Bought for Protection (Bought by the Billionaire Book 3) Read online

  This sexy billionaire doesn’t need a bride, but he finds himself buying one anyway.

  Garret Hansen is focused on business, and getting married is the last thing on his mind. Then the woman his company is tasked to protect without her knowledge visits a discreet matchmaker, and it gives him the perfect excuse to provide her with close security…as her husband.

  Keaton Michaels desperately wants to get out from under her father’s thumb. Finding a suitable husband is the perfect solution because her wifely duties would take precedence over being a politician’s daughter.

  Their marriage was supposed to be temporary, but love and babies have a way of changing plans.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  About the Author

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  The DILF

  Her Gentleman Dom

  To Davenport’s sons,

  Thanks for being so understanding when mom is in the writing cave.

  Chapter One

  KEATON

  I thought once I graduated from college, I’d finally be able to break free from my dad. But nope, he wanted me to go work for him. I blamed myself almost as much as him. “Why did I agree to a minor in political science?” I flopped back on my mattress and pulled a pillow over my face to scream into it.

  My dad was a popular senator, so his security was always tight, but lately, it felt impossibly so. Probably since I was living under his roof again—well, one of his roofs, anyway—after four years of living on campus and having a tiny taste of pseudo-freedom. First in the dorms as a freshman, and then in the sorority house for the rest of my time in college.

  “I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” Ashley reminded me.

  I lifted the pillow off my face and whipped it at her. It wasn’t the first time I’d thrown something at her, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. We were best friends, after all.

  “Hey!” she yelped. “You almost made me spill my nail polish.”

  “That’s what you get when I need real advice and you give me an ‘I told you so,’ instead of something constructive.”

  “Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face.” She twisted the cap back onto the bottle and shook it at me. “This shade would so not go with your duvet.”

  I glanced between the metallic blue polish and the lavender material covering my bed and shrugged my shoulders. “I can live with a splash of color on my duvet, but I can’t handle my dad being in control of every aspect of my life anymore.”

  “So get married.”

  “Get married?” She said it like she had the perfect answer to my problem. And she stated it casually, like she was telling me the weather…as though getting married was super easy.

  “That’d be a possible solution, but only if there was someone I could actually marry,” I retorted. “My dad scares off any guy who’s even remotely interested in me with his background checks and lectures about upholding the Michaels name.”

  “And those are only the ones you haven’t already scared off yourself.”

  I sat up and glared at her. “What do you mean by that?”

  She flung her arm out toward me and waved it up and down. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous, which is super intimidating to most guys.”

  “Oh, please,” I huffed. “If I’m gorgeous, then why do guys hardly ever hit on me?”

  “They do. All the time. But they go down in flames because you don’t notice. Talk about a hit to the ego. I swear, you’re totally clueless when it comes to guys being attracted to you.”

  “Even if you were right”—I narrowed my eyes at her when she smiled like she thought I was conceding victory—“it’s not like it’ll even help, because meeting a guy and dating him won’t get my dad off my case.”

  “I know. That’s why I said you should get married. Then your dad won’t have much of a say in your life anymore.”

  There she went again with the husband suggestion, as if it were that simple. “But then I’d just be trading my dad in for a husband. It might be like jumping from the frying pan into the fire.”

  “Unlike your dad, your husband will only have as much control as you’re willing to give him.” She wagged her brows. “And if he’s hot, you might even enjoy giving him a lot of it, if you know what I mean.”

  I loved Ashley like a sister, but she was impossible—although she might have had a point about a husband being easier to handle than my dad. And having one might help me with the press, too. “Where exactly am I supposed to find a husband?”

  “That’s easy.” I stared at her with raised brows as she climbed off the mattress, padded across the floor, dug through her purse to pull out a cream-colored business card, and crossed back over to the side of the bed to hand it to me. “Call this woman and tell her you need to get married. There’s no way she’ll say no. Not with your looks, education, and background.”

  I glanced down at the card and read aloud, “Julia Connor, Luxe Connections—discreet matchmaking services. What is this? Some kind of mail-order bride thing?”

  “No. Why would you even ask me that?” She dropped onto the mattress, propping her chin up with her hand as she stared at me. “Do you really think I’d put you in touch with a place that ships brides off to like—Russia or something?”

  “I’m pretty sure you have that backwards and Russia is the one sending brides to the States.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “You’re completely missing the point. I’d never steer you wrong like that.”

  “True, but you’ve also never steered me toward a matchmaker before.” I pointed at her bare ring finger. “And it’s not like you’ve used her services, since you’re as single as I am. So how do you even know about Luxe Connections in the first place?”

