MR. BOSSY BILLIONAIRE AND I

"No! Are you out of your mind?"

"Maya, please!"

"You've got to be kidding me, woman." Amaya Petterson looked at her best friend, Mary, and questioned if the demented plan she'd just heard came from her best friend's mouth or if she'd merely imagined the words.

"Please, Maya! Please, please, I need your help!" Mary sighed and looked at her. "You're the only person that I could think of who could achieve this—"

"Achieve my ass."

"Please."

"Hmm! Wait a minute there," Amaya said, standing up and pacing her friend's huge, feminine bedroom. "It's the night before your wedding to Tyler, and you expect me to go to his bachelor party, invade it—discreetly, of course—and make certain he's not doing it with one of the strippers?"

"Yes."

"You are crazy!"

"I am." Mary nodded, her chin-length chestnut hair gently swaying against her exquisite jaw. "That just about covers it all. What could go wrong?"

"This is madness! But what this actually indicates is that you're thinking about marrying a man you don't trust tomorrow!" Amaya groaned.

"No," Mary answered, settling back on her bed, which was piled high with ruffled, too-bright-green pillows.

"What this means is that I know Tyler is a man."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amaya groaned and watched her friend bite her lips.

"Amaya, come on. You know that old joke about the brain and the penis sharing the same blood supply, right?" Amaya couldn't help but chuckle. Yeah, right! "And when the blood goes to the little head—"

"The big head can't think properly. And presto! Tyler’s a goner!"

"Seriously, Mary?"

"I’m serious here. I need your help!" Amaya approached the window and looked out. This mid-November evening, leafless oak trees decorated the quiet suburban streets of Water St., Lewistown, just north of Montana. The two-story house across the street twinkled with multi-coloured lights. She'd flown in late from Los Angeles, almost missing the rehearsal dinner earlier this evening but arriving in plenty of time for the wedding itself. Tomorrow, at two o'clock in the afternoon, was the big day. She served as a maid of honour.

Amaya and Mary had gone to boarding school in France. Her best friend had been as reserved and fearful as Amaya had been bold and daring. They'd handled their years away from home as roommates, becoming good friends in the process. Now, on what should have been one of the best nights of Mary's life, she was scared that her soon-to-be husband would be seduced to cheat on her.

Amaya sat in the window seat and used her fingertips to massage her temples. "God, I'm having a headache already."

"I know, and I owe you one," Mary smiled. Amaya was getting anxious, which was a terrible sign. She despised violence, and Mary's ideas were no more than sheer war.

"Okay, okay! Run the whole thing to me again," she instructed. Mary sat up more upright and glowed, saying, "Oh, thank you so much, you are an angel."

"Yeah, yeah!" Amaya beemed.

"So okay. Tyler knows you're going to the ceremony tomorrow, but he's never met you in person, so he won't recognise you."

"Are you sure?" Amaya asked, raising her brow. "I'm sure, and we can also fix you up with some kind of, um, makeup, a hairstyle, or something, you know, maybe a dark wig?"

"And?" Mary smiled and said, "Well, I managed to find out where the party was tonight. It's just a couple of blocks from here, at Chase's residence. He's Tyler's cousin. You might head over there and come right back as soon as you were certain about—"

"There's no funny business going on," Amaya growled. Mary took a big breath and said, "Yes. No funny thing happening with my Tyler."

"But I'm not sure if I can pull this off, Mary."

"Maya, you're a dancer; what could go wrong?"

Amaya rolled her eyes.

The bedroom was silent. Amaya was dumbfounded that she was thinking of doing this. Mary, on the other hand, drew out all her cards, even sobbing. "Really, Mary?" She couldn't bear seeing her best friend weep.

"Please…"

"Okay, you win."

"And," Mary continued, "you told me about that dance performance where your entire troop wore only electric-silver body paint, so it's not as if—"

"I'm excessively modest about that part, and you know that, but I'm not stripping." Amaya concluded as she rolled her eyes again. She was a part-time dancer, and Mary knew that. She stood up and walked over to the bright vanity, where she sat down next to her best friend in the world.

"But Mary, you do realise what you're asking me to do, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Mary's pure, dark brown eyes were solemn.

"Do you want me to tell you if I find Tyler having... you know, doing it with one of the girls, and if I tell you, are you going to call off the entire wedding?"

