Brittney Vs. Banker Read online

  Table of Contents

  Description

  Also by Mona Cox

  Dirty Lil’ Angels

  Brittney

  Kaden

  Epi

  Brittney Vs. Banker

  Mona Cox

  Naughty Angel Publishing

  Contents

  Description

  Also by Mona Cox

  Dirty Lil’ Angels

  1. Brittney

  2. Kaden

  3. Brittney

  4. Kaden

  5. Brittney

  6. Brittney

  7. Kaden

  8. Kaden

  9. Brittney

  10. Kaden

  11. Brittney

  12. Kaden

  13. Brittney

  14. Kaden

  15. Brittney

  16. Kaden

  17. Brittney

  18. Kaden

  19. Brittney

  20. Epi

  Also by Mona Cox

  Dirty Lil’ Angels

  Gisele Vs. Guitar Hero

  By Mona Cox

  Copyright 2017 by Naughty Angel Publishing

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.

  Join Mona’s Moaners and receive a bonus chapter from this book!

  Description

  *What’s left to buy if a man own’s everything in the world? Well, me, actually... *

  I knew from the first moment that I saw Kaden Charles that I was going to be his if he wanted me.

  But does he really want me? Is he willing to pay the price for this jelly?

  I mean, I need passion. Excitement. Lust.

  I want the guy to throw me against the wall and f*ck me till I black out.

  Kaden’s eyes tell me he’s going to do all that. But he’s playing it too cool.

  I know this game. It’s one that I play really well.

  So it’s me versus him, circling each other, trying to say “meh” more convincingly than the other.

  Who’s gonna win when a blonde goes up against a billionaire?

  Is there really even any doubt?

  _*** It's the cute single girl versus the Big Bad Banker in this installment from Mona Cox. Guaranteed to be sweet, sassy, and fun. No cheating or cliffhangers. Happy Ending? Always, babe ***_

  Also by Mona Cox

  Alicia Vs. Billionaire

  Ashley Vs. Boss

  Natalie Vs. Prince

  Christine Vs. Professor

  Kim Vs. Stepbrother

  Lisa Vs. Outlaw

  Carla Vs. Cowboy

  Fiona Vs. Football Player

  Becca Vs. Biker

  Gisele Vs. Guitar Hero

  Rory Vs. Rockstar

  To Lana

  Dirty Lil’ Angels

  Hi ladies!

  If you’re like me, once you finish, you’re not going to want the story to end!

  To receive exclusive sneak peeks, (before anyone else!), bonus content not seen anywhere else, giveaways, and tons more swag, visit me and my Naughty Angels on Facebook at Dirty Lil’ Angels.

  We’ll make it worth your while…

  :)

  Alexis

  1

  Brittney

  I stumble out into the cold night air, giggling. Wow, I feel good. The world pitches slightly to the left and it takes me a minute to swing my gaze around, back to my besties, Erica, Lisa, and Ashley. They whoosh in and out of focus and I grin drunkenly at them. “Wow. It’s cold out here,” I slur. But the temperature doesn’t affect me; my blood is running hot from the alcohol running through it. I’ve probably got more alcohol than blood in my veins at this point.

  Lisa jabs at her phone. “There’s no Uber anywhere around,” she says, her forehead knotting with worry. She drank less than I did, and thus seems to care more than I do. I figure hell, one will show up at some point. We should just start walking…somewhere. Like home?

  Do I want to go home? Suddenly, that decision seems, like, super complicated. I could just crash on Lisa’s couch. Or Ashley’s. Or Erica’s.

  So...

  Many...

  Choices...

  The deadbolt in the front doors of Bungalow 8 slides into place, reminding me that no matter where I decide to go, back inside isn’t one of the options. At four in the morning – I stare at my iPhone, trying to bring my eyes into focus – okay, 4:12 in the morning, they’re done with us. As the bouncers like to say, “You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”

  As Ashley and Lisa compare screens, trying to figure out the fastest way home, I’m suddenly hit by it. “It” being a Very Full Bladder.

  I find myself dancing. I mean, I was dancing like an hour ago, out on the dance floor of Bungalow 8, but those were real moves. This? This is the “I gotta go pee!” dance.

  Second difference? My dance moves on the dance floor of Bungalow 8 were voluntary. My current moves? Not so much.

  I tap Erica on the shoulder. Well, to be fair, I think I kinda whacked her across the face, but close enough, right? “What?!” she yelled, jumping in surprise.

  I might’ve gotten her in the eye. It’s hard to tell in the dark. And, I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I am slightly inebriated.

  Slightly.

  Why do they make the word “inebriated” so hard? Who can actually say that word when they’re drunk? Now drunk – that’s a good word. Anyone can say drunk, even if they’re—

  “Brittney, are you okay? You’re mumbling a lot. What about being drunk?” Erica asks.

  Oh.

  Right.

  I had a question.

  “I gotta go. Like, really bad. I might just cop a squat and pee right here,” I announce. All three of my besties shut up and turn to stare at me.

  Well, at least I got them to stop staring at their phones for five seconds.

