Page 1 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Fake Girlfriend

Chapter 1

DENVER

I stifled a yawn and clapped politely as this year's overrated philosophical writer climbed up the steps to the stage to accept his award. It was the Annual Arts & Literature Achievement Gala and this was an event for the elite to mingle as much as it was a celebration of pretentiousness.

I would bet my new yacht that he was going to quote Nietzsche. As the self-important author began his thank-you speech, I zoned out and took a sip of whiskey. From behind my glass, I observed the room. The ballroom of the Casino de Monte-Carlo was filled with people and wolf shifters who thought too much of themselves. They were dressed in the latest couture fashions and enough jewelry to buy a small country. Expensive perfume, smoke, and the stench of ambition hung in the air like a heavy fog.

"As Nietzsche once said..." I raised my glass and took a big gulp in victory. They were all so predictable. I hated these events. As much as I wanted to roll my eyes, I was being watched on all sides. After all, my company was the host of the event. Any reaction that could be misconstrued would be plastered all over the gossip sites and social media before the end of the night.

Instead, I gritted my teeth and pulled my lips into what I hoped looked like a smile instead of a grimace as I joined the rest of the audience in forced applause. After dragging on for far too long, the awards ceremony finally ended. While everyone else began mingling, I made my escape. If I could get past the kitchen to the servants' exit, then I would be out of here.

I was two steps out of the building exit when a sultry female voice purred behind me.

"Denver Roberts."

I turned around and sighed. This was what I got for dipping my dick into every up-and-coming starlet with a bouncy set of tits.

It was Savannah Sweetwood, the actress I slept with and then ghosted last summer. She ran to catch up to me, her stiletto heels clacking on the pavement. Savannah was exactly as devastating as she was last summer when I'd slipped away in the night. She was still beautiful, with those blood-red lips, shiny blonde hair, big doe eyes, and a couture gown that hugged her curves like liquid gold. Too bad she had the wit of a wet sock.

"Savannah," I managed, my tone carefully neutral.

She stepped closer, her perfectly manicured nails grazing my arm in a move that was supposed to be seductive. Her eyes had a predatory gleam that rivaled any wolf shifter's. "You never called."

My hand brushed away the spot where she had touched me. I took a deliberate step back. "I was busy."

Savannah smirked. She stepped closer and rubbed my arm again. "Too busy to return even one message?" Her laugh was brittle. "I thought what we had was special."

"It was what it was," I replied, keeping my voice low. The last thing I needed was the European press catching wind of our past.

She leaned in, her lips barely brushing my ear as she whispered, "Care for some company tonight? I can make it worth your while."

The flash of a camera caught us both off guard. I blinked away the spots in my vision to see a paparazzo hiding behind a car, his camera lens trained directly on us. Savannah's hand found my chest, and her smile turned predatory.

Savannah let out a laugh. She threw her head back and tossed her hair over her shoulder as if she were posing for a photoshoot.

"Perfect timing," she murmured. "I wonder what they'll make of the naughty American billionaire and his jilted lover reuniting in Monaco?"

I let out a growl, but before I could respond, the camera flashed again.

"Smile, darling."

With a snarl, I swatted her hand away.

I really hated these fucking events.

The next morning, news of my bump into Savannah was online everywhere. In the time it took me to fly from Monaco back to Huntington Harbor, the photos had spread already across the globe.

From my penthouse office, the unsavory words and photos from last night filled my laptop screen. "Billionaire Playboy Denver Roberts Caught in Steamy Embrace with Sultry Influencer Turned Actress Savannah Sweetwood!"

One after another, I tabbed through the gossip websites. Similar headlines blazed across European tabloids, each more sensational than the last.

The office door opened a sliver. My assistant, Colin, poked his head in. "Sir, the board has called an emergency meeting," he whispered.

I slammed my laptop shut in disgust. "Of course they have."

The boardroom overlooked Huntington Harbor's skyline, showing a bright sunny blue sky, but the view did nothing to melt the arctic atmosphere inside. Staring at me with judgmental glares, the board members around the table tracked my steps like they were ready to pounce. I was a problem that needed to be solved. They were wolves, all of them, and they were older and far too conservative for my liking. My risk-taking was an asset when I was hired as CEO and invited to join the board, but now that I've successfully turned the failing company around, I was deemed an uncontrollable liability.

I held my head high and kept my posture relaxed as I made my way to my seat at the head of the table. Despite being on edge with my wolf snapping at the bit to attack, I could not let them know how much they affected me.

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