Average Billionaire Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  What's this book about?

  Copyright

  Squad Goals

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  Who's this bitch?

  Average Billionaire

  By Dakota Rebel

  Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  www.supernovaindie.com

  Powered by Your Imagination

  Average Billionaire

  by

  Dakota Rebel

  Maddie –

  So, there I was, minding my own business, when the sexiest man I’ve ever seen comes walking out of the apartment next to mine. I mean, I live in a dump. What is a guy like that doing in a place like this? And why does he wait for me every morning now? And why do I look forward to it so much?

  When innocent flirting in the hallway turns into an actual date, I’m ecstatic…except, he’s hiding something. How do I know? Because he told me he is. That can’t be a good sign, can it? He promises it’s nothing bad. Crap, that’s something a serial killer would say, isn’t it? I hope he’s not a serial killer.

  Boone –

  When I took this bet with my brother, I thought it would be super easy. Pretend not to be a billionaire for a month. It was no big deal…until I met Maddie.

  She knows I’m hiding something, but if I can just hold her off for a little while longer, could I win the bet and get the girl?

  Copyright

  © 2019, Dakota Rebel

  Average Billionaire

  Published by: Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

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  Chapter One

  ~ Boone Davis ~

  When my brother, Brock, bet me that I couldn’t go a month living like an average guy, I thought I had it in the bag. I mean, I didn’t start out rich or anything. We’d both grown up middle class, with working parents. I’d had a job since I was thirteen years old.

  I’d built my company, Davis Holdings, from the ground up, working eighteen to twenty-hour days to turn my dream into a multi-billion-dollar media company.

  Surely, going back to living as I did ten years ago wouldn’t be that hard I thought.

  I was way fucking wrong.

  The terms of the bet were simple. If I could live on fifty-thousand dollars a year, about $800 a week after taxes, he’d agree to do the talk show I’d been pitching him for six months. If I lost, he’d get unlimited use of my private jet, and I’d sign over the deed to my vacation home in Hawaii.

  Brock had played quarterback for Cincinnati, and when he retired last season, everyone and their mother were trying to get him to come commentate games. But I knew he had more potential. I wanted to give him an hour a day to talk about guy stuff on network television. It seemed to me that all daytime talk shows were geared toward women. Which made sense kind of, since statistically more women stayed home during the day then men.

  But we had an untapped audience that I knew would make a fortune if we could just put the right face on it. And my brother’s handsome mug was definitely that face.

  For me, the bet was a no-brainer. Just live for a month the way the majority of Americans lived, and I’d make another mint in the process.

  What I hadn’t kept my finger on, was the pulse of inflation. When we were kids, fifty grand a year was comfortable. Now, people barely scraped by on it.

  I’d found an apartment in a crappy part of Detroit, but it was trying to gentrify. There were shops and food trucks and traffic all day. It wasn’t dangerous, it was just sort of rundown.

  The place itself was serviceable. It needed a lot of work, and from what the realtor told me, the landlord wasn’t up to taking care of any of it. The water never seemed to get fully hot, the carpet needed to be replaced and the paint was peeling.

  But the furnace worked and it had good lighting and it came furnished, which was great because I wasn’t about to fully move an apartment full of furniture in just to move it back a month from now.

  And then there was her. Madison Taylor. The sexiest woman on the entire planet was renting the apartment next to mine, and she was driving me insane.

  Every morning I’d walk out into the hall at six-fifteen…just as she happened to be headed for the elevator. After two weeks of bumping into each other, I waited by her door now until she came out.

  We’d ride down together, and I’d walk her to her car, waiting until she left before getting into my Audi R8, since I didn’t want to have to explain why I drove a car that cost about 15 years-worth of what we were paying in rent.

  I still went to work every day, though since I’d met her, I wasn’t able to concentrate on anything.

  No one would ever have accused me of being a caveman, but my God, I wanted to drag her back to my real home, marry her, give her the world and about a dozen babies. Which was a lot considering I’d never even slept with a woman before.

  Maddie stirred something in me that I’d kind of assumed was broken. We’d been raised to work hard, by two loving and committed parents. But dating never held any interest for me. I wanted to build things. Wealth. A media conglomerate. A workforce that was happy and proud to be part of my team. Women always seemed like a distraction.

  Like Maddie. Damn it, this was going to be tough. How was I going to woo a woman when I had nothing to fall back on but myself? If I could flash the car, the money, the company…then maybe I’d have a shot.

  Of course, I got the feeling from her that she might not actually be that into material stuff. Fuck, what if I told her who I really was and she bailed?

  Okay, slow down there hotshot. I hadn’t even asked her out yet, and I was already freaking out about her leaving me.

  Shit. I had it so bad for this girl.

  Chapter Two

  ~ Madison Taylor ~

  Boone.

