For the Love of the Billionaire: The Complete Story of Barrett and Scarlet

For the Love of the Billionaire

Books 1-5

By Alison Ryan

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2016 Alison Ryan
. All rights reserved. Including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.

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Book One

Arista Holmes had been working at Elixir Enterprises for six months before she actually met her boss in person. Up until then, he’d been a complete mystery. Her interview for the job had been over the phone, as had every single interaction with him since her first day in the office on the fortieth floor of the high rise Elixir owned in Las Vegas.

Not that there wasn’t plenty of staff around to keep her company. She answered to his frumpy, bitchy office manager, Michelle Bloom. Michelle was middle aged with long grey hair and an ass the size of Manitoba. The VP was Jett Stanley who flirted with Arista every morning over the Keurig in the break room. But Jett was married (his wife popped in every so often, probably to remind everyone of that very fact) and Arista was
so
over married guys. Then there was Greg Melford, another VP who came in once a month for a week, and left again for his home back in Santa Barbara where he helped run one of Elixir’s numerous resorts. Arista was pretty positive Greg was gay but she couldn’t be sure. And finally there was Hildy Capriotti, the head of accounting who had the entire thirty-ninth floor to herself and who only came up to see Arista when she needed something filed or shredded.

There had always been talk, of course. Not just inside the office but outside it as well. See, her boss was Barrett Evers. Internationally famous billionaire playboy and business mogul, who was the oldest son of Rhett Evers.
The
Barrett Evers who had turned down a stint on the reality show where they have a rich bachelor picking from twenty hot girls clamoring and cat-fighting their way to being his potential wife.
The
Barrett Evers who was rumored to have trained to be a Navy SEAL at one point, until his family demanded he drop out.
The
Barrett Evers who had donated his yearly salary the last two years to fight children’s cancer.
The
Barrett Evers who owned two yachts, a fleet of helicopters, and a few private jets.
The
Barrett Evers who was CEO of Elixir Enterprises and who’d also been in various tabloids over the last ten years; salacious stories of who he was dating and bedding. Movie stars, royalty, and super models were just a few of the types that had been lucky enough to be seen with him. Everyone knew who Barrett Evers was. He was in a stratosphere above the A list. He financed films, documentaries, even Billboard albums. He was the one who wrote the checks to the A-list, so there wasn’t really a name for the level where he resided. He was the rich guy who made other people rich. The one all the wealth trickled down from. The man wasn’t even human. If the gods still existed, he would have been Zeus.

Arista was dying to meet him.

She couldn’t help but admit it: she fantasized about being his. Arista Holmes longed to be the woman who was able to lock him down (without a pre-nuptial agreement, preferably) the one girl he desired above everything else. Arista had always wanted to be a princess. Being that she wasn’t European (she was from Jersey. The Newark part) this would be the closest thing to touching that echelon of luxury and high living. All he needed to do was see her. She was sure, as soon as he did, fireworks would happen. They always did between her and whatever man she was hunting down. Arista had fucked all sorts. All for handbags and shoes, trips to St Bart’s, a leased Lexus, and once a shopping spree in Manhattan the week before Christmas. She cringed inwardly thinking what she’d had to put out to make
that
one happen.

With someone like Barrett at least she’d be attracted to him. The man was a walking orgasm; his appearance made women clench their thighs from the tingle. Barrett sported a handsome, rugged face, one with a square jaw and strong Nordic features. His hair was dark though, and wavy, much like some sort of Greek Adonis. The paparazzi had caught him shirtless on numerous occasions on his travels to Hawaii, St Tropez, Bora Bora, Bali, and Phuket. Name a tropical place where the rich congregated and Barrett had certainly been there. The Evers were the trendsetters; the people that decided what the next
It
place would be. Where they were is where
everything
was. They could have summered anywhere and the one percent of the one percent would have followed, gleefully.

And today was the day Arista would finally meet him.

It felt like the last day of the Gold-digger Olympics. Arista had been training for this since puberty. All the trips to the gym, the grueling marches on Stairmasters to attain her perfect ass, the expensive upkeep of her wardrobe that consisted entirely of labels (Fendi, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Christian Louboutin, YSL, Givenchy, and one beloved Stella McCartney dress), numerous trips to the salon to style her hair in the newest look, spending thousands of dollars over the years at the MAC counter, not to mention all the meals she’d refused to eat, all the times she declined dessert. It all came down to this moment where she would finally be formally introduced to Barrett Evers. He was her ticket to the big leagues, the final stop to the top. She had clawed her way up, sometimes literally, to the top of this high rise just to choreograph a meeting that would look like fate to Barrett. (Hopefully.)

Arista had barely been able to sleep the past week thinking about it.

Now here she sat, behind the twenty-six inch screen of her sleek computer in a tight Herve Leger dress that was probably a little inappropriate for work but she had thrown a cropped cardigan over it to balance it out. Her hair was very Brigitte Bardot meets Kardashian and her long, lean legs were accessorized in a pair of teetering, nude colored Jimmy Choo’s. Arista wanted to look like walking, professional, sex. In the full length mirror of her posh Green Valley townhouse, even she had been impressed with herself. No one in all of Las Vegas looked hotter than she did right now.

