Read Drive Her Mad (THE BILLIONAIRE AND THE POP DIVA VOL. 3) Online
Authors: Eve Montelibano
Drive Her Mad (THE BILLIONAIRE AND THE POP DIVA VOL. 3)
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
LOVE MATCH DIGITAL
A Division of
Lovematch/SD&M Publishing
Philippines 9500
Drive her Mad (THE BILLIONAIRE AND THE POP DIVA VOLUME 3) Copyright © 2015 by Eve Montelibano
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Cover designed by LM Digital
FOREWORD
THIS IS SERIAL NOVEL.
AN EROTIC, ROMANTIC COMEDY.
If you don’t like romance stories plucked out from the fantasies of a forever-young-at-heart author who loves “cheesy, eye-rolling fairy tales and cliched happy endings” (I read that often enough and my ever romantic heart bleeds every time. Sigh),
move on to the next works.
This novel is somewhat satirical, touching on subjects most people nowadays laugh about or no longer put importance to or on subjects that are superficial but people put so much importance to. They were dealt here with some degree of
irreverence and exaggeration.
Bottom line, this work aims to entertain, leave you smiling and a bit in love. If not, just a bit optimistic about life in general. Idealism has never been more needed in these times of chronic cynicism and terminal pragmatism,
Kindly read the 15% sample before you dive.
The fairies are whispering in your ear.
Believe.
XoXo
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EVE MONTELIBANO
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BLAZING
“IS THIS A RANCH OR SOMETHING?”
He glanced at her.
Valenna caught her breath as she drank in her new lover’s gorgeousness in the driver’s seat of his limited edition Z-11.3 top down coupe, a model he had designed himself. He looked so at home in the steering wheel as he navigated the sports car on a dirt road in the middle of thousands of acres of grassland. It had been close to an hour since they left the heart of Melbourne and drove off to the suburbs. They just entered a huge archway bearing the name Mirabella.
“I wouldn’t call it a ranch, but there are horses being bred in some parts within the property.”
She squinted into the distance. It was almost flat grassland for miles and miles, as far as her eyes could see. “Are there any other people out here? I see no houses.”
“On the other side of the property, yes. In these parts, only a few.”
“Why?”
“I like my privacy.”
She looked at him in a funny way. “Like who would disturb you in the middle of nowhere?”
He shrugged. “You’d be surprised what people do to make a buck.”
She scrunched her face. “Don’t I know that. So, who are the people who inhabit these parts aside from you? What’s going on here?”
“Only the security men, a dozen of them patrolling the area whenever I’m here and the chalet staff who have their own cottage. This is a private race track.”
“A race track? I don’t see the track.”
“This is the track.”
“But it’s dirt road.”
“Exactly.”
“You do dirt racing, too?”
“To the grave disapproval of my team."
Racing on asphalt got old some time ago. This track gets really rough in some parts. This is the easiest part.”
“Wait, a dozen security men? You’re not some mob boss, are you?”
He grinned and didn’t comment.
“Giane, I don’t like surprises like that.”
“You should have thought of that before you slept with me.”
“He conveniently forgot that he railroaded me into it at my own presscon.”
“Not guilty. I just reminded you of your end of the bargain which you conveniently forgot.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. The point is moot now. So?”
He didn’t answer.
She rummaged in her tote bag for her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to google the Zoldattis if they have connections to the mob.”
“And if they do?”
“Well…Just tell me!”
“The Zoldattis are...okay. It’s the Medicis you should be worried about.”
“Why?”
“The Medicis have a colorful history in banking, piracy, politics, art and royalty.”
She snapped her fingers. “I knew it! Piracy! The mob! Oh god! I’m so dead!”
“Don’t insult the mob,
cara
. Most of them have legit businesses now,” he said, amused. “What I meant by piracy is about a man named Cossa, a pirate of the high seas in the 1400s who became the pope with the help of the Medicis, and in return, he invested all his booties from his Captain Hook adventures and his loot from the Vatican treasury into the Medici bank in those days. That helped my ancestors become the wealthiest bankers in Europe for roughly three centuries.”
“Wow! Interesting. You have popes for ancestors?”
“Four, actually, and two regent queens of France.”
“Yeah. I’ve read about Catherine de Medici in my history class way back in high school. She’s the most famous Medici, and Catriona of course. I wear her label.”
“And here I thought it was me.”
“You’re a Zoldatti. You’re famous for your cars.”
“Not in Europe. In Europe, I’m a Medici. Nothing can come above the family name, not even my grandfather’s famous cars,” he said with a bit of irony in his tone. “Yes, Catriona is all over the place,” he added, not in a pleasant way.
“How are you related?”
“My mother and her father are first cousins.”
“I bet your mother is a beauty.”
He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched, as if the mention of his mother displeased him.
