Virgin Escort For Mr. Vaughn (Big City Billionaires Book 2) Read online

  Virgin Escort For Mr. Vaughn

  A Fake Fiancee Romance

  Coco Miller

  COCO MILLER ROMANCE

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  Copyright © 2019 Coco Miller

  All rights reserved.

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  License Note

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review.

  This book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.

  Contents

  Books By Coco

  Introduction

  Prologue

  1. Victor

  2. Isabel

  3. Victor

  4. Isabel

  5. Victor

  6. Isabel

  7. Victor

  8. Isabel

  9. Victor

  10. Isabel

  11. Victor

  12. Isabel

  13. Victor

  14. Isabel

  15. Victor

  16. Isabel

  17. Victor

  18. Isabel

  19. Victor

  20. Isabel

  21. Victor

  22. Isabel

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Also by Coco Miller

  Books By Coco

  Big City Billionaires

  Faking For Mr. Pope

  Virgin Escort For Mr. Vaughn

  Pretending for Mr. Parker

  Red Bratva Billionaires

  MAXIM

  SERGEI

  VIKTOR

  The Overwatch Division

  WYATT

  ASA

  CESAR

  Andolini Crime Family

  CARMINE

  GIOVANNI

  UMBERTO

  Introduction

  The job was simple.

  Take my sister’s place as an escort.

  Pretend to be the client’s fiancee.

  And don’t catch any feelings.

  Did I say the job was simple?

  Victor Vaughn is intelligent, handsome, and one of the youngest self-made billionaires in the country, but he has a big public relations problem. There’s unrest going on in his tech company and his shareholders are anxious. They don’t like him and they don’t trust him. His solution? To convince his skeptical stockholders that he’s a stable family man by hiring an escort and passing her off as his new fiancee.

  Money is tight for Isabel Newman. Things only get worse when her sister, a professional escort, comes down with the flu. They can’t afford to miss a paycheck, so they decide to hatch a plan. Isabel is going to take her sister’s place. All she has to do is pretend to be the fiancee of a gorgeous billionaire for a week. Little did she know how difficult it would be to hide the fact that she’s not a real escort, that she’s a virgin, and that she’s falling hard and fast for her new boss.

  Virgin Escort For Mr. Vaughn is a steamy standalone, fake fiancee romance, with no cheating and a HEA. Be advised that it may be a little too sexy for readers under 18.

  Big City Billionaires Book Two

  Prologue

  Isabel

  Have you ever worried about where your next meal was coming from? How you’d keep the gas on in the middle of winter? Or how you can pay for medication when your older sister gets sick?

  All of these questions, and so many more, roll around my head on an endless loop over and over again.

  Not having the means to an end is always a worrisome thought, and it seems like everything in life always boils down to money. I hate the reality of that. Why is money so important? Why does the world revolve around it? Life isn’t fair to those who don’t have it.

  People like me.

  And what about the people who do have money? The folks who have so much money that they don’t even know what to spend it on. Can you imagine not knowing what to spend your money on? Not me. I can think of at least a million things to spend it on.

  In my opinion, life shouldn’t be this hard. Everyone says to stop and smell the roses, to be more thoughtful and enjoy life– but how? How can I enjoy the constant barrage of bills, and working so late just to pay bills, just so I can get up in the morning and work more?

  It’s an endless cycle. A cycle that I desperately want more than anything to escape, but it’s impossible. The only way to escape is death.

  It’s just not fair.

  I watch other people, rich people, and they have everything. Their lives are so easy. I don’t think they’ve ever worried about where their next meal was coming from, or if they would have heat in the winter. Nope, they have an easy life. A stress free life. A glam life. The type of life that I wish I could be a part of.

  But it’ll never happen for me.

  I know, I know– woe is me, right? Sad little poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Well, wrong. I’m not necessarily complaining, but I’m just being truthful. This is my life, and I’ve come to accept it. I accept the things I cannot change. Like the fact my sister is an escort and sells her body so we can eat.

  It isn’t our fault that we’re poor. It’s our birthright. The unlucky gene pool. That was what our parents left us.

  My sister, the escort, has never actually had sex with any of her clients. Most just hire her for parties and dinners, so that they don’t have to show up alone. It’s sad if you think about it. The men who have everything they could ever want–except love.

  Being an escort is a sweet deal actually, but the fact that one day soon she may be forced to sell her body is a scary thought; because to be honest we need the money.

  Badly.

  What’s even worse is when my older sister, Natalia, gets sick like she is right now. She has a date booked with a billionaire that is worth a ton of money. The pay she would make by going through with this date could pay our rent for three months. But we need this job.

