The Firstborn Prince (The Billionaire Dynasties) Read online

  There, that was a particularly delicate way of wording it. Surely, he’d get points for diplomacy, considering. He didn’t mention he knew for a fact she had zero clients at the moment, and zero prospects based on the fact the media hadn’t tired of the Margo Welles debacle.

  The brow dropped, and her eyes narrowed slightly. “Currently, I am taking on new clients,” she agreed. “But I usually like to find out how I can help you before I commit to anything. Let’s put all of our cards on the table.”

  “I’m okay with that,” he agreed.

  “Since you seem to have come in here with some previous information about me, I won’t bother you with the details about myself and my company. Instead, let’s focus on what I know about you. You’re Foster Boyd,” she began, ticking the point off on one elegant fingertip. “I know of you, but only because you’re known more for your ability to misbehave than anything to do with the tons of money you’ve accumulated over the duration of your working life.” The second point was ticked off on her middle finger. She tapped her ring finger twice before continuing. “But, your reputation is only half that of your brother’s, who is—if it’s possible—even more well-known for reckless and wild behavior in questionable company.” She made it to her pinky and tilted her head at him. “Somewhat further down the list is the fact that your net worth has a lot of zeroes in really appealing places because you both own a very successful company that deals in cosmetics and skincare products.”

  He nodded slightly before offering a shrug. “Those are all facts, yes.”

  Waving one hand, she said, “You sound quite blasé about it, but those are all important facts; insofar as I’m an image consultant. There are things that are within my ability to change, and I have to be able to recognize the ones I can’t. In your case, Mr. Boyd, I have to admit I’m at a loss. You have a horrible—sorry for saying so, but it’s true—reputation and it doesn’t affect your business in the slightest. In summation, I’m not sure how I can help you. I can’t undo years of reprobate behavior, but I’m not sure you’d want me to, as it doesn’t affect your bottom line.”

  Relaxing into his seat, he was happy she’d managed to work through all of it so quickly. It would save him time. “I appreciate the fact that you can see so clearly and quickly so much of the situation,” he admitted. “But, luckily for both of us, I don’t need my image changed so much as my situation.”

  “Then you should speak with a situation consultant,” she suggested. “Not that I’m even sure that’s a thing, but still… My specialty is image, Mr. Boyd.”

  “And you have no clients paying for that specialty right now, Ms. Stolen.”

  His words dropped into the room, leaving waves of silence in their wake. Her face flushed again, this time clearly in embarrassment.

  She looked rather good, rosy like that. It made a man wonder what she’d look like in the throes of passion, all breathless and pinkened as her lips went lax with desire.

  He blinked twice, fascinated by how quickly this woman enchanted his imagination, before snapping down on his own cravings with an iron fist. He forced his mind away from the bedroom with the self-control he’d worked so many years to hone. He couldn’t help but think the raw sexuality of this woman would be a perk, as it served his plan beautifully.

  One pale hand came up to cover her throat in a vulnerable move he was pretty sure wasn’t faked. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Boyd. Please allow me to show you to the door.”

  Chapter Two

  From Natalie’s rules for Foster Boyd, v2

  Rule #7: Avoid making bets or offering people deals without running it past legal first. You have a tendency to say things in a way… You’re horrible at it. And once you’re committed to one of your harebrained plans, not only do you not listen to reason, you have this weird ability to make people agree to them. The press? They’re counting on this particular weakness of yours. I know, Boyds don’t have weaknesses, but call it whatever you like, it’s a problem. Do not make bets or proposals without running them past legal. Ever.

  Oh, she recognized Foster Boyd on sight, but not just because he was the only well-known man she’d ever read about who had a dog companion. She recognized him because his face graced more magazines than the sexiest man of the year. Known by one of those ridiculous prince names, the media dubbed Foster Boyd the Firstborn Prince. The elder brother by a few minutes, he was one of the Boyd twins who took over Boyd Cosmetics upon the death of their parents about a decade ago.

