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  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Buy Me

  ~Book 4 of the Billionaires Club~

  © 2017

  By Cassandra Dee

  Want to hear about my newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join my mailing list at http://eepurl.com/cgt2DD and get a FREE BOOK unavailable elsewhere!

  © 2017 Cassandra Dee

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all products of the author's imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters are represented as 18 or over.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Buy Me

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  Ruthless

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  RELATED BOOKS

  DEDICATION

  For all the little girls with big dreams.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Abby

  “Come on Abby,” said my friend Jennelle. “Loosen up.”

  I stood outside the club, shivering on the sidewalk in my thin jacket. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to party, but there was a niggling sense of doubt. The place itself was just a black box with no windows, totally normal for this type of venue. But something nagged inside.

  “I’m not sure,” I hedged, biting my lip. “I mean, maybe we should come back another time. It’s okay, no rush.”

  Jennelle huffed impatiently, tossing blonde hair over one shoulder.

  “Come on!” she wheedled. “Come on! I don’t want to do this alone, and besides, it’s not like we have that much more time. Finals start soon, and then there’s break and I won’t see you for a month. Come on Abby, it’ll be fun!” she said, grabbing my wrist.

  And before I knew it, Jennelle was knocking on the door, striking a sassy pose. A slot in the metal opened, scraping rustily, and a suspicious eye peered out at us. Heck, this was so old school, I thought these places had hidden cameras now to scope out any guests. But no, this was Russian mafia-style and a big brown eye literally peered at us suspiciously before a metal grating rang out once more.

  And whaddya know, but the big door swung open and a dude stood there, imposing, dressed all in black. He was about the size of a bear, with the same fierce expression, and all sorts of weird bumps and lumps under his jacket. Was he armed? I swear there was the butt of a gun peeking out from under that bomber.

  But Jennelle wasn’t intimidated, or if she was, my friend hid it well.

  “Hi!” she said cheerily. “We’re here for the Club.”

  The guy looked back at her unimpressed despite her flirtatious glances and simpering giggles. That was a shock. Most guys are drawn to Jennelle like moths to a flame, they circle around her long blonde hair and thin body mindlessly, drawn to those feminine assets.

  But this guy was different. Instead, he looked down at her through squinty eyes.

  “Which club?” he said carelessly, chewing a huge wad of something.

  “Which club?” Jennelle parroted vaguely, trying to peer around him, craning her neck. “You know. The Club,” she said winking again. I stood as still as possible, mortified. Maybe if I made no sounds and no movement, no one would notice me, and even better, I could pretend I wasn’t here.

  But the bouncer wasn’t impressed.

  “Naw, no one gets in without knowing the club,” he said vaguely, face shuttered. “Scram babycakes,” he grunted, one hand already swinging that massive steel door shut in our face.

  But Jennelle didn’t get to be sassy, tenacious Jennelle by giving up. Before we were pushed out of the way, she stuck out a stiletto, the heel shockingly strong despite its narrowness, and managed to block the door, hands out, supplicating.

  “Wait,” she said breathlessly. “We’re willing to pay to get in,” she said like that was a massive concession.

  The guard didn’t even reply, his mind already elsewhere and the door continued to swing shut.

  “Wait, wait!” squealed Jennelle again. “We’ll work for it, like I said, we’ll work for it!”

  This was the part that I dreaded. Because Jennelle had briefed me on our potential “work” earlier during the night, and I wanted no part of it. But how could I resist my best friend? Especially when she was being her most persuasive self.

  “Oh you,” Jennelle had pooh-poohed, leaning forward to put on mascara, opening her eyes wide and staring into the mirror, nose almost touching her reflection. “Seriously Abby, you’re so uptight. It’s no big deal,” she said carelessly.

  I sat on the bed, trying to pull my skirt down lower, unsure and fidgety.

  “No seriously, what kind of place is this? We’re gonna get matched with guys? I don’t get it,” I bit my lip nervously.

  And my blonde friend turned to me exasperated, hands on her hips.

  “Abs,” she said firmly. “This place is the rockingest venue, there’s no name for it even,” she stated. “And we can’t afford the cover, it’s something like three hundred bucks.”

  I nodded.

  “That’s it exactly,” I said slowly. “They’re trying to keep out riffraff like us, so they charge a really high cover. It’s no problem, maybe after this summer,” I said hesitantly. “Maybe after this summer and we’ve finished our internships, we’ll have saved enough to get in?”

  But Jennelle couldn’t be persuaded, and turned back to the vanity, fluffing out her hair, applying another coat of lip gloss.

