The Hawthorne Brothers: A Complete Billionaire Romance Collection Read online

  The Hawthorne Brothers

  A Complete Billionaire Romance Collection

  ASHLEE PRICE

  © Copyright 2021 by Ashlee Price.

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Billionaire's Baby Contract

  “I shouldn’t have read my secretary’s diary.”

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  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Happily Enemy After

  “Landing my dream job: Check.”

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Breaking The Bro Code

  “I’m a rule follower, always have been.”

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  EXCLUSIVE: Hawthorne Brothers Extended Epilogue

  Secret Desires Sneak Peek

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  Billionaire's Baby Contract

  Hawthorne Brothers Book 1

  “I shouldn’t have read my secretary’s diary.”

  In my defense, I didn’t know it WAS her diary at first.

  But it made one thing clear…she wanted a baby,

  And it just so happens—so did I.

  The night I gave in,

  The night I reached out and pulled her to me,

  It wasn’t driven by my plan to ask her for a child,

  It was two years of pure pent up desire.

  For two years I’d watched shy, reserved Stella work for me,

  She’s the only woman that I’ve let in my life,

  The only woman who isn’t afraid to call me on my BS.

  The only woman I want to be the mother of my child—but she deserves better.

  I’ve spent my life taking over my father’s company,

  I’m what some would call—married to my career.

  But the fact is, I want my own heir to pass my business on to,

  And she’s my perfect opportunity.

  It’s simple:

  No relationship obligations,

  No financial obligations,

  Just a baby.

  Or so I thought…

  Hiding my feelings for her and the diary confession I found is more than just a complication,

  About the time I feel like I’ve completely shot myself in the foot,

  I find out,

  I’m not the only one hiding a secret.

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  Prologue

  Ethan

  "Congratulations, Ethan."

  The woman in front of me smiles from ear to ear, her thin, scarlet lips the same shade as the nails pressed against her glass of champagne.

  Sabrina Roth. Olympic figure skater turned CEO of a global cosmetics company. Younger sister of the Governor of Connecticut. Divorced.

  It's funny. I was told this party was only for family and stockholders, and she isn't either one - at least, not the last time I checked. Yet here she is. Someone sneaked her name onto the guest list, and I know exactly who.

  "Thank you," I answer politely.

  Regardless of whether or not I was expecting to see her, she's a guest of the Hawthornes now. And we always treat our guests well.

  She touches my arm. "So how does it feel to finally be the man running the show? I bet it must feel good to be free of Daddy's shadow."

  If only that were true.

  "He's still on the board so he'll still have a say in things," I reply as I glance at the man with the salt and pepper hair chatting with a couple near the desserts table. "But I do get his office."

  "Fantastic," Sabrina gushes as she fidgets with the opal pendant resting at the top of her cleavage. "I love a man with a huge desk."

  Something tells me that's not the only thing she likes huge on her man.

  "What's it made of?" she asks. "Glass? Red oak?"

  "Mahogany."

  She puts a finger on her chin as her lips form a circle. "Ooh, I like it. Hard and made to last."

  Okay. No more of this. I've spent two minutes with her and managed not to scoff or sneeze from that perfume she seems to have bathed herself in. That should be polite enough.

  I straighten my tie. "If you'll excuse me, I have some old buddies I need to talk to."

  I start to walk away but she grabs my arm, latching on like a barnacle on a whale.

  "I'd love to sit down and have a talk with you sometime, too," she tells me with a gleam of mischief in her teal eyes as she presses her breast against my elbow. "You know, CEO to CEO. I could even give you some tips. I could get us reservations at this amazing restaurant that serves even better salmon than was in those hors d'oeuvres I had tonight."

  Those crostini toasts with turnip cream and fennel foam that were prepared by a Michelin-starred chef?

  "That was actually tuna," I tell Sabrina as nicely as I can.

  "Oh." Her grip on my arm loosens.

  "And as much as I appreciate your offer, I'm afraid I'm going to be very busy from now on, as I'm sure you understand."

  She steps back and straightens her shoulders in an effort to regain her dignity. "Yes, of course."

  I make my way to the bar where my brothers ar
e parked. I grab the martini glass in front of Asher and gulp its contents down, hoping the bitter liquid will wash away the unpleasant taste of my conversation with Sabrina.

  It's not enough.

  "One Scotch, neat," I tell the bartender after setting down the empty glass.