  Both of the fraternal twins were known for their good looks, but it was often a race as to which brother had the most recent headlines. Foster was known for his love of the ladies and his constant dog pal, Connor was known for gambling and starting fights. Neither brother ever tried, in Natalie’s recollection, to change a thing about those well-earned reputations.

  They were also both known for the fact they were silver spoon–fed jerks who never worked for a living. Born to money, and rather carefree about it, neither of the Boyds had to do more than breathe to inherit a fortune surpassing what most people could imagine. Other than the death of their parents—car crash, tragic really—their lives had been perfectly golden. There were pictures of them growing up in most magazines. They’d been the most photographed children per some ranking thing when they were kids. From ponies to playing with poor children in the mud, the twins had traveled the world and grown up center stage for the international community.

  Due to that wealth and overexposure, or maybe because of it, neither of the Boyds were afraid of a little controversy. Or a lot of controversy. Their reputations weren’t rusted and dinged up—they were permanently soiled. She’d seen both of their behinds, generally in glossy spreads with headlines like, “Twin Princes Caught on Camera…Again!”

  They were often captured running off to Vegas or surrounded by a roomful of strippers, but the press ate it up. Because aside from being egocentric and arrogant bazillionaires, both twins were known for being humanitarians and otherwise fighting for causes they held dear. She wouldn’t be surprised with a headline featuring them at the Olympics, busted with the women’s swimming team any more than she’d be stunned to see one or both brothers heading a foundation to ensure clean water to a third world nation.

  Handsome, rich, known for their wild and crazy stunts… Basically, she wasn’t sure what any image consultant could do to change a lifetime of debauchery and rebellion against the expected norms. Or to enhance it.

  Not to mention a somewhat tarnished image consultant still recovering from the shenanigans of her last client.

  That he had the audacity to point out the fact that she had zero options and no income only irritated her. She hadn’t done a thing wrong in her life—paid her own way through school, worked hard, kept her own reputation flawless—while he was the poster child for what not to do to become a success. Yet, there they were.

  It pissed her off.

  She wasn’t even kidding when she offered to show him the door—although the suggestion was a bit arrogant on her part, considering they could both see the damn door. It was about a foot behind him, actually, due to the size of her desk and the tiny nature of the office. She stared him down, anyway—which wasn’t a hardship, since the man had a sexual punch that was like a tank hitting her libido. His hair was long and blond, his forehead high, and his eyes a clear gray that reminded her of fog in London. It wasn’t fair that he was that hot and wealthy and powerful.

  “I think you misunderstand me, Ms. Stolen,” he began.

  “What is there to misunderstand, Mr. Boyd?” she asked. “You came to my office to point out the fact that I’ve come upon hard times?”

  “No, hardly,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m here to offer you a way out of your hard times.”

  She blinked, focusing on his words and trying to make sense of them. “And I thought I addressed that, Mr. Boyd. I’m an image consultant. I don’t see what use you would have for my services.”

  His smile w
as slow and crawled across his face in a way that sent shivers of awareness dancing across her skin. Good lord, if the man melted the panties off a girl with just a smile, imagine what he could do with his hands.

  It wasn’t the time for her to be getting hot and horny over a potential client. She bit her lip and reminded herself this was business, not hump the hottie time.

  “Ms. Stolen, it has come to my attention that you have a unique ability to keep secrets, even at the risk of your own career.” Foster Boyd petted the head of that dog again, in a way that she was starting to suspect was unconscious.

  It was hard to be bitchy when faced with those big liquid brown doggy eyes. Not fair, really, that the dog and owner were so damn fun to look at. “What does my ability to keep confidential information for my clients have to do with your visit, Mr. Boyd?”

