Billionaire grump, p.1
Billionaire Grump, page 1
Also by Willow Fox
Aigle Tactique
Révélation: Jaxson
Furtif: Mason
Dissimuler: Lincoln
Clandestine: Jayden
Bossy Single Dad
Billionaire Grump
Mountain Grump
Bachelor Grump
Bossy Single Dad Box Set
Bratva Brothers
Brutal Boss
Wicked Boss
Possessive Boss
Obsessive Boss
Dangerous Boss
Bratva Brothers Box Set
Casamentos Mafiosos
Voto Secreto
Voto Cativo
Voto Selvagem
Voto Relutante
Voto Implacável
eagle tactical
Expose: Jaxson
Expose Jaxson
Stealth: Mason
Conceal: Lincoln
Covert: Jayden
Truce: Declan
Eagle Tactical Box Set
Eagle Tactical Serie
Svelato: Jaxson
Enthüllt: Jaxson
Verheimlicht: Mason
Invisibile: Mason
Versteckt: Lincoln
Nascosto: Lincoln
Verborgen: Jayden
Infiltrato: Jayden
Fratelli Bratva
Boss Brutale
Boss Diabolico
Boss Possessivo
Boss Ossessivo
Boss Pericoloso
Frères Bratva
Boss Brutal
Boss Vicieux
Boss Possessif
Boss Obsessif
Boss Dangereux
Frères Bratva: Toute la série
Gebrüder Bratva
Brutaler Boss
Böser Boss
Besitzergreifender Boss
Zwanghafter Boss
Gefährlicher Boss
Gebrüder Bratva: die komplette Serie
Ice Dragons Hockey Romance
Faking it with the Billionaire
Daring the Hockey Player
Arresting the Hockey Player
Mafia-Ehen
Geheimes Gelübde
Gefangenschafts Gelubde
Wildes Gelubde
Widerwilliges Gelubde
Rücksichtsloses Gelübde
Mafia Ehen: die komplette Serie
Mafia Marriages
Secret Vow
Captive Vow
Savage Vow
Unwilling Vow
Ruthless Vow
Mafia Marriages Box Set
mariages mafieux
Vœu Secret
Vœu Captif
Voeu Captif
Vœu Sauvage
Vœu Non Consenti
Vœu Impitoyable
Mariages Mafieux: Toute la série
matrimoni di mafia
Voto Segreto
Voto Prigioniero
Voto Selvaggio
Voto Non Voluto
Voto Spietato
Matrimonios de la Mafia
Voto Silencioso
Voto Cautivo
Voto Salvaje
Voto Involuntario
Voto Despiadado
Père, célibataire et autoritaire
Le Milliardaire Grincheux
Grincheux des Montagnes
Le Célibataire Grincheux
Ruppige Single Papas
Berg Muffel
Bachelor Muffel
Milliardär Muffel
Táctica Águila
Expuesto: Jaxson
Sigilo: Mason
Oculto: Lincoln
Encubierto: Jayden
Also by Allison West
Bossy Single Dad
Billionaire Grump
Mountain Grump
Bachelor Grump
Bossy Single Dad Box Set
Gem Apocalypse
Emerald Rebellion
Amber Voyeur
Sapphire Sacrifice
Scarlet Assassin
Crimson Crown
Gem Apocalypse
Père, célibataire et autoritaire
Le Milliardaire Grincheux
Grincheux des Montagnes
Royally Claimed
Palace Secrets
Maiden Claimed
Grave Misfortune
Royally Claimed Box Set
Ruppige Single Papas
Berg Muffel
Bachelor Muffel
Copyright © 2022 by Willow Fox & Allison West
All rights reserved.
Edited & Proofread by Jennifer Lumen, Marla VanHoy, Lila W. (no1_scribbler), Melanie Kirk
Cover Design by GetCovers
v2
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
About this Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
About the Author
Giveaways, Free Books, and More Goodies
Also by Willow Fox
ABOUT THIS BOOK
I am Levi Luxenberg. Forty-year-old billionaire. CEO of Luxenberg Enterprises. And apparently, father of one.
A week ago, having kids wasn’t even in my ten-year plan.
Now, I have a five-year-old daughter who will hardly look in my direction.
I am aware that Amelia is grieving her mother’s death, and I swear I’m not a complete jerk, but I jumped on a private jet to Chicago at a moment’s notice, and the kid won’t even say a word to me.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, our pilot just got sick and I have to fly commercial for the first time in years.
You’d think that would be the end of it, but no.
The cherry on top?
Amelia would rather interact with Clare, the divorced, jobless, tipsy woman sitting right in front of us, than me.
