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  Table of Contents

  Bad Boy Billionaire

  About the Book

  Bad Boy Billionaire

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  My Dutch Billionaire

  My Italian Billionaire

  That One Time

  The Dutch billionaire had BAD BOY written all over him.

  Ilse Muir works as a tour guide for the Red Light District in Amsterdam. She also happens to be a workaholic and a virgin, with a handicapped younger brother to take care of. She has absolutely no time or space in her life for men, but a certain Dutch billionaire is out to prove her wrong in the most delicous and heartbreaking ways possible.

  Jaak de Konigh is widely known as the black sheep of his royal family, and it's a title he's always shamelessly embraced...until Ilse catches his eye. Women were nothing to him, but Ilse is different, and the way she has him jumping through hoops is as frustrating as it's exhilarating.

  He wants her like he's never wanted any other woman. Whatever Ilse wants, she can have...except for one important thing.

  This steamy, angsty love story is set against the fairytale-like backdrop of Amsterdam. It's the perfect read if you want a romance to sweep you off your feet and enjoy a guaranteed happy-ever-after.

  Note: This book was previously published as Jaak & Ilse.

  About the Book

  Ilse’s cellphone started to ring at exactly five o’clock, and without opening her eyes, she blindly groped for her phone on the bedside table, swiping and punching the screen randomly until she was able to answer the call and put it on loudspeaker.

  “Rise and shine, babe.”

  Ilse’s heart skipped a beat even as her mind fought against the cobwebs of sleep. Who was calling her—-

  The realization came to her.

  Jaak de Konigh.

  “What time is it?” she asked groggily.

  “Five?”

  Eyes still closed, she demanded in a mumble, “And you’re calling me now why?”

  “Gloria told me you often worry about not being able to get up on time in the morning, so I thought I’d make myself useful.”

  Right.

  Her boss really had a big mouth...

  And Ilse started to slip back into unconsciousness.

  The billionaire gazed at his cellphone in amusement. “Ilse?”

  An incoherent mumble.

  “Shouldn’t you start moving?”

  “Vijf minuten.”

  The billionaire smiled. Five minutes. He ended the call, thinking that morning might just become his favorite part of the day if it was the only time he could hear Ilse acting spoiled and childlike.

  Heading back to his hotel suite’s walk-in closet, the billionaire finished changing, his movement swift and efficient as he looped a crimson tie around his neck and secured it with a perfect knot.

  By the time he called Ilse again, exactly five minutes had passed, and he was on his way down in the elevator. She answered his call on the third ring, her semi-incoherent grumble leaving the billionaire torn between amusement and arousal. That she wasn’t a morning person was cute, but it also made him wish he could see her now. He pictured her lying on his bed, with her dark brown hair fanned across his pillows, and the thought was enough to have his cock stiffen behind his pants.

  This was going to be another day of torture, the billionaire thought with a mental sigh. Ever since meeting Ilse, he hadn’t fucked another woman, and not counting the years before he had lost his virginity, this was the longest time he had gone without sex.

  With an effort, the billionaire managed to keep his voice steady, saying, “Ilse, get up.”

  “Mm.”

  He heard more sounds, Ilse flipping to her stomach and covering her head with a pillow. It was the simplest thought, but it still have the most amazing impact on his cock, and for one tempting second the billionaire seriously considered going back to his room so he could jerk himself off.

  The thought had the billionaire inhaling hard.

  Control. He needed to be in control.

  “Come on, babe. You don’t want to be late, do you?”

  Half a minute passed before he heard a sigh coming from the other end of the line. “I’m up.”

  Her tone was half-sleepy, half-grudging, to which the billionaire replied in a mockingly polite voice, “Your gratitude for my wake-up call is duly noted.”

  Bad Boy Billionaire

  By Marian Tee

  Note: This book was previously published as Jaak & Ilse.

  Copyright 2020 by Streak Digital Publishing

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

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  Eleven years ago

  St. Valentine, Contini

  “Mind if I join you?” At his younger brother’s nod, Willem de Konigh stepped out to join Jaak on the balcony. Behind them, the rest of the chateau was still blanketed in the quiet of sleep, their three younger siblings unknowingly missing out on the chance to say goodbye to Jaak.

  “Are you here to change my mind?” Jaak’s tone was light and humorous.

  “You know me better than that,” was his older brother’s mild reply.

  Jaak laughed. Standing almost as tall as his brother, he possessed the same blue eyes that the de Konighs were famous for. But unlike Willem’s blond good looks that made women all over Europe think of him as a real-life Prince Charming, Jaak’s ebony black hair and trademark smirk lent the younger de Konigh a devilishly wicked aura. If these were the olden days, he would have no doubt been mistaken for a rakish pirate, a man guaranteed to steal the virginity of any lady in his presence.

