Billionaire's Bunny (XOXO: Spring Love 2020 Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  The Billionaire’s Bunny

  Copyright

  Thank You!

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books by Brynn Paulin

  The Billionaire’s Bunny

  The Calamity Janes

  By Brynn Paulin

  Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  www.supernovaindie.com

  Powered by Your Imagination

  The Billionaire’s Bunny

  by

  Brynn Paulin

  A college emergency means I need a 2nd job or I’m not graduating. Thankfully, the temp agency thinks I’m perfect for a position they’ve had on file.

  I mean...I can’t sing, but how difficult can it be to deliver Bunny Grams? Singing is the least of my problems when I go to my first delivery. I can’t even speak after seeing the mouthwatering man before me. Not only that, but Embry Fitzgerald, billionaire genius extraordinaire, decrees today is my last day on this job.

  Well, what am I supposed to do now? Lucky for me (or maybe not), Embry has plenty of ideas, and they all include me and him. I have a feeling I’m about to fall down a rabbit hole I probably won’t escape.

  Copyright

  © 2020, Brynn Paulin

  Billionaire’s Bunny

  Cover Art by Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  Electronic Format ISBN: 978-1-62344-352-8

  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.

  Thank You!

  Thank you for your purchase of Billionaire’s Bunny.

  I hope you enjoy the story and will consider leaving a review or telling a friend about the book.

  I love hearing from readers! To keep in touch and follow my news, please visit me on my website at www.brynnpaulin.com.

  Dedication

  For my #Loonies, you know who you are.

  Chapter One

  ~ Paige Wright ~

  “You’re kidding me,” I said. Standing in the middle of the university’s financial office, I grabbed for a counter as the room seemed to sway around me. This couldn’t be happening. I was supposed to graduate in less than two months, and they’d suddenly found a discrepancy in my account—a several thousand dollar discrepancy. Unless it was paid off, I wouldn’t be graduating.

  “No, I’m sorry,” the student clerk said, flipping a hank of mahogany hair behind her shoulder before she slid the damning letter back at me. I was breathing hard, and my vision was starting to blur. This was not happening. Realizing I’d hyperventilate and pass out if I didn’t get a grip, I tried to slow my respiration.

  I’d figure this out. That’s what Paige Wright did. She figured things out. Hadn’t I been doing that for as long as I could remember. No food in the house and Mom gone. Figured it out. Evicted and lost most of my stuff. Figured it out. Needed records from half a dozen schools so I could graduate on time. Figured it out. And a million other things over the years.

  “Is there someone I can speak to?” I asked.

  “Sorry,” she wasn’t sorry, “but none of the advisors are in right now. I can schedule an appointment.”

  “Please,” I said, pulling out the demeanor that would serve me well when I started working for the EFG Fashions as a design assistant in June. The job was a coup. But no diploma; no job.

  “I can get you in with Mr. Gregory on the twenty-fourth.”

  I stared at her. “That’s three weeks away. This matter really can’t wait that long.”

  “Seems like if it already waited this long, it can wait until then.”

  Fuck you, bitchzilla.

  I leaned toward her. “This was the university’s mistake, not mine. Don’t treat me as if I’m a deadbeat trying to get away with something. I need something sooner than three damn weeks from now.”

  Not my finest moment.

  Her lips pursed, her eyes narrowed, and she cocked her head. “It’s all there is. Take it or leave it.”

  “Fine. Book it,” I growled through my teeth. It was either be angry or start crying.

  Paige Wright did not cry.

  When had crying ever solved a problem?

  Never.

  Not for me. The last time I’d shed tears was when I was eight and we’d been evicted and I’d lost all my things. Everything. That was the day I’d toughened up and made sure I would never be a victim. And here I was, about to have it happen again.

  What the hell was I going to do? I didn’t have anything I could sell, except maybe a kidney or two. Or my virginity. I guess I could auction it off. Not like I planned to ever have a man. Nope. I was starting my job, traveling the world and clawing my way to creative director in some firm. I would never be poor and vulnerable again.

  But where would one find an auction anyway?

  Yeah, that probably wouldn’t happen. The idea made me shudder anyhow. Leaving the office, I stopped at the bulletin board where jobs were posted. This time of the year, there wasn’t much. I wondered what I could take on to work around my classes, studying and the barista job I already worked five days a week.

  The board was mostly bare, save for leftover staples and tacks. A sad commentary on my life at the moment. My eyes gravitated toward the right side where a lone sheet of pink paper ruffled slightly in the air from an overhead vent.

  You Can Deliver Bunny Grams

  Bunnies wanted!

  Paid per delivery, plus tips.

  Will work around schedules.

  I made a face. How desperate was I?

  Pretty darn desperate. I tore off the single remaining tab with the business’ phone number. If I had to wear a Playboy-Bunny-type outfit for this gig, I was so out.

  Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I had just been considering selling a kidney or auctioning my virginity. Some skimpy outfit, that wasn’t actually that skimpy by today’s standards, wouldn’t be a deal breaker.

  * * * *

  In the parking lot to the strip mall, I stood beside my car and took deep breaths. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I’d spent the afternoon squeezing every spare cent from my budget and decided I’d have to live on a liquid diet of free lattes from my coffeeshop job. Even so, I still didn’t have enough to pay the college bill.

  So I’d dialed the number. Susan the woman who’d answered at Messages Managed seemed nice enough. She’d asked me to come right in. I’d been relieved when she’d given the address. The shop was located in one of the business complexes near my school. In fact, I occasionally shopped at the secondhand boutique two doors down. Everything in the little mall looked shiny and new and nothing appeared seedy or sketchy.

  I blew out a harsh breath. Just do it, Paige. You know the hardest part is taking the first step.

  Well, that and fear of the unknown.

  I glanced down at my clothes. I probably should have changed before coming here. Deep down, I knew my attire was the su
bconscious out I’d given myself. If they didn’t like what I was wearing, they wouldn’t hire me. Then…oh well, I’d start searching for how to sell that kidney.

  With more confidence than I felt, I strode toward the glass door. My first thought when I pulled open the door was pink. Everything was so pink. And there were hearts all over the back wall in some sort of collage of love.

  “Paige?” a platinum haired woman asked from a glass-topped desk on the right side of the room. I blinked at her, nodding. She looked like a cross between Kat Von D, a young Pamela Anderson and a sexy librarian.

  “Yes,” I managed.

  “I’m Susan. Aren’t you just the cutest?” she said with her hands folded before her. I shifted, wondering if she was serious? I mean, I had a wholesome Marsha Brady look, usually, with my blonde hair and blue eyes. As much as I’d had to fight for my place in the world, I also knew I wasn’t very worldly. Or maybe she liked my long-sleeved, yellow T-shirt that was cropped to show an inch of my belly over my jeans that had embroidered flowers down the legs.

  “Thanks?” I said.

  She smiled gently. “Can you sing?”

  “No…” I said regretfully, shaking my head.

  “You know what a singing telegram is, right? It’s people who sing messages to clients.”

  “It said Bunny Gram. I didn’t know what was required. I thought I’d have to say a cute poem or something…”

  I trailed off as Susan shook her head.

  “I’ll just go…”

  “No,” she said, surprising me. She held up a hand. “Maybe, we can work this out. One of my girls just quit because she was up and moving to France or something. Most of my other telegrammers are guys. They don’t do Bunny Grams. This time of year, the ladies are busy, busy little bunnies.” She chuckled at her joke, and I forced a smile.

  “And what does someone delivering a Bunny Gram do?”

  “Well, usually, they sing. We have cute little songs for clients to choose from. You hop on in with your little basket, sing the message, hand off the basket then go. Everything’s very PG and silly. Usually, they’re delivered in a public place for maximum blush value for the recipient.”

  That seemed more as if the person delivering the telegram—er, Bunny Gram—would be the one embarrassed.

  “Most of my staff are theater majors, so this is right up their alley. Do you attend the university?”

  “Yes. I’m a, um, graphic design major with a minor is fashion merchandising.”

  Susan made a cute little squinchy face. “So not really up your alley? Well, think of it this way… You have to perform when you’re in front of a boardroom presenting your ideas. This actually is good experience for that.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Oh, I know so. I was business, too.” She threw her arms wide. “And look at me now. Thriving singing telegram business. So,” she clapped her hands, “let’s have you fill out an ap. We’ll go through all that red tape and hopefully get you onboard today.”

  “You’d consider hiring me even though I can’t sing?”

  She waved her hand as she walked away. “Semantics. We’ll work around it.”

  Okay…

  I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or more terrified than I’d been when I’d stood outside, beside my car. Taking a fortifying breath, I followed Susan. I was Paige the strong, brave problem solver. And I could do anything for a couple months if it got a diploma into my hands.

  “Is there a costume?” I asked.

  Please, please, please don’t be a Playboy Bunny outfit.

  Susan smiled, her nose doing that bunny squinch again. “Don’t worry. You’ll fit it just fine.”

  Chapter Two

  ~ Paige ~

  First delivery.

  I can do this. I can do this. I can do this, I mentally chanted as I drove through torrential rain toward my destination. My phone died three minutes into the trip and for some reason my car charger wasn’t touching the battery. Therefore, I was trying to get to my destination by memory, which wasn’t going so swell for me since I could barely see through the water sheeting across my windshield.

  I yanked off the bunny ears I wore and tossed them onto the seat beside me then turned down the radio, as if that would help me navigate.

  “There you are!” I exclaimed when I saw the street sign. I swerved right down it and scanned the mailboxes for the number. This lane was full of McMansions that couldn’t actually be seen from the street, so I had to rely on the curb markings to find Mr. Embry Fitzgerald, recipient of my Easter Bunny ode.

