My Fake Boy Toy is a Billionaire

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[ He's back. I'm picking him up. Don't make a scene. ]

I hit the send button, dropping a warning on the guy I had been keeping as a stand-in for the past two years.

But I barely made it halfway there when the loud screech of tires surrounded me.

Over a dozen supercars swarmed my lane, boxing my car in and forcing me to slam on the brakes.

The door of the lead Bugatti Veyron swung open.

Out stepped Rowanthe man I thought I owned.

He locked his eyes on me. His stare was so cold it made my chest tight.

The rich playboys in the surrounding sports cars leaned out, whistling loud and eating up the show. "Damn! The sole heir to the top New York luxury empire is actually about to get cucked! Hahaha"

Chapter 1

I got caught dating in high school.

The guy was my desk mate, Evan. My dad threw a 0-000,000 check right in his face and told him to get the hell out of my life.

He took it.

Since then, he became my ultimate white whalethe one that got away. He went abroad right after, adding the perfect tragic layer to his legend.

When I started college, my dad warned me to keep my eyes open. If I dared to bring home another broke loser, he swore he'd break my legs.

I nodded with fake tears in my eyes. Then I turned around and started hunting for the poorest guy on campus.

But I had standards. I only liked pretty faces.

It didn't take long for me to spot a ridiculously hot junior. Rowan.

He was barely ever on campus. People said they saw him stepping out of a sugar mama's car. Rumors flew that some older rich woman bought him a luxury ride. The guys in his dorm were dying of jealousy.

One day, I saw him getting out of a guy's car.

Damn. He played for both teams?

Then, my friends and I hit up a club. It was our first time. I'd been strictly grounded from that kind of scene before.

I spotted him again. He was weaving through the sweaty crowd, heading straight for the back alley. He was probably going to change into a waiter's uniform.

I chugged down an entire bottle of liquid courage, pushed my way over, and grabbed his arm.

He looked down at me. His brows pulled together. "What are you doing here?"

I blinked. "You know me?"

He leaned in slightly. I saw his jaw tighten as he caught the scent. "You're drinking?"

I dragged him outside into the cool night air. I shoved him hard against the brick wall. My fingertips traced down the slightly open collar of his shirt, feeling the tense, burning-hot muscle underneath. I swallowed hard to gather my courage.

Even though I was way shorter than him, I tilted my chin up and gave him my most arrogant look. "Be my man. Stop working these pathetic dead-end jobs."

He just stared at me.

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. "Drop the act. I know you're broke. That's why you let those old sugar mamas and creepy men keep you."

"Name your price. From now on, you belong to me."

I sneaked a quick glance at him, then pulled a black card out of my limited-edition Birkin bag. I slapped it flat against his hard chest. "There's twenty grand in here."

"Don't get too excited, that's just your monthly allowance. As long as you're a good boy in bed, I'll even buy you a Porsche."

A heavy silence hung in the air. Finally, he spoke. "How much did you drink?"

"Two bottles," I bragged. "That's barely enough to get me started."

And then, everything went black.

Right before the darkness took over, I felt his strong arms catch me.

His chest was solid rock. Well, I guess he really did have the body to be a high-end boy toy.

I woke up the next morning tangled in crisp hotel sheets.

He was sitting on the sofa nearby, typing away on a laptop. My clothes were still perfectly intact.

He stood up and handed me a glass of water. "No more drinking."

I clicked my tongue. "Mind your own business. What about my offer from last night? Are you in?"

He arched a dark brow. "Oh, you actually remember that?"

I scoffed. "If you think the price is too low, I can bump it to twenty-five thousand a month! I don't have much else, but I have plenty of cash."

A low, dark chuckle left his throat. "Sure."

He held up my black card between his fingers. "The balance on this thing couldn't even cover the room tab."

My jaw almost dropped. Twenty grand wasn't enough?

My face burned as I stood at the front desk to settle the bill. The receptionist gave us a very weird look.

What kind of ripoff hotel charges twenty-eight thousand a night? I should have at least taken a long bath before leaving to get my money's worth.

Just like that, I got myself a sugar baby.

Following the exact playbook of those billionaire romance novels I read, I bought a massive penthouse near campus.

Okay, fine. My dad bought it for me. He paid the HOA fees, too.

My dad gave me a fifty-thousand-dollar monthly allowance. Half of that was now going straight to Rowan. I still needed to save up to buy my pretty boy that Porsche.

I had a trust fund, but if I moved any massive amounts of cash, my parents would definitely start asking questions.

Chapter 2

My life as a sugar mama officially began.

To prove my undying devotion to Evan, I made sure to treat Rowan like ice.

"Come here. Eat with me." I barked into the phone and hung up before he could even breathe a response. My hands were shaking so much I almost dropped my phone on the pavement.

I patted my chest to steady my racing heart. I was paying him; I had to act like the boss.

