The Billionaire's Pregnant Competition (The Billionaires Club Book 1)
The Billionaires Club
The Billionaire’s Pregnant Competition
The Billionaire’s Pretend Girlfriend
The Billionaire’s Girlfriend Bet
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, June 2020
Copyright © 2020 Relay Publishing Ltd.
All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Leslie North is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.
Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations.
www.relaypub.com
Blurb
Success. That’s all billionaire tech magnate Grayson Finlay has ever cared about. Growing up penniless and fatherless, he vowed to never be poor or powerless again. Now helming a wildly successful tech enterprise, he’s poised to launch the IPO that will cement his company’s status…but first, he needs one more big win to prove he’s got what it takes. His newly developed app that helps people dress for success could be the key. But after being doused with mud on his way to an investor meeting, Grayson’s outfit needs an emergency rescue. The tiny boutique run by the quirky and charming Mila Tomlinson has just the clothes he needs—and just the woman to catch Grayson’s interest. Mila’s quick thinking and knowledge about fashion gives Grayson an idea: a contest between her and his soon-to-launch app. It will build hype for his app, help her business and give them an excuse to work together. However, one night of passion results in some serious consequences. Mila is pregnant.
Mila has a problem. Not only is she pregnant, she just might be falling for a playboy billionaire, a man who puts work first, last, and everywhere else. For Mila, just opening her boutique was a risky endeavor, one that pushed her far from her comfort zone. Now comes Grayson barreling into her life with his ambition and grand plans, not to mention his infinite ability to make her body melt. While Grayson’s driven, Mila finds that he’s also sweet and charming and the sexiest man she’s ever met. Sure, dating a billionaire is a bit intimidating, but she’s willing look past that flaw…as long as Grayson is willing to consider the successful life he could find outside of the boardroom, and in Mila’s arms.
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(The Billionaires Club Book One)
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Contents
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
Epilogue
End of The Billionaire’s Pregnant Competition
Thank you!
About Leslie
Sneak Peek: The Billionaire’s Pretend Girlfriend
Also by Leslie
1
Grayson Finlay sighed, craning to see past the head of his personal driver. They’d been stuck in traffic in this stretch of the Financial District in downtown San Francisco for over ten minutes. On any other day, this wouldn’t be an issue. One of the nicer perks of being the founder and CEO of your own company was that no one got on your ass for being a couple of minutes late. But today, he had the most important meeting of his life to attend.
And he couldn’t be late. No, he needed to be early. And ready.
“Do you know what the hold up is?” Grayson asked, unable to see anything other than the long tail of cars stretched out in front of them.
“No idea. Probably a wreck, honestly,” his driver responded with a shrug.
“I think I need to walk.” Grayson checked his watch, releasing another sigh. He could make it there with a little time to spare if he walked fast, but that might mean he arrived looking more disheveled than he’d like. What kind of impression would that make? Would it sour the meeting before it even began?
It wasn’t as if he was new to important business deals. He’d built his company from the ground up and had found tremendous success. But he was reaching a new level now. If this meeting, pitching his brand-new fashion app to investors, went well, then he would be on his way to an IPO. And when that happened, his success would be established beyond any shadow of doubt.
But nobody would invest in an outfit-pairing app if the creator himself looked like crap.
Grayson exited the car, slung his briefcase higher up his shoulder and started to walk. He turned the corner at the next block, figuring he’d take a mini shortcut through a tucked-away plaza of shops. But construction equipment filled the side street, no doubt causing part of the blockade on the main thoroughfare. The workers were pumping something out of the ground, and Grayson made sure to hug the far sidewalk as he hurried past.
Just as he was almost clear of the construction work, one of the workers let out a gruff cry. “Watch out!” someone shouted. Grayson turned just in time to see an arc of water cut through the sky. The mystery liquid sprayed all over the pavement—all the way to him across the street.
His mouth parted as his body registered first the cold sensation, and then the horror as the dampness seeped through his clothes.
“Sorry, buddy!” One of the construction workers waved his way.
“It’s just dirty water,” another one offered with a shrug.
Dirty water. He should be glad it wasn’t sewage, but while the way he smelled wasn’t a problem, the way he looked was a disaster. He had no words, could only sputter and look down at his ruined, damp clothes.
He didn’t have spare clothes in his office, and he had no idea where he could pick up a fresh suit around here.
