Not My Billionaire (Key West Billionaires #1) Read Online Beth Grey

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Key West Billionaires Series by Beth Grey
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Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
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James is not ready to run his parents’ multi-billion dollar resort company. Now that they’re gone, though, the responsibility falls to him.
Alexis is struggling to make it, but she’ll never admit to her family back home that moving to the Florida Keys was a bad idea. The waitressing job isn’t too bad, and her apartment only leaks when it rains (which, admittedly, is almost a daily occurrence).
When an accident occurs in the kitchen, James takes the opportunity to learn more about the family business. It most certainly has nothing to do with the cute server who hated him at first sight.
What happens when Alexis finds out who he really is, though? Is their bond enough to keep them together?
Or will the pressure of loving a billionaire be enough to break her?

FULL BOOK START HERE:

Chapter One

James

Sometimes, I have nightmares about my parents’ death. It doesn’t make sense, not really. I wasn’t on the plane, and I didn’t hear any details until two weeks later when pieces of the wreckage were found floating in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Still, I wake up sweating, my eyes burning with exhaustion.

I wasn’t able to sleep last night, which is why I’m in my office at seven in the morning. I stare at the pages in front of me, trying to discern any meaning. I was raised to do this job, and I have a business degree from Wharton. I shouldn’t have any trouble, except I’ve gotten a combined ten hours of sleep in the past three days, and I don’t know how much longer I can stare at charts and numbers without going completely off the wall.

“Mr. Preston,” my assistant says, and I look up to see her standing in the doorway. Her hair is a mess, she’s breathing heavily, and she’s holding a paper coffee cup from the local place I like a block away.

“Camilla,” I say, using my most formal voice. I may be confused and terrified, but I’ll never go so far as to show it. She knows me as well as anyone, but I’m not willing to show her just how stressed I am.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, rushing over to my desk and setting the coffee down carefully. “I had no idea you were coming in early or I would have—“

I hold a hand up. “No need to apologize. I didn’t need anything. Thank you for the coffee.”

She takes a step back and nods, straightening her blazer. She’s been my assistant since last year, and she’s been nothing but great at her job. I’ve tried to convince her to take time off, but the idea of it seems to make her even more anxious than she already is. Ever since the accident, she’s been shaky and nervous, always insisting on doing everything perfectly. “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Preston?”

I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’m just going over the numbers from last quarter.”

She gives a single nod and spins on her heel, exiting the room swiftly and closing the door.

I set down my files and turn, looking out at the ocean sparkling in the morning sun. I’ve always loved the view of Miami, and being back after years away at college would be amazing if not for the situation at hand. It was on their way to Dubai from my graduation that my parents’ jet went down, and the guilt has not left me for a moment since. Maybe if I’d done more, they wouldn’t have gone. Maybe someone would have caught the plane’s defect on time.

I stand and walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows of my executive office, sighing as I roll my shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension.

It didn't help, but it was worth a shot. My eyes trace over the water, a sailing club the first sign of life on the water this morning. I wish I could be out there with them on my own vessel, but I haven’t had a moment to myself since being shoved into a position I’m not ready to have.

I pull out my phone, swiping past the image of my sailing catamaran to unlock it and call my best—and only—friend.

“James, how are ya?” Tyler asks without a Hello. I go back to my desk and lean on my elbows. He and I were roommates throughout our shared time at Wharton, and we were more of outcasts compared to the party kids that made up our freshman-year dorm.

“Having the time of my life,” I say, my voice flat. I run a finger over the back of my desk chair, the leather lush against my skin.

Tyler gives a short, humorless laugh. In the background is the sound of some sort of industrial equipment. Sophomore year, he started a company making beard oil, which I happily invested in after confiding in my mother for advice. Since he dropped out just before Junior year, he’s expanded to hair products, skin products, and basically anything else people can use to keep their bodies hydrated. Well, everything other than water itself.


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