The Billionaire and His Castaway.

Alexa Riley.

An Alexa Riley Promise.

Welcome to Alexa Riley Promises. This series is dedicated to old romances. It's tropes galore, with all of our usual over-the-top alphas and sweet cheesy goodness.

These short books will focus on traditional and cla.s.sic tropes while sticking to the Alexa Riley code: no cheating and always with an HEA. That's our Promise to you.

The Billionaire and His Castaway.

Kenton Monroe has wanted her for far too long. But Madeline Caldwell isn't giving him the time of day.

Madeline is looking to break out of her innocent sh.e.l.l, but Kenton definitely isn't the guy to experiment with. She needs a nice guy, not one who makes her lady business glitter like diamonds.

Kenton has been patient for months, but she won't bend. Getting her alone on a deserted island is the only way. Keeping her stranded and all to himself will make her see reason. Right?

Warning: If you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain...then maybe this dirty summer read is just for you. If you like making love at midnight, put this book down and wake your partner up!

Copyright 2016 by Author Alexa Riley LLC. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to http://alexariley.com/.

To all of you that snuck into your mom's secret collection of dirty books and got your first taste. These stories are for you!.

Chapter One.

Madeline.

"Is it always this dead around here?" I ask the bartender, glancing at the empty restaurant as I take another sip of my bubbly strawberry drink. Maybe I should've gone to the Italian place instead, but this one is supposed to be the best restaurant at the resort. Looking around at all the empty chairs, it makes me think maybe the website lied.

"Just a slow week," he says, drawing my eyes back to him. Just like everyone else around here he has an incredible tan, making his bright blue eyes seem even brighter in the dimly lit restaurant.

I guess working on an island would give anyone a tan. I had lain by the pool half the day and just turned red, but luckily it faded fast and I wasn't burnt. I never tan. I go from pale white to cherry red and then back to pale again.

"I noticed the pool was empty, too," I tell him. In fact, everything has been kind of dead. I'd only got in this morning, but there doesn't really seem to be anyone around except for people who work here. Maybe that's why they're giving out free trips to anyone who would partic.i.p.ate in a free survey--a survey that had taken me twenty minutes to fill out. It had the silliest and most ridiculous questions, but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The resort might be deserted, but it's beautiful.

"No one to keep you company?" he teases, leaning over the bar and shooting me a crooked smile.

A little pink hits my cheeks when I realize he's flirting with me.

"Unless you count my book or the poolside server, then no." I smile back.

I'm not used to being flirted with. I'd gone to an all-girls liberal arts college in New York, graduating only three months ago. Afterwards, my brothers forced me back home. The four of them own a private security firm together, and men aren't allowed within ten feet of me. Normally it's not a problem because my brothers look kind of scary unless you know them. All of them have been in some form of service at one time or another. They're probably losing their s.h.i.t right now after finding out I'm not tucked away at home. I can't help but giggle internally as I think about how I gave them the slip. Finally, a point for the little sister.

"Well I'm off tomorrow so if you--"

"She's busy," I hear an all-too-familiar voice say from behind me, making my heart skip a beat. Turning my head slowly, I see the man who stars in my dreams every night. He's been there for the last three months, since I first met his arrogant, handsome self at a fundraiser. It was a charity event one of my brothers had taken me to. They had an extra ticket since their firm was covering the security.

The event's honorary guest was none other than Kenton Monroe, one of the richest men in New York. No, scratch that, one of the richest men in the world. I'd only known that because of my brothers. I don't pay much attention to people of wealth or the society pages in New York. It isn't my scene, but in all fairness, I don't really have a scene. And now that I've graduated, I feel even more adrift.

It didn't take much to realize how powerful he was. Everyone in the room seemed to notice him. Then his eyes had trained on me with a look of distaste and his jaw had hardened. His eyes narrowed--exactly like the look he's giving me right now. Only this time, his eyes are on the bartender.

"Mr. Monroe. I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know she was one of yours."

One of his? How many does the man have? Probably a lot with how many women fell all over him the night of the fundraiser. Those women looked nothing like me. They actually looked like they belonged there and hadn't pulled a discount dress out of the back of their closet. Worse, they didn't get the look that I'd gotten.

"I'm not his," I finally protest, catching my bearings. I'm so far from his. I will never be his, no matter what my body wants, regardless of that fact that my brain keeps pulling him to the surface every time I close my eyes.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweets," Kenton says smoothly as he finally pulls his dark blue eyes to mine. I freeze as he leans in and kisses my bare shoulder. I move away slightly, pretending I don't like it, even though my body wants to lean in to the soft touch.