Mary halted, "Um…well—"

The grandiose wedding had been planned with no money spared. It was something that Mary's parents could afford. Amaya was aware that two hundred people were expected at church tomorrow to witness the marriage.

The exquisite flowers, the designer bridal gown, the sit-down dinner thereafter, the lovely cake, the country club celebration—Amaya was astounded by the amount of preparation and expenditure that was put into this wedding.

"Well?" Amaya inquired. "Would you call it off?"

"Yes, absolutely I would! Well, I would call it quits! Because if I couldn't trust Tyler tonight, how could I build a family on such shaky ground?"

Amaya frowned. "You make a good point."

"Yeah, I guess so." Mary sighed.

"Jesus," Amaya said, feeling herself weak. She took a deep breath and said, "I'm going to regret this tomorrow."

"Of course not."

"Yeah, right. Okay, show me Tyler's picture again."

"Awww!" Mary encircled her with her arms. "I knew I could always count on you!"

"You better not regret this, Mary."

*****

Amaya hurried briskly along the suburban sidewalk late that evening, hoping she wasn't attracting too many glances. She was dressed in thigh-high red boots borrowed from Mary, a navy trench coat, and a red shawl over her head. On that head, however, she donned a black wig, curly and bobbed, courtesy of Mary.

Her long, blonde hair was the polar opposite. The last thing Amaya wanted was for Tyler to recognise her when he stood at the altar with his wife tomorrow afternoon. It's not every day that your maid of honour doubles as a spy.

"D*mn it! I'm going to regret this," she murmured to herself.

She'd applied a bit more makeup than usual, including sexy dark mascara and gleaming bloody red lipstick.

"I'm going for that L*dy G*ga thing and hoping I don't end up looking like the mummy," she'd informed Mary. Her best friend, however, had assisted her in getting dressed before sneaking out onto the balcony and down the fence on the side of the home, which she and Mary’s brothers had done several times as children because it was impossible to just go out the front gate.

The massive home was packed with friends and family from out of the city who were talking, laughing, and toasting the upcoming event the next day.

But as Amaya walked out of the beautifully illuminated house, lights blazing from every window and laughter in every direction, she questioned whether what she was about to do would put an end to this celebration for good.

Nonetheless, she recognised Mary's point. Why marry a man who was going to cheat on you the night before the big day? Why marry a man who doesn't have enough affection for you to be pleased by you alone?

These were difficult questions. She was about to give her best friend some difficult answers. Hopefully not. Amaya took a slip of paper from her trench coat pocket and inspected the hurriedly sketched chart Mary had created for her. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and began walking north towards Tyler's cousin's home. "Good, it wasn't difficult to locate Chase's residence," she murmured to herself.

The first red flag was the number of cars parked in the round drive. The seductive music wafting out into the night with a powerful, passionate beat was the second indicator. That, and a chorus of men laughing.

However, the tiny group of ladies crowded to the side of the house, passionately fighting. Amaya made the decision to go straight in.

"Hey, are you guys here for the party?"

The three women turned to face her. They were unsure, even terrified.

"Yes," said the brunette. "What's wrong? Any problem?" Amaya said as she approached. "Yes, big time. One of our girls couldn't make it. She got diarrhoea from a hamburger. Damn it! I told Daisy not to eat; she had to have that stupid burger."

"With more hot sauce," another brunette female said. "Silly really."

A redhead spoke up. "Yeah, and we don't think the guy who hired us will mind, but he insisted on four girls."

"Exactly what do you need to do anyway?" Amaya asked, believing she should be informed of what she was getting herself into. She was curious as to how far these ladies were prepared to go.

"Well, it's really simple. I mean, we strip down to our knickers and keep it as tame as possible. All fantasy stuff, you know? But classy and well, a little kinky. Then we wiggle and tease the groom quite a bit, but absolutely nothing too sexy, just a few kisses and all. "Amaya raised her brow.

"Really? That's all?"

"Yes," said the brunette. "The man who hired us wished for some really sexy twirling around, and I guess you could call it a striptease. "Amaya smirked, "The traditional kind?"

"Yes."

"Hmmmm," Amaya reflected. "Nothing kinky, like two girls going at it?"

"No, Chase made it very clear that the groom adores his bride, and as he said, nothing too nasty and too kinky. Just a little tease."

"Hmmm." For a brief time, Amaya pondered simply walking home. But she knew Mary would be confused.

"I will help you guys out," she eventually declared.

