How to Bag a Billionaire. Nina Milne

way am I walking in there with everyone believing I’m with you for your money. I’d rather go to prison.’

      ‘Don’t be melodramatic. Who cares what people think?’ Adam lifted his shoulders in pure indifference.

      ‘In this case, me,’ she said, as her hands slammed on the curve of her hips.

      Irritation coursed through his veins at the continued sheer sincerity of her tone and the fact that he couldn’t work her out.

      ‘Tough,’ he said. ‘You’re coming to the ball—and what’s more you’re coming as my date. I’d rather people assume you’ve bagged me than work out why you are claiming to be here. I do not want any publicity about this.’

      ‘What happened to not caring about what people think?’

      ‘Honey, I don’t care what people think about you. I do care what they think about my dad. And right now I don’t need the publicity backlash.’ Not when he was hosting the gala tonight and launching another charity event the next evening. ‘The press are already having a field day with the bagger theme.’ Amazing how many women were willing to bare their bodies and perjure their souls by lying to the tabloids.

      Resolve hardened in him. No way was all the hard work and effort he had put into the Support Myeloma charity going to waste. Not one copper penny should be diverted from the cause he championed in his mother’s memory. An image of his mother sprang to mind: pale and weak, but still with the beautiful smile that would stay with him for eternity. Those last words of love: ‘You brought me joy, baby. Remember that. Be happy. I love you.’

      Adam blinked away the memory as a small assessing frown creased the brow of his new date for the night. ‘So no matter what happens the press are not getting their grubby paws on this trumped-up story of yours.’

      His words were calculated to annoy her; a riled adversary was far more likely to slip up. ‘It is not trumped-up,’ she said, the words hissing through gritted teeth,

      Adam shrugged. ‘The papers won’t care whether it is or not; they will still have a good old grub around. Your life and your mother’s life will be taken apart with a fine toothcomb.’

      Her skin paled and wariness entered her hazel eyes. ‘I don’t want publicity, either. I just want to find your father. That’s all.’

      ‘I get that. But right now I have a charity ball to host and a reporter out there who will be very interested in who you are. So you are coming as my date.’

      She expelled a gusty sigh. ‘Fine.’

      Anyone would think he’d asked her to hook up with the devil himself. ‘It won’t kill you. You may even have fun.’

      ‘Yeah, right. Somehow I doubt that.’

      Affront touched his chest. Grow up, Adam. Why did he care that she seemed so anti the whole idea of being with him? ‘Then you need to pretend. I want to make sure all the other billionaire-baggers out there believe I’m bagged for the night.’

      Her mouth smacked open. ‘This gets better and better. So this isn’t just for the reporter, or to keep me in sight. You’re going to use me as protection. Big, strong man like you?’

      ‘Size and strength aren’t much use against a pack of scavenging gold-diggers.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll use what it takes. Hey, I’ve got no issues with using a beautiful woman as a shield.’

      Her dark eyebrows rose. ‘And if I wasn’t beautiful?’ she asked, and he could almost see icicles form around each word.

      ‘Then it wouldn’t work,’

      Disdain flashed from her hazel eyes and desire tugged in his groin. Standing there in the simple elegant black dress, she looked magnificent.

      ‘The magazine article specified that only beautiful women should enter the arena,’ he explained.

      His words did nothing to mollify her. ‘No doubt based on your past dating career?’

      ‘Most of my dates are beautiful,’ he agreed. ‘I’m not going to apologise for that.’ Yet his conscience gave a sudden inexplicable twang. ‘So let’s make sure everyone believes that we are on a date, OK? And try and look happy about it. A lot of women would pay to be in your shoes.’

      ‘I’m not a lot of women.’

      He’d gathered. ‘Then you’ll have to fake it. Let’s go.’ Glancing at his watch, he gestured to her bag. ‘Leave that. I’ll get someone to take it out of here.’

      ‘Give me five minutes. I need make-up. And shoes, for that matter.’ She leant down to pull out a silver clutch bag and a pair of shoes. Long, elegant feet slipped into lime-green high-heeled wedge sandals and his pulse kicked up a notch.

      Enough.

      Straightening up, she pivoted to face the mirror, leaving him with the alluring view of her bare back. The black dress tapered down in a V to the voluptuous curve of her bottom.

      Adam forced himself to turn away and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Time to alert Nathan as to what was going on and make sure any evidence of this bathroom caper was hidden from the no doubt goggling eyes and flapping ears of guests and reporters alike.

      ‘I’m ready.’

      He swivelled round and a whoosh of air was expelled from his lungs as his desire upped another degree. In a few minutes she’d transformed from au naturel beauty to glamorous allure. Which meant she had him coming and going.

      Her hazel eyes shimmered and her lips were outlined in glossy dark red. Lips he wanted to claim right here. Right now. He was screwed; no way was his libido leaving this party.

THREE

      Panic sheened the back of Olivia’s neck as they approached the imposing ballroom door. This so hadn’t been the plan. The plan had been more of a sidle into the ballroom, not a grand entrance. The plan certainly hadn’t included snagging the role of Adam’s billionaire-bagger date.

      A woman only interested in the balance of his bank account... Olivia bit her lip. Fantastic. Here she was, playing the role she had always abhorred. Judging a man by wallet size had been her mother’s gig.

      Olivia had hated it. Hated that her mother was the quintessential gold-digger even whilst she’d known Jodie was looking out for the two of them the best way she could. Thrown out by her family, pregnant at sixteen, Jodie had used what she had. Her looks and her limitless sex appeal. Both of which had garnered her a more than respectable income and a less than respectable lifestyle.

      ‘Hey. You still with me?’

      The deep voice tinged with concern rescued her from Memory Lane and snapped her to the here and now. To the opulent room with its fluted pillars and glittering glass chandeliers. To the noise of laughter, the pop of champagne corks and the clink of crystal, all indicating the guests were having a good time.

      Enough. Shaking off the past, she relegated it to where it belonged. The past couldn’t be changed. But the present and the future...? They were firmly in her control.

      So it was time to locate her backbone. All Olivia had to do was allow the world to believe her to be a billionaire-bagger in order to discover the whereabouts of Zeb Masterson. Then her unborn brother or sister would have a dad. A proper father. The kind of dad that Olivia had yearned for so desperately: a dad who acknowledged his child and wanted to be part of her life.

      ‘I’m right here,’ she said, with a clench of her nails into her palm to ground herself.

      ‘Then do you think you could smile?’

      ‘I’m not a smiley person.’

      ‘Well, it may be time to cultivate the art. Reporter at six o’clock and heading our way.’

      He