Billion Dollar Bear: BBW Paranormal Billionaire Romance (Bad Boy Alphas)
Read Billion Dollar Bear: BBW Paranormal Billionaire Romance (Bad Boy Alphas) Online
Authors: Catherine Vale
Catherine Vale
Billion Dollar Bear
A BBW Dragon Paranormal Shifter Romance
Copyright © 2016, Catherine Vale
Published by Wild Hearts Press
Website:
http://www.CatherineVale.com
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This is a work of fiction. All names,
characters, locations, brands, incidents, and places are either the product of
the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author
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Table of Contents
Going on a date was the absolutely
last
thing Jericho wanted to do right now.
Grimacing,
he adjusted the cufflinks on his deep red shirt. Emerson, his
second-in-command, had informed him that red was Ravena’s favorite color, and
had insisted he wear it in order to impress the she-bear. He glanced up at the
full-length mirror in his bedroom and winced – he looked like some kind
of wannabe Casanova, with his brown hair cut short, and the red shirt tucked
neatly into a pair of slacks that were a little tighter than the ones he
normally wore.
All I need is a corsage, and I’ll look
like a complete idiot.
He turned to find a matching jacket lay
across the back of a nearby chair, waiting for him to slip it on – and as
predicted, a corsage lay on a nearby table, waiting to be pinned.
Of course.
This was definitely not his style, both
in the type of clothing, and in his caring about impressing a woman with what
he was wearing. He was impressive enough on his own. He was young, successful,
and the alpha of a prosperous clan.
What more could the she-bear possibly
want?
“Jericho?
You almost ready in there? You’re going to be late…”
Jericho
bit back a growl at the sound of Emerson’s voice. He’d thrown his second-in-command
out of the room in order to get ready, but he knew the bear was waiting just
outside the door, anxious to get him out of the door, and one step closer to
being mated to a woman the clan felt would be a perfect match.
And by perfect match, they simply meant royal
were-bears line, and family history. It had nothing to do with chemistry,
attraction, or interest between him and this woman. He knew it was his
responsibility to mate with someone that the clan would be comfortable with,
whether he liked her or not, but damn, he hoped they could at least learn to
like one another.
“Give me a
minute,” Jericho bit out, picking the jacket up off the chair and shrugging it
over his shoulders. Buttoning it up, he muttered curses under his breath,
wondering why on earth he’d allowed Emerson to choose the outfit in the first
place. For God’s sake, he was the clan alpha – surely he was allowed to
decide what to wear on any occasion, even one as important as this? He should
toss the entire outfit aside, and choose a more sensible set from the myriad of
suits and shirts lining his expansive closet.
With a
sigh, he reached for the corsage, and pinned it in place, knowing he couldn’t
do that to Emerson. What he wore, and how he acted tonight didn’t just
represent what Emerson wanted, but the best interests of the clan as a whole.
He needed to mate with a strong she-bear in order to solidify the clan’s
position, and it was well past time that he did so. Emerson was simply trying
to make sure the courtship went as smoothly as possible, and he couldn’t fault
his friend for looking out for the clan – and for Jericho.
Still, the
idea of mating himself to a she-bear he hardly knew made his skin crawl.
Oh come on
, a hopeful voice said
encouragingly in his head.
Maybe you’ll actually like her.
Jericho chuckled
at himself. He wasn’t exactly going to hold out hope for that. He’d met Ravena
a handful of times while negotiating with the Kamchatka clan, and she’d struck
him as cold and as cunning as her father, alpha Sergei Hastings.
It could
all be an act. You know, keep up appearances in front of the clan. Maybe she’s
really warm, and softhearted underneath that tough exterior.
“Jericho! We
really have to get going.”
Growling, Jericho
stalked to the smoke-grey double doors and flung them open, letting Emerson
into the room. “Does this work for you?” he said tightly, flinging out his arms
as though he was expecting to get patted down.
Arching a
blonde brow, Emerson scanned him from head to toe with a critical eye. “Not
bad,” he admitted with a grin, his pale green eyes gleaming in approval. He
stepped forward to adjust the corsage, and then frowned as his gaze dropped
down. “Where’s your family ring?”
“I don’t
want – ”
Emerson
raised a brow, and crossed his burly arms over his chest. He was dressed in a
simple dark suit and tie, much like the kind of thing Jericho would have
preferred to wear, but the suit did nothing to hide the massive strength and
power in his body. He looked much more like a bodyguard than a chauffeur, the
role he was intending to play tonight. And Jericho had no doubt that if he were
anyone other than alpha, Emerson would be using those muscles to wrestle the
family ring onto his finger.
“Fine.” Cursing, Jericho stalked over to
his closet. Flipping the light on, he moved to the back of the closet and,
after some rummaging, retrieved the black velvet box where the heavy gold
signet ring lay. The sole symbol was a bear fang-shaped ruby set in a circle of
gold – symbolic of the Moon Bay clan, founded by his great-grandfather, over
a hundred years ago in Italy.
The ring had then been passed down to him
by his father, and was a constant reminder of his father’s death. He avoided it
at all costs, not because he missed his father so much, but because it brought
back a thousand memories of sleepless nights when he was awoken to the sound of
his parents arguing, his father always seeming to be angry at one thing or
another. Perhaps it was the stress of being alpha that caused him to lash out
at his family, but Jericho could not forget, nor could he forgive, even after
his death.
Resisting the urge to toss the ring
against the wall, he reluctantly slid it onto his ring finger, then returned to
Emerson and held it out.
