Please Me E-Book

Michelle Love

• Herausgeber: Michelle Love
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

He’s the most exciting man I’ve met in a long time—and the most dangerous.

His reputation precedes him, and I have a job to do—keep my client out of trouble and out of Stone Vanderberg’s newspaper column.
But, no one told me he was this magnetic, this sensual, with his machismo such a turn-on.
Every time he is near me, my body betrays my own promise not to let him near me.
I crave him…
I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to resist him…
… or even if I want to.

I’m supposed to be working, but all I think of is what Stone Vanderberg wants to do to me.
And what I am desperate to do with him…

Keywords: Guaranteed HEA, no cliffhangers, happily ever after. billionaire, bad boy, office romance, steamy romance, contemporary romance, love books, love stories, new adult, alpha male, romance, action, adventure, steamy romance, small-town secrets, hot, alpha hero. free book, free novels, romantic novels, and sexually romantic books.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

PLEASE ME

Copyright

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Blurb

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sneak Peek Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

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A Billionaire Romance

Dirty Network 4

By Michelle Love

©Copyright 2023 by Michelle Love

All rights Reserved

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Blurb

He’s the most exciting man I’ve met in a long time—and the most dangerous.

His reputation precedes him, and I have a job to do—keep my client out of trouble and out of Stone Vanderberg’s newspaper column.

But, God, no one told me he was this magnetic, this sensual, with his machismo such a turn on.

Every time he is near me, my body betrays my own promise not to let him near me.

I crave him…

I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to resist him…

… or even if I want to.

I’m supposed to be working but all I think of is what Stone Vanderberg wants to do to me.

And what I am desperate to do with him…

Chapter One

Cannes, France…

Stone Vanderberg wondered, as he did every year, why he came to this film festival. It wasn’t as if his long and successful journalistic career had focused on moviemaking, or even celebrity, but he had a fascination with the self-congratulatory ways of the movie stars, directors, and producers who flooded the south of France every May.

One year, almost twelve years ago, he’d written a sarcastic, cynical piece for The New Yorker which had proved wildly popular, and ever since, it became one of the most anticipated stories to come out of the festival every year.

Even the stars and studio bigwigs loved being roasted by Stone Vanderberg—all publicity is good publicity, after all—and, for Stone, there were always the perks. He stayed at the InterContinental Carlton on the seafront in the Sean Connery suite every year—paid for by the magazine, of course—and there was no shortage of beautiful women eager to bed the handsome writer.

Stone Vanderberg was the eldest son of a Long Island billionaire—the Vanderbergs were old money going generations back who rivalled the Gettys and Rockefellers in terms of prestige and money. Stone and his younger brother Ted, a movie agent, might be heirs to billions, but they stood on their own two feet in the world due to their well-earned international reputations as hard-working, hard-playing lotharios.

Now, Stone sat on his hotel balcony, watching the hordes of tourists and movie people mill around on La Croisette Boulevard below him. It was hot already at seven a.m. He’d spend the day watching and listening to the actors and actresses who were out in force to promote their movies. Stone would be invited multiple times to dinner or for drinks, or as he had found out, asked outright to have sex with them—by both the actress and the actors.

He had that kind of magnetism. Stone stood six-feet-six, with a broad-shouldered, ripped body from working out at four A.M. every day. At forty, with his dark-brown hair flecked with grey, his dark navy-blue eyes intense, Stone used his machismo, his power, to get what he wanted, and he made no apology for it. He liked hard work and fucking—especially fucking. He’d never married because, as he told interviewers, why would he want to settle for just one woman when he could have many? He knew he was arrogant, but he justified it with his charm.

Stone, contrary to his confident demeanor, actually believed in getting more bees with honey, than by jackbooting around. He made sure his conquests were clear that it was just for a night, and he always treated them well in the morning. His colleagues, especially his subordinates, adored him—he was a fair, inclusive employer who paid above the odds and nurtured his staff and their dreams. His personal assistant, Shanae, a gorgeous blonde from Charleston who dressed like someone from Dallas or Dynasty back in the Eighties, all shoulder pads and power suits, was a firecracker who mocked Stone mercilessly and hilariously to his face but was as fiercely loyal as a bulldog. Shanae and Stone shared a sibling-like relationship—despite Stone’s man-whoring ways, Shanae had made it clear when she took the job that sex wasn’t on the cards.