"What?" inquired the redhead. She had silky golden locks and a lovely face. Amaya said, "What was your buddy's name again? The one who couldn't make it?"

"Daisy," the blonde answered. Amaya extended her hand. "My name is Amaya, but everyone calls me Daisy."

"What?" said the third girl, who had dark red hair and intense eye makeup. "What exactly are you talking about?" Amaya rolled her eyes. "Hey, you're missing a fourth girl, Daisy, and I need to get in there and play with those gentlemen."

"Why?" the blonde said curiously. "What in the hell are you up to?"

Amaya briefly described her relationship with the bride as well as what Mary had requested she accomplish.

"Really?" said the blonde, introducing herself as Helena. "Do you think Tyler thinks we're going to do that sort of stuff? We're from Montana Fancy Performers, and we have an image to maintain!"

"I don't think Tyler does," Amaya answered, opting to leave out the point that she'd not seen the groom.

"To be honest, I think my friend, the bride, is a little nervous. Her first fiancé turned on her right after he proposed, and she found him in bed with an old lover at his home."

"Really? What an ass," whispered Helena.

"I know." Amaya groaned.

"Jerk," the redhead Pamela added. "She's better off without him," stated Nancy, the brunette who introduced herself.

"My thoughts exactly," Amaya remarked. "I'm really just doing this to amuse Mary, but I need to get inside."

"Do you dance?" Helena inquired. "I do it all—conventional, dance, tap— I have a dance troupe called Silver Moon France in the Bay Area, and we've even danced in just body paint."

"Artsy kind?" Pamela inquired, evidently sceptical. "And sexy?" Helena said, hoping.

"Yes." Amaya pulled her trench coat off, snapped her fingers, and began to dance to the rhythm coming from Chase's residence behind them. "Is this good enough?"

"Oh my god, those are some great moves," Nancy said. She cast a peek towards Helena. "Come on, Helena, you know this would save our bums. We don't have a choice. Amaya could help."

"I propose we let her join us," Pamela said. "Our boss never has to know."

"Okay. Whatever, fine with me," Helena claimed. She gave Amaya one final look. "Just stay next to me and let me know in case any of those men do anything nasty."

"Sure," Amaya murmured.

"I'll kick their ass. Tell me if you aren't comfortable, okay?"

"Thanks," Amaya smiled. She liked them already.

It was considerably easier than she had anticipated.

She walked right in behind Helena, Pamela, and Nancy. Tyler was easy to notice, sitting in the family room's primary chair.

She spotted that a huge, heavy square coffee table, surrounded by comfy seats and a sofa, had been stripped of everything and shone like a little stage.

Amaya followed Helena's lead and tossed her black trench coat, along with the other girls' seasonal clothes, over the edge of the couch.

It was my first bachelor-thingy event. This should be intriguing. She expected them to start dancing right away, but instead they were brought drinks and introduced. Everyone just gave their first names. She followed Helena's lead once more and addressed herself as Daisy.

And she requested a glass of water rather than anything alcoholic. They were also given gorgeous, sparkling dark theme masks with feathers, and Amaya realised this bachelor party had a theme. Between platters of spicy chips and dip and trays of cookies, fancy brownies and colourful lightning were sprinkled throughout the room.

The enormous sheet cake was adorned with an edible cookie tombstone and the phrases "Good luck, Tyler Boy" and "Regret Nothing" written in icing that shone with red, blue, and dark yellow coloured sugar.

Amaya took off her mask and donned it. It gave her the impression that she could view everything without being noticed.

There were perhaps twenty-five males in their early to mid-thirties there. Amaya could almost smell the testosterone permeating the entire room.

"I don't see the man who hired us," Helena murmured quietly to Nancy, as Amaya kept near and listened. "Perhaps he decided not to come," Nancy said quietly.

"Hmmm," Helena thought, then replied, "Why don't you two get up on the table and start dancing?"

The opening bars of The Pussycat Doll's Stick With You flooded the room as if on cue. The vibration of the percussion bass licks creates the atmosphere. If there was ever music made just for dirty dancing and parties, this was it.

"Well done," Amaya replied. Nancy and she pushed their way through a crowd of masculine bodies and appreciative gazes at that enormous, shiny coffee table. Amaya had her gaze fixed on Tyler. She got the sense that he'd already had a few drinks. He wasn't going to do anything romantic tonight. Thats for sure, she thought to herself.

Then one of the men extended his hand up onto the coffee table, and she accepted it, smiling sweetly at him.

