Shelter With A Billionaire

Michael Russo's eyes flew open as fingers trailed down his chest, sending shivers down his spine. But his pleasure quickly turned to shock when the fingers wrapped around his privates.

"Mon Dieu, you're a lively one in the morning," a sexy female voice purred. 

Mike's vision became clearer, and to his disappointment, a red-haired woman grinned at him. If only she were Christine. 

"Who...what the?" Mike stuttered, trying to sit up, but Andrea St. Jean's grip held him in place.

"Russo. Don't play coy. You invited me to your bed, after all." Her French accent dripped with seduction.

Mike's mind raced as he tried to remember what happened. He bumped into Andrea, flirted, and they ended up in his private suite at the hotel.

"Uh, I think we might have gotten carried away," Mike stammered, trying to distance himself from her grasp.

Andrea pouted, releasing him. "Spoilsport. I was hoping to persuade you to dinner tonight...before I leave for Paris...to rejoin my husband."

Mike's eyes widened in horror. "You're married?!"

Just then, Mike's trusted assistant, Hunter Grant, burst into the room; his composition shifted to surprise. "Oh, shit!" Hunter exclaimed, quickly backing out of the room.

Andrea and Mike flew out of bed. She wore her dress and ran out, but not before sending him an air kiss. Mike watched her go, still in shock, before turning to Hunter, who stood in the doorway, trying to hide a grin.

"Isn't she married?" Hunter asked.

Mike's voice dropped to a low growl. "Shut up, and you didn't see anything, got it?"

"Whatever," Hunter shrugged. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

God, I hope she was on the pill. Mike thought to himself as he shut his eyes. He'd been carried away by her charms not to notice the damn ring. Or did she take it off last night? 

"The quarterly meeting scheduled for today, Mike, everyone's waiting." Hunter reminded him. 

Right. Mike was the owner of The Royale Hotel, a

Restaurant and Spa; one of the classiest hotels in Seattle. Politicians, billionaires, even the president had stayed there. Mike was a billionaire tycoon, and he earned every penny of his fortune. 

"Ah, shit. Send extra coffee and keep them distracted; I'll be there in fifteen minutes." He ordered Hunter.

Mike quickly freshened up and took the elevator to the boardroom.

"Sorry everyone," Mike apologized as he walked into the boardroom. Eight pairs of eyes looked at him. "I was…distracted."

Someone murmured. "Looks like someone has a Parisian hangover."

Low chuckles rose around the room. Mike shot the head of the kitchen department, Oliver Wayne, a warning glance.

Mike cleared his throat and sat behind his chair. "Silence. Let's get this show on the road."

Hunter began his presentation.

"Here's my Kayla on her first bike ride," Oliver muttered as he held up his phone in front of Mike. Kayla posed with a bike.

"And you feel the need to distract me, because?" Mike glared at the man. He hated distractions and needed a clear head to run his business. 

Oliver pressed his lips together and leaned back on his seat. "Uh, never mind."

Mike felt a headache as he listened to Hunter and blurted. "Just skip to the conclusion!"

Hunter cleared his throat. "We lost 20% of our bookings than the last quarter."

Mike widened his eyes in shock. Losing money was not part of his plan. "Unacceptable," he said, looking at the marketing head. "Increase our marketing, both on television and social media." 

"Listen, Mike," Brooke, the marketing expert, began. "The world is changing; everyone wants to join a fad; cheap AirBnB is taking over the hospitality industry so much that our customers are folks from the last two decades. If we want to draw in the young ones, we need something more than social media."

Mike was filled with annoyance; the hotel had been his family legacy since the founders laid claim to the city. I couldn't lose it.

"Let's not forget the huge scandal with Gina Corrales." Hunter spoke, making Mike shut his eyes. How was he to know that he'd been sleeping with an engaged woman?

After the meeting, Mike moved to the window overlooking the hotel grounds. He'd never fully gotten over Christine, the love of his life. He did all he could to win her back, but nothing worked. Dating without strings was his way of coping.

"I think I may have a solution," Brooke stepped up to his side and held up a tablet screen to his face. Mike grunted with disbelief watching the footage of the fire outbreak. His hand went for his pocket on impulse to call Christine, but he had left the phone in his room. 

Brooke's smile seemed to hold a hint of calculation. "Gen Z's love a good romance tale."

Mike lifted a hand, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. If I have to help, it'll be because I want to."

"Oh, stop with the white knight attitude, Michael," Brooke poked his chest. "Picture this; a viral documentary, we could partner with an influencer to show how 'bad boy' Mike Russo helped support the foster kids community."

Mike scoffed with disbelief. "My personal life is no one's business."

Brooke giggled, causing Mike to lift a brow. "Tell that to Vanity Fair, The Seattle Times, and several others you've appeared in." 

Mike shut his eyes; no one ever got to the top without taking risks. "Fine, I understand what you're proposing, and you're right, I need to make amends. But I have a say in whatever this influencer shows to the public."

Brooke nodded. "Of course. You're the boss."

* * * * * * * *

The next morning, Mike's heart pounded against his chest as he waited for Christine in his office. Hunter had contacted her to meet up with him, and surprisingly, she agreed. 

A knock on his office door drew him from his thoughts. "Come in," he said while looking out the window. 

"Mike," Christine said softly.

Mike turned around to see her standing in a maroon suit, holding a briefcase, her eyes filled with hurt and exhaustion. He took a step forward. 

Longing swept over Mike, and he moved to draw Christine into his arms, his lips fiercely claiming hers.