Rock Star Billionaire
Taking a deep breath, I stepped over to the piano and sat down at the keys. I launched into a new song, surprised when Owen came to stand behind me, the mic in his hand. He began to sing the lyrics. We had practiced a few times before, but his voice still brought tears to my eyes. Maybe because he was singing a song we had created together, and he sang from his heart what we created from the heart.
The crowd fell silent as I poured myself into the song. And, with the intensity of the music and the performance, coupled with Owen’s sweet voice, my heart was overwhelmed with love for him. His voice trailed off as he finished the lyrics and waited as I finished the last few notes. I simply sat there for a moment, my heart pounding in my ears as silence fell over the entire space.
Then, abruptly, the place erupted with shouts and cheers louder than I could have ever imagined. Smiling bright, I stood and glanced back, intending to prompt Owen to take a bow with me.
But he wasn’t where I had expected to see him. Instead, my eyes fell toward the floor where Owen was behind me on bended knee. In his hand, he held a small, black box. The crowd’s applause died to silence, and Owen looked up at me, smiling with tears rimming his eyes.
“Nalia Dean, no one has ever made me feel the way I do when I am with you and I don’t ever want to find out what it feels like not to have you by my side. You are the most compassionate, loving person I have ever known, and I am so damn happy to have you in my life. I love you, more than any words could ever express. So, in front of all these witnesses, I’m asking if you will make me the happiest man on the planet. Will you marry me?” He opened the black box, revealing the most exquisite ring I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Owen,” I whispered as my hand covered my mouth in surprise, tears blurring my eyes. “Yes, yes, yes, I will. A million times, yes.”
He smiled and slipped the ring on my finger before rising to gather me in his arms, kissing me and holding me tightly against him. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”
“For what?” I asked, pulling back to look at him
.
“For taking a chance on me. For believing in what we could be. We are going to make a beautiful future together.”
And we did.
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BILLIONAIRE RIDES
By Claire Adams and Alexa Davis
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams
Chapter One: Ethan
"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Colson?"
"Yes: blow me," I stated.
I leaned back in my chair as my beautiful assistant Angela got down on her knees beneath my desk and went to work. I ran my hands through her red hair as her head bobbed up and down and her mouth worked enthusiastically. Within a few moments, her expert tongue would be bring me to climax and I'd shoot my load down her eager throat, then watch as she picked up her files and went back to work.
This was the life, and I was living the dream every man wished for—only it hadn't come easily. I'd started working at the age of thirteen when my mother ran out on my father and me for another man. My father had been weak and couldn't take it. He turned to drinking and could never hold onto a job, so it was up to me if we were going to keep from starving out on the streets.
It was tough, but even though I was working full time, I still managed to keep top grades in school. One of my teachers noticed and recommended me for a special internship in the Business Leaders of Tomorrow program at his alma mater. My father had remarried by then, and I knew he'd be okay on his own, so I went ahead and applied, never thinking that I'd really get in—but I did.
They admitted me on full scholarship, and when the program was over, I was offered full-time employment at one of the nation's top manufacturers of engine parts: Krueger Auto Parts. Even without a fancy degree, I could do the job of running the shipping and manufacturing warehouses in every town I was sent to, and soon I was brought to work in their corporate headquarters in Los Angeles.
I worked my ass off, coming in early every morning and staying late every night. I took on all the shit assignments nobody wanted to do and volunteered to work weekends and even holidays. I climbed up the ranks faster than anyone had ever seen, and by the age of thirty, I was running the motorcycle parts division for Krueger.
The job was my passion, and I worked closely with scientists and engineers, wanting to learn everything I could about what made bikes run better, faster, and more efficiently. I talked with long-time riders and kids just starting to learn what they wanted in a bike. On my days off, I went for long rides in the California countryside to get a feel for the wind in my face, the tires on the road, and the motor between my legs. It was a powerful feeling, completely freeing, and I wanted more. Most importantly, I understood what drove our customers and how to give them the best riding experience possible.
I took my ideas to the CEO and founder of the company Martin Krueger, but he didn't give a shit.
"Do you have any idea how expensive it would be to start manufacturing this motorcycle? We would have to sell a hundred thousand to make a profit," Krueger had said, crossing his mushy arms over his fat belly. His balding head was always beaded perspiration, and his skin was a shade too pink, like an angry little piggy.