  What the hell kind of name is Boone anyway? A stupid name. A stupid name for a stupid guy with a stupid chiseled jaw and stupid blue eyes and a stupid tight ass…

  Fuck. I’d been ass over tea kettle since the first time I’d bumped into him in the hallway. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t concentrate. His name just kind of echoed around in my head all day. Boone. Boone. Boone. Ugh.

  He wasn’t that cute.

  Okay, fuck it, yes he was. He was drop dead gorgeous actually. All hard muscles and five o’clock shadow. And those hands. Not that I thought about them on my body or anything. Tangled in my hair. Running up my back. Over my-

  “No!”

  “Maddie? Are you okay?”

  Damn it. Had I said that out loud?

  “Yeah, Tonya. Sorry. Just got lost in thought for a second.” I blew out a sigh then turned around to look at my cube mate. I worked for a small, local credit union in the collections department and I hated it. But it was a steady paycheck and I liked my coworkers.

  “Must be some thought,” she teased. “Your cheeks are all pink. Could this b
e about a guy?”

  “No.” I met her gaze and shrugged. “Yes.”

  “Spill it,” she insisted, closing her laptop and giving me her undivided attention. You’ve worked here for six months and I’ve never heard you talk about a guy before.”

  “There’s never been a guy before,” I admitted. “And there’s really not a guy now. I got a new neighbor and he’s kinda cute. That’s all.”

  “That’s all?” Tonya stared at me. “You’re sitting here talking to yourself. There’s no way that’s all.”

  “He’s cute, okay? I really don’t know much about him. He walks me to my car every morning and we make small talk. Coffee and weather. Just light stuff. He’s probably just being polite.” God, what if he was just being nice? After almost three weeks of what I thought was flirting, shouldn’t he have made a move by now? What if I was crushing on a guy that was actually just treating me like a kid sister?

  Not that he was that much older than me…I was pretty sure, anyway. We hadn’t gotten as far as ages or professions.

  “But you don’t want him to just be polite?” Tonya pressed.

  “I don’t know him,” I said firmly. “I wouldn’t be against getting to know him better, I guess.”

  “Well, it’s Friday. It’s four o’clock. Why don’t you cut out early? Go treat yourself to something nice and ambush him. Get him to take you to dinner. Get to know him. Maybe a lot better.” She waggled her eyebrows at me suggestively.

  “Tonya!” I felt my cheeks heat again.

  “Get out of here. We’re done.” She made a shooing motion at me. “I want dirt Monday morning, though.”

  I rolled my eyes but gathered my stuff and got ready to go.

  “You sure you don’t mind?” I clarified, already headed toward the exit.

  “Nope,” she assured me. “Have fun.”

  I decided to take at least part of her advice to heart. It was payday, and I wanted sushi. So, after parking my car in the apartment garage, I walked over to the local bodega and was thrilled to find my favorite sampler on ice. I snagged two of them, and a bottle of wine, then got in line.

  It took me a minute to realize that Boone was standing in front of me. Actually, until I heard him telling the cashier that he didn’t have enough cash, I hadn’t recognized him.

  “I’m sorry,” Boone said, digging in his pockets. “I’m a little short.”

  “I’ve got you,” I said, pulling out my wallet. “What do you need.”

  He turned and his eyes widened.

  “No,” he said. “It’s fine, I’ll just put something back.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I insisted. “We’re neighbors.”

  “Four dollars,” the cashier told me.

  I handed her a five and accepted the dollar in change.

  “Well, thank you,” Boone said, nodding at me.

  He waited for me to check out, then we walked out of the store together. Silence stretched between us as we headed down the block to the apartment. It was awkward, but I didn’t know what to say. He seemed kind of embarrassed about the money thing, which was ridiculous, but I didn’t think it was appropriate to call him on it.

  “I’d offer you a penny for your thoughts,” he said sheepishly. “But I’m a little short.”

  I laughed. It was a good ice breaker.

  “I’m just thinking about getting back to the apartment and devouring this sushi,” I said. Which was partly true. I was thinking about that, but I really wanted to invite him over.

  “I got sushi, too,” he said. “What a coincidence.”

  We reached the building and he buzzed us in, holding the door for me before latching it behind us. We rode up to the third floor together, then walked down the hall, our arms bumping.

  “Do you want to come over?” I blurted out. “I mean, if you don’t have plans. I bought this wine and I really shouldn’t drink it all by myself.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled and I think the whole hallway brightened. “That would be really nice.”

  I pulled out my keys and opened the door, ushering him inside. He stood to the side, waiting for me to flip on the lights. When I did, I glanced around quickly, making sure I hadn’t left a mess.

  Thankfully the place was pretty tidy, so I motioned to the small kitchen table, dropping my bags on it as I headed into the kitchen for a corkscrew.