  “Brittney, you cannot cop a squat right here and go pee.” There goes Ashley and her logic. Such a Debbie Downer. We should call her Ashlowner. Get it?

  Get it?

  But instead of waiting for me to tell her my latest idea, Ashlowner takes off down the street.

  Where is she going?

  I stare after her, trying to figure out where the fuck she’s going, when a small part of my brain registers that she’s moving towards a business where I could probably use their bathroom.

  Right. Because I need to go pee. I’d totally forgotten, although my bladder comes roaring back to life as soon as I remember. I stumble after her, trying to keep up. Why did New York make such uneven sidewalks? They really should pour smooth sidewalks. I’d be less likely to fall over if the ground was smooth.

  I open up my mouth to share my brilliant idea with my besties when Ashlowner turns back and says, “I can’t believe it – they’re closed!” I catch up to her and stare at the sign.

  OPEN 24 HOURS A DAY! it proudly proclaims in all caps. Right above a “Closed” sign.

  Liars.

  “Is that even legal?” Lisa asks huffing from exertion in my ear. We need to go to the gym more often. We’re ridiculously out of shape.

  Ohhhh…I could probably find a cute guy to fuck at the gym! I haven’t tried that strategy. Plus, bonus points, I could run up the street and not get winded! A twofer!

  Ashlow…

  Ugh. Now I can’t even remember my nickname for Ashley. Dammit, it was such a good one!

  Anyway, Ashley turns back and heads toward the nightclub again. I find myself trotting along behind her to try to keep up. The ground is so u
neven here. I wish they’d pour smooth sidewalks. I’m going to break my neck if Ashley doesn’t slow down. I catch up to her just in time to see her pound on the front door of the club.

  What is she doing? They’re closed. Even I know that, and I’m so drunk, I’m not entirely sure I know my middle name.

  Do I have a middle name?

  Tap, tap.

  I jerk my head up, which sets the world to spinning, and try to focus my eyes on Ashley. “Yes?” I say, although it comes out sounding like “Yesssshhhh?” I’m not sure why. It’s almost like I’m drunk or something.

  “The nightclub is closed,” she says. “It’s four in the morning – I don’t know if we’re going to be able to find you a bathroom anywhere nearby.”

  Oh! Bathroom! Damn, do I have to go pee.

  “I think I’m just gonna cop a squat right here and go pee,” I announce to the group. I start hiking up my skirt, but Ashley grabs my arm and starts dragging me.

  “Where are we going?” I ask her as we stumble along. Well, I stumble. I probably shouldn’t have had those last five tequila shots. Or eaten the worm, really.

  “An alleyway. If you’re going to go pee in public, let’s at least do it in a semi-private alley.”

  Ohhhh…so smart. This is why Ashley is the Big Boss at Blush. She’s such a smartie. I should get her Smarties for her birthday.

  Hmmmm…I wonder when her birthday is…

  Lisa opens up her purse and starts rummaging around. “Let’s create a little landing pad for her to aim for.”

  I stare at her. It’s like she’s speaking English, but I don’t understand the words coming out of her mouth. She triumphantly pulls a wad of napkins out of her purse. “I knew these would come in handy someday,” she says, waving them around. She starts laying them down on the asphalt.

  “Oh, I see,” Erica says, obviously as confused as I had been. She digs around in her purse and pulls out a feminine pad, spreading it on the ground too.

  I stare down at my pile of pads and then back up at my friends. “I have to aim for that?” I ask. It seems a little…difficult. Intense. You know, something that I should be sober for or some shit.

  “You’ll be fine,” Ashley assures me. “We’ll stand right here and form a human shield for you.” My three besties move and link arms together, a sight that has me super emotional.

  “You guys are so nice!” I blubber. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Well, for starters, you should go pee on that pile of napkins.”

  Oh! Right! I have to go pee real bad. I don’t know if I told you that or not yet, but damn, I have to go! I’m so glad that my friends made this pile of napkins for me.

  I hike up my skirt and pull down my panties. I try to lower myself directly over the pile, but I tell you what, you try squatting over a pile of napkins, at four in the morning, drunk off your ass, while wearing stilettos and a pencil skirt, and we’ll see how well you do.

  Let’s just say that this isn’t my finest hour.

  Yeah, yeah, you can do better than me. Showoff.

  Just about mid-stream, which I’m praying isn’t splashing up and getting my favorite stilettos wet, I hear it.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” I jerk my head up, trying to push the yellow liquid out of me faster as I spot a cop heading down the alleyway towards us.

  God oh god oh god oh god…

  “Pee faster!” Ashley whispers.

  “I’m trying!” I whisper-yell back. It’s not exactly like it’s fun down here or something.

  “What are you doing down here?” the cop demands, huffing, once he stops in front of us. At least I’m not the only one who needs to go to the gym.

  “Just going for a midnight stroll, Officer,” Lisa says, and from my view from the ground, it looks like they’re doing a dance, but I think they’re just trying to block his view of me, swaying back and forth to keep him from seeing me.