She chats with her, she smiles at her—she even draws her a freaking picture.
I would be really mad if I didn’t actually need a nanny. Urgently.
Since my assistant screwed my wanted ad over and made me look like a grumpy billionaire desperately looking for a wife, Clare suddenly seems perfect for the job.
She has no place to live, no idea who I am, and no qualms about being my live-in nanny on a trial basis.
The problem is, I think I might want to keep her around longer…
ONE
Levi
“Grumpy Billionaire desperately seeks a nanny for his five-year-old daughter. Expect to work late nights, have no social life, lots of tears, and absolutely no alcohol, drugs, parties, or fun.”
That was the ad that went out this morning. My assistant, fed up with my shenanigans, decided to give me a taste of my own medicine. I can’t believe Nancy thought that’s what I wanted the ad to say, that I’m a billionaire. Is she trying to attract every gold digger?
I’ll admit that I haven’t always been kind to my assistant. She’s been required to field calls from previous dates, forced to tell them I’m not interested.
Is this her idea of payback?
“What?” I answer my phone. It’s my assistant.
“Did you get the text that your flight home has been canceled?”
“No,” I growl, and put Nancy on speakerphone while I open up my messages. There are dozens of messages and even more emails that have been ignored.
I’m a busy man, and I haven’t had time over the past forty-eight hours to deal with work.
I just discovered I’m a father, and the little girl was whisked into a temporary foster home after her mother died in an automobile accident.
My attorney handled a comparative DNA test and requested Amelia’s DNA. I saw the truth for myself on paper. Although after staring at the young girl, her eyes as blue as the depths of the ocean, I know the kid is undoubtedly mine. She has Katelyn’s blonde hair and build. She’s small for her age, but Amelia’s birth certificate indeed has my name as the father. And the kid’s date of birth matches up to when Katelyn and I had been together.
Amelia hasn’t said a word since I met her. I’m sure the kid talks, but the silence is heavier than anything I could have imagined.
I’m sure it’s because she’s grieving.
Me too.
But for different reasons.
I’m not ready to be a father.
I glance down at the little girl seated across from me. She hasn’t touched her breakfast, and I practically ordered one of everything on the menu because she refused to give the waitress her order.
“I can book you two first-class tickets direct from O’Hare to JFK.”
“Inform Douglas of the travel situation and that we’ll need to b e picked up from JFK.”
“I’m on it,” Nancy says. “I’ll text you the flight details.”
“I hate flying commercial,” I grumble.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Luxenberg.”
“Yeah, me too.” I end the call and shove my phone into my jacket pocket.
Amelia stares at me, her pancakes untouched. Just like the strawberry milkshake, with whipped cream that dribbles down the side of the glass.
I steal a piece of her bacon, and her eyes narrow at me like it’s hers and I shouldn’t touch it. But she doesn’t scold me.
I’m only met with further silence. I’d almost rather her yell, scream, cry, and throw a temper tantrum. Not that I’d be good with handling that type of outburst, but the silence hurts my heart so damn much.
I’m in over my head, and I desperately need a nanny, someone who is good with kids.
My phone pings in my pocket, and I grab it, glancing at the text from Nancy confirming the seat assignments. We’re both on the same flight, but Amelia is assigned to the row in front of me.
The seats aren’t together.
“Fuck!”
Amelia’s eyes widen, and her jaw drops as she stares at me.
“Don’t say that word,” I scold before she can repeat it.
We finish at the restaurant and head straight for the airport. I don’t have any checked baggage, only the carry-on suitcase and backpack. The kid didn’t come with many clothes, only a small knapsack with a handful of outfits.
Last night and again this morning, Amelia refused to change out of the bright-pink frilly tutu, white tights, and white T-shirt. It’s amazing her white shirt is still clean after sleeping at the hotel.
Stubborn.
Another reason I need a nanny. I’m not the most patient person.
We board the plane early, and I explain to the stewardess about our seating arrangement. It’s a full flight, but the woman seated next to me offers to switch. She’s cute, with long blonde hair and a full figure that makes my cock twitch admiring her curves.
“Hi, I’m Clare,” the blonde says, smiling at Amelia.
Amelia squeezes her stuffed unicorn tighter. Its mane is rainbow and sparkly, and it’s the only toy the kid brought with her.
“She’s shy,” I say, not wanting to elaborate on the recent trauma in her life to this stranger.
“I was shy when I was her age, too,” Clare says, her eyes entirely on Amelia. It’s as though I don’t exist. “What’s your friend’s name?” she asks, pointing at the unicorn.
