Page 118 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Eh, excuse me? Did he just say what I think he did? I jerk my chin in his direction. "Come again?"

"I need help managing my social media profiles, as well as my PR. And you heard my sister, you’re among the best on her team. So, I’ve decided you can come work for me.”

No way, he’s offering me a job. Cade Kingston, my brother’s best friend, the man I’ve had a crush on for, like, forever, the asshole who turned down my advances and left me feeling humiliated.

The grumptwat who walked away and never bothered to keep in touch with me—until I ran into him a few weeks ago.

The world’s most sought-after sportsman who has a reputation for being a man-whore.

That Cade Kingston is offering me a role on his team?

And why? Because he wants to see me fail and laugh at me again, no doubt.

Like it wasn’t enough for him to snub me all those years ago?

Apparently, he wants to destroy what little is left of my confidence, eh?

Of course, it’d mean I’d finally get a chance to see him every day; and how agonizing would that be?

To watch him from up-close as he fucks his way through the beds of every supermodel and actress he meets.

Because those are the only kinds of women he dates.

No, I haven’t been keeping track of him.

Not at all. I only monitor his social media feeds because it’s part of my job as a communications expert.

What? Don’t you believe me? I hunch my shoulders. Yeah, neither do I.

Nah, if I accept this job, I’m setting myself up for failure. Or worse, I’ll end up giving my heart to someone who’ll never reciprocate how I feel about him. It’s best to stay as far away from him as possible. It’s the only way I’m going to hold on to what dignity I have left.

I fold my arms across my chest, mirroring Cade’s earlier body language. "And if I refuse?"

Cade

She’s here. Of course, she’s here.

Zara’s her boss, and the two of them share a unique relationship where my sister clearly considers herself a mentor to Abby.

Abigail Warren. My best friend Knight’s little sister, who he explicitly warned me off. Not that she’s my typ. At all.

I prefer my women to keep their mouths shut and spread their legs wide, on my command.

That way, they’re merely need-fulfilling orifices and not much else.

There’s no danger of developing any feelings for them.

No messy relationship drama. I can focus on my mission of becoming the greatest batsman in the world of cricket.

Of banking those sponsorship dollars and watching my wealth and power grow.

Whoever said money has nothing to do with influence has, clearly, not experienced firsthand just what money can get you.

Wine and women, with sex and rock’n’roll thrown in for good measure.

Not to mention, the ability to live life on my own terms. To get what I want, when I want it.

Be it my choice of pussy, or the choice of buying what and who I want off the sports-field.

No living life afraid of being successful; afraid of standing out too much and being knocked down; afraid of spending my hard-earned money because it might attract too much attention from the community.

No, I left those fears to my parents. My goal from when I was very young was very simple.

To be everything they’re not. To be fearless. To go after what I want.

A fierce focus, combined with the determination to succeed, was topped off with a natural ability to play cricket.

It had me getting a sports scholarship to the American International School in London, and later, to Oxford.

It meant I left home when I was eleven. It also meant I wasn’t there as much as I wanted to be for my sister Zara.

Which is why I’m determined to be there for her now as she embarks on this new role as a mature and responsible mother.

What I didn’t reckon with was that one tiny, curvy woman would also be on the scene.

A gorgeous beauty, no longer the skinny little girl who followed Knight, and by extension, me, everywhere when we went home for school holidays.

More often than not, I’d go along with him because I didn’t want to go see my parents.

My folks were never unkind to me. But they also weren’t the demonstrative, affectionate type.

Not like Knight’s parents, who always welcomed me with open arms. Their house was more of a home to me than my own.

Knight was the brother I never had. And Abby… She was the little sister—no…

She never felt like my sister. The relationship between us has always been fraught with…

a kind of uncomfortable frisson I’ve never been able to ignore.

Probably because she was always an annoying add-on to the games Knight and I played as young boys—football and cricket and tennis and occasionally, holing up in his treehouse, where we pretended to be pilots.

Activities she was always on the fringes of.

She’s always been the annoying, little sprite who tagged behind us.

I didn’t expect her to grow up to be so…

alive, so potent, so gorgeous… So...everything.

Now, I look into her big green eyes and purse my lips.

"Don’t recall giving you a choice," I drawl.

Her gaze widens. "Choice? You’re giving me a choice?"

"I’m not," I clarify.

Color flushes her cheeks. "Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?"

"The man your brother charged with taking care of you."

"Excuse me?" Those big eyes of her grow enormous, until they seem to fill her face. "My brother?"

"Knight, your older brother, remember?"

"I know my brother’s name. What I mean is, he never mentioned anything about you taking care of me. Besides, I’m a full-grown woman.”

Yeah, trust me. I noticed.

“And who are you to take care of me anyway?"

"You’re brother’s best friend?" I offer.

"Someone I haven’t seen in ages. I barely know you."

"We don’t have to know each other for me to do my duty toward my best friend."

"Well, I absolve you of your duty." She cuts the air with her palm. "You can rest assured I can look after myself. I’ve been doing it all these years since I left home, after all."

"Apparently, you’re not doing a good enough job of it though."

"King!" Zara protests, but I ignore her.

Abby stiffens. "What do you mean?"

I look her up and down. "Clearly, you don’t eat enough. Have you seen just how skinny you are?"

"Wh-what?" She opens her mouth, then shuts it. Then opens it again. "What did you say?"

"As for your dress, did you buy it at the charity shop?"