He was screwed.
Before panic took over entirely, he whipped out his phone and began searching for solutions, typing in ‘clothing boutiques near me, for men.’ The search engine processed for a few moments, and then the list of results appeared.
And luckily, there was one within a few blocks from where he stood right now. MOMENTS WITH MILA: Fashion for all occasions.
It would have to do. He made a note of the intersection and hurried as fast as he could toward the boutique, which had a five-star rating on the search engine. There was that, at least. He just hoped that Mila, whoever she was, included ‘life-altering investor meetings’ in her list of occasions she planned for.
Within minutes he was facing down the cute boutique, which had flowers lining the display window and sleek mannequins showcasing trendy, sophisticated clothes. He pushed inside, taking in the soft floral scent and the low jazz coming
from the back of the store. Before he took another step, a feminine voice chirped, “Hello there!”
It took him a moment to find her, but when he did, all his frustration and impatience took a backseat to immediate attraction. A petite woman with mahogany tresses, pulled back into a low chignon, sent him a sparkling smile as she tugged a T-shirt over the mannequin tucked between her legs. Black wire rims sat low on her nose, highlighting rather than hiding a pair of striking green eyes.
“Hi,” he said, momentarily forgetting what else he needed. How could he be expected to remember in the presence of such unexpected cuteness? He blinked a few times until he located his voice. “I need some help.”
“What can I do for you?” She straightened, pushing up her glasses with an index finger.
“Are you Mila?”
“You know it.” The smile widened, and she propped her hands on her hips, which were covered by high-waisted distressed jeans. “Mila with a store full of moments.”
He smirked. “Great. Well, as you can probably tell, I need to replace my outfit immediately.” With a grimace, he looked down at the unsightly damp stains splattered across his pants and shirt. “I have an important meeting in less than an hour that needs me to be flawless.”
Her eyes widened and she nodded vehemently. “Okay. Yeah. I get it.” She looked him up and down, nibbling on her lip as she took him in. “So do you want to just replicate the impression of this outfit as closely as possible?”
“If you can.”
She continued nodding, her attention sizzling on him as she walked in a slow circle around him. “Great. Yeah. I think I can help you out. Come back here with me, okay?”
He followed her quick steps to the back of the store, passing racks of dresses and women’s separates, which segued into the men’s section tucked in the back. She rifled through some racks of clothes, muttering to herself as she pulled things out only to return them from where she’d found them.
Grayson took the chance to look her over. The jeans were pedal-pushers, which showed off dainty ankles in floral print flats. She wore a simple T-shirt that said Yes Way Rose French-tucked into her jeans, which were plastered to a firm-looking ass. Casual but stylish, and oh-so-edibly cute.
He couldn’t have planned for a better accidental shopping trip if he’d tried.
“Here!” She pulled out a matte black button-up with sheer black accents hidden in the fabric. “What size do you wear?”
He told her the measurements, and she passed off the shirt before digging around on a different rack. After a few moments and more mumbling to herself, she presented him with a pair of charcoal gray dress pants. Grayson furrowed a brow.
“Black shirt, gray pants. This is too basic.”
“But they will look really good when you put them on,” she said. “Just try them.”
Grayson figured he might as well try the ensemble before asking for something else. “Fine. But while I try this on, maybe you could find a back-up outfit. Just in case.”
“You won’t need a back-up, but yes, I’ll find one just in case.” Mila smirked as she led him to one of the two changing rooms in the store, tugging back the curtain so that he could step in. He made quick work of shimmying out of his soiled clothes and hanging them up. As he slipped into the new pieces, he was struck by how light they felt. The high quality—far higher than he’d anticipated. More in line with what he’d usually find at the high-end shops he frequented. He felt a little embarrassed. When he’d seen the small, quaint-looking shop, he’d expected that the clothes would be of a lower caliber than he was used to. But even though he wasn’t familiar with the brands, these pieces were just as well made as any of his tailored suits. And damn…they looked good.
When he stepped out of the dressing room, he already knew the verdict. He’d be buying this outfit.
“Okay. You were right.” He stepped toward the tall mirror set up at the back of the store, checking himself out.
“It’s my job,” she said with a wide grin. “It’s what I do.”
“You know, I’m about to launch an app that does what you do,” he said, twisting one last time to check out the outfit from every angle.
“How so?”