Emerson nodded, sadly. “Yeah, I know.” His
eyes gleamed with approval and respect, which told Jericho that Emerson knew
the emotional sacrifice he was making, and appreciated it. “Now let’s get going
before we really are late.”
* * *
Jericho took a deep breath as Emerson
pulled up alongside the three-story red-brick Lake View mansion the Hastings’s
called home. He’d never actually been to Sergei’s residence before, and was
surprised the man had chosen such a warm looking dwelling to call home. The
warm glow of lamps spilled out from the mullioned-windows, highlighting the
reddish-brown bricks that made up the structure, and calling attention to the
two chimney stacks that ran up the façade of the house on either side, jutting
out past the slate roof. It was the home of a family man, not a ruthless
chieftain with a taste for blood.
But then,
he supposed Sergei might think of himself as a family man. After all, he had a
mate and several children of his own. A fact that likely made the alpha think
himself a few steps above Jericho.
Gritting
his teeth, Jericho opened the passenger side door. “Don’t forget the flowers,” Emerson
chuckled quietly, and Jericho growled in response, as he reached behind to
snatch the bouquet of blood-red roses – apparently, another favorite of Ravena’s
– before exiting the vehicle. Once on the street, and in sight of whoever
might be watching from the windows, he smoothed the ire from his expression and
approached the door, leaving Emerson waiting beside the car.
Holding
the flowers as a sort of shield in front of him, he pressed the doorbell, his
sensitive ears picking up on the bell-like ‘gong’ that reverberated throughout
the inside of the house – a sound which he found quite ostentatious.
The door
opened to reveal one of Sergei’s bears, a brown-haired, muscular man wearing a
butler’s uniform. His blue eyes were frosty, but his thin lips curved into a
polite smile as he regarded Jericho. “Welcome to the Hastings household, Mr. Knight.
Please, come in and allow me to call Ravena down for you.” A hint of a Russian
accent flowed through his words.
“Thank you.”
Biting back a sigh, Jericho stepped into the foyer, already tired of the pomp
and ceremony. He would bet money that Ravena was quite aware of his presence
already, but he allowed the butler to see to his duty and fetch his date. While
he waited, he scanned the foyer, once again marveling at the old-world décor
that Sergei had chosen.
A beautiful chandelier hung from the ceiling,
illuminating the dark wood paneling the walls and casting a shadow on the rich,
emerald green carpet beneath his feet. A large mahogany table that supported an
ornate floral arrangement, clearly meant to draw the eye, and discourage ocular
wandering to the rooms beyond, dominated the center of the foyer. A coat rack
stood to his left, and a gleaming mahogany table to his right, no doubt where
guests could leave their purses and bags, and other belongings during social
gatherings.
He
wondered what kind of social gatherings a man like Sergei might host. Then
again, it was probably only Ravena who entertained that kind of company –
ever the socialite.
The creak
of footsteps at the top of the stairs beyond caught his attention, followed by
the faint scent of some kind of expensive French perfume, mixed with Ravena’s
own darkly feminine scent. He imagined the combination was deeply seductive to
most men, and felt the requisite stirring in his loins.
After all,
he was a man. Or at least part of him was.
The first
glimpse of Ravena was that of a long, toned leg and gleaming red heel that, for
a moment, had him wondering just how short her dress was. But as she took
another step, a swathe of silky red appeared, briefly covering the leg until
she took another step with it, and he realized there was simply a slit in the
dress.
Swish,
swish, swish.
She glided down the stairs with deliberate grace and panache,
revealing the rest of her body in a lengthy manner that made his beast stir
within. Gradually, the sweetheart-shaped bodice of the red satin dress
appeared, exposing a generous amount of cleavage, followed by a swan-like neck
draped in a ruby choker. The elegant bones of her face finally appeared –
a face most would consider stunning, but that was just a little too sharp-edged
for his liking.
“Jericho,”
she purred with a familiarity that unsettled him once she alighted the stairs,
the butler close behind. She inclined her head, the mass of blonde curls piled
atop her head in an elaborate up-do gleaming in the light cast by the
chandelier.
“Ms. Hastings,”
he said softly, inclining his head respectfully.
“Please,”
she laughed, a tinkling sound that sounded like crystal glasses clinking
together. “Call me Ravena.”
“You got
it, Ravena...” He said it as though he were tasting her name on his lips, and was
about to offer his arm so he could usher her out the door, when he remembered
the roses in his hands. “For you,” he said, forcing a smile as he handed them
over. “So I hear you love roses?”
“Oh, yes, how
lovely. What girl doesn’t?” Her eyes gleamed, not exactly with pleasure, but
rather a kind of triumph, as though she’d won some kind of small victory. His
back stiffened, and he forced himself to relax as he watched her bury her
perfectly straight nose into the flowers. “Thank you so much.” She handed them
off to the butler so he could put them in a vase of water.
“Are you ready to go?” Jericho asked her
with measured patience.
“I am,” Ravena replied, a gleam in her
eye as she surveyed her date from head to toe. He helped Ravena
into her coat, then offered her his arm and led her down the steps to the
waiting car. Emerson greeted her, holding the door open as they made their way
into the vehicle before he returned to the driver’s seat.
As they drove off, Jericho saw the
non-descript sedan that had been parked a few cars away slide effortlessly into
traffic behind him –
Ravena’s bodyguards
. And as Ravena already
began to sidle up to him in the confines of the car, he knew this was going to
be a very, very long night.