  “My brother recently proved distracted during a time where the company required him to be focused. His mistake led to damages that we saw in sales, which means that perhaps he’s no longer situated in a way that is best for Boyd Cosmetics,” Foster Boyd said. “To be specific, there was a failed ad campaign which left the board on edge. Stocks dipped, and my brother still seems too distracted to correct the situation. I’m prepared to do what needs done to save the company.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Natalie tried to read between the lines of what he was saying to hear what he meant. At first, she couldn’t figure it out, but then she tentatively decided to try to prod for more information without committing herself to agreeing to anything.

  “So, what you’re saying is that you want to take Boyd Cosmetics away from your brother?” she asked.

  “It isn’t taking it away if Connor decided on his own to go elsewhere,” Foster said smoothly.

  “Although that’s fascinating, and more than I expected you to share without putting me under a non-disclosure agreement, I’m still not seeing where you’d need an image consultant to accomplish your goal, Mr. Boyd.” She tapped her fingertip on her desk before realizing she was doing it. Halting the motion, she put her hands in her lap. She usually maintained the outward facade of calm better than this.

  Again, the small quirk of his lips suggested that he not only noticed the nervous motion, but was amused by her at the same time. “Sometimes, it isn’t about what you can do, but what you cannot. Due to your history of keeping secrets, I believe you could work for me without sharing the actual extent of your duties. What I want to hire you for is to work as an image consultant for Connor.”

  She blinked at him, not understanding. “You want to hire me to help Connor with his public reputation? Isn’t that contrary to your goal, if you want to take the company away from him? I mean, if the purpose of my position is to help you gain control, wouldn’t we want to focus on your reputation, Mr. Boyd?”

  Foster crossed his legs, disrupting the dog, who’d begun to doze on his knee. “And that is what I hope Connor thinks, but your actual position would be a bit more complicated than that, Ms. Stolen. You see, my brother has a weakness, one of which is common public knowledge due to the press being such a constant in our lives.”

  He left off there, and she scrabbled through her memories of the twins to try to figure out what Foster referred to. “I’m sorry, Mr. Boyd. It’s escaping me as to which particular weakness you’re referring to in this case.”

  “Diplomatically said, Ms. Stolen, however I understand your meaning. Connor has a weakness for intelligent women.” Foster Boyd didn’t quite meet her eyes as he spoke.

  It took a second for his words to register, but when they did, she smacked both palms down on the desk and stood up, furious.

  “As I said before, Mr. Boyd, please do not hesitate to find your way out. I’m not an escort, I’m an image consultant. And even without a client to my name, I’ve no interest in being hired as a prostitute for your brother.”

  …

  Was it wrong that he couldn’t help but think she was even more sexy when she was mad? Because he did. Just looking at her had him recrossing his legs again to hide the fact that her flushed cheeks made him rock hard with uncomfortable lust.

  “Again, you misunderstand, Ms. Stolen. Although you’re a lovely woman, and I don’t intend this as an insult, I don’t wish to hire you for your skills in the bedroom.”

  She didn’t back down, still facing off with him with both palms flat on her large glass desk. “How many times do I have to ask you to leave?”

  “Well, it isn’t as if you can call security to have me removed. Not in an office like this,” he said bluntly.

  Her lips pinched together in a thin white line. “You came here insinuating you want to hire me as an escort for your brother, as if that’s not insulting enough, and then you add to that by pointing out the lack of security in my new office? Judge-y much?”

  He tried not to be amused at her spitting fury and failed. However, if he wanted to gain her assistance, perhaps he wasn’t using the best tact. She was already off balance, so he changed his tone to one that was intentionally soothing when he said, “I’m not saying any of this well, and I’ll ask your forgiveness—”

  “Which I won’t give,” she inserted in a tart tone.

  He smiled easily, as he’d expected her reaction. “Nonetheless, I’ll ask for it, because I’ve never been in this position before, and the job I want to hire you for is considerably outside the realm of normal boundaries.”

  “Can you just flat out say what you’re trying to dance around, Mr. Boyd?” She sat again, slowly, but her expression didn’t soften in the slightest.