“I don’t shit where I eat,” she had said to him during the interview. “I know about men like you, Stone Vanderberg, and that monster in your pants is never going to get near my good girl.”

Stone had given her the job on the spot. Now, checking the time back in New York, he debated calling her, knowing she would still be awake, playing retro videos games and eating peanut butter cookies.

Maybe not. She wouldn’t thank him for the interruption. Instead, he went back into his room and into the bedroom of the suite. Last night’s conquest was just waking up. He smiled at her.

“Hey, Holly.”

Holly was a fun redhead who grinned back at him. “Hey, dude. Listen, I’ll get out of your hair in a sec, but I need to shower. I have a meeting at ten, and my hotel is way out of town.”

“Sure thing, honey. Come join me?”

Holly laughed. “If I do that, we’ll end up fucking and I’ll be late. Can I just hop in quick?”

“Of course.”

She kissed him as she passed him and reached down to squeeze his cock. “Great night, babe.”

“Right back at you.”

Stone heard the shower running and sighed, content. This was what he liked—great sex followed by a friendly chat in the morning and no expectations. Holly had been an exceptional fuck, too—athletic, uninhibited, and good-humored. Gorgeous, too: punky, tattooed, different from his usual choice.

He thought about that now. What is my ‘usual’ choice? He smirked to himself. Beautiful. Sexy. With any luck, not skin and bones. With all the actresses being coerced into sample sizes by designers for this shindig, finding Holly who wasn’t a size zero had been a miracle. But, Stone considered, that was probably why she wasn’t doing as well in her career as some of the skeletons in designer duds haunting the festival.

“Hey, Hols? When you get back to the States, call me. We’ll set up a profile piece for you. Get your name out there.”

Holly stuck her head out of the bathroom door. “Is this a thank you for sex thing?”

Stone grinned. “No, it’s a good things should happen to a great woman like you thing.”

Holly flushed with pleasure. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the world the great Stone Vanderberg is a teddy bear.” She kissed him. “Thanks for an amazing fuck, Stone. You’re the best.”

“Oh, I know.”

Holly rolled her eyes, laughing. “Later, babe.”

The room rang with silence after she’d gone. Stone considered that he wouldn’t mind running into Holly again one day—she was a breath of fresh air. He grabbed his notepad—he was an old-school kind of writer—and headed out to wander through the crowds. Snagging his accreditation from the appropriate festival tent, he headed to the International Village, a series of pavilions where movie people networked and promoted their films.

In the Italian tent, he saw Cosimo DeLuca chatting to a group of producers. Stone waited until the other man was free before greeting his old friend. “Cos, you look ten years younger.”

Cosimo grinned. “That would be Biba.”

“How is she?”

“Pregnant again. Planned, I should add. We can’t wait. Now that this latest movie is in the can, and after this thing, I can go home to Italy and forget about the movies for a few months.” He looked around. “I’ve been trying to grab Eliso—I’d like him to consider a role, but I keep missing him.”

Eliso Patini was perhaps Italy’s most famous actor, but he was notoriously private. He was also Stone’s best friend. Stone shrugged. “You know if you call him, he’ll always call you back, Cos. I think you’re on the list of five people he will return a call for.”

They both laughed. “You doing your yearly article?”

Stone nodded. “It’s been disappointingly drama free this year.”

“I might have a tip. Apart from the fact that Stella is here and looking to upstage Jennifer Lawrence… again,” Cosimo laughed, “I hear Sheila Maffey is here and very unhappy.”

“About representation?”

“Yup. She has a point. Not one of the judges this year is either a woman or a minority. It’s all looking very white.” Cosimo shook his head. “In this day and age, it’s a disgrace.”

“No arguments here, although two middle-aged white men probably shouldn’t be the champions for it,” Stone said with a sigh.

“We can be allies. Anyway, the studio sent along a lawyer with Sheila for her press interviews. The poor kid. She looks like she would blow away in a breeze, but she seems to be fending off the worst and keeping Sheila in line.”

“They sent a woman to silence a woman?”

“No, actually, the lawyer seems to be completely on Sheila’s side, so that’s good. Kid just clarifies language. You know Sheila though, it won’t be too long before she blows up.”

Stone nodded his head, thinking. “Thanks for the tip, man. Might be worth a look.”

“Listen, let’s do dinner before the end of this thing. I have to get to my next suck-up meeting.” Cosimo slapped Stone’s shoulder. “I’m just so relieved I’m not in competition this year. Later, my brother.”

“Later, buddy.”