Michelle had been a huge hindrance that morning, of course. The office manager was anxious for everything to be just right for Mr. Evers. Arista wrinkled her nose at the sight of her. Michelle was everything Arista detested in other women; namely, she was homely. She didn’t care a lick about how gray her hair was or how large her ass had become after two kids and a thirty-five year marriage to a round man named Larry. Michelle was one of those women that thought hard work, earnestness, and a positive attitude would get her far in life. Arista would roll her eyes (that were framed by fake mink fur eyelashes) at Michelle talking to one of her kids on the phone or breaking up an argument between Jett and Greg over expense reports. Michelle liked to come off as some sort of saint of the office but Arista had never trusted women like Michelle. Arista knew she was probably insanely jealous of the hot office girl (herself), bitter that she’d never even at her peak been half as fabulous as Arista was. As soon as Barrett and she were married she’d make sure Michelle was gone, that was for sure. First order of business after ensuring she got knocked up on their magnificent honeymoon in the Seychelles. Arista hoped to stay at the same resort Kate Middleton did with Prince William.

But for now, Arista would plaster on her phony smile, be as agreeable as possible to Michelle’s requests and keep her blue-tinted eyes (contacts) on the prize- Barrett Evers.

“Barrett, your car is here,” Nancy Sanderson walked into the penthouse suite of the Arabella Towers, the newest and sleekest residential high rise in Las Vegas. Barrett’s father had bought him this condo as a thank you for contributing to the 30 percent returns their company had received on various investments that had really knocked it out of the ballpark for Evers Holdings this year. The suite was one of the largest in all of Las Vegas at just over nine-thousand square feet, with a view on one side of the strip and a view on the other side of the Spring Mountains that were far off in the distance, past the last lights of Las Vegas. Barrett had grown to prefer the mountain side of his new place, spending most early mornings drinking his coffee while staring at the beautiful vistas. His father had insisted on him hiring Las Vegas staff now that he would be spending more time there, but Barrett had never been one to have much of a desire for strange people in his home. He had housekeeping come once a week and his assistant, Nancy, bought his groceries. But Barrett (when not dining out) cooked all of his own meals, and mostly did all of his own laundry, save for his suits that he sent out for dry cleaning.

“I’ll be right down, Nancy. Thank you.” He smiled at Nancy Sanderson, who was not merely his assistant. She was one of his oldest and most trusted friends. Before she worked for him, she’d also been his nanny, and as close to a mother figure to him as his own actual mother was. He hated introducing her as his employee because she was so much more than that. She was his family and no one knew him better.

“Don’t forget, I’m having dinner with Michelle tonight,” Nancy said as he stood up to slide on his Tom Ford tailored jacket.

Barrett paused for a moment at the sound of Michelle’s name. With Michelle came Scarlet, and with the thought of Scarlet came a lot of things that he hadn’t thought about in years. And it was better that way.

“Ah yes. I bet you’re excited to see her.” Barrett’s office manager at Elixir’s Las Vegas headquarters was Nancy’s sister, Michelle Bloom, a wonderful and jovial woman who had been working for them at least thirty years. She’d started as a secretary in their main office in Atlanta and had worked her way up the ladder from there. Even though she was close to retiring, Michelle loved working for the Evers family and had moved to Las Vegas with her husband Larry five years ago when the youngest of her children had finally left for college. Michelle and Larry were one of those long-time married couples that did everything together. On weekends they took an Airstream trailer all around Nevada and California. Barrett envied their easy times together, where work stayed at the office and their love was what was most important.

Years ago, when Barrett lived in Atlanta and was just starting out in his father’s company, he’d dated Michelle’s daughter, Scarlet Bloom. It had been a brief relationship, just over a summer, and it still stood as the longest and most serious romance Barrett had ever allowed himself to get swept up in. To this day, it was hard for him to think of Scarlet and not have his heart shift in his chest. But that was something he couldn’t focus on today.

“I
am
excited to see her. They want to eat at a buffet but I’m trying to convince them to let me treat them at Excess. I hear fabulous things,” Nancy said. Nancy was a little different from her sister, her tastes more refined. She had never been married and Barrett had always joked with her that it was due to her own particularity. Not many men could get past Nancy’s expectations. That had often bled over to Barrett. Not many women he had dated (besides her own niece) would ever be good enough for Nancy. The thought of Nancy plopping mashed potatoes on a plate at an off-the-strip buffet made Barrett laugh. It was far from the kind of place where she’d be happy but there wasn’t much Nancy wouldn’t put up with for the people she loved, especially her sister.

“We have an account there, bill it to us if you go,” Barrett said, picking up his briefcase. “You’ll probably talk business whether you want to or not anyway, so you might as well.”

“Don’t tempt me. That makes me want to go there more than I already did,” Nancy laughed. “You, on the other hand, actually don’t have plans after three. I wanted to make your first day here a little less chaotic.”

“I appreciate that,” Barrett smiled. “I love you, Nance.”

“Ditto, kiddo.”

He kissed her papery cheek as he walked into the elevator that would smoothly glide him down to the first floor where a Maybach and personal driver were waiting for him to begin his day.