  So I’ll have to go in her place.

  I’ll have to play the part.

  I just have to.

  I have no other choice.

  We need the money. We need to eat. We need to keep the lights on. There are no other options. So I’ve put on an outfit totally out of my comfort zone and now I’m headed out the doors for my first escort job.

  A virgin escort.

  Whoever heard of such a crazy thing in all their life?

  1

  Victor

  Straightening my favorite blue silk tie, I sit down at my desk. This has to be the most fucked up meeting I’ve ever had. Which is saying something considering the meetings I’ve walked into when they realize that at twenty-eight years old, I run the most successful computer spyware company in the country.

  My age throws a lot of business executives off or rather it pisses them off. The fact that I’m not even thirty years old and I’ve already made my first billion confuses them. Infuriates them. They expect some dumb ass guy to walk into the room, until I open my mouth and gain the respect I deserve.

  This meeting though, Christ; this meeting is nothing like that. I still can’t even believe I’m doing this shit, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

  Pulling up the sleeve slightly on my dark gray Armani suit, I check the time on
the Rolex Submariner I bought myself for my birthday. Damn, she’s late and that pisses me off. I’m a punctual man and I expect it in return. This makes me start to second guess this whole idea again. Why did I even agree to do this?

  “Mr. Vaughn, your ten o’clock appointment is here,” Debra, my secretary says through the intercom.

  “Send her in.” It’s about damn time I mutter to myself, then I lean back in my seat and wait.

  The door pushes open and Debra ushers the woman into my office. I’m dumbfounded by the beautiful woman that enters. She reminds me of a mixture of my favorite caramel candy and the prettiest lace underwear. Upon first glance she seems to be both sweet and sexy at the same time. Her skin is blemish free and probably is velvety to the touch. Her eyes seem to shimmer when she blinks. Fuck me, she’s like a wet fucking dream. She was not what I was expecting, and I want a taste.

  She’s fucking fine.

  “Thanks, Debra,” I say. My voice suddenly sounding like it’s fallen ten octaves.

  She nods and closes the door behind her. I stand up and walk across the room to greet this woman, praying that my dick doesn’t give away any of my wicked thoughts.

  “Hi, I’m Victor Vaughn,” I say sticking my hand out to her. She places her hand in mine and gives me a small smile. She’s even more attractive up close.

  Her distinctive light brown eyes stand out against the rich color of her skin and her full lips shimmer with whatever sparkly lipstick shade she has on. It’s not a shade that I normally see on the women I date or that work for me, but the color works on her.

  “Please have a seat.” I point to the chair in front of my desk and she walks over then carefully sits down. I take a seat at my desk and raise an eyebrow. “Mind telling me your name?”

  She clears her throat. “I’m so sorry, it’s Isabel Newman, but everyone calls me Bella.”

  “Isabel it is. I don’t do nicknames. So, tell me a little about yourself. Where are you from? What are your hobbies?”

  “Actually, Mr. Vaughn, that’s not how this works. You hire me and I’m whoever you want me to be. It’s not necessary for us to get to know each other personally,” she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Her voice is smooth and controlled, like she’s done this a million times before, but interestingly enough there also seems to be an innocence that dwells deep within her.

  Folding my hands on my desk, I nod my head several times. “Isabel, I don’t know and don’t care how you’ve done things in the past. I’m hiring you, I’m paying you a considerable amount of money, and when it comes to my money I have all the say.”

  And that’s the fucking truth.

  “So you want me to what? Do whatever you tell me to do because you’re paying?” Isabel’s body language immediately changes. Her arms cross and she is sitting in a basic defensive pose.

  “You want us to get personal with each other for what reason? Because you don’t want to own the fact that you’ve hired a woman to simply hang off your arm like a piece of decorative eye candy? You want to pretend that you actually give a crap about who I am?”

  What the fuck.

  “Listen I–”

  “No, trust me, I get it. You are the spoiled, rich boy, that daddy hired straight out of business school. Never worked an entry level job in your life. And you probably can’t trust women because you think they all want you for your inherited wealth, so you just hire them instead. Much easier that way. Understood, Mr. Vaughn, and it’s fine with me. I’ll be whoever you need me to be. Whoever you’ve paid for me to be. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I know how to play any role you throw at me. Let’s just not pretend that we have to get to know each other to do it, okay?”

  Her words are venomous and have cut slices into my flesh like a pack of fresh razor blades. This is the worst idea I’ve ever had. She’s a straight up bitch, and because I waited too long, I have no choice but to deal with her. She literally met me ten seconds ago, knows nothing about me, and has now made all of these half-assed judgements about me.