  “Remember when Stacey was bragging about the billionaire her older sister bagged as a husband?” I rolled my eyes at the reminder of a girl who’d only made it into our sorority when she’d pledged last year because she was a legacy through several generations. She was a horrible snob, and she’d been blatantly obvious in her desire to be my friend because of who my dad was. “Yeah, well, she got drunk one night and told me it never would’ve happened if her mom hadn’t gotten her sister in to meet Julia. She’s supposed to have an amazing track record, and Luxe Connections only works with the very best clients.”

  “Then why haven’t I ever heard of her or them before?”

  She reached out and tapped the business card with a metallic blue–painted nail. “Because the discreet thing isn’t just a tagline. It’s real. Their clients are wealthy and famous enough for it to be a requirement, which is why this is the perfect solution for you. Your dad and his team won’t hear about what you’ve done until it’s too late.”

  “So what? I’m supposed to just call this Julia person and tell her to find me a husband?”

  “Yup.”

  “And you think that’s really going to work?”

  “Why not? Julia wouldn’t have a successful business if it didn’t work for a lot of her clients. Why should you be different?”

  That was an excellent point. One which stuck with me for the next week. It didn’t matter what I was doing—meeting
up with my sorority sisters for lunch, ducking my dad’s phone calls, representing the Michaels name at fundraisers—the idea kept popping into my head. Even while I was sweating my butt off during some crazy boot camp workout Ashley signed us up for. It felt like the business card she had given me was burning a hole in my purse. I finally gave in after eight days and called the number to set up an appointment.

  As I was walking into the Luxe Connections office, I started to second-guess my decision. Her office was sophisticated and stylish, decorated in muted beiges and blues, with beautiful landscape paintings adorning the walls. The furniture I’d have bought in a heartbeat, and there was a stunning view of Central Park.

  Then I met Julia, who matched the space. She was tall, beautiful, and well-dressed. Her deep chocolate eyes lit up her smooth, light brown skin, and her braided hair was twisted up into an elegant chignon. She wore a pair of heels that I would’ve loved to have stolen right off her feet, but my father would have said they were inappropriate because he didn’t like me wearing anything over three inches. He expected me to blend in. Not draw too much attention to myself. And definitely not marry a man he didn’t pick out for me himself.

  “Keaton Michaels, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Julia Connor,” she said with a warm smile.

  “It’s nice to meet you as well.” I shook her hand and sat in the padded chair in front of her glass desk as she rounded it and sat down with her back to the windows facing the park. “Where’d you get those shoes? They’re to die for.” I figured if I was going to piss my dad off by selling myself into a marriage to someone he most likely wouldn’t approve of, I should at least consider buying a pair of shoes I loved.

  She lifted her foot and flashed one of the striking pink-and-black shoes at me with a grin. “I got them at the boutique on Madison Avenue, just last week.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t request an appointment with me to ask about my heels, no matter how amazing they are.” Her tone was kind, and her dark eyes held a spark of curiosity.

  “You’re right, that’s not the reason I called. But now that I’m actually here, I think maybe I made a mistake. I feel so foolish for wasting your time. I’m so sorry.”

  I started to stand but found myself sitting back down when she waved her hand toward my seat and urged, “No, please. Don’t go yet. I meet with clients who have many reasons for wanting to find a spouse. I’ve heard all kinds of stories, and I’m the last person who’ll judge you for your decision to call me. Don’t feel foolish. Not with me. I’m here to help, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me why you wanted to meet with me.”

  I heaved a deep sigh and shook my head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Can I hazard a guess and assume this has something to do with your father?”

  I blinked up at her, surprised by her question even though I shouldn’t have been. Everyone in New York knew who Senator Norris Michaels was, which meant they also knew me. He’d made sure of it by running for several political offices on a family-values platform. My mom was gone, and I was their only child, so I was paraded around when he needed to remind voters that he was a widowed father who’d raised a daughter on his own. My dad loved me, but I was tired of being used as a political pawn.

  “Yeah, that’s a safe guess.”

  “I’ve heard that he’s planning to make a run for governor.”

  I nodded. “The party leadership think it’s the only way to replace the incumbent.”

  “And the race is bound to be contentious?”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” I snorted.

  “Which means you’ll be in the limelight for the next six months, even more than you were when he first ran for mayor.”

  She’d nailed it. “I was grieving the loss of my mom and completely unaware of what it meant to be a politician’s daughter back then. And that campaign wasn’t too bad. He was practically untouchable—the successful businessman running for office because he wanted to make a difference after what happened to my mom.” I shifted my gaze to look out the window over her shoulder. “Things are different now. I’m twenty-two and fair game for the mud that’ll be slung in his direction. My father is well aware of this and has already taken steps to keep me close, so he can be certain I won’t be in danger or cause any issues with the campaign. Sometimes, with the way he watches me, I think he’s waiting for my rebellious streak to kick in and ruin everything.”

