Claiming Her As a Daddy Read online

  Claiming Her As A Daddy

  The Claiming Her Series

  Cassandra Dee

  Sarah May

  Copyright © 2019 by Cassandra Dee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  For all the girls who love their Daddies

  About This Book

  Ava’s hired to be a hostess at an exclusive club on a private island, far from the rest of the world. She thinks she’s there to serve a group of handsome, demanding billionaires, but what happens when playboy Carver Temple catches her in an extremely compromising situation?

  * * *

  Carver’s got everything at his fingertips, from fast cars and beautiful women, to boatloads of money and a life filled with utter hedonism. He’s bored out of his mind, but a visit to Billionaires Island changes all that when he meets the sassy, feisty Ava. Because Carver and his friends have set up a contest, and he’s going to make sure he wins by any means necessary… even if it means putting a baby in Ava’s belly!

  * * *

  Ever wanted to indulge in a fantastically taboo fantasy? Then here’s your chance! The billionaires have dreamed up a competition that will rock your world, this time in a secluded island paradise. Let go of your inhibitions and get ready for a rip-roarin’ good time! As always, bring ice so you don’t overheat. Xoxo, Cassie

  Contents

  1. Ava

  2. Ava

  3. Carver

  4. Ava

  5. Ava

  6. Carver

  7. Ava

  8. Carver

  9. Ava

  10. Carver

  11. Ava

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Pregnant By the CEO

  Sneak Peek: It’s A Deal

  About This Book

  Prologue

  About the Author

  1

  Ava

  Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m finally here, at Maruba. It seemed a little weird when Charity handed me the plane ticket yesterday. She’d interviewed me just the week before for a hostess position at a private club, so I’d assumed I’d be staying local in New York.

  “What is this?” I asked yesterday, staring dumbly at the white piece of paper.

  “It’s a plane ticket, what else?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Haven’t you been on a plane before?”

  I stare at the ticket in my hand.

  “Yes, but I’ve never heard of Elite Air. Is that a branch of United Airlines, or American? I know they sometimes brand their puddle-jumpers differently. Or is this a budget airline that’s new?”

  Charity snorted, wrinkling her nose.

  “Hardly. Sweetheart, get a clue. This is the opposite of a budget airline – it’s a private flight that caters to the wealthy and powerful.”

  I was still confused.

  “I’m sorry? Private how? In what way?”

  Now the middle-aged woman had had it. She rolled her eyes and blew her bangs out of her face with an exasperated puff of air.

  “It’s private in that it’s not commercial, silly. When you were interviewing for this job, did you really think your bosses were going to fly commercial? Please, Ava. Get some common sense. I thought you were better than that.”

  My mouth snapped shut at her admonishment. Of course, Charity was right. During the job interview, she’d told me that I’d be catering to rich people in a secluded setting, but I figured it meant I’d be working at an exclusive bar or club somewhere in New York City. By contrast, now I was being handed a plane ticket for a destination called Maruba.

  “But where is Maruba?” I asked, still squinting at the paper. “It sounds like a tropical island.”

  Charity sniffed.

  “Because it is a tropical island, dummy. Maruba is a paradise owned by your employers because they don’t want to associate with “regular” people. You think the Four Seasons or the W is going to cut it for these folks? Or the British Virgin Islands or St. Bart’s? Hell no, sweetheart. These people are fabulously wealthy, and everything with them is shih-shih and totally exclusive. And you’re the one who’s going to make sure their every need is catered to.”

  I nodded. That wasn’t a surprise to me. I was hired to be a hostess after all.

  “Okay, no problem. So I should to be at the airport tomorrow morning, 6 a.m. sharp, right? I guess I should pack khaki shorts and polos? Sandals? Flip flops? Sunscreen?”

  Charity rolled her eyes again.

  “No, Ava. You really are clueless sometimes, you know that? You’re not a guest, so you won’t need to bring that stuff. Your employers will provide all the clothing needed. Just bring some undergarments, and that’ll be fine.”

  I made a face.

  “Not even a swimsuit?” I asked, feeling disappointed. If we were going to be on a tropical island, I was hoping that I’d at least have some time to myself for a dip in the ocean. Of course, I’d be working, but everyone gets days off, right?

  Charity rolled her eyes again.

  “Fine, bring a swimsuit,” she sniffed. “But remember, your employers can be very particular, so don’t be surprised by their requests.”

  I could live with that. I’ve learned over the years that rich people can be eccentric, if not downright strange. But no matter. I just wanted some time off to enjoy the balmy island setting and hot tropical sun. After all, all work and no play makes Ava a very boring girl, and I wanted to spice up my life a bit.

  But now I’m at the airport, or more accurately, the private airplane hangar at the Teterboro Airport in New Jersey, and my jaw drops almost to the floor.

