Services Collected Boxed Set, page 1
Copyright © 2015 Nikki Steele
Published by NightVision Publishing
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the Author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book uses the American spelling of most common words.
Edition 1.0.8
contents
Services Collected is an Erotic Romance. It contains strong, explicit, smoking hot sex scenes. It collects books 1-5 (the complete series) of the Servicing the Billionaire short erotic romance series.
1. Services Rendered
2. Services Purchased
3. Services Received
4. Services Bought
5. Services Earned
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Further Reading
Thank you for purchasing this book! Sign up for my newsletter for exclusive previews, competitions and free books!
BOOK 1:
SERVICES
RENDERED
‘Not every problem could be solved with money – except it seemed that mine could. How far was I willing to go?’
Sexy, curvaceous Anna Watson is desperate, but when a potential employer tries to sleep with her, she realizes there are some things she just won’t do for money.
She is rescued by handsome billionaire Jake King, who witnesses the exchange and offers her a job. But as passion makes the lines between work and love start to blur, Anna must ask herself – is she in it for the money, or for love?
CHAPTER ONE
I stood and slapped the son-of-a-bitch, hard, across his face. “Get out.”
Hand went to bright red cheek. “Do you know who I am?”
We were in one of the city’s finest restaurants. Only six tables; all small and intimate. Hell of a place to take a woman for a ‘job interview’. How could I be so naïve?
“A sexist pig,” I said, furious. “I came here for the job interview; you came here for something else entirely.”
He laughed, openly, in my face. “You want to be a stripper, right? You did apply? Well fat little whores like you need to learn what it takes to get into the industry!”
I burst into tears, causing the occupants of several tables to turn in our direction. “Just get out,” I whispered. I pointed at the door, finger quivering, teeth gritted.
He stood swiftly, throwing his napkin on the ground. “At the very least, you should have sucked me off. That might have bought you liposuction.”
Then he stalked towards the door. “She’ll get it,” he smirked when a waiter offered him the bill. “She obviously doesn’t need the money bad enough.”
* * *
How could I have been so naïve?
If I was honest with myself, I’d known on some level what was going to happen today. I’d thought that exotic dancing would be a solution to all my problems, and then when I’d interviewed and that leech had said we needed to discuss my ‘qualifications’ further over lunch, I’d thought, well, this might be my way out. I needed money, desperately. Without it I’d lose the house, the car, everything. Morals were for people who could afford it, right?
It was only when he’d started whispering dirty things to me that I’d questioned myself. It was only when he’d ordered me to get under the table to ‘enjoy my dessert’ that I’d realized I couldn’t do it. Not now, not ever.
The prospect made me both relieved, and want to cry all over again. Even in the darkest depths of my despair, it seemed I had a wealth of morals. Unfortunately, the darkest depths of those morals were keeping me from wealth.
The waiter approached and I wiped my eyes, preparing to play the old ‘what do you mean it got declined?’ game. I fished a well-used credit card from my purse and handed it to him, eyes down.
He coughed and I looked up at him slowly.
“Your dinner has been taken care of ma-am.”
“How-” Confusion turned to fury. “You can tell that slime bag I don’t want his money!”
The waiter shook his head, then motioned to a handsome older gentleman sitting at a table nearby. He looked out of place wearing jeans, glasses and an old t-shirt in a restaurant this fancy, but no less attractive for it.
I stood immediately, approaching his table. “I can’t take your money.”
“Please – I insist.” He frowned. “I wish nothing in return, if that is your worry.”
I shook my head. “Why would you do something like that?”
He ran a hand through his hair, then motioned that I was welcome to sit down. “Can I be honest with you?”
I nodded.
“I noticed you the moment you walked into this restaurant. You are unique. And beautiful.”
A shiver ran through me and I stared at this man; this dark, handsome man who I didn’t even know. The old shirt and faded jeans failed to hide an impressive physique. His eyes were the most intense, startling shade of green.
I opened my mouth to say that men like him never said things like that to women like me, but he held up the hand that had previously run through his hair. “Please, hear me out. I won’t lie – the way you hold yourself, your physique… you’re breathtaking. That alone is worth the price of the dinner.”
He held up a second hand as I opened my mouth to protest again. “Like I said, hear me out. You’re beautiful, and I won’t lie and say I’m not attracted. But I also have to admit that I assumed you were just like all the others. When that pig of a man started speaking… well, everyone has their price. Everyone is in it for the money.”
He blew out a breath. “But when you said no? Well, I was impressed!” He shrugged. “I guess in some small way this was how I wanted to show it.”
I sighed, wishing I could believe his words, standing up even as my heart cursed me for the motion. Here was a man, a kind, generous, heart stoppingly handsome man, who had just said he liked me, and I was about to walk away.