As Cosimo walked away, he turned back and called out. “The Maffey thing is at La Salon des Independents, down on Rue Louis Perrissol. Sheila’s on a roll. You should still catch them there.”

“Thanks, man.”

Stone walked the few blocks to the café. Years of pounding Cannes’ side streets had made him an expert at the layout, and he had been to that bar before. The maître d’ greeted him and asked him if he wanted a table.

“Miss Maffey’s here?” Stone’s voice was even, but he slipped a fifty-euro note to the woman. She smiled.

“Yes, sir. I believe there is a table nearby.”

“Good girl.” He winked at her, turning on his patented charm and she simpered at him. She led him to a table across from Sheila, who, as Cosimo predicted, was making her case to an unfortunate journalist.

Stone sat down and glanced over casually. At first, he just registered Sheila, magnificent in white, her dark hair piled up on her head, her elegance complimented by discreet but priceless jewels. From Stone’s practiced eye, he estimated Sheila was wearing at least two million dollars-worth of gems. He hid a smile. Sheila was class and elegance but for a breakfast meeting? She was savvy; she knew how to make an impression, Stone had to give her that.

Then his attention was caught by the young woman sitting next to her, and his stomach felt like someone had driven a sledgehammer into it.

She was caramel-skinned, and her long dark hair was pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. Huge, dark, soulful eyes, a rose-pink mouth, the last vestiges of puppy face making her face look younger than he supposed she was, but Stone felt as if his breath was hitching and failing. She was achingly beautiful but not in an obvious way like the actresses he knew—indeed, her face was make-up free—but in a soft, natural way. She was also the saddest person he had ever seen.

Stone caught himself staring, and when she looked up and met his gaze, a frisson crackled in the air between them. He watched as her cheeks blushed a rosy color, and she looked away. Gotcha, he thought, then felt bad. She wasn’t someone to catch in a trap.

The young woman glanced back at him, and he saw recognition dawn in her eyes. She glanced at Sheila who was in mid-rant, and then suddenly stood. “This interview is ending. Right now.”

Both Sheila and the interviewer look startled, but Stone grinned, unrepentant. His girl had recognized who he was and what he was doing, and she was doing her job, protecting her client. He watched her speak quietly to Sheila, who glanced over at him and rolled her eyes. Stone gave her a wave, and Sheila laughed, shaking her head.

“Well, Goddamn, Stone Vanderberg. I might have known.”

To Stone’s chagrin, her companion was making her way out of the bar with the journalist, and as Sheila was clearly set on talking to him, he had missed his shot at finding out who the beautiful stranger was. Sheila, her glossy black skin clear and glowing, sized him up. They’d had a thing years ago, but Sheila was even more of a commitment-phobe than he was.

Stone kissed her cheek. “Sheila, always good to see you.”

“Wish I could say the same. You going to eviscerate me in your piece? I mean, I don’t mind, but what I’m ranting about this time actually means something.”

“Nope, just wanted to say hi. Cosimo told me you were here. And for what it’s worth, I’m with you on representation.”

Her expression softened. “Good.”

Stone nodded after her companion. “Studio sending you a muzzle?”

Sheila looked surprised. “Nan? Nope, quite the opposite. She’s an entertainment lawyer, but she wants to move into human rights. She figures supporting me with this campaign gets her on the map. Kid’s young, but she’s tenacious.”

“Nan?”

Sheila smiled. “Nanouk, and you leave her alone, Vanderberg. She’s way too good for you, you slut.”

Stone laughed, not offended in the least. “They always are, Sheila. Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”

Nanouk Songbird dumped her laptop on the desk in her tiny hotel room and flopped onto the bed. She hated being in Cannes and dealing with so many people around. Living in New York, she told herself that she should be used to crowds, but here, with so many people packed into the small coastal city all wanting to see the same thing, she felt claustrophobic.

And then there was the added irritant of Stone Vanderberg. She knew all about him, of course: the billionaire journalist from the powerful Vanderberg family. They were New York, and more specifically, Oyster Bay, Long Island. She’d grown up across town from their compound, in a tiny wood-frame house with her sister, Etta, who raised Nan after their parents were killed in a car wreck when Etta was eighteen and Nan was twelve. Etta raised the bewildered Nan all by herself, and Nan adored her older sister, and they were happy.

Then, one night, Etta was raped as she walked home from her job at the local library. She was unable to bear the trauma, and a few weeks later, when then-eighteen-year-old Nan came home from school, she found her sister dead from an overdose of sleeping tablets. She left a note.