  “So this is it,” I say to myself, marveling at the sleek white plane waiting on the cement surface. It was smaller than your usual commercial jetliner and much thinner too, kind of like a white tube that flies through the skies. The words “Elite Air” were emblazoned on the side in elegant script and my eyes grew wide at the red carpet leading up the stairs.

  “Is this really for me?” I asked.

  A cheery voice sounded from behind me.

  “Nope, it’s for us,” it said. I whirled around to see a curvy girl with long brown ringlets and rosy-red cheeks. “Hi, I’m Amelia,” she greeted, sticking her hand out. “Are you here for the trip to a private island?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah, I just got hired.”

  “Me too,” said Amelia. “And I can’t wait to par-tay now!”

  I giggled despite myself.

  “But wait, I thought we were going to work,” I said, confused. “I was hired to be a hostess. How about you?”

  “Same,” she nodded with a grin. “Did you interview with Charity?”

  “Yep,” I said. “But honestly, Charity didn’t tell me much. She said that our employer is quote-unquote ‘very private’ and that he would require quote-unquote ‘the utmost discretion.” Do you know what any of that means?”

  Amelia shrugged.

  “Your guess is as good as mine. But if you ask me, all rich people are like that. They always think that the world wants to know about them, when actually, no one’s interested. It’s the Kim Kardashian effect,” she said with another roll of the eyes. “They think being wealthy automatically me
ans you’re going to be in the spotlight too, but honestly, how interesting are rich people? Not at all, if you ask me.”

  I nodded.

  “I guess so. I just wish we knew more. I mean, Charity had me sign a confidentiality agreement, so I don’t understand the need for all this secrecy.”

  Amelia shrugged.

  “Yeah I signed one too. I think we all had to, in order to get this job. But who knows?” she asks rhetorically. “All I know is that all expenses are paid, and that I really need the money. So I’m down with whatever.”

  I nodded. The truth is that I really need the money too. I graduated from college with a degree in Sociology, and I wish someone had told me when I was picking a major that Soc wasn’t going to pay well. I guess I sort of knew that when I selected my focus, but still, I didn’t know the job market was going to be that bad. I must have applied to at least five hundred jobs after graduation, and gotten five hundred rejection letters as a result. The papers are currently buried beneath my mattress, and sleeping on them was a constant reminder that I was a professional failure of sorts.

  So now, I have tens of thousands of dollars in student loans. It’s crazy, right? I’m twenty-five, and saddled with an enormous mountain of debt. The last couple years, I’ve been working as a waitress to try and pay down some of the burden, but the fact is that I can only afford to pay the interest on my loans. Most of the principal is still there, and at the rate I’m going, I’ll be paying these loans for the next fifty years. Heck, I’ll be sitting in a retirement home and still making checks out to Sallie Mae.

  That’s where this job comes in. Even though it’s just a temporary gig, I’m getting paid thirty thousand dollars for three months of work. Isn’t that crazy? I made thirty thousand at my old waitressing job in a year. The minute Charity made me the offer, I took it. Hopefully, this opportunity will give me a chance to put some money towards my loans, and maybe even provide some breathing room so that I can contemplate next steps.

  Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted.

  “Hey girls,” hissed a sibilant female voice. Amelia and I turned. There were three other girls on the tarmac, all of them blonde and slim, and looking eerily similar. Was this a re-play of Heathers? Why did they all have their hair done in side ponytails, while also wearing matching t-shirts and denim miniskirts? Not to mention, the blank look in their eyes. I was a little creeped out.

  “Hey,” says Amelia in a bright tone. “Are you guys headed to Maruba too? Are you also hostesses?”

  “We are indeed,” says Barbie One, smiling to show her perfectly square, white teeth. “My name’s Candy, and these are my sisters Mandy and Tandy. We’re identical triplets.”

  I nodded. I knew it wasn’t my vision. These girls looked eerily alike, and now I knew why.

  “So nice to meet you Mandy, Tandy and Candy,” I say with a friendly smile. “My name’s Ava,” I add, holding out my hand for a shake. “I guess we’ll all be working at Maruba together.”

  But the three sisters merely look at my hand as if it’s diseased and covered with SARS.

  “We don’t shake,” says Tandy.

  “No thanks,” adds Mandy with a sniff, flicking her long blonde ponytail over one shoulder. “It’s not our thing.”

  Candy smiles again, her red lips parting.

  “Sorry, we’re very sensitive to germs and such,” she says with a fake-apologetic laugh. “But let’s go!” she adds vivaciously, while eyeing the private jet. “I can’t wait to get to Maruba because it’s going to be so much F-U-N. I love billionaires.”

  As the three of them prance up the red carpet to the plane, Amelia and I share a puzzled look. Did that really just happen? Are we going to be stranded with these three blonde zombies on a private island? And who are the billionaires she alluded to?