But apparently, he missed the memo on how to be an obedient boy toy. Twenty minutes ticked by. The street outside my dorm was completely empty.

I gritted my teeth and called him back. "You're testing my patience, boy."

His lazy drawl vibrated through the speaker. "Little girl, it's not that I don't want to come. But you didn't give me an address. Where exactly am I supposed to go?"

Damn it. His voice sounded way too good. A deep, magnetic rumble that sent a tiny shiver down my spine.

I scoffed loudly to cover it up. "You even have to ask? You're nothing like him."

I paused. "Outside my dorm. You have sixty seconds."

Reality check: I waited another ten whole minutes before he finally strolled up.

I dug my nails into my palms to hold back my temper. "Remember your place. You're just a stand-in. Don't throw tantrums with me."

He just looked at me. "Oh."

We went to the campus dining hall. Because he took his sweet time, my favorite loaded truffle fries were sold out.

I shot him a deadly glare. "With this kind of terrible work ethic, you're going to get yourself fired."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Then I'll leave."

He actually turned around.

I almost choked on my own rage. I grabbed the back of his shirt.

"I'll forgive you this one time!" I hissed through my teeth.

After eating, I brought him back to my penthouse near campus.

"From now on, you live here," I ordered. "Hand over your full STI panel and physical health report."

He leaned against the kitchen counter. "I'm perfectly healthy. And just for the record, I only sell my time, not my body."

My eyes widened. Wait, what? In all the billionaire romance novels I read, the plot always escalates to the point where I get drunk, mistake him for my lost love, and sleep with him.

Ah, crap. He only sells his time? How am I supposed to keep a sugar baby like this? Is a platonic boy toy even a thing?

A sudden excuse hit me. I let out a disdainful scoff. "Don't flatter yourself. I have no intention of sleeping with you."

"You're just a cheap copy. I just need to look at your face so I can reminisce about the man I actually love."

He lounged deep into the plush sofa, spreading his long legs wide open in an intensely dominant posture. He patted his hard thigh, using that magnetic, dangerously low voice to command me, "Come here. Sit."

Like hell I was going over there. To prove how mature and unbothered I was, I grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir Id smuggled from my dads private cellar and poured myself a glass. I lifted it, aiming for an elegant sip.

He snatched the expensive crystal glass right out of my hand. "No drinking."

His face darkened. The sheer weight of his stare made my stomach drop. If I fought back right now, would he actually hit me? Would I go down in history as the first sugar mama to get beat up by her own kept man?

Wait, no. In the novels, the bosses always get slapped. But usually, it's the poor little boy toy fighting to protect his innocence.

So, I made the smart choice and let go of the glass. I crossed my arms and huffed. "Fine."

"I have stomach ulcers anyway. I shouldn't drink."

He let out a dark chuckle. "You? Ulcers?"

I glared at him. "What? Is that an exclusive VIP disease? Only male billionaire CEOs are allowed to have it?"

"Female CEOs can't get stressed?"

He just sat there, chest vibrating with that low, suppressed laughter.

I quickly texted him a grocery list. "You're cooking for me from now on."

"Mhm," he hummed.

A weird silence settled in the penthouse. I couldn't think of anything else bossy to do, so I asked, "What's your family situation? Are you desperate for cash?"

"Desperate."

I sneered. "Just as I thought. Another vain, gold-digging man."

The memory of Evan taking my dad's money and abandoning me flashed in my mind.

I slammed my fist down hard on the solid marble coffee table.

A sharp spike of pain shot up my arm, making me wince and suck in a breath. But I swallowed the pain and forced out my most dramatic line.

"Men. You're all exactly the same trash."

Chapter 3

He finally cracked. A deep, chest-shaking laugh erupted from him, echoing through the penthouse.

My face burned hot. I wanted the cold marble floor to open up and swallow me whole.

My freshman year was a brutal grind. Between a heavy course load and my mandatory internship at the family corporation, I barely had time to breathe. My trust fund gave me a baseline of fifty grand a month, but if I hit my KPIs and proved my worth, I could unlock a higher spending limit.

I had three older brothers and two older sisters. They had all already carved out their ruthless territories in the boardroom. I was dead last at the bottom of the food chain. If I wanted a real slice of the family empire, I had to prove I was a shark.

Plus, Id read enough mafia romances to know the golden rule: a true boss bitch needs absolute power. That way, if my little sugar baby ever tried to run away, Id have the juice to ground his commercial flight and drag him right back into my bed.

Because of the daily grind, I rarely left the corporate tower before ten at night.

Rowan was surprisingly domestic for a guy built like an underground cage fighter. Hed drive my Range Rover to pick me up. There was always a hot meal waiting for me at the penthouse. If I was stuck at the office for lunch, hed make sure food was delivered.

Delivered, of course. Never dropped off in person.