Clare shuffles into her new row in front of us on the airplane. She doesn’t sit. She hovers, leaning on the headrest, trying to engage with Amelia.
Amelia doesn’t respond, but I do. And it’s more of a bite.
“That’s enough questions for today,” I say, my temper short. I gesture for her to turn around in her seat.
“You don’t have to be rude,” Clare says, and spins around, sitting in her seat.
Amelia’s nose scrunches, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. She brings the unicorn to her face, and her mouth moves ever so quietly, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. It’s like a secret between her and her fluffy friend.
I don’t apologize to the girl seated in the row in front of us. Maybe I should since she is doing me a favor, switching seats.
“Have you ever been on an airplane?” I ask Amelia.
She doesn’t answer me. Her mother didn’t always live in Chicago. I met her in New York. We were a short romance that burned bright and hot early on.
At take-off, Amelia grips the chair handle. I rest my hand over hers. “It’s okay. Just a little bumpy. It’s supposed to be like this,” I assure her.
There’s no sign of her nodding or saying anything to indicate that she understands me. Her mother, Katelyn, didn’t speak any other languages, as far as I’m aware.
After we’ve reached cruising altitude, the stewardess asks us for our drink orders. I refrain from having any alcohol. I’d love a stiff drink right now, but it’s not going to help me forget why I was in Chicago.
I retrieve a few children’s menus and crayons from the backpack. One side has drawings to color along with the menu, and the opposite side is blank. Thankfully, the restaurant gave us extra for the flight. Pulling down the tray table in front of Amelia, I put the items down, letting her color.
She stares at them and then glances back at me.
“Go ahead. You can color,” I say.
I don’t know much about kids, let alone raising one. My younger brother, Connor, is a dipshit, and thank god he hasn’t procreated.
I’ve tried to look out for him. Hell, I gave him a job in management at the New York hotel. But he has a knack for either firing decent employees or making them want to quit. But I’m not going to just hand him a paycheck and not make him get his ass into work five days a week. Where else can I put him?
I may have inherited the company, but I also turned this place around. It was barely profitable when I took over after our father’s death. I had no choice but to shake things up and make it better, because otherwise, who would take care of Mom?
Dad left me the business, which meant taking care of my mother and handling my younger brother. I’m not a complete dick. I didn’t put either of them out on the street, though it was tempting with Connor.
The seatbelt fasten light is turned off, and the girl in the row in front of us turns around, watching Amelia.
“What are you drawing?” Clare asks.
Amelia scrunches her nose. The paper is completely blank.
“How about you draw a picture of your balding dad?” Clare grins.
“I’m not balding,” I snarl. Why can’t she turn around and mind her own business?
“Right,” Clare says, and snaps. “What’s that called again with the hair that’s spikey?” She gestures above her own head like her hair is sticking up two feet high.
Amelia chuckles and points at my head. “Troll hair,” Amelia says with a giggle.
I suppose it’s better than being called balding at my age. “Do you think I’ve got troll hair?” I force a smile, grateful to have heard little Amelia’s voice.
Amelia shrugs, the smile vanishing, and my heart aches.
I want to hear her laugh and be carefree. She’s five. She should be over the moon with curiosity and talkative. This quiet side is frustrating to deal with.
Clare stares at us, and before I have time to comprehend what she’s doing, her fingers are running through my hair. She’s making my hair spiky and stand on end.
Amelia giggles and smiles the biggest grin, pointing at my head. “Troll hair.”
“Can you draw me a troll?” Clare asks.
Amelia nods and reaches for the purple crayon, gripping it tight as she begins coloring on the blank white paper.
I breathe a sigh of relief and run my hand through my unkempt hair, trying to fix the mess before our plane lands. There’s enough press in New York to spot me the minute I step off the plane, and I don’t need ridiculous pictures in the newspaper and on social media of me with troll hair.
As it is, I’ll have to put out a press release and make a public announcement about Amelia before I’m bludgeoned with accusations.
Clare gives me a thousand-watt smile, but it’s clearly forced. She turns around and heads toward the stewardess, saying something quietly to her.
Both of their eyes latch on me before looking away.
I’m used to the stares and curiosity. She must have realized that I’m billionaire Levi Luxenberg. I’ve been on magazine covers and interviewed by celebrities. I’m used to the attention. Usually, I ignore it.
But now I’m not just looking after myself. I have Amelia, and I can’t keep my daughter a secret. I just have to ask everyone to respect our privacy.
I keep an eye on the stewardess once Clare is back in her seat, making sure no one is snapping photos of Amelia and me on the plane together.
Thirty minutes later, Clare turns around to check on Amelia. “How’s the drawing?”