  Shrugging at one another, Amelia and I hoist our bags over our shoulders and ascend the ladder to the waiting flight. Maruba, here we come. I try to appear cheerful but inside, I was beginning to have doubts. Thirty thousand for three months of work is a lot, but why were they paying us so much? Suddenly, a stone formed in my stomach and with a sinking feeling of dread, I buckled myself into the waiting seat.

  2

  Ava

  The flight itself was okay. There were only five passengers on the plane: the zombie Barbies, myself and Amelia. Amelia and I tried to make small talk with Candy, Mandy, and Tandy, but it was difficult because they were so bizarre. I wasn’t sure if what they were saying was the truth, or the product of fantasy.

  “So have you heard anything about our employers?” I attempted during the flight. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

  Mandy shot me a pointed look.

  “We’re working for the Billionaires Club,” she said haughtily.

  “Shh! You weren’t supposed to tell them that!” admonished Tandy.

  Mandy merely shrugged.

  “We all signed confidentiality agreements, so what is there to worry about? Besides, we’re going to arrive soon, so why does it matter?”

  Candy stepped in then.

  “Shut up, both of you. Yes, Ava. We’ll be working for the Billionaires Club, if you haven’t heard.”

  I exchanged another puzzled glance with Amelia, who merely shrugged like she knew nothing. This was getting weirder and weirder.

  “Um, excuse me? The Billionaires Club? What is that?” I asked.

  The triplets shared a glance and then Candy spoke again.

  “It’s an exclusive all-male club of billionaires. Didn’t you know? Can’t you tell from the name?”

  I sputtered a bit. No, I could not tell from the name because maybe there were some female billionaires in the club.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to keep my patience. “The woman who hired me didn’t tell me anything. How did you hear of the Billionaires Club? How do you become a member even?”

  Tandy rolled her eyes again.

  “By being a billionaire of course. It’s the only way to be invited to join. But what I heard,” she said, lowering her voice, “is that the island is an escape for them. The men bring girls here to play with, if you get what I mean.”

  I stared at her.

  “Um no. I don’t get what you mean.”

  She tittered a bit, elbowing her sisters.

  “Well, they’re billionaires silly, so they can do whatever they want. And what they wanted was a private island in order to indulge in utter debauchery.”

  “What?” I said, sitting bolt upright in my seat. “What do you mean, ‘utter debauchery’? I was hired to be a hostess. I don’t know what you were hired to do.”

  “Who knows?” shrugged Candy with a sly smile at her sisters. “All I heard is that it can be really fun.”

  With that, the blonde turned away and began prattling on about some stupid reality show with her zombie sisters. Meanwhile, I turned to Amelia.

  “Do you know what this is about?” I asked, feeling worried.

  She looked back at me, eyes wide.

  “No sirree,” she said. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Fuck. We were stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere, in a place that was supposed to be a tropical paradise. There would be men waiting there, wanting us to do … what, exactly? Parade about in bikinis? To the tune of thirty thousand dollars, that didn’t sound so bad. Especially since that’s more than a lot of exotic dancers make in a year.

  But now, I had an unsettled feeling. How was this going to play out? Was I going to regret taking this job? Hopefully, my name wasn’t going to land in the papers as some unfortunate girl who was kidnapped and murdered while traveling overseas.

  As a result, after landing, I was relieved to step outside of the plane to sunny skies, palm trees and a sweltering breeze. The wind was like a humid layer on my skin, making the ninety-degree air feel even hotter. We grabbed our things and de-boarded, and were greeted by who else other than Charity on the tarmac.

  “Hi ladies,” she said, nodding at all of us.
Charity was dressed in baggy white, breezy linens, and her blonde hair whipped about her face. “First things first. Let’s get you girls settled and then fed.”

  That sounded good to me. There had been some warm nuts on the flight, but nothing like an actual meal. My stomach rumbles and I look down ruefully. Sometimes, it seems like I’m always hungry, which is probably why I’m a curvy girl. After all, all foods sound delicious to me. A lot of people don’t like weird or exotic dishes from foreign countries, but I’m not like that. Chicken feet? Bring it on. Ostrich? I’ll take it. Funny-smelling fruit cooked in lamb’s milk? It’s all about trying new things.

  As a result, I’m a little round here and there. But that’s okay because I’m comfortable with who I am. Ava Carmichael is sassy and proud and not afraid to strut her stuff even in the tiniest of swimsuits.

  After a short walk, we were shown to a dorm to unpack. It was a modest-size building with a long hallway running down the middle, with a bunch of doors leading into single rooms. My room was spartan with a bed, desk, dresser and closet, although it was also bright white and extremely clean. I plunked my small suitcase on the mattress and started to unpack.

  “You good, girlie girl?” asks Amelia, poking her head inside. “We have dinner in an hour or so. You want me to come get you then?”

  I nod, smiling. Amelia and I had rooms right across from one another, whereas fortunately, the zombie triplets were way down the hall. Who occupied the rooms in between us, I have no idea.