"Stop calling me that," I grit out as he slides onto the bar stool next to mine, casually throwing one of his arms along the back of my seat. His other arm rests on the bar in front of me. It's as if he's trying to cage me in. If anyone walked into this area of the restaurant, I don't think they'd even be able to see me. His size and his position block me from view.

"I'll eat whatever she's having, and I'll take my normal drink," he tells the bartender, ignoring what I just said.

I hate that stupid name. It makes me feel young, and that's not why I came here. I came to have a little adventure and to maybe finally lose my virginity. I don't want to be sweet. I want to be s.e.xy. Maybe even sinful. Or any other "S" word that makes me feel more like a woman. Not just the Caldwell brothers' sweet little sister.

"What are you doing here? Did my brothers send you? What did they say?" I fire off the questions in agitation. They can't make me leave. "I can't believe them. I'm 22 years old, for G.o.d's sake. Oh, just wait until I get back. I'm getting my own place. See how much they like that," I huff out.

A slow smile starts to spread across Kenton's face, making him look even more stupidly handsome. A man should not get to look that good, and look good he does. From his short black hair and dark blue eyes, to his large, muscular frame, he looks like Adonis come to life. Isn't he supposed to be, like, sitting behind a desk, not lifting weights or whatever men do to look like that? Oh G.o.d, I bet he doesn't even have to try. He's just built like that.

"I actually own the place," he says with a little laugh, as if he finds my little tantrum funny.

I roll my eyes at that. Or course he owns the place. I would be surprised, but he's so rich, it's easy to believe he owns just about everything he touches. He leans in a little more, and I try to pretend I don't notice his closeness. I pick up my drink and take a few big gulps. The bubbles burn the back of my throat.

"Of course you do." I try to look anywhere but at him as I put my gla.s.s back down on the bar with a hard click.

"I knew that wouldn't impress you. Not even in the least." His words are lazy, and I can tell he's saying them with a smile, but I keep my eyes on the bartender as he makes his way back over with Kenton's drink. He sets it down and tells us our food will be out shortly.

"Stop looking at him," he growls next to my ear, making me jump. I finally pull my eyes to his, and I can't read his expression.

"Do they know?" I ask, wanting to know if my brothers sent him here to check on me because he's close to them. I wonder if they want to make sure, once again, that a man isn't within ten feet of me. But Kenton is. He's so close I can feel the heat of his body. Smell the sun on his skin.

"I'm sure it's only a matter of time, but no, I didn't tell them, if that's what you're asking."

I relax a little at that. I'd left them a note telling them I was going away for a few days and not to worry. But nothing I could've done would make them not worry. I'm their little sister by a good ten years, a whoops my parents had late in life.

Their overprotectiveness was cute when I was younger, but it took on a whole new form when our parents died. I was fifteen and had been left in their care. It would be a lie if I said I didn't sometimes like it. It's sweet, and I know they're only trying to protect me, but it has been starting to wear me down since I left school.

"Is there something you need? Or can I eat in peace?" I c.o.c.k my head towards him.

I still can't get a feel for him. The first few times I'd met him, he made me feel out of place, like he didn't want me around. Then he'd started trying to talk to me. I just gave him the same icy coldness he'd given me, and I actually think that might have blown up in my face. Now he acts like he wants a piece of me. Boys want what they can't have, and the saying rang loud in my head. It's ringing now, and for some reason, I want to hold on to it, because Kenton is c.o.c.ky. He looked at me like I didn't belong, but I wouldn't give him the time of day, and now he's interested. This feels like a small piece of revenge, and I'm probably enjoying it a little too much.

"Can't I enjoy the company of a beautiful woman?" He gives me that half smirk again.

"I'm sure there are plenty of beautiful women to keep you company, Mr. Monroe, but I'm not among them." I run my eyes over him. "And you're not my type," I lie, and I feel his body stiffen around me.

I don't even know what my type is, regardless of what my late-night dreams tell me.

The bartender comes back, placing our plates in front of us. "Can I get a to-go box, please?" I ask him. He nods and heads towards the back once again. I'm not up for a verbal sparring match with a man like Kenton.

"Don't go." His tone is different now. It's soft and sweet and almost sounds like a plea.

I push my stool back and stand, and he makes no move to get up himself. His arm is still on the bar in front of me, but the other's fallen off the back of my chair.

"I don't know what's going on here. One minute you're kind of a jerk and dismiss me, then the next you're doing this weird flirt-with-me thing," I say, shaking my head. At least, I think it's flirting. My experience with men is almost zero, after all. "Either way, it doesn't matter. It's not happening. This," I motion between us, "would never work. I mean, think about the first night we met. You could barely stand the sight of me."