  “Nothing you just assumed about me is true, except for the part about me needing someone to play a part. I don’t have trust issues, it’s just that I’m a busy man, and I don’t have time or the need for a relationship. What I do need though is to make a good impression at the retreat I’m attending, and to do that I’m going to need a fiancee. A convincing one.

  “Do I need us to become besties? No. I was just trying to be smart about things seeing as how I’m hiring you for a job that lasts at least the next week. It would make sense for us to know some things about each other, wouldn’t it? Of course maybe me and my Wharton Business School education don’t know what we’re talking about,” I retort very sarcastically.

  Isabel starts to shift uncomfortably in her seat as if she wants to say something but is holding herself back. Imagine that? Perhaps she sees the error of her ways in the fact that she just ripped me a new one for no good reason.

  “The job lasts a week?” she asks hesitantly.

  “Yes, and we leave tomorrow morning, which means I’ll need you to stay at my place tonight.” Opening up the top drawer of my desk, I pull out the number of my personal shopper. “First things first, you need some new clothes. I’ll put in a call and when you leave here you can head over to the boutique across the street. Terry will help you.”

  “How do you know I need new clothes?” She glances down at her outfit.

  I eye her up and down, and throw back a little of the venom that she threw my way. “Were you planning on wearing that mousy grey sweater you have on to one of my business dinners, Isabel?” I practically sneer.

  “Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  “I know I’m asking a lot here, but rolling your eyes and acting completely uninterested since the minute you walked through my office, is not making me feel good about the money I’m putting out.”

  “I already told you, I’m good at what I do. I’ll be the perfect fiancee, proud of her man, and excited to be your wife when others are around. Believe me when I say, you have nothing to worry about.”

  I have nothing to worry about? Only the fact that I am hiring a woman (a beautiful albeit angry one) to play my fiancee for a week in front of some of the most successful businessmen in the country.

  Nothing to worry about at all.

  Fuck.

  2

  Isabel

  That was hard work. Phew! I was so nervous in there which is why I probably almost bit his head off. I’m so glad he didn’t notice that I wasn’t the girl he originally hired. When he’d hired me, he actually hired Natalia, my older sister. I guess he never saw a photo of her before.

  The flu couldn’t have come at a more worse time, but come it did. Natalia is sicker than I’ve ever seen before. There’s no way she could have kept the date with, Mr. Vaughn, especially an overnighter. I needed to fill in for her or we would both be out on the streets. Our bills are due, there’s rent to be paid, and my school bills are piling up. It was Natalia’s idea for me to go to college and to be something more than she was. I offered to get a real job to help make ends meet, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

  So when she came down with a nasty flu, I swore to her that I wouldn’t allow her to lose her job. She’s a private escort but lucked out and works for an elite agency. The only woman of color who works for the entire company. So when someone wants to hire a beautiful escort for the night with an exotic look, those jobs go to my sister. Just dates, no sex. Easy. I can handle that with my eyes closed.

  Yet when I took one look at Mr. Vaughn, my jaw dropped. To say he is gorgeous is an understatement. He’s way beyond that. Way beyond anything I ever even knew existed. He makes me flustered and off my game. I rehearsed everything I was going to say before I walked into his office a million times with Natalia, but the minute I laid eyes on him all of the preparation went out the window. He probably thinks I’m a lunatic. I grew nervous and defensive. Especially when he started asking me questions abo
ut myself. Natalia and I didn’t prepare for that. Rookie mistake.

  I can’t let him know that I’ve never done this before, or that I’m only twenty years old. He thinks he’s hired my twenty-four year old sister, but I just have to have faith that it’ll all work out. I have no other choice. God wouldn’t let us get evicted from our little hole in the wall, right? I shake my head, hoping I can pull this whole thing off. My sister is depending on it.

  Leaving his office, I glance down at my wardrobe, upset that he was clearly making fun of my best clothes. Sorry, I’m no billionaire, Mr. Vaughn, but my clothes are at least nice. This is a designer sweater that I paid fifteen bucks for at Goodwill. The store clerk told me she’d seen it in department stores last season. It’s a soft, grey, cowl neck sweater that is timeless. Whatever to him.

  I head off toward the boutique he mentioned and step inside. A man wearing a purple jacket and a feather boa around his neck saunters over. “You dahling, must be Isabel. You’re gorgeous. I’m the wonderful Terry.” He kisses both my cheeks and I grin. I like him.