“It’s an outfit pairing app.” He turned to face her, enjoying the quizzical slant of her brows as she processed the information.
“I don’t understand how an app can do something that only human insight can achieve,” she said, cocking her hip. And somehow, her confusion—no, outright disgruntledness—was the most attractive of all.
“I’d show you,” he said, heading back to the dressing room to retrieve his old clothes, “but I have to go to this meeting. And trust me—you’ll want to see it.”
Mila didn’t look convinced as she headed for the register. She rang up the clothes on his back, and both pieces came to less than $150. He pushed two crisp hundred-dollar bills over the countertop, and when she started to open the register, he said, “You can keep the change.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Seriously?”
“Consider it the stylist’s tip.”
“Would you have tipped your app the same amount?” The corners of her mouth twitched with the start of a smile.
“You like giving me shit about this,” he said, taking the bag she offered to store his old clothes. “It’s like you don’t even care that it’s my brainchild.”
“I’m sorry. Please tell your brainchild I mean no harm.”
He sent her a smile, feeling surprisingly sad to be leaving. In fact, he had a suspicion he could spend the entire rest of the morning here, getting lost in conversation. Trading barbs about fashion and his app and enjoying every minute.
“I’ll relay the message,” he said with a wink, backing up toward the door without fully turning away from her. Because at this point, he didn’t want to stop looking at her. He needed to drink her in while the clock still allowed it. Take in that cute button nose and the sexy curve of her lips. She was a pint-sized hottie.
As he waved his goodbye and finally pushed his way out of Mila’s Moments, he knew one thing was for sure.
This couldn’t be his last moment with Mila.
2
Mila Tomlinson thumbed through the last pages of the same fashion magazine she’d been re-reading all week. It was the only thing for her to do in her shop, since barely anybody came in and she was sick of scrolling through Facebook for the billionth time.
On the other hand, if she read through this magazine again, she’d scream.
She frowned, closing the magazine so forcefully that she tore a page. Just another small sign of the many ways that everything in her life was fraying at the edges. Ever since the plaza landlord had stopped by earlier that week to inform her that her rent would probably be increasing—damn near doubling—on the lease renewal that would be coming her way soon, everything had gone into a panic spiral.
The dismal sales numbers she’d been experiencing for the past few months suddenly became a vice grip of panic constricting her lungs in light of the news. All the hopes and prayers she’d been lodging for this new venture of hers—still in its infancy—petered out into swear words.
It seemed her own brainchild was going nowhere. After six months of trying to hack it as a personal stylist and boutique owner in San Francisco, maybe it was really time to call it quits.
Brainchild. She sighed, her eyes fluttering shut. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the gorgeous businessman who’d stopped into her store that morning. Part of her wanted to take the arrival of a gorgeous, wealthy patron—with a face like an angel—as a sign. Like a missive straight from the heavens telling her not to give up, that if she just persevered a little longer, all of her family’s worst misgivings about her “crazy, foolhardy” venture wouldn’t come true. She wouldn’t end up a failure. She wouldn’t prove them all right about the dangers of deviating from the family life path of becoming an accountant.
Yet now that the fog had cleared and her rational m
ind had returned later that afternoon, the truth was settling in.
That man wasn’t an angel. He was just a businessman who’d found her on Google.
One and done.
End of story.
Mila checked the clock on her laptop and sighed again. Almost four o’clock and she still had three more boring hours to while away in her storefront. The longer she spent languishing without sales, the easier it was to get lost in her own anxieties and speculations and doubts.
Maybe it was the location. Or maybe it was the fact that she was doing her advertising wrong. Maybe she’d been secretly blacklisted by the fashion industry in San Francisco, having inadvertently pissed off someone within the mafioso-like hierarchy of clothing.
It could be anything. And she almost hoped it was one of those reasons—even if it involved the mafia. Anything to avoid the sneaky, staining truth that it might be because of her. That her family was right to condemn her decision to open her own business. That somehow, they’d been able to see her inherent incapability and had tried to warn her off, but she’d chosen to ignore them and do the dumb thing of believing in herself.
Tears threatened at the edges of her eyes and she took a deep breath, swinging her gaze out toward the big bay window looking out at the parking lot. Something needed to change—that much was for sure. She just needed to figure out what. Part of her wished that businessman would come back so she could pick his brain. He looked like he knew what he was doing—or maybe that was just because she’d dressed him that way.