But the only thing I had left was pride. I wouldn’t lose that too. “Thank you for dinner, I’ll see you get the money refunded from the waiter.”
He looked up at me, removing his glasses, spearing me with those eyes. “Miss… I’m sorry, can I ask your name?”
“Anna Watson.”
“Miss Watson, I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s obvious you can’t afford to pay for your meal.” He held up his hands again. “I mean it as a compliment. You don’t seem the type of girl that would even entertain the notion of working as an exotic dancer unless you had no other options. You can’t afford to pay me back, and I wouldn’t let you.”
My shoulders squared. “If you knew me, you’d realize that I also don’t take charity.”
The stranger laughed – a surprising, pleasing sound. “I apologize. Morals and feisty! Such a rare combination. Miss Watson…”
“Call me Anna.”
“Anna. I have more money than I know what to do with. What I don’t have, it seems, is a date. You’re free to leave at any time, but if you must insist on paying your way, why don’t you pay through your company? Sit with me and have a glass of wine.”
I remained standing, but my curiosity was piqued. “Do you make a habit of dining alone?”
He shrugged, nonplussed. “It’s rare I find people worth dining with.”
For some reason the statement annoyed me. “Maybe it’s because you dress like a college student in a five star restaurant.” The words were out before I could stop them, a product of an irrational need to claw some sort of power back from the male population as a whole.
“I’m so sorry,” I said immediately. “I didn’t mean that.”
He raised an eyebrow, then he burst out laughing again. “Feisty indeed! Methinks I need to get a suit!”
Then he gestured to the chair once more. “Miss Watson, Anna, I mean it when I say you intrigue me. It’s been a long time since someone has stood up to me. I find it… refreshing. Please, sit down. Then we could call this a date, and I would be within my rights as a man to pay your way.”
He looked at me with those intense green eyes and my heart started beating so loud I thought the whole restaurant would hear. Yes, it wanted to say. I deserve good things.
“I don’t even know your name,” I said quickly.
“Where are my manners.” He stood and bowed, then took my hand in his. “Jacob King, at your service.” He kissed my knuckles just like a knight might a fair maiden’s. I almost swooned. So charming, this Jacob King…
Wait. Something about that name was familiar. Jacob King… Suddenly it hit me. “The Jake King?”
He laughed, embarrassed. “Yes.”
“Jake King the millionaire? The one that just broke up with that singer?”
“Don’t believe everything you read in the tabloids.”
My heart took a tiny little dive from where it had been soaring way up high. “You didn’t break up with her?”
He shook his head “I did. But what I meant was, it hasn’t been millionaire since I started my third company.”
CHAPTER TWO
An hour later and we were on our third glass of wine, with no sign of slowing. I’d sat down in shock when he’d told me his name; he had assumed that meant agreement, and a bottle of something very expensive had appeared on the table before I could state differently.
The wine was good – better, infact than anything I’d had before. But it was the conversation that was keeping me from leaving. This ma n – his views were so interesting! Money to him was nothing. What must it be like to need never work again? To know that your net worth was more than a small country?
As soon as he’d heard of my predicament, told grudgingly and with much coaxing, the man had offered to write me a check. Seriously, he’d pulled it out right then and there! I’d flat out refused to take it, threatening to walk away if he so much as put pen to paper. Not every problem could be solved with money! Except, it seemed mine could.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it. I was willing to work for money. I’d even been willing to take my clothes off and dance for it. But I was too proud to accept it without work, or to cross that unwritten line and sell that most private part of me either. Life would have been so much simpler if I could.
“So you refused to sleep with that man for money,” Jacob said suddenly.
I almost snorted my wine back into very fancy crystal ware. “He was a dirtbag.”
“I agree, and I applaud you for it. He wouldn’t have treated you well.”
“I thought… well desperation makes you think crazy things.” I laughed nervously, trying to lighten the conversation. “Not that I think I’d be any good.”
His eyes never left mine. “Oh, I think you would.”
I blushed.
“You’re beautiful, you do know that right?”
Was it possible to turn any more scarlet? No-one had ever said that to me before.
He reached for my face, then seemed to think better of it. “Miss Watson, I apologize. I’ve embarrassed you, that wasn’t my intention. I like you, and I’d like to help you with your financial situation. If you won’t take my money, perhaps you would be willing to, ah, work for it?”
My mouth went dry. What did this man want of me? More importantly, what would I be prepared to do?
He reached over to touch my hand and a jolt of electricity surged through me. I sucked in a breath. He was… unexpected. And magnificent – handsome, sexy, wealthy. More than I could ever have wanted. More than I deserved.
I pushed the thought away – there was a connection, I knew it. It didn’t have to be about the money – I’d be with him regardless. It was what I’d hoped my first lunch date would be like – not about the money. But it was about the money. And he was being just like my first date.