I had laid down the law early on. "Don't even think about showing your face around my family. You're my dirty little secret. Don't go getting any crazy ideas about marrying into money."

I had dropped my gaze to his flat, muscular stomach and let out a wicked smirk. "Besides, it's not like you can trap me with a baby."

He just gave me that infuriatingly blank stare. "Oh."

So, he cooked the meals and paid a courier to drop them off at the front desk.

Winter break rolled around fast. I had to head back to the main family estate for our annual cutthroat holiday inheritance games, leaving him alone at the penthouse.

On New Years Eve, the massive dining room was loud with fake family cheer. I thought of my kept man. He was an orphan.

A sharp pinch tightened in my chest. My grip on my champagne flute tightened, but I swallowed down the urge to text and check on him. I couldn't give him the wrong idea. I was the boss; he was a transaction.

My phone buzzed against my thigh. A text from him. A video of the New York City fireworks exploding over the skyline.

A tiny thrill rushed through my veins. I forced myself to stare at the wall clock for five agonizing minutes before I typed back:

[ Where are you? ]

[ At home. ] he replied.

I let out a soft breath. I pictured him five years from nowfaded looks, graying hair, wiping down sticky tables at some dive bar while I lived my fabulous billionaire life.

I couldn't help it. My thumbs moved over the screen.

[ Wait for me. ]

I grabbed my car keys and slipped out the back door.

When I finally unlocked the penthouse door, he was right there in the entryway.

His chest heaved slightly, his breathing uneven. He must have sprinted to the door the second he heard the private elevator chime.

The glittering city lights spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I flashed him a cocky smile. "Happy New Year."

I reached into my designer bag and pulled out a sleek black envelope, slapping it against his chest.

Inside was a crisp check for eighty-eight thousand dollars. It was a holiday bonus from my mother, but I was shamelessly using it to flex on my boy toy.

A slow, dangerous smirk spread across his face as he took the envelope. He didn't even look at the amount. Instead, his large, rough hand clamped around my wrist.

Before I could blink, he backed me hard against the heavy oak door.

His massive frame trapped me, suffocating my personal space. The heat radiating from his skin was scorching.

His other hand slid into my hair, gripping the back of my neck to tilt my head up. His gaze dropped to my lips. His breathing was heavy, jagged.

I thought in a hazy daze. Look how eager he is.

Then, his mouth crashed down on mine.

The kiss wasn't gentle. It was a hungry, aggressive invasion that short-circuited my brain. I melted against his hard chest, drowning in the heavy heat of his kiss

By the time reality snapped back, it was past four in the morning.

My brain was completely fried. My limbs felt like wet noodles. I didn't even have the energy to lift a finger as he carried me into the massive glass shower, washed me, dressed me in fresh clothes, and meticulously blow-dried my hair.

The man held one hell of a grudge.

All I had done was gasp out one little comment between breaths: "Men should play hard to get. Evan would never be this thirsty."

That was a fatal mistake.

His eyes had darkened instantly. He spent the next few hours ruthlessly punishing me, biting my ear, and forcing me to promise I'd never say another man's name in his bed again.

I was no match for his terrifying stamina. I had to swallow my boss-bitch pride and beg for mercy.

I was so exhausted I passed out the second my head hit the mattress.

It felt like I had only blinked when a firm hand shook my shoulder.

I dragged my heavy eyelids open. My vision focused. I was buckled into the passenger seat of my car, and we were parked right outside my family's sprawling estate.

Chapter 4

It was a strict family rule to be at the breakfast table early on New Year's Day. No sleeping in allowed. I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and scrambled out of the passenger seat.

"Go back. Take the car," I ordered.

He gave a low hum. His dark eyes locked onto mine. "Come back tonight. I'll help you apply some ointment."

My lower half definitely ached. Being a boss bitch came with serious risks. But I had to maintain my icy, untouchable facade. I gave him a single, curt nod and shut the door.

When I walked through the massive double doors of the estate, my mom raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Where have you been?"

I rolled my shoulders, faking a casual warm-up. "Just went for a morning run."

I forced myself to walk normally up the sweeping staircase, swallowing the soreness with every step.

It honestly felt like my sugar baby and I were in the honeymoon phase. Once the spring semester started, we were practically living together full-time in the penthouse. Every morning, he would dutifully walk me to the front door and kiss me goodbye. Such a good, obedient boy.

My schedule was brutal. My first lecture started at eight sharp. Then I had to hustle to the corporate tower to grind out extra hours at my internship. I was pulling double shifts between morning classes and late-night boardrooms. If I didn't hustle, Id be stuck living off my trust fund forever instead of building my own empire.

One Tuesday, after my early classes wrapped up, I swung by to check on my kept man. He had a mid-morning seminar. I figured I'd keep him company and drag him out for a nice lunch. When I was in a good mood, I didn't mind spoiling him a little. Provided he behaved himself, of course.