  “I don’t know who you’re referring to as riffraff, but it’s not me,” she said haughtily, blue eyes blazing as she stared at herself in the mirror, determined. “I’m going, no matter what,” she said with her mouth pulled into a straight line. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want.”

  And hopelessly, I sighed, picking up my purse. I couldn’t let Jennelle go alone, we’ve been best buddies for ages, and her parents would kill me if I let their daughter wander off to some random
club on her own. So giving in, I collected my jacket.

  “Okay, okay,” I said soothingly. “I’ll go too, but seriously, if this place seems even the least bit freaky, I’m outta there,” I warned. “I’m not into weird stuff.”

  And Jennelle was all smiles again, struggling into her own jacket. I had to laugh. My friend’s dress was so small it wasn’t much more than a tiny tube of cloth, and that jacket didn’t do much to hide anything, it was a mere scrap across her shoulders, emphasizing how tiny and bony the girl was. But my friend was all sunshine and happiness now.

  “It’ll be fine,” she said, grabbing her keys. “It’ll be totally fine, you’ll see. Besides, it’s almost like they’re doing us a favor. They’ll match us with guys and all we have to do is make conversation. Don’t you want to meet some hot guys?” she threw me a sassy grin. “College sucks, this is our chance to branch out.”

  And I nodded. Jennelle was right. It’s not that the guys at Hudson University were so terrible, they were just blah. Despite the fact that I’d been out on a couple dates, there was no one that I wanted to see again. I dunno, the boys at school were so immature and juvenile, a lot of them with raging acne and gangly limbs, still growing into their bodies. I shouldn’t judge, I know, but I guess eighteen year-old guys aren’t my thing despite the fact that I’m the same age.

  So I nodded. Although there were reservations deep in my chest, Jennelle was right, this was a chance to get away. But I still wanted to do some more vetting because this “matching” thing just sounded sketch to me. Sure, I’ve heard of clubs that have paid companions, pretty ladies who sit with male guests and make conversation, pumping up their egos. But still, wasn’t that pathetic? Wasn’t it pathetic to crave female conversation to the point where you’d pay for it? Plus there was just a weirdness factor about the whole thing,

  “This isn’t a Japanese club, is it?” I asked suspiciously. “You know they have places like this all over in Japan.” As an Asian Studies major, I’d heard of outfits in Tokyo who were staffed with “paid companions,” and evidently it was the norm there. After a long day of work, Japanese salary men would converge on a bar, married and single alike, and get drinks together with attentive ladies looking on. Supposedly there wasn’t anything weird about it, it was totally commonplace, a workplace tradition that their wives and girlfriends were totally aware of. And allegedly there was nothing but talk, the girls were nothing but platonic companions, hired for their good looks and witty personalities. But still it seemed bizarre, more like an exotic, far-flung custom from thousands of miles away rather than something that’d happen right here in NYC.

  But Jennelle tossed her hair again

  “Of course not, we don’t speak Japanese,” she scolded. “Do I look like an Asian Studies major? Do I look like I’m into school at all?” she asked with a breezy air, shaking out her curls. “This is just a regular club with some ‘extras.’ You’ll like it, come on,” she urged. And with that we were out the door.

  But now that we were standing before the bouncer, about to be pushed out, my reservations came roaring back.

  “Come on Jennelle,” I said, grabbing her arm. “Let’s go, we’ll find another place. My treat,” I added hurriedly, hoping to tempt her. “I’ll pay for the drinks.”

  But that only set my friend off.

  “You’ll do no such thing!” she declared, jaw set, face determined. “You’ll do no such thing,” she said, shaking off my arm. “Listen,” my friend said, turning back to the bouncer. “Like I said, we’ll work for it. We’ll do your matching, we’ll do the pairing, we’ll talk to guys if that’s what the club’s looking for. So come on! Let us in.”

  And something flipped in the man’s face, or more likely, a voice went off in the earpiece he was wearing. Because he stopped shutting the door, and instead, pulled it open once again, pausing as if listening.

  “Fine,” he grunted. “This way,” he said, pointing to a velvet curtain.

  And I goggled. What the hell? What was with the switcharoo? But more likely what had happened was that he was supposed to turn away randoms, but Jennelle was too cute. The invisible eyes took one look at those big blue eyes and tiny dress, and we were in. So it probably didn’t matter anyways, once again, my friend had gotten by on her good looks, dragging me along for the ride.

  And Jennelle wasn’t losing an instant.

  “Thanks,” she said breezily, striding through the velvet. “Let’s go Abby, it’s time to party.”

  Reluctantly, I tottered in after her. It was so dark inside that I couldn’t see anything at first, eyes adjusting. But slowly, the gloom came into focus and I realized we were looking at bushes. Yep, big bushes shrouded the interior and I turned to my friend once again.