Then she started moving to the tunes, her eyes closed and a grin on her lips in reaction to Helena's decision to have two females dance at the same time. Despite the fact that she and Nancy would not be conversing, the idea would be there. That would be enough for these people.

Someone turned up the volume on the music, and Amaya opened her eyes. Nancy had already thrown her skirt behind the couch, much to the amusement of the male audience.

Okay, she needed to catch up. She bit her lips when the zipper on her black leather miniskirt snagged on her red satin underwear. Not bad at all. She was actually enjoying this! Yet, she couldn't believe she was here only a few hours ago; after landing in the airport, her only thoughts were a nice shower and something tasty and greasy to eat.

The skirt fell off, but as she flung it, it landed on a guy's head. The others roared with joy as he pawed it off his face and hurled it behind him, smirking.

Nancy gave her a wink as if to say, "Nice play, Daisy!" Amaya mimicked Nancy's movements. She was still wearing her tight black top at the end of the song. Another tune, "Touch My Body," began. The redhead, Pamela, joined them at the long table. They danced till they were down to their bras and underwear by the conclusion of the second song.

It was just as Helena had described it. Amaya knew she wasn't showing them much more than she would on a beach, but they loved it. Christmas had obviously arrived early this year, judging by the grins on all the joyful, manly faces looking at them. Nancy then shocked her.

They were in the midst of their fourth song, "Love Game" by Lady Gaga, when Nancy smiled and opened the front clasp of her red lace bra. Then she quickly refastened her bra. The clapping and roars of applause were overwhelming. Pamela smiled as she flashed them, then secured her dark-coloured bra once more.

And Amaya discovered that every man's eye was on her. Unfortunately, she and Helena were the ladies who would have been seen to be more endowed. Even worse, her bra was attached to her back.

What should I do? Should I? She kept dancing around on the low coffee table when she noticed Nancy and Pamela had both stepped down. She was the only one at the table. And she was aware of it. Every man in the room was curious about what lay behind her red satin push-up bra.

She'd never felt so self-conscious about her figure before. Growing up in Montana and attending a private school in France played a role. She'd sunbathed topless in France and Germany over the summer. She was a dancer who was comfortable in her own skin.

She smirked. "Oh well, what the hell?"

She was alone at the table, scarcely breathing, when familiar music began to play. The male-dominated crowd applauded. Amaya became aware that every eye in the room was on her.

She began to dance to the alluring music, her secret, dreamy grin meant to drive a guy insane. Then she went for the straps at the back of her bra slowly and seductively.

*****

Meanwhile, Chase Johnson sat on the phone at his large wood desk, trying not to hear the noises of the party flowing beneath the door. One of the drawbacks of being really successful was that your working day didn't always end at five o'clock.

And he achieved prosperity beyond his wildest expectations. He and his business partner, Justin De Nero, had created a little USB with massive storage that could be used as an internet wireless port that had swept the computer industry and garnered positive feedback.

They'd made millions from it when their firm went public and gained rapid industry celebrity. They'd also managed to have a lot of fun while doing it. Chase smirked. Justin had at least completed the enjoyable part. His partner nagged him all the time to let loose and live a little, but he was a guarded man by nature.

That's why he and Justin worked well together in business.

Chase paid close attention to everything.

And tomorrow was Tyler’s wedding, and if only he could stay here and finish the paperwork. He thought and stretched himself.

"Wasn't there a particular kind of event you were meant to go to tonight? I mean, downstairs?" Justin said as the chat came to a close.

"Yeah, going. I just need, um, to finish some papers," he said, rubbing his fingers down onto his temples, feeling a headache start. He'd laboured straight through noon and was starving. Perhaps he could go down the hall and have a slice of dessert and a mug of coffee. "Come on, it's your cousin’s bachelor party. Get up and have some fun."

"I will—"

"And Chase, hurry up and don't do whatever that I wouldn't do."

"Which means it's open season?" Chase raised his brows.

"Aha! You said it, not me," Justin responded at the other end, amused. "All I know is that all labour and little play equal a miserable life. Trust me, I know."

"Point taken," Chase commented as he checked his watch. "How's Ruru doing there?" he inquired of his three-year-old blond labrador. He'd asked Justin to look after his dog tonight. Roro became concerned when big groups invaded his house.

"Ruru is under my desk right now, chewing on that white toy ball — oops, he just heard his name, and he's looking at me with that 'Let's play' speech, so we will."