  Asher studies it. "That bad, huh?"

  "Now I know what a scratching post feels like," I tell him.

  Ryker chuckles.

  Asher glances over his shoulder. "That kitty in silver does look like she's got claws. Think she'd rather rake them down my back?"

  I roll my eyes at my brother. He's just three years younger than I am, but I swear he sometimes acts like a teenager, especially where the opposite sex is concerned.

  Women are like math problems to him. He takes an interest. He enjoys trying to figure them out, find out which formula applies to each one - usually sleeps with them in the process - and then when he has the answer, he sets them aside and moves on. I mean, you solve a math problem once and there's nothing more left to do with it except to leave it and let someone else have a go.

  I've tried to set him straight, of course, but Asher's got a mind of his own. Besides, it's not entirely his fault. Women throw themselves at him. My hope is that one day there will be a woman who won't, someone who's complex enough that he won't be able to figure her out easily and will never get tired of trying. Until then?

  "Behave," I remind him as I take a sip of my Scotch.

  Asher grins. "Don't worry, big bro. I'm not interested in your hand-me-downs any longer."

  I have no idea what he's talking about. I've never handed him any of my stuff except for my Montana Hummingbird guitar, which he begged to have.

  "But Dad sure is persistent about you settling down, huh?" Asher asks.

  I frown. I'm not sure "persistent" quite cuts it. I was actually worried that he would refuse to hand over the company reins to me unless I had a wedding ring on first. I'm glad that wasn't the case. Still, he made it very clear that he wants an heir to Hawthorne Holdings as soon as possible. Hell, he's even shoving women in my face, hoping one of them will impress me enough that I'll marry her and get her pregnant.

  Not happening. When I do marry - and frankly I'm not too keen on doing it yet - it will be to a woman of my own choosing. A lot of things in my life were already decided for me when I was born. My hobbies. My schools. My career. Looking back, I'm the one with the hand-me-downs. I'm not going to let someone else pick the mother of my child, even if that child will be the heir to the family company.

  And my taste is more particular than Asher's. I don't go for every woman who flutters her eyelashes at me. I'm not too keen on a pretty face, a tiny waist or an impeccable resume, either, though those seem to be Dad's criteria. I just want someone with depth, who can feel things deeply and take things seriously and yet also know how to make me smile. I want someone resilient and independent and yet willing to let her guard down around me. Too much to ask? Maybe. But that doesn't mean I should pick just anyone to be my wife. She should at least be sensible, and preferably smart, strong and caring as well.

  "That's unfair," Ryker speaks up without taking his eyes off his phone. "Parents shouldn't tell their children what to do with their lives. They should just give them the best chance to live their lives."

  Words of wisdom from my baby brother. Of course, he's not a baby anymore - he's nearly as tall as I am - but a part of me will always see him as that teeny human in diapers and blue socks that Mom brought home from the hospital when I was six.

  "Also..." He puts his phone away. "It's just wrong to marry a woman because you hope she'll give you a child to carry your family name. You're not Henry VIII. Marriage should be about love, or at least mutual respect and trust. And sex should be something you do not just for fleeting pleasure or procreation but because you want to connect more deeply with someone."

  Exactly. I couldn't have said it better myself.

  "Wow." Even Asher looks impressed. "Is that why you haven't done it with anyone, little brother?"

  He picks up his refilled glass and gulps down its contents before I can.

  Ryker frowns. "Just because I don't sleep with as many women as you do doesn't mean I haven't slept with any at all."

  I grin. Nice one, Ryker.

  "Go ahead, then," Asher replies calmly. "You're the VP of Acquisitions now, little brother, so tell me how many women you've... acquired."

  "Women are human beings with hearts and souls, not puzzles or trophies," Ryker retorts.

  That has got to hurt.

  "Says the guy who's never had one," Asher hits him back.

  I don't think that's true, and yet Ryker's forehead furrows. His brown eyes sharpen into stakes.

  I know that look. Ryker may have the most patience of us three, but when his fuse burns down he can go nuclear.

  "Alright, enough." I put down my glass and come between them, placing my hands firmly on their shoulders. "You know what else is unfair? The two of you drinking by yourselves and leaving me to entertain the guests and answer questions from the media. This is your party, too, you know. I'm not the only one who got a promotion."

  "But you're the one who got promoted to the top," Asher points out. "Why would they want to talk to the CFO when they can talk to the CEO?"