  He respected that, even if it might prove inconvenient for him. He didn’t need a woman Connor could squish like a bug or ignore, and from his short acquaintance with Natalie Stolen, she could prove perfect for the position. Even more so than he’d initially intended, as there was something about her passionate responses that triggered him on a base level.

  Which means she’ll likely drive Connor wild, he reminded himself. She wasn’t for him.

  “I’ll try,” he agreed. “I want to hire you as an image consultant, with the open and public job of helping my brother clean up his questionable reputation, to repair the damage done by his recent ad campaign, in the hopes that he can continue as a valuable part of Boyd Cosmetics. However, that’s not your actual job—”

  “Gathered that,” she pointed out.

  He didn’t allow her interruptions to annoy him, or at least hoped he managed to mask his frustration. “Your actual position would be primarily to distract my brother. If he’s busy with you, working on his reputation, I’m in a position to garner the loyalty and public support needed for me to take over the company.” He couldn’t help but notice the way she moved, the way the pulse fluttered at the base of her throat, practically begging a man to place his lips just there to feel the delicate flesh under his mouth. “But you can’t let him know your actual goal is his distraction, make sense?”

  She didn’t answer for a long time, so he pinned his gaze on her. Maintaining eye contact was an important technique to get people to do what he wanted, but he was impressed that she bore the weight of his stare for long moments. He’d seen men in much more powerful positions than this woman cave in far less time to his stare. Finally, she answered him. “You made it sound more unsavory at first, as if by distracting him, I would be doing more than trying to mend his public persona.”

  She was sharp. Which was good. His brother shared Foster’s love of intelligent women. “I did, and that wasn’t unintentional. My hope is that Connor will find you somewhat intriguing, fascinating to the point of distraction, making it easier for you to do your job, really. If he’s focused on you, he can’t really get into any reputation-damaging trouble, right?”

  “Okay, right there, you’re suggesting a romantic entanglement, and that isn’t what I do,” she explained.

  “Not exactly,” he explained. “As a matter of fact, I want you to rebuff—”

  “Rebuff? Archaic language doesn’t make the task
you’re suggesting any less unsavory, Mr. Boyd.” That delicate brow of hers arched again, challenging him.

  He refused to rise to the bait, ignoring her comment for long moments before asking, “May I continue?”

  She waved a hand before reaching for a glass water bottle with a distant look. “Feel free. This is all fascinating.”

  “As I was saying, you’ll resist any entanglements he might wish to begin. Therein, you’re not being hired as an escort or anything equally unsavory, as you suggested.” He hoped that would be enough information, but her quick smile let him know she wasn’t letting it go quite yet.

  “Mr. Boyd, if you don’t mind me pointing this out, your brother is quite an attractive man. Working with him in the capacity of distracting him could easily become a distraction, so to speak, for whatever woman accepted your unusual proposal.” Her smile grew, but he found himself annoyed.

  Was she saying, in a very careful way, that she thought his brother was hot? Because… “Under no circumstances could you become involved with Connor. He’s like me, you see,” Foster explained.

  He also swallowed the lump in his throat that tasted a lot like inconvenient jealousy. It took quite a bit of his self-control to resist the hot spike of annoyance he suffered at the thought she might find his brother attractive.

  “I do not see,” Natalie said, tapping one fingertip on the top of the glass bottle as she considered him through half-slitted eyes. “Please, explain, Mr. Boyd.”

  If this particular woman set out to seduce him, Foster had to admit he’d let her. She’d be fabulous in bed. “We swore off commitment,” he explained, trying to find the words to pretty it up. Giving up, and knowing she wouldn’t let it go at that, he added, “If you sleep with him, you’ll no longer work as a distraction. We do not go where we’ve been, not if we can help it.”

  He didn’t quite expect Natalie’s laughter, all husky and sexy, to wrap around him like a velvet fist, but he let it roll over him. If Connor reacted to this woman with an iota of the interest Foster found himself fighting off, the company would be Foster’s in a week. If even.