I’m so sorry, baby bird, but I can’t go on. Fly free with all my love, little one.

Nan was left alone and numb. On autopilot, she went through the motions of graduating from high school with a 4.0 GPA and applying to colleges. She got into Harvard Law on a scholarship. There, she met her best friend, Raoul—an easy-going Jewish boy from old money who adored her on sight. Raoul was openly gay, and Nan felt safe with him. The trauma of Etta’s rape stayed with her, and although she made friends, she avoided dating, to the chagrin of the college boys who were drawn to her honey-skinned beauty. Nan’s heritage—a father from Punjab, India, and a Shinnecock Indian mother—made her beauty exotic and alluring, but she consistently played down her looks, not wanting to be judged by them.

It was a habit she kept up even now. She got up and stripped out of her elegant work suit, hanging it up carefully. She was a jeans and T-shirt girl, and only now could she feel herself relaxing as she undid her hair from its bun and let it fall around her. Thick and lustrous, she knew she should get it cut into a more professional style—it was always messy—but it was her security blanket.

She made herself some herbal tea and pushed open the small door to the tiny balcony outside. The hotel was further into town but if she craned her neck around the side of the building, she could just make out the ocean. No matter. She sat in one of the chairs and sipped her tea. It was quieter here than on the seafront, and she reveled in the peace.

Now, away from Sheila, Nan could think about Stone Vanderberg. She hadn’t expected him to be quite so… magnetic. Yup, that’s the word. He was tall, at least a foot taller than her, and his broad, obviously worked-out body was the stuff of magazine covers—even the way his casual sweater and jeans hung on his body was like an Abercrombie and Fitch commercial.

His dark blue eyes had met hers, and Nan had felt a thrill go through her. A pulse had begun to beat between her legs, astonishing her. Was this what they called the lightning bolt moment? Or, more likely, she grinned to herself, it was just a primal lust instinct. She wondered what it would be like to be fucked by him. She could imagine he always insisted on being dominant—and to be honest, she wouldn’t mind that. His machismo, the slight air of danger in him…

Stop. She was getting turned on, and Stone Vanderberg was way, way out her league.

There was a knock at her door. Sighing, Nan got up. Her heart sank when she opened the door. Duggan Smollett, the studio’s representative in Cannes this year, smiled at her. Nan’s skin prickled. Since her arrival, he had hit on her virtually every time they had met, and he gave her the creeps. His small, silver eyes darted around, and his face was bloated from drink and coke. By the looks of it, he was high now—the sniffling and nose wiping a dead giveaway.

“Hey. Nannynook.”

Ugh. “Hello, Duggan, how can I help you?” She deliberately kept her voice even—and her body rigid, preventing him from coming in. He smiled at her.

“Gonna let me in?”

“I’m taking some private time, Duggan.” She didn’t care if she had to be rude; he wasn’t getting in. She didn’t work for him.

“Oh, okay. Well, look, I was just checking in. How did the interview with Sheila and Time Out go?”

“Fine, nothing to report. I sent you the e-mail a little while ago.” Which you saw and then decided to come to my room to intimidate me. Asshole.

Duggan smiled nastily. “Didn’t see it. Well, okay. The premier’s tonight, and I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me afterward.”

Not a chance in hell. “I’m sorry, Duggan, Sheila’s invited me to dine with her.”

“Maybe some other night.”

Nan didn’t answer him. “Is there anything else?”

“No, no, just checking in. Well… bye for now.”

“Goodbye, Duggan.” There was a little satisfaction in closing the door in his face, but she double-locked it to be sure. Duggan was a predator and a coked-up one at that. Not worth the risk.

Nan found Sheila had sent her a message.

Warning, Sneaky Smollett is looking for you. Sorry, kiddo. Still on for tonight? S x

Nan smiled. Sheila was the best part of her job at the moment. She loved the actress’ passion for her art, for her causes. Sheila wasn’t a woman who sat down and shut up. She spoke out no matter who tried to put her down.

She was also one of the kindest people Nan had ever met, and they had bonded almost immediately upon acquaintance. Nan had to admit to herself that Sheila reminded her of Etta so much that she had almost morphed the two women in her mind. Don’t get too attached, she told herself, Sheila might be a friend, but this is still a job.

Nan checked her watch. She had a few hours before the premiere. Jet lag was catching up with her, and she eagerly crawled under the comforter and curled up to grab a couple of hours sleep.

