Southern Charmed Billionaire

Copyright © 2016 by Kristin Frasier
 

Copyright © 2016 by Bella Bentley
 

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
 

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
 

Cover by
Satyr Designs
 

Edited by Sloane & Faye Creative Services
 

Edited by Lauryn Doll
 

♥
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♥
 

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Southern Charmed Billionaire
 

Chapter One
 

Kate
 

"You little whore!" The buttery, harmonizing vocals set to dreamy acoustic guitars were interrupted by the stabbing, accusatory words from my cousin, Claire, the lead singer of her band
Bloodties
. The band continued with the folk melody, running wild and free without the lead singer’s crooning, infamous chops. I had heard this song a hundred times, and “You little whore” was definitely not part of the lyrics, nor some new rendition. Quite the contrary: this was their love ballad, a crowd favorite. As their manager, I had to fix things now. I grabbed my phone and whizzed out of the green room. Speed-walking down the hallway, I strained to listen to what was going down on the stage.
 

I had no idea what just happened or who Claire was talking to, standing there while live on stage at their biggest performance of the year. I had pulled major strings and worked my ass off to get them where they are today. I held my breath as I picked up the pace to a light jog down the long hallway.
 

Please tell me the “little whore” she was referring to was a broken guitar string
.
 

I stopped in my tracks. There was dead silence. I closed my eyes, briefly praying. Hard.
 

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, you, you, you! Right there, there, there, there, there! You, you, you, you, you!” Claire’s voice echoed out over the reverbed microphone, her voice dozens of decibels louder than usual her baby-soft, Sarah-McLaughlin-like cozy tone.
 

Oh my god
.
 

My heart stopped beating. Damage control was paging me. This did not sound good. At all.
 

 I ran down the crowded hall filled with people who had special passes enabling them back in the restricted area for the festival. I was ready to take over and kick out of the venue whatever bitch was attempting to crash Claire’s big moment. This night was a big deal for them. With thousands of people in attendance at this event, we needed everything to run as perfectly as possible. As their manager and practically everything
else to them, it was my job to fix any and all hiccups and nip them in the bud before they even thought about blooming into full-on problems.
 

I buzzed Stephen, the closest thing we had body guard right now—our only huge friend who would come to the “concert” and run security for free. Stephen was Andy’s best friend, and was currently in the football off-season. A 6’5” linebacker built of pure muscle, you didn’t mess with this three hundred-pound guy. "Steph, where are you? I need you,
now
."
 

I could hear glasses clambering, down indicating he was at the bar. Great.
 

“I need you to meet me right now by the side closest to Luke.”
 

“Who’s Luke?”
 

“The bass player. There's been an incident."
 

"That's the uh.... Guitar right?"
 

"Right."
 

“Roger that. Wait, Kate? There's like three guitars."
 

Shaking my head and feeling frazzled, I pictured the lineup on the stage. “Steph, just come to the right side of the stage. Show them your pass. Are you seeing anything?"
 

"No, did you Face Time me?"
 

Oh good grief
! I rolled my eyes while plunging ahead with one goal in mind: get to the stage, asap. Was I the only competent actual employee they had?
Yes
.
 

“No, Steph. I did not just Face Time you. I am just asking if you are seeing the stage right now? Are you seeing what’s going on? There’s been a meltdown.”
 

I turned the corner with the blazing speed and intent of a Spanish bull after anything red. "Just follow the right side of the stage. Something’s happening and I need security. I-"
 

Suddenly, my cell phone flew into the air as I tripped over something hard, and now cold cement was on my face.
 

Ouch
! The air was knocked out of me, and it took me a moment to come back to the moment.
 

Fuck!
 

The commotion was getting heated now, and Andy’s voice was audible in a loud amplification over the microphone.
 

“She’s not a whore, whore, whore, whore, whore!” Andy’s defense became public knowledge as it echoed in the theater.
 

“Great!” I muttered.
 

Flittering around me, raining down like light feathers, were thin pieces of moleskin paper with scribbled lyrics, and a guitar pick lay right by my face, compliments of the person I’d just crashed into. Well this person’s boots.
 

I heard him before I saw him.
 

Voice like smooth honey and a thick southern drawl delivered slow and sweet as sin.
 

“My goodness, m’am. Are you alright? Here, let me help you up, now.” The southern twang was as thick as they come, and I was expecting the voice to belong to an older man perhaps, decked out in a hunting camouflage shirt and old torn up jean overalls. Yes, I was stereotyping; it was South Carolina after all. The Deep South. I still hadn’t seen the face that owned the boots and lyrics as his firm grip helped me up. I caught the back of his fitted black t-shirt and smooth muscles retrieving my phone as he leaned down, revealing a cute ass outlined by tight jeans.
 

Okay, so this guy was not at all what I expected with an accent like that.
 

And then he turned around; I saw the face responsible for my fall.
 

Whoa.
 

Whoa
.
 

