Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)
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Authors: Max Monroe
Tags: #Billionaire Bad Boys Book 2
Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys, #2)
Published by Max Monroe LLC © 2016, Max Monroe
ISBN: 9780997540628
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Editing by Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae
Formatting by Champagne Formats
Cover Design by Perfect Pear Creative
Proofreading by Silently Correcting Your Grammar
Table of Contents
To Cassie and Thatch: You guys are assholes.
Disclaimer: We’re assholes too. Love you.
I
’m Thatcher Kelly.
Harvard graduate.
Financial Consultant for Brooks Media and its subsidiaries and several other Fortune 500 companies.
What? It sounds familiar? Fuck that.
I can’t help it if Kline went first and stole all of my shit.
Net worth: $1.2 billion.
Yeah, perfect Kline is worth more than me. But I have my hands on a lot more things.
Important things
.
Okay, maybe not important. But they’re…pussies. I have my hands on pussies.
Relax, I’m kidding. Well, mostly.
A man of many talents, I have more interests and jobs than you would expect.
Adrenaline Junkie.
Jumps and falls, dives or climbs—
orgasms
. If it makes the bottom fall out of your stomach and end up in your throat with a wave of pleasure for your whole body to surf afterward, I’m
in
.
I’m built like a tree, but I’d rather do anything than
just stand there
.
Get out, get wild, fucking live life.
It’s also probably not a surprise I’m known for going through a laundry list of women. Quite frankly, I won’t fucking apologize for it. They’ve all meant something to me, regardless of the amount of time they’ve been in my life, long or short, and they’ve all taught me something about life or myself that I won’t give back.
But I’ve also longed for the kind of monogamy my friend Kline has for most of my life. A person who does their best to know you in and out and looks out for you when you can’t look out for yourself. The kind of person who wants to live life to its very fullest—but wants to do it
with you
.
Bottom line,
I’m eclectic.
A confusing mix of inappropriate jokes and heartfelt sentiment, you can dig and dig, and you’ll still be miles from the bottom of me.
At least, that had always been the case
until Cassie Phillips
.
She’s crazy and needy and borderline inappropriate at all times.
But she’s got the softest untamed heart when you’re someone she cares about, and fuck if that hasn’t become my singularly most important goal—mean something to the woman who already means all the things to me.
Because for the guy who wants wild and commitment in the same fucking breath, you better believe it’s going to be
one bumpy ride
.
Fasten that seat belt tight, ladies and gentleman.
This is us.
A
s the sun started to descend below the optical edge of the ocean and the Key West sky turned pink and orange with the last rays of the day, I snapped a few final photos before pulling my camera away from my face. Twelve crazy-hot male models frolicked in the sand, their muscles wet from the water and their tight bodies clad in nothing but next summer’s swim line for an up-and-coming New York designer by the name of Fredrick La Hue.
Yeah, it was a really tough life I was living.
“All right, boys, I think we can call it a night,” I announced as I got to my feet and dusted the sand from my knees. “Great work today, everyone. If you’re thirsty, which I know most of you lushes are, meet me at Sloppy Joe’s. Drinks are on me.”
The models and staff cheered, and I grinned.
“Consider this motherfucking shoot finished!” I exclaimed to a chorus of resounding hoots and
Here, here
s as I headed toward the tent and hooked my camera up to my laptop.
Hundreds of photos loaded on to the screen, and their tiny thumbnails begged to be clicked. Doing as their teeny beckoning bid, I clicked to select all and opened them up in my editor. I could hardly contain my excitement as I caught sight of some of the raw shots I had managed to capture. It had been a long day, toiling from sunup until sundown, but after I worked my editing magic, I knew Fredrick would get a big ol’ fashion boner over the plethora of sexy photos he’d have to pick from.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the makeshift snack table and, upon my return, found my assistant, Olivia, scrolling through the photos on my laptop. She glanced up from the screen and grinned. “These are fantastic, Cass.”