"Thank you for keeping him overnight; parties irritated him."

"Don't worry about him; he's fine."

Chase inhaled deeply. "Okay, I'll call you later."

"You won't because Tyler is getting married. Enjoy the event. I can handle a day without you here in the office. Calm down."

"Yeah, you're right. Okay, I'll call you in the next few days." Chase hung up the phone and stretched. He tilted his head, listening to the family room down the hall's roars and exuberant masculine cries.

"What in the world was going on?" He murmured to himself and walked towards the door, opened it, and entered the living room.

*****

Amaya tormented and made fun of them. She had no idea where she gathered the urge to do so. It was as if an innate ability she'd always kept hidden had suddenly exploded, taking her over. It didn't hurt that she was wearing a black wig and a mask that simply concealed one-third of her face.

She felt like another woman in her beautiful skirt and sparkling red lipstick on her lips. A seductive, experienced woman. A woman who could lead a guy down any number of sensual paths.

She'd gone for her bra's back fastening, then stopped, her hands moving to her front, then wandering back, and eventually, still teasing, she'd undone her bra's back fastening for the third time.

Amaya considered a true striptease to be a piece of art, an expression of the feminine form. She'd never had the opportunity to perform one, and she doubted she'd ever have another.

She planned to make the most of this opportunity. Every male in the room was focused on her hands, waiting for her to pull the gorgeous garment down lower and lower, until it was entirely off.

She, however, did not. She compelled them to wait. Amaya slipped the back fastenings open, letting the lace bra straps fall down her shoulders, then cupped the bra in front of her breasts with her hands.

"Yes," one of the guys purred.

"Take it off, sweetheart!" screamed a masculine voice. She had the foresight to look across at Tyler, wondering how Mary’s soon-to-be husband was doing. Good, at least she doesn't have to explain to Mary what she did tonight that involved Tyler. She thought to herself, Maybe Tyler was so drunk that he passed out.

Amaya grinned, nearly chuckled, and kept dancing, her hips moving to the tunes, her hands on red satin. Then she lifted the cloth, showing her nude breasts, before quickly covering them again.

The audience erupted. Someone banged on the table. Someone else hurled a drink at some of the other males in the throng, but they didn't seem to notice.

Amaya grinned. She raised her bra once more, giving it a slightly longer look. Completely teasing.

The roars were loud, and the applause was overwhelming. She slid the bra down her arms, then proceeded to spin the bra over her head, dancing passionately to the music.

Then she hurled the bra into the throng, right at the man who was approaching her with a serious expression on his attractive face. Amaya smirked.

*****

Chase had arrived in the spacious living room just in time to watch the black-haired dancer flaunt her breasts to the mob of excited males. And his first thought was, ‘When did I ever see this in the dance catalogue? ’No! This could not happen.

Tyler, his cousin, was frightened enough about getting married in the morning. He didn't need anything like this to get him in trouble or drive him over the line into doing anything crazy. Mary would be devastated if she suspected he had even contemplated cheating on her. She would hate him too.

"Damn it!" Chase groaned to himself as the dancer turned, stopped, faced him, and flung her bra into the throng as the audience parted to let his determined body through.

He reached up, caught the red satin bra, dropped it, and rushed over to the coffee table, taking the half-naked woman into his arms.

“Down!” He grumbled.

"Hey!" the woman growled back. “Put me down!” Chase slung her over his shoulder and strode out of the family room, down the hall, and into his room.

"Hey! What the—" Amaya wriggled in his hands. "Put me down, you Neanderthal! Now!"

Chase sat her on the bed. She quickly exited the room, down the corridor, and back towards the party. He began a hot pursuit. When he discovered her, she was taking a glass of punch from the barman.

The red satin bra had suddenly returned to cover those wonderful breasts.

His pupils constricted as he observed her. As irritated as he was by her antics, he had to acknowledge that she had some pretty amazing breasts.

"Just what did you think you were doing up there?" Chase said, keeping his voice level and his fury under control."

She was dancing, man," exclaimed the young blond barman, his eyes filled with adoration.

"And doing a damn good job of it, if I may say so."

"Whatever, where's Tyler?" Chase wondered. "He's sound asleep in the balcony chair," the woman explained. Even if he didn't want to, he enjoyed her voice. Low, soft, and seductive.

"How do you know Tyler?" Chase inquired.