  “Um, is this an indoor garden or something?” I asked. “I didn’t know we were here to look at plants.”

  But magically, a woman appeared, hair swept into a tight bun dressed in a black cocktail dress, looking very competent and business-like.

  “Welcome,” she said smoothly, “I understand you’re the new girls.”

  Before I could say anything, Jennelle piped up.

  “That’s right, that’s us,” she chirped. “I’m Jennelle and this is my bud Abby.”

  I gaped, mouth opening and closing silently. What had happened to our fake names? My friend was supposed to be Candy tonight, and I was supposed to be Barbie. What the hell, she’d just given away our real names, and I groaned internally, shaking my head. If we’d gotten off to a bad start, then this was only making it worse. I’d never be able to live this down if word got out.

  But it was too late because the woman nodded, writing something on her clipboard.

  “Well you’re just in time,” she said, “because we have some guests waiting. Let me take you to your first assignment.”

  She turned, both of us trailing in her wake. But before I took two steps, the woman in black spun back to look at me.

  “I’m sorry, this is for your friend only,” she said smoothly. “Only the blonde.”

  I stopped, gaping. What? We were supposed to stick together, this nightmare was only getting worse. It was one thing to be matched with guys, it was another to be separated from the only person I knew in this place. My warning bells went from ringing mildly to a five-alarm fire, going off in my head like siren’s wail.

  “Um no,” I said quickly. “I’ll go too, I can meet the same guy.”

  And Jennelle for once, agreed.

  “Two for the price of one!” she piped up. “It’s his lucky day!”

  But the woman shook her head again, expression cold.

  “I’m sorry, only one customer per companion,” she said. “You’ll have to stay here,” she said again, looking at me pointedly.

  I’m not one to be cowed easily, but her expression was so sharp and definitive that I faltered.

  “Um okay?” I asked hesitantly. “You won’t be long, will you?” I asked my friend, pleading a little.

  And for the first time all night, Jennelle looked a little hesitant. I could tell this was spiraling out of the blonde’s comfort zone as well, throwing her into the deep end. We’d counted on being placed as one, there was so much comfort in having a buddy with you, we’d be okay if we stuck together. But now, we were being separated and it was like getting doused with ice water, the reality of the situation hitting us full in the face.

  “I guess so,” she said slowly, trying to smile. “I won’t be long, will I?” she asked the woman in black.

  But our handler was vague.

  “Every client is different,” she said smoothly. “Every customer has different needs.”

  And that just made the alarm bells go off even louder in my head. Needs? Clients? Customers? These were words that had connotations of something darker, tinged with desire and the illicit. Suddenly, it didn’t sound so platonic anymore, the situation didn’t sound like it was limited to snacks and drinks with a random guy.

  But there was nothing we c
ould do. We were already inside, the door clanking shut behind us, the darkness overwhelming. I guess we could have turned and tried to bolt, to fight our way back to the sidewalk, but it seemed impossible. There was the bouncer, looming and large, and even more, the icy glare from this woman was just so scary. I thought I was a feisty, take-charge type of girl, but clearly, there was confident, and then there was downright intimidating.

  So nodding hesitantly, Jennelle turned bright eyes to me.

  “Okay, well bye for now,” she said, trying to sound cheery, giving me a small wave. “I’ll catch up with you once all this is over, okay Abs?”

  I nodded dumbly, my throat stuck. Holy hell, what was happening to us? Suddenly this whole thing seemed like the delusional adventures of two teen girls who had no idea what they were doing. Because in a matter of minutes we’d gone from sassy and confident to completely overwhelmed, out of our depths, paddling with sharks. But it was too late, so I just tried to look confident and positive.

  “Sure,” I replied, trying to keep the waver from my voice. “See you soon.”

  And with that, my friend and the woman disappeared around the row of bushes and I was left on my own in the narrow hallway. What the hell, what the hell. I stood there, stock still for a moment, cold as ice. The corridor was so dim, and all I could see was a purple wall along one side, and then those damn bushes. It was like my friend had been led into a maze, a labyrinth from which escape seemed unsure. It was scary, downright frightening, and I bit my lip, unsure again.

  But suddenly, another middle-aged woman materialized, this one also with a tight, painful looking bun and a black cocktail dress, her expression just as smooth, just as robotic. What the hell, were these ladies clones? Or was it actually the same woman, save for a few tweaks here and there? I stared hard in the dim light, trying to make a decision, but it was no use. Between her stiff expression and the heavy make-up, I just couldn’t tell. They could have been sisters, twins, clones or maybe even totally different people. It was that hard to tell, given her robotic look.