Major babe with movie star looks, as in #JamesDeandaydream. He had the famous wavy thick hair that men with great product and style knew how to masterly achieve. He ran his fingers through his hair as his free hand steadied my shoulder. In the dimly lit hallway with shadows that danced crossed his face, his intense eyes looked over me. I held my breath coming into contact with such crazy good looks, all the while, his hand was touching me! His large hand covered my petite shoulder, and I just stood there, lost for words.
 

“Are you alright?” I blinked my eyes what felt like a hundred times as I fought to find words to speak. His perfectly chiseled jaw tilted sideways, waiting for an answer. I had never seen a more handsome face. But I came to my senses suddenly. With a face like that, he probably had an equal or larger ego to match. It's just the way the world seemed
to operate.
 

I don’t know how long I stood there staring at a guy who looked just like a southern Ian Soomerhalder. A mischievous twinkle danced across his concerned eyes.
 

“You were quite in a hurry there. Here, your phone.” I felt his fingertips brush against my hand as I looked down at the shattered screen.
 

“Shit!” It was cracked in dozens of places.
 

 I was suddenly snapped back into reality. I had a job to do, and handsome studs with dreamy accents weren’t a part of it.
 

Not even men with rich-looking pinkie rings, my meticulous eye for detail noticed.
 

I was on a race against the clock, and from the loud muffled rants of the ongoing very public heated argument going down on stage, I didn't have a second to lose.
 

 Not looking up again, I made my way to the side of the stage, ignoring the handsome stranger and the feelings his touch stirred in my body. It’s just adrenaline, just adrenaline.
 

With looks like that, I bet he never got ignored!
 

"I'm sorry about your phone. Are you at least okay?” The stranger called after me, and his footsteps were quickly behind me. I guess his secret notes weren’t that important. Lyrics were like hundred year old heirloom jewelry and firstborn babies, you do not under any circumstance lose them! They’re  gold!
 

He probably isn’t a real musician then, just an amateur
. My thoughts bounced around until I reached the side of the curtains like a stage mom surveying the scene of an audition. For Pete’s sake they needed to stop arguing like this!
 

The rash accusations rang louder as their vocals now were soloing; the band had stopped playing, and I, along with the audience was witnessing the band’s public implosion. Now thousands of people stood with eager eyes watching the two lovebirds, known for their incrediblly juicy song lyrics about laying under the stars and making love, to making jam and ham and breakfasts, to traveling the world posting exotic pictures to die for on Instagram. For the past three years, they’d made a full-time living with their music, fueled and inspired by their love. They had a huge underground following, and right now, they were taking a nosedive spiral, about to catch fire and burn
to a crisp. I had to stop it.
 

The microphone slammed to the ground. My stunned eyes scanned the crowd to see how bad this situation was.
 

“I cannot believe he cheated on her!” I heard a girl say.  Another said, “Yeah, I mean that sucks.” “I knew this all was an act.” Another said.
 

“Put down your phone! Stop recording this! Stop it!” Claire shouted at the crowd.
 

“Oh my God. Claire! Claire!” I shouted at her trying to get her to calm down.
 

“M’am, you can’t be back here.” A strong hand was on my back, and a man the size of Stephen frowned at me.
 

“Yes, I can! I’m with this band.” I held up my all-access stage pass.
 

“I’ve heard that a million times.”
 

I held up my pass for him to get another look, shaking it at him dramatically.
 

“Unless your name is Claire, Chris, John, Luke, or Michael, then you can’t do anything past this line.” I looked around for the line. It was an invisible line, obviously. I looked really hard at the air, shaking my head, totally annoyed.
 

“Look man, obviously they’re having a breakdown right in front of everyone’s eyes. I have to fix it. I’m Kate Longhouse. I should be on that list, too!”
 

But he wasn’t budging. Angrily, I reached for my phone, trying to pull up Stephen’s number, but my phone was so badly shattered, I couldn’t get the number to go through.
 

“Fuck!” I said so loud that I surprised myself and even Mr. Security Guard.
 

“Sir, listen. My job is on the line here. I’ll be unemployed. Heck, I think I just lost my job if this band does not stay together.”
 

“I’m really sorry, m’am. I’m just doing my job. Anyone can buy a pass like that and replicate it. I’m under strict orders to keep groupies off the stage after what happened last year.”
 

“I’m not a groupie! I’m her cousin!” I etched, craning my neck past him. “Claire!” I hissed at her. “Claire! Get it together, right now!” His big arms were now on me attempting to calm me down and move me away from the stage.
 

“Miss, you need to turn around now and go back the other way. You’re causing a big scene.”
 

“
I’m
causing a scene? Are you kidding me?”
 

There I was, being physically walked past the side curtains and back over the “invisible line.” Standing by the restricted area was the dark-eyed stranger that tripped me, staring at me very closely as if I were a wild animal that was just let out of a cage or something. Yeah, he was judging me. I could see the look all over his face. But I didn’t care. At all.