The Billionaire's Indecent Proposal

"She's pregnant." My husband of three years sat on the couch, looking deeply, sincerely sorry. He sighed and floated his opening bid. "A hundred million dollars.

Can we call it a peaceful divorce?" My heart stuttered. The plan was to play the devastated wife. But a hundred million?

I packed my rehearsed tears right back up. "No problem!" "Just tell me which exit you'd like me crawling out of.

Every extra second I stay here is me being rude!" Chapter 1 Since the wedding, my husband might as well have been a ghost.

He promised to stay out of my life, so I spent my days out on the town, living large on his money. Out of marital courtesy, it was strictly look, don't touch.

But I have always believed that admiring gorgeous men keeps a woman young.

Except for the class reunion a month ago, I swear I never did one single thing behind my husband's back… Let me back up a few hours.

My mini dress swayed with the music, sequins throwing sparks under the lights. The dancer onstage rolled his body to the beat, black shirt open, sweat sliding down his abs.

The strobes hit him and nearly blinded me. Words to live by: dress warm in winter, and never pass up good abs.

My sinful little hand was halfway to the stage when everything went wrong. The dancer had been smiling. Then his eyes caught mine.

He vaulted off the stage, closed his hand around my wrist, and pulled me straight out of the noise, trailing a chorus of groans from every woman who'd come to watch him.

In the flickering dark at the back of the club, he pinned me into a corner, one arm locked around my waist. He was tall.

The tight black shirt showed every line of him, down to the ridges of his abs. The silver chain at his throat was the one I gave him the year we graduated high school. Wilder.

Years since I'd seen him, and here he was, grinding his back teeth, crossing my wrists and pressing them to the wall over my head. The cold wall bit into my wrists and I shivered.

He glared, yanked the black shirt off his own back, and wedged it behind my head. Then he clamped my hands right back up. …Sir. Do you even see what you're doing right now.

Wilder looked me up and down, mouth opening on a question. My phone started buzzing. Out here by the restrooms, away from the speakers, it was painfully loud. He arched a brow.

His hand wandered my waist until he found it. Then he tapped accept, held it to my ear, and leaned his whole body in. "Come home early tonight.

We need to talk." My loaded CEO husband, calling. I said nothing for too long. Spencer's voice came again, soft.

He must have decided I was sulking, because it went softer still, coaxing. "Penny, sweetheart. Home early tonight, hmm?" "…Okay." The air went cold. Frozen solid, actually.

A few years apart, and Wilder's muscles had only gotten bigger. All that warm skin, inches away. My fingers itched to pinch it.

Instead his hand came up and dragged a rough thumb across the corner of my mouth. It stung. I wanted to bite him. So I did. Wilder didn't move an inch.

He let me hang on by my teeth, and a smile curled at the edge of his lips. "Tsk. Still a biter. Does your husband know about that?" Chapter 2 My arms had been up too long.

They ached. I strained against his grip twice, and that lit his temper. He smiled at me, slow and mean, the old scar riding the pulse at his temple. I looked away.

His fingers pinched a slow line along my collarbone. "Penelope Calloway. Remember what you did last month? You don't get to light the match and walk away.

Hmm?" The second he finished, I was free. I rubbed my sore shoulders, glanced down, and saw his handiwork. Hickeys. Wilder originals. Every woman should own a set. "Go home.

Show those to your husband and explain." I walked out feeling his stare nailed to my back the whole way. I pressed a hand to my chest and cleared my throat.

The jerk had scrambled my brain, but first things first: home, to find out what fresh drama Spencer was cooking. I was pumped for a big scene.

Then I turned my ankle at the front door and went down in a heap. So much for my grand entrance. Dead on arrival.

I hobbled, then tried to drag myself up off the carpet, which is how I alerted Spencer inside.

He saw me sprawled in the doorway, crossed the room in three strides, and hauled me up with one arm. Good lord.

My husband had this kind of strength? "Penny, can't you watch where you're going?" He set me on the couch.

I tugged my dress into place and looked at him. "So what's this big important thing Mr. Winslow rushed home to discuss?" Spencer scratched his head. "My first love.

Pregnant." My jaw hit the floor.

I nearly sprayed the tea I'd just swallowed. "Your first love can actually get pregnant?" Spencer pinched his temple, then flicked me on the forehead. "Watch that mouth." I narrowed my eyes. "So what's your plan?" An odd, apologetic look crossed his face.

He tested the water. "A hundred million dollars?" Thud. My heart tripped. "And a peaceful divorce?" Thud. Thud. Happy tears ran right past my lips.

I nodded so fast my head blurred. "Mr. Winslow, just point at an exit.

I will crawl out any way you like!" Hesitation flickered across his face, so I spun for the door before he could take it back. "Every extra second I stay is me being rude!" His hand closed around my wrist and held me there. "Penny, you can't leave." …Please don't tell me he wants me to stay and live with the two of them.