  “Which I would assume leaves you very little freedom?”

  “Try none,” I sighed. “And I can’t take it anymore.”

  “But a respectable marriage would bring you a certain measure of latitude, with your father, at least.”

  If it was only my dad that would be appeased by my marriage, I wouldn’t have given Ashley’s suggestion as much thought as I had. But there was more to it than that. “With the press, too. The newly married daughter of a candidate won’t have as much interest to the gossip rags as a single one. They’ll be looking for a scandal around every corner. If I supply them with just enough positive stories to keep them satisfied, they’ll get bored and move on.”

  “It’s a smart plan.” Julia nodded, her brown eyes twinkling. “Quite brilliant, actually.”

  Maybe it wasn’t just wishful thinking on my part. “Do you really think it would work?”

  “I do.”

  “And you have clients who’d be agreeable to such a plan? Who’d be respectable and wealthy enough that my father wouldn’t argue too much?”

  “Respectable and wealthy are two adjectives that describe most of my clients. Do you have any other requirements?”

  I probably should’ve listed out physical characteristics like tall, dark, and handsome. But there was something I needed that was much more important than looks. “It has to be someone who intensely guards his privacy. The only things the press can get a hold of about us are the stories we leak to them on purpose.”

  “Then you came to the right place. Luxe Connections specializes in discreet because all of our clients value their privacy.”

  Chapter Two

  GARRET

  “I know my daughter is getting restless with the amount of security I’ve surrounded her with,” Senator Norris Michaels said with a weary sigh. “The last thing I need is for her to develop a defiant attitude and do something that permanently damages my campaign or her safety. Also, I have some very vocal enemies, and I wouldn’t put it past some of them to use her as a way to get to me.”

  I was grateful that our conversation was over the phone so he couldn’t see the scowl on my face. It hadn’t escaped my notice that he’d mentioned the campaign before the well-being of his daughter. Mr. Family Values had always seemed shallow, but this confirmed my suspicions that he was also a fucking asshole. Still, the asshole paid very generously.

  “You’re looking for a shadow detail,” I confirmed.

  “Yes. For the remainder of the campaign. Keaton is to be completely unaware of her security.”

  “It may require a…creative solution,” I warned. For a moment, I thought about cluing him in to my plan but decided against it. I didn’t want to take the chance that he would keep it from going forward. My team had done their due diligence. We probably knew more about Keaton Michaels than her father ever would.

  When I found out that she had an appointment scheduled with Luxe Connections, the name had rung a bell. A couple of my friends had found their wives through the service. As I contemplated it, an idea began to take shape. I didn’t know why Keaton was looking for a husband, but the easiest way for me to keep her safe at all times was to temporarily step into that role.

  I wasn’t exactly husband material, having put all of my time and energy into my company since I’d started it eight years ago. I’d had no time for women and no desire to change that fact.

  Luxe Connections was a referral-based company, so I put in a call to one of those friends and asked him to get me a meeting w
ith the owner, Julia Connor. Miles was openly curious, but he knew better than to come right out and ask why. When it came to my private life, I kept it just that. Fucking private.

  “Do what you have to do.” Her father’s tone was distracted, clearly finished with our conversation. “Keep me updated.” Then he hung up.

  I looked at my phone in disgust before tossing it down on my desk. Keaton’s file was in front of me, but I hadn’t had the chance to look through it yet. The man I’d assigned to her case had given me a summary, enough to know how I was going to proceed. I was curious what else there was to know about her, though.

  Before I could open the file, my assistant’s voice came over the intercom, reminding me that it was time to leave for my appointment with Julia.

  My office was a SCIF (Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility) room, basically a safe with our clients’ most sensitive information in it. I punched in the code and used the biometric pad to scan my fingerprints and complete the locking sequence before heading out to the front of the building. My driver, Jack, was already idling at the curb. I climbed into the back of the black Escalade and traveled across town to Columbus Circle, where Luxe Connections was located.

  Julia was waiting for me at the reception desk, and we shook hands before returning to her office. She gestured to the chairs situated in front of her desk, and I lowered my frame into one as she rounded her desk and sat down.

  “What can I do for you, Garret?” she asked with a pleasant tone. “Miles was a little vague about what you’re looking for.”

  “I’m a very private man,” I said. No other explanation seemed necessary.

  Julia tilted her head to the side and eyed me thoughtfully. She didn’t comment, so I continued on with why I was there.

  “I need a wife.” She raised an eyebrow, but not in surprise. It was more like she was telling me to get on with it since she already knew. Why else would I come to a matchmaker? “I’m going to be completely honest with you. I understand that Keaton Michaels has signed a contract with you.”