  Finally, thank god finally, the stream spurts and sputters to a stop and I stand up, trying to pull up my panties while it not being obvious that I’m pulling up my panties.

  While also not falling over into my pile of pee-soaked napkins.

  Have I mentioned that this isn’t exactly my finest hour? I do feel better now, so that’s a bonus.

  “I smell urine!” the cop says angrily. “You ladies need to move out of the way. I need to inspect that pile behind—”

  The loud sound of glass breaking zings through the cold night air, and the cop whirls around. “What the hell?!” he yells, taking off back down the alleyway, towards his police car parked across the street, its windshield busted in. A guy waves, smiles, blows a kiss, and takes off running. I hear the cop yelling into his walkie-talkie, “Backup, I need backup! Suspect on foot…”

  I drape my arms around my besties, propping my head between Lisa and Ashley. “Thanks, you guys. I sure love you guys. You guys are the best.”

  “Yes, and you are very, very drunk,” Ashley says with a laugh. “We need to get you home.”

  Home. That sounded lovely. We should all go home.

  2

  Kaden

  I see Mark Anthony head towards me, and I smile grimly. I’m about to get an earful and I’m not sure I’m up for it, but on the other hand, I don’t really have much of a choice, do I? I am the client and I do pay him stupid amounts of money to be my attorney, but he also doesn’t hesitate to tell me when he thinks I’m being a dumbass bastard.

  “Kaden, you dumbass bastard, what were you thinking?” he hisses, holding out his hand and shaking mine as if this is a normal meeting. As if he isn’t bailing my ass out of jail. He smiles broadly for the cameras, the reporters all wanting a shot of us greeting each other, and then the police shoo the reporters away, telling them that they have their picture – they can go now.

  I know they’ll be waiting for us outside, but at least now I don’t have to pretend to be happy while getting my ass chewed by Mark. My smile instantly drops the second that the door closes behind the reporters, and I sink down onto the bench in the visiting area.

  “I was just…bored,” I say with a shrug, not meeting Mark’s eyes.

  Truth time (which I am absolutely not going to tell Mark this, but I’ll tell you): I’d first seen the girl on the dance floor of the Bungalow 8. She was amazing. She could dance. I loved watching her out on the floor, and had just decided to buy her a drink when they started shutting the place down.

  I was one of the last people to leave, and saw her with a group of friends, discussing how hard it was to get an Uber. I was standing off to the side in the shadows, debating whether or not to approach her or just keep showing up at the Bungalow and hope she comes back at some point, when she loudly announces, “I’m gonna cop a squat.”

  I thought I’d bust a rib, trying to keep my laughter in. I like it when girls say it the way it is, and…well, she was definitely doing that. I stayed in the shadows and watched the whole thing – the futile trip down to the closed Starbucks, back to the club, then down the alleyway, all in search of a place for her to go pee.

  I’d just pushed out of the shadows, ready to go home and try to meet up with her another night (because what kind of weird stalker follows a girl down an alleyway and tries to pick up on her while she’s peeing on a pile of napkins?) when a cop car passes by, driving real slow. I’d stopped and melted back into the shadows. A cop was never a good sign. He flipped a U-turn and stopped across the street, and then headed down the same alleyway. He’d spotted the girl, and I knew she was going to get in trouble for urinating in public.

  So…I reacted. Was it smart? No. And my lawyer is right to chew my ass about it. But I don’t regret it. Leading the boys in blue on a merry chase for a while was more excitement than I’d had in a long time.

  Plus, bonus points – the girl got away. Well, at least they didn’t bring her into the same precinct as me.

  I wonder for a moment when she’d show up at the nightclub again. It’s not like I have an
y other way of tracking her down.

  “Bored?!” Mark thunders, jerking me back to the present. “You’re a multi-billionaire. How on god’s green earth are you bored?!”

  I shrug again. “Maybe I’m bored because of that.”

  He sits back and just stares at me. “You have too much money and time on your hands?” he asks sarcastically.

  “Something like that.”

  The truth is, I hit it big two years ago, when I bet some serious cash on the oil prices going down when everyone else thought they were going up. When the oil prices took a sharp tumble as more oil reserves opened up in Alaska, my bet paid off. In a big way.

  I don’t need to work another day in my life – hell, my hypothetical grandkids won’t need to work a day in their lives either – but I didn’t step down as the CEO of my investment firm and float off into the sunset on my yacht. Who wants to just sit around all day and have their every need taken care of, almost before they can think of it? It sounds good in theory, but I get bored easily.

  I can wipe my own ass, thankyouverymuch. I don’t need someone to do it for me.

  Speaking of getting bored easily, that character flaw is what got me into this trouble to begin with. Lately, even the challenge of making my clients boatloads of money wasn’t much of a challenge.

  I need something new. Something interesting. Something I can do that keeps my interest for more than three minutes.

  I hear my lawyer mumbling something that sounds like, “God save me from spoiled rich kids,” but when I ask him to repeat himself louder, he brushes me off. “Nothing, nothing,” he says brusquely. “I’m here to post bail. I’ll get you out, and with any luck, I’ll get you off with just some fines.”