The Contract with the Billionaire - Audiobook

My ex husband left me pregnant and penniless.
When my best friend tells me about a once-in-a-lifetime job opening to be a personal assistant to the city's most eligible billionaire, I decide to go. After all, I have no health insurance and a baby on the way.
When I get there, I sign what I think is a NDA.
That's when the mistake is realized.
I just signed a contract stating that I agreed to fake marry Reed for one year and the only way I can get out of it is by paying an obscene amount of money. Which I don't have.
No other options, I decide to go through with it.
Now I'm living in his apartment, wearing his ring, but carrying someone else's baby.
I've fallen for my fake husband and I want this relationship to be real.
Problem is, he still doesn't know that I'm pregnant, and I don't know how to tell him.

If you love fake romances with swoon-worthy heroes, you’ll love The Contract with the Billionaire. Grab your copy today!

A Fake Marriage Romance series contains full length, standalone romances that are full of happily ever afters.

Lillian stood in front of her bed, staring down at the satin button-up shirt and sharp, black pencil skirt that Tamara had lent to her. She reached out and ran her hand across the smooth fabric. Anxiety rose up in her gut, and she placed her hand on her stomach. 

She had to get this job. It was her last hope. 

She let her fingers linger on the bulge underneath her slip. It was becoming more pronounced—the fifth month of pregnancy would do that to a woman. She just hoped it wasn’t that obvious. A new employer would most likely frown upon a pregnant woman, and she was running out of time and options. 

Tears stung her eyelids as she let the memories of her previous pregnancy wash over her. If this pregnancy was anything like that one, she needed medical insurance. Now.  

Letting out a deep sigh, she slipped out of her robe and dressed, sucking in her stomach as she zipped up the side of her skirt. Thankfully, it didn’t split once it was up, although it felt like it might. And that would be just her luck, her reaching out to shake billionaire Reed Williamson’s hand just to have her zipper explode. 

She slipped on the blouse and, as her fingers did the last button, she swallowed her fear. She wasn’t going to think like that today. She was going to be calm and confident. There was no way she could let her potential employer know she was hanging onto her sanity by a thread. That her life was falling apart and there was nothing she could do to piece it back together. 

There was a soft knock on the door. Lillian let out her breath—hoping to calm her nerves—and forced a smile. 

“Come in,” she said as she sat down on the bed and slipped her feet into her shoes. 

The door opened, revealing Tamara standing there. She was in her signature scrubs and ponytail. She had a bowl of cereal in her hand, and her lips were moving as she chewed. Her gaze swept over Lillian, and she dropped her jaw in an exaggerated movement. Tamara was back from her week-long shift as one of the nurses for billionaire and business tycoon, George Williamson—Reed’s grandfather.

“Geez, you look better in my clothes than I do,” she said, stepping into the room and walking over to collapse on the ratty armchair in the corner. 

“I do not,” Lillian said, standing up and brushing down the front of her skirt. “Can you see it?” 

It. Not “baby”—it. After she lost her first baby at twenty-five weeks, she couldn’t bear to acknowledge this one. What if the same thing happened? She wasn’t sure her heart could take another loss.

“Ugh, no. You always look amazing, even when you’re pregnant. I don’t look half as good, and I’ve got no excuse.” Tamara took another bite of cereal. “Joshua’s an idiot,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Let’s not go there today. I’m already nervous as it is.” Lillian raised her hand. The last thing she needed to be talking about was her ex-husband, Mr. Run at the First Sign of Stress. He hadn’t wanted the previous pregnancy, and when he found out they were pregnant again, he told her to either abort the baby or he’d be gone. He moved out the next day, and they were divorced within the month. He didn’t bother giving away his parental rights, making a snide comment about how it didn’t matter; she couldn’t keep a baby inside anyway.

Now she was all alone, with no family around. And pregnant. Anxiety crept back into her chest. She swallowed, trying to push her emotions down. Not today. She had to get a grip. 

Tamara nodded. “You’re right. We don’t need to waste any more energy on that loser.” She shot Lillian a comforting smile. “You shouldn’t be worried. You’re going to rock this interview. Mr. Billionaire Bachelor is going to love you.” 

“I still can’t believe you got me this interview,” Lillian said as she made her way over to her dresser and picked up her heart locket necklace. 

Tamara hesitated, and then shrugged. “He owed me a favor. After all, I do take care of his grandfather.”

“Which translates to, you eavesdrop on private conversations and use that information for your own personal gain.” Lillian shot a glance over at Tamara, who had an incredulous look on her face. 

“I do not. That would be unethical. However, if said people were talking a bit too loud, and I just happened to overhear”—she raised her hands—“it’s not my fault.” 

Lillian couldn’t help but smile. Tamara was always the strong, outspoken one in the friendship. Always getting them into private functions or getting free drinks at the bar. 