I shook my head firmly, conscience taking over even as the desire within me screamed traitor. “If I like someone, things can go somewhere. But I can’t be bought.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” I said. Why did I have to say that? Why did I have to ruin it? I sighed, resigned to the fact that my wonderful, brief, fantasy romance was over, and moved to stand up.
Jacob snared me with his eyes once again. “Glad to hear it,” he said. I sat back down in surprise. He said it like I’d passed some kind of test!
I looked at him, confused. “Did I just do something right?”
“More than you could ever imagine, Anna. I’m surrounded by people day in and day out that only want me for my money. You’re a breath of fresh air in a closed room, a line of oxygen to a drowning man.”
He steepled his fingers. “I’ve made it no secret that I think you’re gorgeous. So I won’t lie – if you had answered differently you would have bought yourself a night of passion you’d never forget. It would have been about one thing only – and after that day, we would have never seen each other again.”
“But that wasn’t my proposal. Work for me. One week – that’s all I ask. Since you won’t accept my charity, or my purchase, I offer you the chance to pay off your debts the old fashioned way. Not as good for you, I think, but much better for me – it means I would have seven days to try and convince you, through my actions, that I deserve a second date.”
I sat, stunned. What was happening here? My mouth opened and closed several times before my brain could kick into gear long enough to form the first words that came to mind. “What… what would I do?”
Jacob laughed, a sound that brightened the room. “Actually, I think you’re going to like it. Your first job will be to help me pick out a suit!”
CHAPTER THREE
“How do I look?”
Oh my. I stood frozen, unable to say a word. Jacob King was standing before me looking… so much more.
We were in one of the most exclusive tailors in the city, and Jacob had hired the entire shop just for us. He’d spent the first 10 minutes getting measured to within an inch of his life, then the next 10 tapping his foot as an old man with a tape around his neck pulled a selection of suits off various racks. The old man had laid them out before us, then muttered to himself and selected crisp white linen shirts and handmade, patent leather shoes to go beside each one. Now we were alone, with instructions to call the tailor back for final fittings once “sir” had tried them all on.
Jacob had been standing before a curtained off change room – no more than a circular rod suspended from the ceiling with velvet drapes – but strode quickly towards an old full length mirror on an adjustable stand when I didn’t answer.
“I don’t like it. I don’t like suits. This was stupid,” he said, looking in the mirror. Then he swiveled towards me, seeking my opinion despite the outburst. “What do you think?”
It’s so hot. I wanted to say. More so because it feels like you’re doing it just for me.
It was irrational, I knew. He needed a suit and I happened to be playing the role of shopping assistant while he did it. But still. Those green eyes connected with mine and he smiled – smiled! – at me as if my approval was the only thing he needed in the world.
“It’s perfect,” I said instead.
“So you like it?”
I swallowed. “Yes. Very much.”
His expression softened. “Good. I’ll take it then. That was easier than I thought – I don’t know why I resisted all these years.”
This man was so mercurial! How could he go from hating it to loving it so quickly? Was it because of me?
“Hold on,” I stuttered. “You can’t be done yet. It’s the first one you tried on.”
“Also the most expensive. So it can’t get any better, right?”
“Well, I still think you should try on the others.”
“Do you think I need to?”
I used his question as an excuse to openly stare at the man. Barely visible dark woven lines bulked Jacob out in all the right places – shoulders and chest – before tapering down to two buttons at the waist and pants that slid down his legs in sleek, straight lines that got me all curly. The shirt underneath was crisp and blindingly white, with a firm collar that sat popped up at the back like James Dean – or maybe Tom Cruise in Risky Business, before the crazy. God he looked hot.
I approached, smoothing down his collar. “No, actually it really is perfect. But you’re not done yet.”
“Really?” The voice was beside my ear and I shivered. It was full of suggestion.
I stepped back before I lost control. “Really,” I swallowed. “Now… now we need a tie, cufflinks, belt and handkerchief.”
His eyes refocused. “Not what was I hoping for,” he muttered. Then louder: “A belt maybe. But not that other stuff. Too constricting.”
“Not into bondage?” I teased.
He laughed. “Maybe with the right person.” His eyes met mine, and I had to look away.
What was this connection between us? I fought down an irrational urge to launch myself at him. No. Must stay strong. This was business, not pleasure. I was not the sort of girl who took money from someone, then had sex. I’d proven that twice today already. Third time’s the charm, I thought rebelliously.
I took a deep breath, ostensibly to clear my head, even as my subconscious noted the way it made my chest tighten against my dress. His eyes went round, and I had to fight to keep a satisfied smile from my face. Oops.
“Back to the task at hand, Mr. King.”
His eyes dragged reluctantly back to my face. “I don’t often wear suits,” he said simply. “And I’ve never worn a tie.”
