Baby Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

nervous . Are you planning on proposing to this woman?” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but only barely. “Fuck, man. You’re leaving me all alone.”
    Roger laughed. “One day you’ll get it, okay? This one’s different. She’s just different. I can’t explain it. But it’s like they say. When you know, you know.”
    I shook my head and looked out the window. The producers had settled back down. A woman walked into the room carrying not a binder, but a single sheet of paper.
    “Yeah, great. Here comes another Holly Hobby college girl trying to launch her super duper original party dress line! For clubbing with friends!” He said this in cruel, high-pitched imitation of every trust fund honey we’d ever met in a bar.
    I laughed. Then she sat down and I looked at her face. Her long, red hair was pulled into a low ponytail. Her green eyes had the fiery intensity that I usually only saw in cutthroat Wall Street hedge fund managers. And her creamy skin was dusted with a smattering of cinnamon-colored freckles that cascaded across her nose and cheeks before settling across the skin that topped her rosebud, full lips.
    I suddenly found myself wanting to walk out the door, grab her by the arm, and fuck her in the green room.
    “Midwest Molly,” Roger groaned. “She just fell off the corn truck from Des Moines.”
    My eyes were busy following the open, cream-colored silk of her blouse down to the top of her mostly concealed cleavage. When she talked, she moved her hands and her tits jiggled. I realized that I was unintentionally tracing the outside of my lip with my tongue.
    And Roger was watching. “You think she’s hot? No way. Not your type. At all.”
    “I don’t have a type,” I retorted. “My type is women .”
    “No, your type is tall, nine percent body fat, fake breasts, dark hair, and faces that land the covers of the most prominent fashion magazines in the world,” Roger replied.
    He was right. And yet my pants were telling a different story as I stared at this woman. She was talking so excitedly a strand of auburn hair fell out of her ponytail. I wanted to sweep it off her face and then move my hands down into her shirt until she begged me to finish her off.
    I was looking forward to watching her walk away. “Wonder what her voice sounds like,” I said, trying to keep my voice light and even.
    Roger groaned. “Oh Jesus, man. Let’s just pretend that she sounds like the mice in Cinderella. Okay? Because with a one-sheet business plan and a plain-fucking-Jane face, she’s not coming on this show. No way.”
    “I’m sorry, does it say executive producer in the credits next to your name?” I asked sarcastically.
    Roger turned to face me. “Number one: yes, it does. Number two: I’m telling you, this doesn’t end well. Don’t play your EP card the first goddamn day on the job. It’s unseemly.” He shuddered dramatically and picked a piece of lint off of his pristine suit.
    The mystery redhead stood up and leaned forward to shake Jane’s hand. Her shirt fell slightly and I was greeted by several inches more of cleavage. I imagined her tits hanging in my face, her breasts falling heavily from her chest and into my waiting mouth.
    Her walking away was exactly as good as I imagined it would be.

CHAPTER FOUR
    RACHEL
    I got the part.
    I didn’t think I would; the guy who went before me had a business plan that looked like it weighed as much as I did. Patrick had stayed up late with me to tailor my single-sheet business plan. He told me they were looking for uniqueness and personality and to not overburden them with details. So I’d kept it as simple as possible and let my excitement do the talking.
    I was exhausted from a full forty-eight hours of so much social exertion. Now I had to be in the studio the next day, bright and early, ready for filming.
    I was sprawled on Callie and Patrick’s bed. Callie was pulling out dozens of designer dresses from her own closet. “You want something