The picture flashed through my head and I shuddered.

Me, waiting hand and foot on his precious first love while the two of them cuddled and cooed on the couch… That is where any selfrespecting woman draws the line. …Okay, fine.

Apparently the line is negotiable! Honestly? For the right price, nobody does! I'd gone stiff midthought when Mr.

Winslow spoke behind me, gentle as ever. "You could bring that pretty boy from the club to live here.

All of us, under one roof." I turned around like a rusty hinge and met Spencer's eyes. "Your fifty grand a month keeps coming.

One condition: you both live in this house." Paying out of pocket to get himself cheated on? Mr. Winslow. You absolute legend. My phone rang at the worst possible moment.

My hand jumped and hit speaker. Wilder's voice slid out, dark and sweet. "Mrs. Winslow, you are a hard woman to find. I'm already at your front door.

Should I knock?" Chapter 3 I looked up into Spencer's amused eyes.

Before I could get a word out, Wilder's voice came again. "If nobody answers, I'm knocking." Same shameless tone as the boy who used to camp outside my house years ago.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Go home. I'll come find you tomorrow." Spencer arched a brow, watching me with great interest. "Impressive.

He tracked you all the way here…" "Why not let him in? Having regrets, Penny?" I shook my head hard enough to rattle it. Loyalty, loyalty, nothing but loyalty! "Regrets? Please.

One second of hesitation would be a crime against everything I stand for." He kept staring, curious, so I sighed. "Mr. Winslow, you know how it is.

I haven't figured out how to tell him yet." Spencer stood, scooped his suit jacket off the couch, and headed for the door. I stood rooted.

He reached back and mussed my hair. "I can barely hold that man back anymore. Talk it out fast. My guess?

Within a month he shows up with a packed bag and moves himself in." He spread his hands at me, all helpless, and pushed one more time on his way out. "Speed it up.

I'm running out of ways to hold Grandpa off." The landline buzzed and buzzed through the huge, empty mansion. I hopped toward it on one foot.

I picked up, and there it was, exactly the huffing and stamping I expected. "Penny! Any news about my greatgrandbaby?" Beautiful work, Spencer. Truly.

Can't hold Grandpa off anymore, so you shove me out front as a human shield, is that it?! Fine. You want to play dirty? Watch me. My lips curled.

My voice went small and pitiful. "Grandpa… it's not that I'm not trying…" The wobble in it had him fussing on the spot. "Sweet Penny, what's wrong? Is that boy Spencer bullying you?

Want Grandpa to go settle the score for you, hmm?" I pushed out my bottom lip, the picture of brave suffering. "Grandpa… it's Spencer.

In the… babymaking department… he still won't see a doctor about it…" I stopped halfway, kept it nice and vague, and hugged the receiver, listening hard. Wham.

A palm hitting a table! Well, well. Ball's back in your court, isn't it, Spencer? "My poor Penny. You wait.

Grandpa will straighten that boy out!" I rubbed my chin and nodded along, wounded and meek. "Okay, Grandpa. Go to bed early now.

I'll come see you this weekend." With that fire lit, I soaked in a long, happy bath and picked up my phone. [Lainey: New guy at the club.

Get here NOW.] I considered it for one entire second. [PennyGoneRich: Twisted my ankle. Not coming.] Ding. A video flew in. White shirt. Abs you could count.

A necktie knotted over his eyes, and his hand reaching down toward the crowd. His fingers laced with some lucky woman's.

And then, smooth as an accident, the tie slid off his eyes and wound around her wrists. Okay, who is this campusheartthrobgrade specimen? That's it.

That's every dream boyfriend I ever had growing up. [PennyGoneRich: Save him for me.

Ten minutes.] The demure, goodwife dress I'd put on for Spencer's homecoming got dumped without mercy. I patted the chauffeur on the shoulder, merciless. "Faster, Wes.

We're going to miss it." The chauffeur touched the brim of his cap. He didn't say a word. Chapter 4 I pursed my lips and opened Lainey's next video. Brighter lights this time.

The guy had his sleeves rolled up, and a sliver of ink showed on his forearm. A rose! The gorgeous man swayed on my screen. I swayed my head right along with him, deeply satisfied.

Music leaked out of my speaker, and the brakes stamped down hard. Then the car smoothed out and kept rolling. "Wes, you're a little shaky tonight." I didn't think twice.

I even fired off a voice message, one merciless warning for Lainey. [Save that man for me.

Hands off!] Eyes glued to the video, stars in them, I added, "Tonight it's my turn to get my hands tied. I am so ready!" The car swung hard to the curb and stopped. I looked up.

Definitely our McLaren. Then the chauffeur climbed out of the driver's seat and opened my door. He leaned in over me. Behind him, the doors clicked, locked. The cap sat low.

I couldn't see his face. But the silver chain at his throat, that I knew anywhere. Wilder. Again.