  I’d spent hours memorizing it today. That had taken my mind off the fact I was wearing a little white pleated skirt, a short white shirt that bared a lot of my middle and pink stripped suspenders—as if I needed something to hold up the skirt. I wore white ankle socks and pink Keds on my feet. And I’d have pink bunny ears on my head once I got there.

  Squinting through the storm, I turned into the long driveway then made my way along it to the top of the curve. I parked at the end of the walkway leading up to the house. Steeling myself, I slid the bunny ears back into place and fluffed my blonde hair around my shoulders. Glancing in the mirror, I gave myself my best Elle Woods smile.

  You can do this. You can!

  It was still pouring so I grabbed my umbrella then the basket. Rain blew sideways against my car as I struggled out. I shivered as the cold droplets spattered me. Onward. I’d get this delivery done then stop into my other job and con someone into a hot chocolate.

  I needed to buck up and do this. Unfortunately, the gusting wind made my umbrella useless. By the time I got to the door, my clothes and hair were drenched. One sodden rabbit ear drooped into my face. Dropping the pointless umbrella to the porch, I swiped the ear back with one hand while I pushed the doorbell with the one holding the basket.

  Just remember your tuition. You have to graduate and start that awesome job. A few weeks of this and you’ll be home free.

  There was no answer. The wind now pummeled the icy April rain onto my back and up my skirt, which it lifted with each gust. Annoyed, I put all my frustration into my hard knock on the door. Whoever had ordered this Bunny Gram had guaranteed Mr. Embry Fitzgerald would be home. And damn it, after all this, he’d better be here. Or what, Paige?

  I ignored my inner monologue and pounded again.

  “What!” the man practically yelled as he opened the door.

  I stared for a second, meeting irate, whiskey-brown eyes I’d like to drown in. And this guy… Oh my God. It was the man from the coffeeshop who made my heart race whenever he came in. And I had to give him, the one I was half in love with, this silly message while dressed like this. Kill me now.

  “I…” Blinking, I remembered I had to deliver my lines. “Oh Easter time, oh Easter time… How hoppy are…your…bunnies…” I trailed off on a whispered, unable to finish the stupid poem while he stared at me, his scowl growing. His eyes flicked between my torso and my face, the anger fading into something else that made me squirm.

  “What the hell?” he muttered. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “Um…” I squeaked. His gaze wavered between my face and my chest again. I mean I knew I looked ridiculous, but I couldn’t identify the look on his face. I didn’t have a lot of experience with men—like none—but he looked…hungry.

  He stepped forward and reached for me. Panicked, I shoved the basket of candy and plastic eggs and other little gifts into his arms.

  “Happy Easter!” I exclaimed. “There’s a card!” Spinning away, I sprinted toward my beat-up Honda. I loved that car, but I prayed it would get me out of here quick and not be the bitch it usually was in damp weather.

  “Wait!” he yelled behind me.

  I did not wait.

  Jumping behind the wheel, I cranked the engine and ignored the man hurrying toward me under the umbrella I’d left behind.

  “Come on, come on!” I yelled at my car. I wasn’t afraid of the man, per se. I didn
’t get the feeling he’d hurt me. But something just told me to run. This guy was so far out of my league. I didn’t need to humiliate myself further by sticking around.

  The engine turned over, and I pealed out of the drive before Embry Fitzgerald reached me. I must have stunned him by not listening to him and running. There was no reason he shouldn’t have caught up with me. But whatever had caused the delay, I was thankful for it.

  And I hated it.

  A pit of regret echoed in my middle. Why did it feel like I’d just run away from something important? I shivered hard, shaking so violently, I pulled over to the side of the road. I needed to get the damn heat fixed in this car. Tuition first, then other stuff. Twisting to reach into the backseat, I glanced down at myself, and my eyes went wide.

  Holy…transparent shirt.

  No!

  Not only had the rain made my little blouse see-through, but my bra wasn’t hiding any secrets either. The dusky pink of my stiff areolas was clear through the fabric. My body went hot as a flush washed through me. I closed my eyes in mortification. How was this my existence? Could I be done with the train wreck already? My life had been on some weird doom spiral ever since Valentines when Blake, my old roommate, and I had almost gotten ourselves arrested at an anti-Valentines party. Things were looking good for her and her guy. In love, engaged, a new home…

  I was happy for her, even if I felt I’d be single for life.

  Who needed a man anyway? I was Paige the Invincible. Paige the Fantastic Designing Machine who’d climb to the top of her field.

  Paige the lonely.

  My phone rang, startling me. What the heck? It had been dead on the way here. Now, it showed fifty percent, so obviously, it was just being its old hinky self. I was adding a new phone to the list of items for my future purchase, once I got settled.

  “Hey, Susan,” I answered. “Just on my way home.”

  “Sweetie, what happened?”

  What happened? I thought I sounded fine.

  “Um, nothing. I did the ode and gave him the basket.”