She slipped her pearl earrings on and then turned. “Well, I am grateful. If I get this job, it will be a godsend.” 

Tamara had finished her cereal and placed the bowl next to her chair. She stood and was across the room in a few strides. “You’re going to be just fine.” She pulled Lillian into a hug. 

“Thanks,” Lillian said as emotion coated her throat. It had been a hard year and a half. She was grateful to have Tamara by her side, guiding her through it. Now, more than ever, she needed a friend. Someone to help her. She doubted she could function without her best friend by her side. 

“Alright, enough blubbering. Get going. You’re going be late,” Tamara said as she stepped back and waved toward the door. 

Butterflies erupted in Lillian’s stomach as she grabbed her purse. “Are you sure I can do this?” She took a small step.

Tamara linked arms with her. “I know you can. But, if you don’t hurry, you’re going to be late. And I’m pretty sure Mr. Williamson will not be too happy with that.”

Lillian took a deep breath. She could do this. She knew she could. Once she was in the hallway of her rundown apartment complex, she had an overwhelming desire to vomit. But she muscled it down, blaming it on the pregnancy instead of her out-of-control nerves. 

When she stepped out of her building and onto the sidewalk, she felt better. The sun was out and the sides of the building glowed with sunshine. People rushed past her, and she had to spin to keep from getting trampled. 

The fresh air helped settle her stomach during the fifteen-minute ride into New York City. It wasn’t until she was stepping out of the cab that the nausea hit again. Williamson Plaza stretched up toward the sky, like a beacon. Lillian felt tiny, standing in its shadow. 

“Are you going, lady?” the cab driver’s pronounced Brooklyn accent snapped her back to reality. 

“Yeah,” she said as she reached into her purse and pulled out a twenty. After she slammed the door, the cab driver took off, leaving her alone. She took in an uneasy breath, and turned to face the steps in front of her. 

You can do this, she chanted in her head. Reed Williamson is going to hire you. Her foster mom was always talking about positive self-talk and how amazing it was. Even though Lillian always wrote it off as hippie talk, at this moment, she was willing to try anything. 

She pulled open the tall, tinted-glass doors and stepped into the lobby. Men and women in tailored suits moved around her. She was grateful that she’d borrowed Tamara’s clothes. She would have felt completely out of place in her clay-stained ones. 

Lillian made it past the security guard and over to the elevators without tripping or doing something equally embarrassing. She was not used to wearing heels, and she hoped that it wasn’t evident to everyone around her. She reached out and pressed the up button of the elevator. The doors opened, and she boarded. 

The ride up to the thirtieth floor felt like an eternity. Lillian kept her gaze on her shoes as she counted the chimes that sounded as the elevator passed each floor. 

Finally it stopped, and the doors slid open. Lillian peered out to see a woman with a tight bun wearing a leopard-print dress with a plunging neckline, sitting at a desk in front of her. She had a phone’s receiver pressed between her shoulder and ear. Every so often, she’d sigh and then mumble something.

The floor was made of white marble and a couch with a matching set of armchairs was positioned on the far wall. The whole room felt so sterile. So formal. This was not where Lillian belonged. 

Comprehensive health insurance, Lillian repeated to herself as she plastered on a smile and approached the receptionist. The doors of the elevator closed behind her, stranding her on the thirtieth floor. 

When she approached the desk, the woman didn’t look up. It wasn’t until Lillian cleared her throat that the woman’s gaze flicked over to her. She raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow as if to ask, what are you doing here? 

“I have a meeting with Mr. Williamson,” Lillian said. 

The receptionist ran her gaze over Lillian, and then turned her attention to the computer in front of her. She said a few “uh-huhs” as she clicked the keys. 

Before the receptionist told her what to do, a side door opened and a woman stepped out. Her white hair was cut in a short A-line bob. She had speckled glasses perched on the tip of her nose and a red scarf that accented her dark suit. 

A relieved expression passed over her face as she approached Lillian. “I’m so happy you’re here. I was worried that you weren’t going to come.” 

Lillian parted her lips. Who was this woman? And they’d been expecting her, specifically? That seemed strange. The job as personal assistant to a billionaire had to be an in-demand job. Surely, there had been a ton of applicants. 

“Bonnie Williamson,” she said, extending her hand. 

Lillian studied it for a moment before she reached out and shook Bonnie’s hand. Williamson. Was she related to Reed Williamson?

Before Lillian could ask, Bonnie dropped her hand and waved for her to follow. “Did the agency fill you in on what we need?” she asked, peering over her shoulder as she led Lillian past the receptionist and through the glass door that said Williamson Investments. 

Lillian leaned forward. “Agency?”

Bonnie nodded. “The person who sent you.”

Did she mean Tamara? 

Before she could answer, Bonnie waved her hand. “Never mind. Client confidentiality. We told them to keep it hush hush so I’m sure they didn’t tell you everything.” Bonnie paused outside of a glass door that led to a conference room. 