"That's not true. I-"

I hold my hand up, cutting him off.

"Let me just be frank so we can stop this. My brothers work for you, and we keep running into each other. I don't want it to be weird, and I don't want them to lose your business, but you and I can't happen. You'd break my heart." I grip the edge of the bar, my nails digging into the wood. "When I fall in love, it's going to be with a sweet man who doesn't scare the bejesus out of me."

I stress love instead of s.e.x, because for some reason I don't want him to know I'm a virgin. I want to lose my virginity to someone who isn't going to break my heart in the process. Thankfully, the bartender comes back at the end of my little speech and starts packing up my food. Kenton just stares at me while I just watch the bartender box up the food and grab the bag.

"I got it," Kenton says, grabbing the check from the bar top.

"Thank you." I give him a tight smile, like a part of me isn't aching from shutting down what could've been. That I hadn't thought for a minute that maybe, just maybe, I could spend a few s.e.xy nights with this man in paradise. But the aftermath would be too painful. I'm just like he said--sweet. I have no idea how to begin to be s.e.xy.

I'd have to see him again in New York. And what would it be like if, after all that, I'd have to see him with another woman? Heck, I'd been jealous that night at the charity event and we'd said maybe two words to each other.

"It's always a pleasure," he says, standing and moving his own chair out a little so I can easily get by.

"Goodnight, Mr. Monroe."

Chapter Two.

Kenton.

I watch Madeline walk away, and I have to grip the bar of the chair to keep from going after her. Glancing back at the bartender, I give him a look, and he takes off, mumbling something about taking inventory in the back.

I drop my head in my hands and try to shake off the feelings, but after months of trying, it's no use. That's why she's here, isn't it? Because I've been unable to control anything when it comes to her. My Madeline.

Caldwell security has worked for my company for a few years. They are the best in the business, and that's all I employ. The best. When the hospital needed security for the fundraiser, I suggested their team. I'd even made sure they had extra tickets in case one of the men wanted to bring anyone from their staff along. I never thought about them having a sister. A sister who was so f.u.c.king gorgeous I couldn't tear my eyes off of her.

I'd embarra.s.sed myself that night with the way I acted towards her. I was so overcome with emotions, I didn't know how to behave. Emotions I'd never felt before. One look at their baby sister and I was a goner. The times her eldest brother Mark had mentioned her, I thought he was referring to a teenager. But one look at Madeline would ensure no man would ever get it wrong. She's short with fair skin and dark brown hair. As I looked in her brown eyes, it seemed she had some innocence there, but her body was anything but. Her curves were sinful and spilling out of the black dress she had on. It may have been a few years old, because her b.r.e.a.s.t.s had grown beyond what that dress was prepared to hold. The sight of her was obscene, and I felt anger flash through me all night. Every time a man caught sight of her ample cleavage, I felt my fists tighten. Seeing the sway of her big a.s.s and wide hips did things to my c.o.c.k, and I was ashamed of the images that flashed through my mind. I got so hard I nearly embarra.s.sed myself in front of hundreds of people.

When I finally worked up the courage to talk to her, she brushed me off. I tried to say h.e.l.lo, but I stumbled over my words and made an a.s.s of myself. One of her brothers had stepped in to see if I needed anything, mistaking my talking to Madeline as being related to work. But nothing about my feelings for Madeline was professional. Oh no, I wanted to do indecent things to her that night and every night since.

I come from a long line of famous Monroes. The men before me had their hands in every kind of business, making money since the dawn of time. I've done my part to grow our holdings, and as the only surviving heir, I'm what most refer to as filthy rich. But money can only buy so much s.h.i.t before you start thinking that there's more beyond it. I've never slowed down to think about love before, and what it would be like to settle down. I've worked most of my life, and that's always been the priority. I've never thought about anything other than my career, but all that changed that night. The night I laid eyes on Madeline, I understood what I'd been missing. As if she'd flipped a switch to turn on the light, I suddenly realized I was in darkness. And when she walked away, I was thrown into the shadows once again. That night, I knew that I had to have her. I had to have the light.

Normally I'd contract Caldwell for a project like this, but seeing as how this was their baby sister, I didn't see the four of them giving up any information. And getting around them would be tricky. It took me two agonizingly long days to find out any sort of intel on Madeline. And even then it was just a sc.r.a.p. I got her email address from a friend who could do some cyber-stalking for me. That was all I had, so I needed to make it good.

After a few more failed attempts at trying to get her near me again, tripping over my own feet and looking like an a.s.s, I knew I needed to try something different. I needed something that would get her near me without her being able to give me the slip. And I needed to ensure her brothers wouldn't b.u.t.t in. I'd come up with a two-hundred-word survey for her under the pretense of a free vacation. I was going to get her on the island if it killed me. Away from her family, away from prying eyes. I was going to have her all alone.