But when I walked into the lecture hall, some girl was hovering by his desk, blushing and whispering something to him. The cheerleader looked like she wanted her neckline unbuttoned all the way down to her belly button, her chest practically glued to his arm!

I narrowed my eyes. He was totally asking for it, attracting all these thirsty bees.

I stormed over. I kept my voice dripping with ice, pinning Rowan down with a deadly glare. "Rowan, what exactly are you doing?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but I instantly cut him off. "Who gave you the nerve to flirt with other women behind my back?"

The entire lecture hall, which had gone dead silent the moment I marched in, erupted into howling laughter.

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

I grabbed his thick wrist, trying to forcefully drag him out of his seat. "You're coming with me."

He let out a helpless sigh, not budging an inch. "The professor for this finance seminar is a hardass. If I skip, he'll fail me."

Right on cue, the heavy wooden door swung open and the warning bell rang. An older professor walked in. He stopped, adjusting his glasses at the sight of us. "What are you two doing? Stop playing tug-of-war in my classroom."

Some loudmouth in the back row yelled out, "Professor, Rowan's girlfriend is just doing a surprise loyalty check!"

The room burst into another round of roars.

Rowan grabbed my hand and pulled me down into the empty seat beside him. I buried my burning face in my arms on the desk.

Once the lecture officially started, I turned my head and hissed, "This is all your fault."

I could see his broad shoulders shaking as he held back a dark chuckle. I wanted to strangle him.

I snatched his phone off the desk, unlocked it, and forcefully changed his lock screen wallpaper to a picture of our hands making a heart shape. That should keep the vultures away.

The second the class was dismissed, I grabbed his wrist again and dragged him out into the hallway.

The main corridor was too crowded with people messing up my dominant vibe, so I shoved him into a quiet, secluded stairwell.

I pressed him hard against the concrete wall, channeling my inner mafia boss. "You belong to me," I ordered. "Stop acting like a magnet for other women."

He looked down at me. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

I grabbed his collar and smashed my mouth against his.

We kissed hard in that stairwell for ten solid minutes before stumbling out to our next classes with swollen lips.

His frat-boy friends swarmed him in the courtyard. "Damn, Rowan, what happened to your lips?"

"Yeah, man, why are they so swollen?"

"Spill the details, bro."

Rowan just shoved past them. "Get lost."

From that day on, I started aggressively marking my territory all over campus. No one was going to steal my expensive boy toy.

Chapter 5

The student council organized a weekend trip to an exclusive country club. I was technically a member on paper. Figuring it was a good chance to network, I dragged Rowan along.

A rich kid who used to hit on me and tried to throw his daddy's money in my face spotted us on the green. He sneered, "So you're into keeping boy toys now?"

We were standing on the grass, golf clubs in hand. This was the perfect setup for me to flex.

I stepped up behind my kept man and wrapped my arms aggressively around his waist.

He glanced back at me, a question in his dark eyes.

I tilted my chin up and declared, "You need to let everyone know that you've claimed this entire golf course!"

I snapped my fingers at the club manager nearby. "We're booking this entire 18-hole course. Clear it out. No one else is allowed to play, especially him." I pointed a manicured finger right at the rich kid. "Ban him from the green."

The manager's eyes bugged out. He looked at me, then at Rowan, before furiously nodding and bowing. "Right away, ma'am."

The rich kid's face turned beet red, but he didn't dare throw a tantrum. Word on the street was that the owner of this resort had serious mafia ties, and nobody messed around on their turf. The rich kid clearly knew better than to cross that line.

Occasionally, I went back to my dorm to hang out with my roommates. Otherwise, I was basically wasting the true college experience.

One day, we got together for lunch. We booked a private dining room at the faculty lounge, which was basically a high-end restaurant open to students. The food was incredible and surprisingly cheap.

My roommates started teasing me. "Harper, now that you're in a relationship, have you forgotten about us peasants? Don't ditch your girls for a guy."

"Seriously, look at that glowing skin. Are you trying to kill us single girls with jealousy?"

"Listen to me, do not treat a man too well, or he'll start acting up."

I scoffed, swirling my glass of orange juice like it was a vintage Bordeaux. Mimicking Rowan's signature lazy drawl, I replied carelessly, "A relationship? What relationship?"

"He's just a cheap copy. A boy toy. A little pet I keep around."

I smirked, lifting my chin after dropping those lines.

Then, every single one of my roommates inhaled sharply. They all stared frozen at the doorway.

I turned my head. Rowan was standing right in the open doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His eyes were dead, locked onto me like crosshairs.

Behind him, a few frat boys whistled, eating up the drama.

One of the guys slapped a hand on Rowan's broad shoulder, grinning like a hyena. "Damn, bro, you've got quite the side hustle! Being a kept man now? Hahahaha