  The grandfather clock inside the chateau chimed out a heavy tune, and both brothers instinctively stiffened at the unwanted reminder of the time. Even though a decade had already passed since they had escaped their father’s brutality, there were still things they were struggling – and failing – to forget.

  It was two o’clock in the morning, and not so long ago, this was the hour of the night that insanity, cultivated by years of alcoholism and emotional instability, would take over their father.

  Willem’s beatings would start, an almost-nightly ritual that left him bloodied and broken.

  And Jaak had not known.

  He had not known because he, unlike Willem, had been the apple of his father’s eye, the only one among his children that Edgar de Konigh had deigned to notice.

  Or maybe he had not known because he hadn’t wanted to, Jaak thought bitterly. Maybe even then, he had been a weak and spineless idiot who had idolized his father—-

  The same father that had turned his eldest son into a punching bag because he didn’t have the guts to beat his wife for cheating—-

  “
I am aware it’s pointless to say this, but as I like being thorough—-”

  “You’ll say it anyway,” Jaak finished.

  “Correct.” Willem inclined his head in agreement.

  “Then consider the words said,” Jaak murmured evenly, “and disregarded – courteously, mind you.”

  A brief grin cracked Willem’s mask. “Bullshit.”

  Jaak rolled his eyes. “If the press could only hear you now.”

  Willem’s gaze turned towards their surroundings. It was another beautiful December day in the north of Contini, the kingdom that their paternal grandmother had ruled since she was eighteen years old. Snow completely covered the roofs and roads, but the wintry landscape was enlivened by splashes of color coming from hardy perennials lining the sidewalks. Yellow mahonia and winter jasmine grew next the occasional blooms of snapdragons, violas, and cyclamen, with its petals boasting an ombre display from deep red to pale pink to white.

  The ten-bedroom chateau that stood behind them was just as eye-catching, with its ornamental brick façade and pillared entrance.

  “We have had a good life, haven’t we?” Willem asked reflectively. His kind of people represented the tiniest fraction in the world that literally had more money than they could ever spend in various lifetimes. Their wealth was boundless, but more miraculously than that, Willem had also been blessed with brothers and sisters he would die to protect – and who would do the same for him. The same could even be said for the Queen of Contini, their grandmother, and the large brood of cousins they had grown up with.

  They might have not lucked out on the parental department, but considering all the other blessings they had received—-

  Willem saw no cause for complaint.

  At the end of the day, they had more than most other people could ever dream of having, and it was for this sole reason why Willem didn’t even think of praying to God to make his younger brother stay.

  Jaak glanced at his older brother, asking mockingly, “Are you about to become emotional?” He feigned a light shudder, saying, “Because that would be horrendous.”

  Willem only gazed at him, blue eyes remaining unreadable, and his hard face unyielding. It was clear that he wasn’t willing to make this easy for his younger brother.

  “You knew this would happen sooner or later.” Jaak shoved his fists into his pockets in an effort to curb the frustration inside of him. “I stayed for as long as I could, and I swear to God I did try to put everything behind me—-” His tone became uncontrollably savage. “But I can’t. Our family means everything to me—-”

  “Then stay,” Willem said simply.

  Jaak rejected the suggestion with a sharp shake of his head. “Not until I feel I deserve it.” Disapproval flashed in his older brother’s eyes, but Jaak didn’t let it stop him. “I need to pay for my sins,” he grated out, “but if you won’t make me pay them—-”

  “I don’t make you pay for anything,” Willem exploded in an undertone, “because there is nothing to pay for.” Shorn of his legendary cool, Willem continued in a furiously biting tone, “It was not your fault you didn’t know what was happening. How many times do I have to say that before you believe me?”

  “You can say it a thousand times, and I still won’t believe you.” Jaak’s voice was grim. “I should have known—-”

  “You were only ten—-”

  “And you were eleven, just one fucking year older,” Jaak snarled back. “Eleven, and you nearly lost your life to protect all of us! I was one fucking year younger, and where was I when he was beating you? I was busy fucking and losing my virginity to some girl whose name I don’t even remember—-”

  “Goddammit, Jaak.” Willem had the strongest urge to punch his younger brother in the face, just to see if it would shake Jaak up and make him realize that he hadn’t ever been the one to blame for their past. “If you really want to make it up to me,” he said tautly, “if you want to make it up to this family – then stay.”

  Jaak’s lips tightened.

  “Don’t turn your back on us. Don’t distance yourself from us. Punishing yourself with a meaningless existence won’t make our past disappear. It will only make our present much more difficult to bear, and if you do that, then isn’t that letting our father win?” When his younger brother still didn’t say anything, Willem made one final attempt to get Jaak to stay. “We need you here—-”

  Jaak cut his brother off with a humorless laugh. “Who’s lying now? You’re Willem de Konigh. Europe’s infamous smooth-talking bastard, poised to take over the EU in a decade’s time. The world won’t even notice that I’m gone—-”

  “But we will,” Willem said quietly.