I cleared out any guests who had plans to visit, stating a hurricane had made their vacation impossible. I didn't care if it reeked of bulls.h.i.t. I wanted this that bad. People didn't seem too upset when I refunded double their vacation expenses and then told them they could rebook any time after this week. All I needed was a week. I could make her fall for me in that amount of time. Right?

The staff was unaware of what was going on. They were informed there would be improvements to the island resort and it would be closed to the public. They would receive a paid vacation and only minimal personnel would be asked to come in.

So far it's been a day and I haven't been able to make any progress. Nothing about me seems to affect her in any way. Madeline is unfazed by my status and what I could potentially do for her. Almost every woman I come in contact with is always looking for an angle to get to me. I think they see me as either an opportunity for them to become rich, or as a challenge to be conquered. I'm not often seen with women for a reason. It's been a long time since I felt any sort of inclination to be with a woman, and even longer than that since I've been physical with someone.

But the night I saw Madeline, all of that changed. I no longer want to avoid being photographed with a woman on my arm. I want the world to see she's mine, that I'm not up for grabs anymore, but she keeps sidestepping me. Like tonight. I came down hoping to have dinner with her. I'd been watching her all day. She lay by the pool, and I sat hidden away like a lecher, just watching her. I could hear myself growl every time the waiter approached her, but what was I going to do? Put on a cabana shirt and take her order? I doubt she would have wanted that if her behavior tonight was any indication.

Time is running out. I've got to make her head over heels for me, like I am for her, by the time she's wheels-up and headed back to New York.

I've got a plan in place, my option B, but it may be going too far. I push away my plate of uneaten food and remember how fast she was to try to get away from me tonight. This is an extreme measure, but one that has to be taken.

I walk away from the bar and look down at my watch. I think she's had enough time to get to her room, so I can go up. I take the elevator to the top floor and stand in the small hallway. There are only two doors on this entire level, and I have zero guilt about putting her next to me. I look longingly at the door to the right. I walk over to it, and for a second I stand there and debate knocking. Maybe I could try again. I could try to keep my s.h.i.t under control and let her see that I'm not just an a.s.shole.

Pressing my palm to her door, I take a breath and then let it drop away.

"Stick to the plan," I whisper to myself and then turn, going into my room.

When I get inside, I take off my white polo shirt and linen pants. I walk to the bathroom, turn on the shower, and step right in. The beat of the cold water is painful, but it's the only thing that is going to keep me from trying to find release. Again.

I've rubbed myself almost raw with as many times as I've tried to sate my need for Madeline. I never really cared about doing it before, but since the first night I saw her, my fantasies have gone wild. But the sad thing is, my greatest fantasy about her is probably the least erotic thing I've ever jerked off to. I've got this vision of her sitting across from me in a coffee shop while I just hold her hand. The sight of her smiling at me gets me every time. Her G.o.dd.a.m.n smile. That's all I want. And it's all it takes to send me over the edge.

Thinking about it now has my c.o.c.k throbbing under the ice-cold stream, and I grab the soap, giving in to the inevitable. I close my eyes and there she is. She's wearing a sweater that has fabric bunched up around her neck, and she's holding a mug of hot cocoa. I reach out and place my hand on the table, palm up, and she puts hers in mine. She looks down at where our fingers are joined, and then for just a second I think she won't look up at me. But she finally does, and when her beautiful brown eyes find mine, I'm lost in the fantasy.

I stroke myself in long, tight movements, imagining it's what the inside of her little curvy body will feel like. I feel myself swell and throb as I get closer to climax.

And in my mind she's right across from me when her full, pink lips part and she smiles at me. Her whole face lights up, and she looks as if she's in love. She's looking at me like I feel for her, and the moment is too perfect.

I c.u.m in the shower, letting the thick seed roll down my shaft and over my hand. I keep pumping to the image of her smile, and the pleasure that runs through me isn't enough. My hand is unsatisfying, but it's better than nothing. When it comes Madeline, I think the only thing that will ever be enough is when I finally have her under me.

I finish up in the shower and get out, thinking the cold shower was counterproductive. Once I'm out, I dry off and head to the bed. Throwing back the sheets, I climb in naked and lie on my back, looking up at the ceiling.

I go over the plans in my head for tomorrow, and though I should feel a little guilty, I can't seem to find anywhere inside me that does. I would do anything to have Madeline. Tomorrow, I cross a line I won't ever be able to uncross, but I hope that, for the both of us, it's the right decision.