  "You're the head honcho," Ryker agrees. "We're just employees."

  I wrap my arms around them. "Then as your boss, I order you to leave this bar and - "

  A tap on my shoulder interrupts my command. I turn my head and see my father standing behind me. What does he want this time?

  "Yes?" I ask him.

  "There's someone you have to meet."

  Here we go again.

  "And the two of you," he tells Asher and Ryker. "Get off your lazy asses and get to work. You have to convince everyone you earned those titles you've just been given."

  Asher gives a salute. "Yes, sir."

  "Okay, Dad," Ryker answers as he gets to his feet.

  So they'll listen to him but not to me? Guess I know who's still the boss around here.

  Dad pats my shoulder. "You, come with me."

  Like my brothers, who are now off their stools, I obey. I smooth the edges of my woolen jacket as I follow my father across the garden towards the pool. I see a twenty-something brunette standing near the edge, her gaze lost in the water.

  She's wearing a long-sleeved pink lace dress with a touch of black around her neck, around her slim waist and at the hem of her skirt, which is just a tad below her knees. White sandals encase her feet, their pointy heels putting her at around 5'5". Shorter than the women I've gone out with, but I don't mind, especially when she turns her head and I find myself staring into stunning amber eyes like orbs of flame. They take me back to summer evenings spent around a campfire and winter midnights when I'd sit on the couch and revel in the comfort of the hearth. Those eyes go with a button nose and full lips coated ruby red. I drop my gaze further, following the strip of black of lace down the middle of her protruding chest. When I lift it up again, she looks away. A blush coats her cheeks as she purses her lips.

  I suppress a frown.

  Damn it, Ethan. Could you be any more obvious about checking a woman out?

  I like what I see, alright, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go down on one knee and propose or take her to my bed. Well, the latter sounds tempting, but I'm not going to do it just because my father is suggesting it. There's no way I'm going to give him that satisfaction.

  "This is Stella Quinn," Dad introduces. "She's worked with some big names in the past. An actor. An author. A governor."

  She has impressive credentials. Of course.

  "She knows four different languages, including sign language, has a black belt in karate, and is really good with computers. Or so I've been told."

  Karate? With that petite body and those slender arms and legs? I guess she's tougher than she looks.

  "It's a brown belt, actually," Stella corrects my father as she tucks a wavy
strand of cappuccino brown hair behind her ear, which has a pearl earring hanging from it. "I didn't have time to get to black."

  "That's fine." My father pats her shoulder. "I bet you can still kick ass."

  She doesn't answer.

  "Anyway, I hope the two of you get along," Dad goes on. "It may be a little rough in the beginning, but I know the two of you will mesh into a great team."

  Whoa. This is more than persistent. This is desperate. And disappointing.

  "Dad?"

  "Just try to be gentle with her," Dad continues without giving me a chance to speak. "Give her time to adjust. And you, my dear, find out what Ethan likes, his kinks, his pet peeves. Accommodate his needs as much as you can, anticipate his moods, his moves. Endure when things get uncomfortable."

  "Dad!" I raise my voice.

  This is too much. He's treating me like a five-year-old kid. No. Worse, actually. I feel like I'm being pimped out by my own father. It's embarrassing as hell.

  "But know when to speak up," he goes on, his attention completely on Stella. "You can't let him get away with everything. Sometimes, you have to take the driver's seat, too."

  "Dad, I'm not having sex with her, okay?" I blurt out.

  Finally, he stops talking. He turns his head to look at me as if I've just said something absurd - and I realize I have, so I quickly look around. Thankfully, no one seems to have been listening in on our conversation.

  Stella, obviously, has heard every word. Her cheeks are so red that they're nearly the same shade as her lipstick and she's looking at me with wide eyes. Then her gaze drops to the cement as her fingers fidget with the hems of her sleeves.

  Shit. I've humiliated her, haven't I? And hurt her, probably.

  "I hope not," my father breaks the awkward silence hanging in the air.

  I look at him with furrowed eyebrows. What did he just say?

  "Otherwise, the two of you might not be able to work together," he adds.

  Work together? What nonsense is my old man spouting this time?

  He squeezes Stella's shoulder. "Stella here is going to be your executive assistant. You know, she's going to be managing your schedule, setting up your meetings, screening your calls, preparing your documents, planning your trips, getting your suits dry cleaned, all those things that Roseanne used to do for me."