This absolute menace! "Don't touch me!" I knocked the cap off his head, and there it was. That face. Only now it was dark with anger.

He caught me looking, and his tongue pressed against his back teeth, then rolled slow along the inside of his cheek. "Or what?" He smiled, wicked, tugged loose the tie hanging lazy around his neck, and leaned in.

The tie looped over my wrists. I twisted, too late. The knot was done. He rolled right past my protest and pinched my cheek. One hand clamped my bound wrists down hard.

The other traced along my collarbone. Right over the marks he'd left there. My phone went off like a fire alarm.

A dozen calls stacked up before Wilder finally let go of me and tapped accept. "Penny, your car's been sitting out there forever.

Is something wrong?" Wilder dug his fingers into my ribs, tickling, pure evil, and the question slipped out on reflex. "Where are you?

How can you see the car?" Spencer slid right past it. "I can't get away from here. Want me to send Wilder to pick you up?" Wilder pinched my wrist.

I shot him a watery glare. "No need, everything's fine, I'll just—" His mouth sealed over mine. I fought it. Nothing. Then he let me go. "You've put up with so much lately, Penny.

I'll make all of this up to you." The line went dead. "Sounds like Mrs.

Winslow could use some comforting." Wilder wrapped me in the jacket he'd stripped off and pulled me out of the McLaren.

He crowded closer with every step, my hand swallowed tight in his. "Still claiming you didn't miss me?

Hmm?" "Off." I planted a foot in his chest and kicked, flipped myself over, and sat up. "But there is something I need to discuss with you." I stared at the man lounging in front of me, all loose limbs and zero shame, and squeezed my palms. "Wilder.

Quit your job." He went blank for two full seconds. Then his eyes locked on mine, lit up like Christmas morning. "Mrs. Winslow.

Are you offering to be my sugar mama?" I nodded, very businesslike.

Wilder crossed those long legs, sprawled deeper into the couch, and grinned at me. "I don't come cheap." "Five grand a month?" I offered. One eyebrow went up.

He shook his head. "Ten grand a month. Final offer!" I stared him down, fists tight, jaw set. Truth? I was terrified he'd walk. My hundred million dollars was riding on this man.

Chapter 5 Wilder smiled at me and shook his head. Then he stood and started gathering his clothes. So that was that, deal dead.

I was already scheming how else to claw back my hundred million when his voice drifted over from across the room. "Ten thousand and one." What is wrong with this man?! "So where am I living, boss lady?" I crossed my arms and issued my orders. "Pack fast.

You're coming home with me." Now it was Wilder's turn for his jaw to drop. He froze, then turned his head toward me one slow inch at a time. "Penny.

Are you serious right now?" I raised my phone and dialed Spencer. "Honey! I'm bringing him home now." Wilder still stood there like a statue, so out of pure evil, I hit speaker.

Spencer's voice came through warm and soft, with that faint, longsuffering patience of his. "Good. I'll be back tomorrow.

Take care of him, and tell him to make himself at home." My eyes lit up. I stared at the silver chain on Wilder's neck and could practically feel that hundred million in my hands.

Oh ho ho. Mama's rich now. I bounced off the bed, grabbed Wilder's hand, and towed him toward the door. Six foot three of man shuffled after me like a zombie.

The door clicked shut behind us before I noticed his hands were empty. "I told you to bring your suitcase. Where is it?" Wilder coughed. "A joke's a joke.

We can't actually take it this far…" I rolled my eyes. "Far? What far?!

Go back and get it." Finally settled in the back of the car, I hugged my phone and texted Lainey. [PennyGoneRich: Mama's got bigger things to do tonight.

Not coming.] At the front door of the mansion, Wilder was still out there trying to reboot his smoking brain.

The man had spent his whole life bold and wild, and by the look on his face, even he couldn't process what I was doing.

I stepped inside and looked back out at him. "Sure you're not coming in?" At that, his face slid back into its usual grin, the one that said nothing in this world scared him. "Coming." The butler was waiting by the door.

I patted Wilder's arm. "Frederick, find this one a suitable room." "Of course, ma'am." Then I turned back for one more round of instructions. "Spencer comes home tomorrow.

When you leave your room, wear clothes." Wilder nodded, very obedient. A whole day of running around had me sweating through my dress.

I rubbed at the spot between my eyebrows. "I'm taking a bath. Nobody bother me." I sank into the warm tub and let out a long breath. All I could see, floor to ceiling, was money.

Tomorrow Spencer comes home, we file the divorce, and one hundred million dollars is mine. Is there anything on this earth sweeter than getting rich overnight?!

I counted it out on my fingers. Days at home nursing the first love, nights out hitting the clubs! As for how to spend a hundred million?

Hire a few gorgeous men to dance in my own room. Who'd ever need to sneak out again? But that was all down the road. Better to think about tomorrow.

Maybe I'd start with a little shopping. I drifted off to sleep, drooling on my pillow