The dream began pleasantly enough. She was walking a red carpet alone with the cool breeze blowing off the ocean. No one else was around, and the peace was incredible. Then she saw him—Stone Vanderberg. He held his hand out to her, and she took it. He drew her into his arms and kissed her, his mouth sweet, his lips passionate against hers.

Then smiling, he turned her around and locked his arms around her. Nan saw Duggan walking towards her, smirking nastily. She began to panic, but Stone put his lips to her ear. “It’s alright, darling. It’ll only hurt for a moment…”

She began to scream as Duggan drove a knife deep into her over and over…

Nan awoke, shaking and terrified.

Chapter Two

Eliso Patini, movie star, grinned up at his girlfriend as she lay on top of him, breathless and sweating from fucking. He bunched a thick swath of her honey-gold hair around his fist. “God, I love you, Beulah Tegan.”

Beulah smiled. “Glad to hear it. Now, come on, old man! Let’s go again.”

Eliso laughed. As Beulah stroked his cock back into full erection, he ran his hands gently down her curvaceous body. They had been together a little over a year, and in that time, Eliso had found himself a changed man. Yeah, it was a cliché: a movie star with a Sports Illustrated model, but Beulah Tegan—a cockney from London—was so much more than a beautiful face and a stop-the-traffic body. She was funny, erudite, and above all, kind, and Eliso had fallen for her as soon as they had met.

Eliso himself was a one of a kind, an actor who didn’t sleep around, who didn’t cheat when he was in a relationship, despite the fact he regularly ranked in the top ten ‘Most Gorgeous Men in the World’ lists. His easy-going manner belied a towering acting talent which could make an audience laugh one moment, then leave them weeping inconsolably the next.

His shaggy dark curls and large expressive green eyes were magnets to women, as well as his storied prowess in bed, but Eliso had always longed for a partner rather than just a quick lay. As fate would have it, when the year before he’d been seated next to Beulah at a fashion show and found her to be as bored as he was by the fashion and the vapid people, he knew he’d found a kindred spirit.

Beulah straddled him now and impaled herself onto his cock with a shuddering moan. “God, you’re huge,” she said, “I swear your cock gets bigger every day. Fuck, that’s good.”

She was riding him, taking him deeper. He stroked her flat belly, cupped her full breasts, and gazed up at her. Her tawny hair tumbled around her, and Eliso wondered if he’d ever seen such a beautiful sight. Beulah grinned down at him. “You have mushy in your eyes.”

“Wanna get married?”

Beulah laughed. “How come you always ask me that when we’re fucking?”

“Because I mean it. Marry me.”

Beulah shook her head. “Not yet, sexy boy. We both have too much to do in our careers yet.”

“Screw my career.”

“I’d rather screw your monster cock. Besides, I couldn’t take you away from your adoring fans—and, seriously, Eli, you’re right on the cusp of something huge. Unlike me,” she giggled then, “I’m actually on something huge.”

She began to move faster, tightening her cunt around his cock, and Eliso groaned as she began to milk him, his cock pumping thick creamy cum deep into her belly. Beulah gave a long groan of ecstasy as she came. As both tried to catch their breath, Beulah detached herself and lay down next to him, stroking his face. “I love you, Eli, so, so much. But before we do the whole domesticated thing, we need to finish what we started. Then we can build a family with no regrets.”

“Smart girl.”

“You know it.”

Eliso glanced at the clock. “What time did we say we’re meeting Stone?”

“At the premiere. Don’t make that face, we have to go to the premiere—you promised your agent. If you’re a good boy and pose nicely, I’ll blow you in the restrooms.”

Eliso broke out laughing—that comment was just like Beulah. She had no time for airs and graces. “Deal.”

Flashbulbs in their faces, Eliso and Beulah did their job, smiling for the cameras and even kissing when they were asked. During the entire time, they kept up a softly spoken private conversation, mocking the paparazzi, and talking dirty to each other.

Finally, inside the Palais des Festivals et des Congrès, Beulah made good on her promise, sucking his cock in one of the stalls of the restrooms, both of them giggling and laughing, then Eliso fucked her against the cool tile, kissing her passionately.

Eventually they made their way to the auditorium. Eliso saw Stone and made his way over to him with Beulah on his arm. The two men hugged. “Hey dude.” Stone grinned at his friend, and Eliso introduced him to Beulah, who sized him up.