures a night to stay in Paradise Peaks instead of Huntington Harbor. The Hughes Hotel was used to catering to high profile guests–celebrities, presidents, billionaires–and the demands for privacy and discretion away from the prying eyes of the public that they required.

A tall young woman with golden blonde hair rushed over to greet us. Unlike most of the employees at the hotel who wore a suit jacket as a part of their uniform, she looked like she stepped off of a college campus.

“Good evening sirs, my name is Lena, and I will be stepping in for Michael tonight. Your guests are already waiting for you in the restaurant.”

“Thank you, Lena. Have they been here long?” I asked.

“Not at all. They arrived just shortly before you.”

Duncan and I followed her as she led us through the hotel’s steakhouse restaurant. Walking past the tables in the dining room, some of the people whispered to each other and pointed discreetly at us, hiding behind their cloth napkins. Thankfully, it was against the rules of the hotel to take pictures of fellow guests, or else there would have been more than a dozen cellphones aimed at us. We came to the rear of the restaurant, to an area with panoramic windows overlooking the gardens surrounding the back of the hotel. Lena knocked softly before opening the door to a private dining room.

Scott and Janice were already sitting at the dining table waiting for us inside. Janice was nursing a gin and tonic while Scott swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand.

This was going to be a long meeting and Duncan and I were going to get chewed out.

“Can I get you anything to drink before your server arrives to take your order?” Lena asked.

“A vodka martini for me, darling,” Duncan said.

“Just a scotch neat, thank you,” I replied.

We waited until Lena closed the door behind her before we spoke.

“What’s the emergency?” I asked as I pulled out a chair. Sinking back, I kicked my leg over one of the arms.

“You two are idiots, that’s what. What possessed you to go on this stupid podcast and shoot your mouth?” Scott tapped on his phone and pulled up a video before tossing it across the table toward us.

Two seconds into the video, the podcast hosts’ voices started yapping. I already knew what he was talking about. It was a stupid thing Duncan and I did because we were bored in between rehearsals for the tour.

“It’s no big deal. None of it was serious,” Duncan said.

Scott’s face turned scarlet as he sputtered. “No big deal? It’s a big fucking deal.”

Janice sighed. “The internet mob is going crazy over that dumb joke you two made. Congrats, you’ve gone viral for being racist misogynistic bigots. They’re clamoring to get the band and the tour canceled.”

I shrugged. “Technically, neither Duncan nor I said anything. We just laughed.”

“It’s the implication of you two laughing along. This is bad, guys.” Janice threw back the rest of her gin and tonic in a single gulp.

Scott banged his fist on the table. “You do know you still have the entire West Coast dates of the tour to sell, right? Ticket prices are dropping like a brick into the Grand Canyon. Seattle and Vegas dates are going to be canceled if those seats remain empty.”

There was a soft knock on the door before our server entered with our drinks. Just what the doctor ordered. By the time we finished going around the table and placing our orders, I was halfway through my glass. Lifting my glass, I indicated to the server that I wanted another glass. I had a feeling that I was going to need it.

“Do you numbskulls understand what all this means?” Scott’s teeth glinted as he spoke. There was only one other time when I ever saw him this angry. “We are going to pay millions in penalties and fines if those shows are canceled. You two can bear the loss, but what about the rest of the boys?”

Realization hit me like a bucket of cold water. Duncan and I were born into a family of famous songwriters going back generations. We were the heirs to intellectual property and royalties worth billions. Chris and Aaron were not so lucky. Their only income came from the band’s earnings from the tour. They had families to take care of and this band was going to be our last chance to cash in before we went on a long break.

Duncan shot me a look. We couldn’t let them down, though not by blood, Chris and Aaron were our brothers.

I sat upright in my chair. “What do you suggest we do?”

“You need to drown out the bad news and fix your image problem asap. Just until the online gossips have forgotten about your little scandal and the tour is finished.”

“And how will we do that?” Duncan asked.

Janice grinned. “You need a fake girlfriend.”