  “So, Boone,” I said, coming back with two glasses and the opener. “What do you do?”

  “Oh,” he took the corkscrew and opened the wine for me. “I’m in finance.” He poured out two large glasses and handed one to me. “Nothing interesting, anyway. What about you?”

  We sat across from each other, pulling out our containers and setting up our various dips and sauces while we talked.

  “I’m a collections agent for a bank.” I felt my nose wrinkle at the disdain in my tone and shrugged. “It’s a job.”

  Silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was kind of nice to be sharing a meal with someone. I’d gotten so used to spending every night alone, that having another heartbeat in the apartment was comforting.

  “Thank you for dinner,” he said, holding up his glass in a small salute. “I can’t believe I forgot to take out cash this week.”

  “It’s no problem,” I assured him. “That’s what neighbors are for. Sugar, flour, eggs, sushi.” I smiled at him. “Whatever you need.”

  “We should do this again,” he said. “I like having dinner with you.”

  “I like it, too,” I admitted. “How about tomorrow?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’re having a barbecue in the courtyard tomorrow. Just a little tenant party. You should come.”

  “So, you’re inviting me somewhere I’m already invited to?” he asked, his tone teasing.

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “I’m a helper.”

  Why did he make me so awkward? He was just a guy. A devastatingly handsome guy. But still…just a man.

  Suddenly a thought occurred to me. Was this a date? Was tomorrow a date? If dates with handsome neighbors were going to be popping up out of nowhere like this, I was going to need to be prepared. I should be wearing better underwear. Not that he would be seeing it tonight. Or tomorrow night. But I’d feel better knowing I wasn’t wearing cotton briefs with bad elastic at the waist.

  “Yes,” he said, interrupting my ridiculous inner thoughts. “I would love to come to the barbecue with you. It’s a date.”

  Shit. Does Amazon Prime next day air panties?

  Chapter Three

  ~Boone~

  I woke up Saturday morning still absolutely mortified that Maddie had paid for my groceries. This living like an average person thing was harder than I’d thought it would be. How the hell do people live without buying Starbucks four times a day?

  Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling and thought about our date. At least, I was pretty sure it had been a date. We ate dinner together. There was wine and conversation. I’d lied to her. Sounded like a date to me.

  And today, we’d be meeting at the tenant’s barbecue. Another meal together. Therefore, another date.

  I couldn’t believe how much I already liked her. The more time we spent together, the harder it was going to be to keep up this charade. I’d called Brock before I went to bed to ask him if telling people the truth would break the deal, and he’d assured me it would.

  How the hell would he even know if I told her, though? I mean, I guess if I marry her, she might let something slip one day and I’d be out the house in Hawaii. I was pretty sure she’d love that house, and I didn’t want to give it up.

  God, was I really thinking about marrying this girl already? We’d had one date. Was I insane?

  Maybe.

  But since the first day we’d met in the hallway, my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night were about her. I couldn’t function all day, wondering what she was doing. Wondering if she was thinking about me, too.

>   She’d gotten under my skin in a way that no other woman ever had. Sitting with her at her tiny kitchen table, eating party store sushi and drinking a four-dollar bottle of wine, I knew I was going to fall in love with her. In fact, I was pretty sure I already had.

  She was just so…normal. Normal job, normal apartment, normal car, normal life. It made me want to sweep her off her feet and give her the world. But how was I going to explain to her that I actually could?

  I rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting it run, praying for hot water. But no such luck. I was three weeks into tepid showers and I was fucking sick of it. Something had to be done about this place.

  ****

  “And if he doesn’t fix those stairs soon, somebody’s going to fall and break their neck.”

  I was sitting with a small group of guys around the fire pit, listening to them complain about all of the issues they were having with the apartment complex.

  “So, what does the landlord say when you talk to him about it?” I asked Craig, who seemed to be the ringleader of the group.

  “Nothing. We haven’t been able to get ahold of him in months. I’ve left messages, but he doesn’t return our calls. I’ve even sent letters in with the rent check, but there’s been no response at all.”

  “But the checks are being cashed, I assume?” I asked. They all looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “What?”

  “I haven’t actually checked,” Craig admitted.

  “You don’t look at your bank statements?” I asked incredulously.

  “Well, when you know you’ve got four dollars left at the end of every month, it’s pretty easy to keep track of,” Maddie said, sitting next to me on the arm of my chair.

  Everyone laughed, but a knot formed in my stomach. Maybe I really had forgotten what it was like to be average. I knew my bank balance too, and it had a lot more zeroes than theirs did. But I still watched it like a hawk. I knew every expenditure and when it cleared. I was absolutely stunned to hear that these people didn’t take basic finance principals into account.