A man in a dark blue suit sat at the far end of the table. He had round glasses and greying hair. He was flipping through some papers in front of him. Lillian felt Bonnie’s gaze on her as she rested her hand on Lillian’s shoulder. 

“I know this is all crazy, but it’s for the best. I just can’t wait until this is all over,” she said as she reached out and pulled on the large brass door handle. 

As they stepped into the room, the man at the table glanced up. He set his pen down and stood. 

“Mrs. Williamson,” he said, buttoning his suit coat. When his gaze fell on Lillian, he nodded. “Ma’am.”

“This is Orson Coswell. He’ll be dealing with the contract,” Bonnie said as she motioned toward a chair and then sat in the one next to it.

“Contract?” Wow, they were serious about their employees here at Williamson’s Investments. Wait. Did this mean she got the job? “I’m hired?” Lillian asked. Her heart began to race. Was this a dream? She reached out and pinched her leg. A sharp pain raced through her. Well, she was awake. 

“Hired?” Bonnie chuckled. “Well, I guess you could say that. Although we’d like to classify it more as you joining our family.” She patted the tabletop in front of her. “It’s all for Reed and the betterment of this company.”

Orson nodded. He’d returned to his chair and placed his pen on top of the papers in front of him. “Now, this is your basic contract. It says you agree to stay with Mr. Williamson for at least a year, or until he is promoted to CEO. Also, there is a confidentiality clause in here. Basically, if you go to the press with any information, we’ll…” He glanced up at her. “Just don’t talk about anything you see or hear.”

Lillian stared at Orson. That sort of made sense. She was probably going to be privy to a lot of information about Reed and Williamson Investments. A high-profile company like this had to have a lot of secrets. But there was one part that she couldn’t quite figure out. Why did she have to stay as a personal assistant until Reed became CEO? She parted her lips to ask, but Bonnie spoke before she could say anything. 

“The income is $100,000 a year with a parting bonus of $250,000. Plus, all expenses paid. Insurance, a place to live, and a clothing stipend. If you’re going to be seen next to Reed, you need to look the part,” Bonnie said, tapping her fingers as she spoke.

Lillian almost swallowed her tongue. Never in her life had she ever imagined she would be offered that much money. “I, well—” She couldn’t form coherent sentences, so she decided to pinch her lips shut and nod. 

Bonnie studied her. “Did you want more?”

Lillian’s eyes widened. Not wanting to jinx this, she just shook her head. “No. What you said will be fine.”

Bonnie tapped the table to get Orson’s attention. “Add another hundred thousand to the bonus.”

Lillian raised her hand. “No, no. That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll be just fine with a”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“quarter million.”

Bonnie studied her. “Well, if you do a good job, I will include more when this is over.”

Lillian nodded. “That seems fair.”

Orson pushed the papers in her direction and indicated where she should sign. After what felt like the fiftieth signature, he declared that she was finished, gathered up the papers, and left. Lillian sat back in her chair with her head spinning. What had just happened? How had she gotten this lucky? 

Was fate finally smiling down on her?

Bonnie stood and motioned for her to follow. “I guess it’s time to meet Reed.”

Lillian nodded as she pushed back her chair and stood. Out in the hall, Bonnie fell into step with her. 

“Now, he’s not going to be happy about you, or this arrangement, but it needs to happen,” Bonnie said. 

Lillian snapped her gaze over to Bonnie. Why wouldn’t Reed be happy about her being his assistant? Tamara was pretty adamant that Reed had wanted to meet her, and that this arrangement would be advantageous for both of them. “Really? If it’s going to be a problem, I can wait. He should probably interview me first.” Panic rose up in her chest. She needed this job, and the last thing she wanted was to get her hopes up just to have them dashed when billionaire Reed Williamson waved her away. 

Bonnie patted her arm. “Nonsense. That boy doesn’t know what he wants. Sometimes, it takes a mother’s guidance to help him see. He may feel that it’s impossible to fulfill this stipulation, but I’m not ready to give up. Not yet.”

Relief flooded Lillian. If she had the support of Bonnie, perhaps she would fight Reed to keep her. 

They stopped at the door at the end of the hall, and Bonnie shot her what seemed like an encouraging smile. Then she raised her hand and knocked a few times. 

“Come in,” a deep, smooth voice said. 

Bonnie reached out and grasped the door handle. Lillian held her breath as Bonnie pushed open the door. 

“What do you want, Mom?” Reed asked. 

“I’m here to introduce you to your wife.”

Lillian’s heart began to race. Had she heard Bonnie right? What did she just call her?

All sales are final. 

There are no refunds given on digital products. 

Any personalized paperbacks are non-refundable. 

7 day full refund for un-personalized paperbacks that are in the condition that they were shipped in.