Zara makes a strangled noise at the back of her throat.

I ignore her; so does Abby.

She glances down at her dress, then at me. "This one’s from Mango," she says in a low voice.

"Could have come from a charity shop, the way it hangs on you."

"Okay, that’s enough," Zara snaps. The baby stirs, then begins to cry. She hushes the kid, who only begins to bawl louder. "It’s okay darling. Mommy’s here.

You’re hungry, aren’t you?" She pushes down the neckline of her dress and I get a flash of breast—my sister’s breast—before I hastily turn away.

The baby stops crying; clearly, because it’s latched onto her boob.

Ah hell, should I be associating the word boob with my sister?

Sisters aren’t supposed to have breasts or get married.

.. Or spawn babies, for that matter. Jesus, where has the time gone?

I remember Zara as being a feisty girl who matched me when it came to running, or playing cricket, or standing up to my parents when they insisted she behave more like a 'girl'. When did she grow up enough to have kids of her own? How much did I miss in the time I was away from home. I rub the back of my neck. Why am I having all of these misgivings? I made my choices a long time ago. And so far, they’ve been working for me.

So why am I questioning them now? Clearly, seeing my sister with her newborn, not to mention meeting the woman who has a way of getting under my skin, has thrown me off kilter.

"I think, uh, I need a cup of coffee." I turn toward the door.

"I’m not done with either of you," Zara announces.

I blow out a breath. I may be only a few minutes younger than her, but she’s always been the bossy one. And when my sister commands, you don’t ignore it.

I exchange glances with Abby, who looks a little embarrassed, as well. She glances at Zara. "Sorry about that; didn’t mean to wake up the little one."

"Oh, he was hungry, anyway. He’ll be okay once he’s had his fill." She turns to me. "You, on the other hand, need to apologize."

"Eh?" I scowl. "For what?"

"For being rude and saying things you don’t mean, for one."

"I meant everything I said." I draw myself up to a full height. "Also—" I turn to Abby. "I promised your brother I’d look after you while he’s away on duty."

Yep, Knight joined the army. He had the chance to join the national cricket team with me.

He is, in fact, the only person I’ll concede is better at the game than I am.

But he turned down the opportunity of making the big bucks for a chance to serve his country.

Something which makes me proud of him, and makes me realize just how much of a selfish motherfucker I am.

The least I could do was promise him I’d look over Abby while he’s gone. A promise I intend to keep.

Abby folds her arms across her chest, her jaw set in stubborn lines that take me by surprise.

The Abby I remember was sweet to a fault.

Perhaps, she was even somewhat of a crybaby.

She was very young, not even a teenager, when I’d met her.

The Abby in front of me is, as she just pointed out, a grown woman.

She has the figure of a siren—albeit, with gentler curves—and a strong backbone, which she apparently acquired along the way.

She narrows her gaze on me. "I do not need you. "

"Oh, but you do. You just don’t know it yet," I say in a casual tone.

Her eyes flash, and color flushes her cheeks. "Anyone told you how condescending you are?"

"I can afford it."

She gapes at me. "You’re such an asshole."

"Thank you. Also, I prefer alphahole."

"Why you—"

"Enough already," Zara’s steely tone cuts between us.

Abby takes a deep breath. She seems to get a hold of herself, and by the time she turns to face Zara, all traces of anger are wiped from her face. "Sorry about that. I don’t normally lose my temper."

"Don’t I know that?" Zara looks at her speculatively. "It’s good to see you stand up for yourself."

She shuffles her feet. "It’s just, he— I—"

"Don’t worry about it." Zara’s features soften. "I think it would be good for you to accept this role with King."

Abby blinks. "Y-you do?"

Zara nods. "You’ve done a great job with the Prime Ministerial campaign. But that’s over now and you need something else to challenge you so you can grow. And becoming King’s Communication Manager would give you all of that, and more."

Did my sister just insult me? "Are you saying my reputation is in need of repair."

Zara snorts. "It would help if you weren’t seen with a different woman every week. Not to mention, that pub brawl you got into; you could have done without that."

I smirk. "You should see the other man."

Zara shakes her head, but her lips curve up a little. "You’re right. You need a professional in charge of your image. Someone who’ll also help keep you in line."

"Hold on." I raise my hands. "Who said anything about keeping me in line?"

"If I were to become your Communications Manager, it means you’d need to follow the ground rules I lay down." Abby draws herself up to her full height.

"I make the rules, doll; I don’t follow them."

"Also, I have a name. You’d do well to call me by that," she says primly.

"I’m the person paying you. Do I need to remind you of that?"

"And I’m the person who’ll be managing your public facing profile. So remember, I have the power to also cast you in a bad light."

I stare at her, then bark out a laugh. "Touché, kitten. Apparently, you have claws."

She glances at her nails then rubs them on her sleeve. "They’re sharp and lethal and can cause enough damage that you’ll wear the scars for a lifetime."

The thought of her marking me sends a ripple of heat racing through my veins.

I may have agreed to keep an eye on Abby as a promise to Knight.

I hadn’t thought the assignment would turn out to be quite this interesting.

Of course, there’s no way I’m going to break the trust Knight placed in me.

Doesn’t mean I can’t have a bit of harmless fun with her in the meanwhile, hmm?

I walk around the bed, then hold out my hand to her. "So, Abigail Warren, you’re taking the job?”

Want to find out what happens next? Turn the page to read Cade and Abby’s story in The Agreement