That made her even more curious. She wanted to know more about him but she curtailed the urge to delve into his personal life. She decided to stick to the lighter side of things. “So, tell me about art and the Medicis.”
That seemed to take the edge off his face. “The Medici family was considered the father of Italian Renaissance.”
“Okay, I need to brush up on my art history. Renaissance? Michaelangelo? Da Vinci?”
He smiled and glanced at her briefly. “Yes. You’re not that bad.”
“Do you love art?”
“Yes. In the family museums in Tuscany and Florence, we have works by Filippo Brunelleschi, Donatello, Da Vinci and Michaelangelo.”
Seriously?! Wow.
She swallowed. This was so out of her league but she pretended to be cool. “Yes, I’ve heard of Donatello, one of the Ninja Turtles.”
He chuckled.
“Sorry, I’m not really high on art, not on the level you’re at, but I do have a couple of modern artworks I purchased from a private collection when the owner went bankrupt. My portfolio management team said it was a good investment and I was getting them for a bargain price.”
“What do you have?”
“I have a Jackson Pollock and the other one… I forgot the artist’s name. Finger-lickin’ good or something.”
He glanced at her briefly. “Finger-lickin…Lichtenstein?”
“Yes, that’s it!”
He chuckled. “A Pollock, too?”
“You know them?”
“Of course. I have a couple of Pollocks.”
She grimaced. “Did you buy them because you like his works or just for investment?”
“Both.”
“Really? I was wondering where to put that junk in my house. It’s so fugly! But I have it in my living room because it always elicits revulsion from my guests which is fun to watch. The moment they see it, they have this what-the-fuck expression on their faces and they’d all look at me like I’m ten varieties of sick for buying it, and I agree! I swear I always ask myself what is so artistic about turds and worms having an orgy. And it cost 10 freakin’ million dollars, almost as expensive as my cherry!”
He laughed. “In this case, I definitely agree. I would pass by a hideous Pollock anytime for your lovely cherry,
cara mia.
”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s so smug.”
He just shrugged and grinned.
“Is this gonna end?” she asked, her eyes squinting at the road ahead.
“Eventually.”
“But this is crazy! Why would you live in the middle of nowhere?”
“You want to do something crazy?”
“Uhm, I don’t think we have the same crazy.”
“Let’s do mine first, then let’s do yours.”
“O…kay…”
He stopped the car in the middle of the road.
“Why are we stopping?”
“I’m hungry.”
“You wanna eat? No restaurant in sight.”
“But there is one. A lovely one that serves a special dish which has fast become my favorite.”
“What?”
He removed her seat belt, gripped her hips and practically hauled her from her seat. She gasped in surprise. He positioned her to stand in front of him, planting her feet on either side of him. Since his car was a coupe, there was plenty of room. “I figured this is nothing compared to your stage acrobatics.”
She started to shake her head, guessing his intention. “Oh no. No, no no!”
There was an unholy glint in his eyes as he removed her slip-on sandals and guided her hands to grip the top of the windshield. Then he bent her left leg so that her foot was resting on his shoulder. She was wearing a flowing sun dress and it now rode high up on her thigh, revealing her white thong. He grinned naughtily. “Nice view.”
She stared at him wide-eyed, her tummy fluttering like crazy. “Giane, someone might see us!”
“Who would bother us in the middle of nowhere?” he repeated her words.
“Your security men!”
“They won’t bother us. They won’t dare.”
“But...but Giane, they might see us!”
He showed her his watch. “This also serves as a tracker. See that blue light? It means Keep Distance. They’re far away,
cara
. But if I push this red button which means Emergency or Red Alert, they’d be here in a flash via land and air.”
“Okay, James Bond...but...” She squirmed. It was one thing to do it in the dim light, it was another to do it in broad daylight out in the open, but he didn’t seem to hear her anymore as his focus was between her legs. He pulled the elastic crotch of her undies to the side, exposing her most private part. Her breath hitched. Oh gawd, this needed getting used to, this man staring at her pussy like it was the most delectable food on the planet.
“Since I can’t come inside this sore little kitty yet, I’ll just rub it until it purrs.”
His hot breath blew on her pussy, making it tingle like little bolts of electricity were converging in it. She was no longer feeling sore at the moment. She was soaring high with wicked excitement.
His fingers peeled her nether lips wide, revealing the inner pink of her folds. The man was playing with her in broad daylight and despite her fear of being caught on cam with her legs wide open, his face between them, she didn’t want him to stop. Oh mother of all horny froshes, she could see everything clearly. No shadows to conceal her shame, too.
“You’re already wet
.
Have you been thinking of me all day?”
“Uhmm…” The smug stud had to ask the obvious? After sharing a breakfast filled with morning banter, he went to guest at some sports network earlier today and she was left in his suite, rolling on the bed in blissful contentment, her body blessedly tender from his wild possession the night before.