  Jaak breathed hard. “I appreciate the lengths you’re going to make me stay—-” He picked his jacket off the back of the lounge chair. “But I’ve made up my mind, and nothing will change it.”

  The two brothers faced each other.

  In Jaak’s eyes, Willem saw the need to carve his own path, and in that moment, he realized that he had to put his controlling nature aside if he didn’t want his relationship with Jaak completely destroyed.

  When Willem finally offered his hand, Jaak didn’t hesitate to shake it, knowing that his brother had tacitly agreed to stay out of his way while he did whatever he had to do to figure his shit out.

  “See you whenever,” Jaak murmured.

  Willem smiled. “See you in two months,” he corrected casually. “You need to be here for Anneke’s birthday.”

  Jaak raised a brow. “Is that an order?”

  “If it is what’s required to get you back home, yes. You can even take that as an official command from the Royal House of Contini if you wish.”

  Jaak executed a deep bow, murmuring, “As commanded, sir. In two months’ time.”

  Willem watched his younger brother walk away nonchalantly, not a worry in sight despite the fact that he had voluntarily signed away his inheritance a week ago. He neither wanted nor deserved it, Jaak had told him then. The only way he would be able to live with himself and know that he could be strong enough for the people who loved him was to do everything on his own – from scratch.

  Jaak gradually disappeared from view, and moments later, Willem saw his younger brother emerge out of the chateau below. Jaak looked up to give him a mocking salute. “Any last words?”

  Plenty, Willem thought, and topmost on his mind was the fact that Jaak was wasting his time. Even if his younger brother came back a self-made billionaire, nothing would change. He would still doubt himself, and he always would – for as long as he kept his heart closed to any emotional risk.

  But out loud, Willem only said in the formal tone he was starting to get rather infamous for, “If you are truly intent on leaving, then do so and stop dithering.”

  Jaak laughed. “That’s cold, man.”

  But Willem had already walked back to the house, staying true to his silent promise to his younger brother. From here on, he would no longer interfere in Jaak’s business. From here on, Jaak was on his own. The only thing Willem would allow himself to do was wait until his younger brother was ready to be a part of their family again.

  FOUR YEARS AGO

  Amsterdam, Netherlands

  19-year-old Ilse Muis slid her card into the slot and as the phone at the other end of the line started to ring, she tried to recall the last time she had used a phone booth. Maybe when she was five, and she had thought the green standalone machine a piece of alien innovation?

  Issac picked up on the first ring. “Hallo.”

  “It’s me, Ilse.”

  “Ilse?” His surprise was evident, but so was his discomfort, which she made herself ignore. “How have you been?”

  Ah. Issac was doing small talk. Dutch people didn’t do small talk the way everyone else in the world did. Small talk for them was unnatural, practiced, and a sign of discomfort.

  But Ilse made herself ignore this, too.

  She had to.

  “I’m doing fine...fo
r a college dropout.”

  Issac laughed weakly. “At least you don’t need to wake up at god-awful hours for class.”

  “True.” Instead, she had to wake up with her heart in her throat, wondering if today would be the day she wouldn’t be able to put food on the table. “So...I was wondering—-”

  He interrupted her almost right away, saying under his breath, “It’s not possible.”

  Issac had always been charmingly tactless, but this – this was different. This was rude.

  She said finally, “I see.” And she did see, too much so, more than she could bear. When Issac didn’t say anything else, she couldn’t help asking, “How do you know what I was about to ask?”

  “Natalia called me.”

  ‘Natalia warned me,’ was what Ilse knew Issac truly meant.

  Natalia was her so-called best friend who was supposed to have her back. Natalia, who had been the first to loan Ilse money but had now apparently appointed herself as everyone’s guardian angel.

  She could easily picture the petite-framed Natalia in her mind, her blue eyes welling with tears as she whispered in that sweetly frail voice of hers. I want to help Ilse, but I don’t think it’s right if I lend her all of my allowance.

  “I want to help you, Ilse—-” Issac’s tone was abrupt, fierce.

  “I know.” Ilse absently watched her fingers start to move, drawing circles around the buttons on the phone booth.

  It had been eight months since her parents had died in a car crash, eight months of living off her friends’ allowances as she struggled to keep up with the mounting bills, eight months of futile attempts to prove that she did have an inheritance, but somehow their family’s accountant and lawyer had conspired to make it seem like her parents had died bankrupt.

  “I’m sorry, Ilse.”

  “I know.” Somehow, she managed to find it in herself to mean it. And if Natalia herself had apologized to her, she knew she would bear no grudge against her ex-best friend either.

  “I want to help you, Ilse. It kills me that I can’t, but you know how things are. We’re all living off our parents until we graduate and—-”