The Sexy Stranger: A Billionaire Holiday Romance (International Bad Boys Set Book 1) Read online

  Copyright @ 2020 JA Low

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. JA Low is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, or artists mentioned in this book.

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  Created with Vellum

  The Sexy Stranger

  Book 1 - International Bad Boys Set

  JA Low

  JALowBooks

  Contents

  Note from the Author

  1. Lilly

  2. Lilly

  3. Luca

  4. Lilly

  5. Luca

  6. Lilly

  7. Luca

  8. Lilly

  9. Luca

  10. Lilly

  11. Lilly

  12. Luca

  13. Lilly

  14. Lilly

  15. Luca

  16. Luca

  17. Luca

  18. Lilly

  19. Luca

  20. Lilly

  21. Luca

  22. Lilly

  23. Lilly

  24. Luca

  25. Lilly

  26. Lilly

  27. Luca

  28. Luca

  29. Lilly

  30. Luca

  31. Lilly

  32. Lilly

  33. Luca

  34. Lilly

  35. Lilly

  36. Luca

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  About the Author

  Also by JA Low

  Also by JA Low

  Interconnecting Series

  Also by JA Low

  Also by JA Low

  Also by JA Low

  Interconnecting Series

  Note from the Author

  Previously written as Fate’s Plan - A novella.

  The Sexy Stranger is now a standalone novel.

  1

  Lilly

  It’s been years since I’ve seen snow—fluffy white flecks fall to the ground in front of my car, creating a blanket of white over everything it touches—or the rock walls that line the narrow, winding, country roads. The farmers’ cottages that dot the usually emerald green hills now blend into the stark white countryside. The swirling smoke from their chimneys the only way to see where each one is located.

  Not much daylight filters through during these winter months. The last of the sun’s rays set over the area’s famous mountains, ‘The Three Sisters of Glencoe,’ nestled in the tourist trail of the Scottish Highlands. My sister and I explored these mountains as children, running through the green fields, picking thistles and field flowers for Nan, and jumping through streams that cut into the land from the snowy peaks surrounding us, freezing your toes if you slipped and fell in.

  Our summers were spent helping around the farm—we fed the sheep, milked the cows and goats, picked up the eggs from the chicken coop. Scottie, Nan’s Scottish Terrier, would chase the chickens around the yard every time we’d collect the eggs. It would have us in fits of giggles watching the feathers fly.

  A tear falls down my cheek remembering the old days. It’s been a while since things have felt happy around here. It simply hasn’t been the same since Nan died. We loved visiting her every school holiday, enjoying our freedom, which is a far cry from the hustle and bustle of London where we normally resided.

  Our parents are world-renowned surgeons, working for London’s elite at their famous Harley Street practice. Because of their dedication to medicine, and pretty much everyone else, they didn’t have much time for us girls. Luckily, when we weren’t with Nan, we had an eccentric Italian nanny named Contessa. She wore bright, vibrant colors, and was a loud, passionate woman who taught us to cook and speak Italian. She immersed us into her culture, one we still love to this day.

  Contessa was obsessed with the British royal family, loved everything about it, so much so she’d wear a crown. She thought because her name means countess in Italian, that she must have been switched at birth and actually had been royal. She used to have us in fits of laughter with her made-up tales of royal life.

  A sad smile falls across my weary face remembering her. It was a shock when she passed at such a young age. She may be gone, but never forgotten. I wipe the errant tears from my sleep-deprived eyes.

  “Oh, shit,” I scream as the car skids across the road in the icy conditions. My heart’s racing a hundred miles an hour, my adrenaline has gone into overdrive. I’ve been stuck in the African desert for far too long—seems I’ve forgotten how to drive in these treacherous conditions.

  Thankfully, I rented a Range Rover 4WD, so it will keep me safe on these hazardous roads. If I had gone with the little hatchback the clerk was trying to push onto me, I’d have ended up in some snowy ditch somewhere. Then I’d have had to call Broden, the local mechanic, to come rescue me, which also means Seonaid, his wife, would hear about my return to Glencoe by myself. And with that, by morning the whole village would know, and I’d have busy bodies popping in all day. If Broden had to tow me, I don’t think I’d be able to show my face again in the pub because Wallace would make sure that nobody forgot the time Lilly ran off the road and needed help. They have long memories here. Believe me, it would keep them entertained for years.

  The snow’s falling heavier now, my car’s lights are the only stream of light stretching across the vast, dark emptiness, a solitary beacon winding its way through the valley’s treacherous bends. I slow as I enter the village, which is quiet for this time of night with the weather closing in.

  The only lights on in the village are from the pub which never closes. Wallace would never dare shut his doors to his fellow villagers. His family has owned this pub for two hundred years, or something like that, and the doors have never been closed, not even when the English invaded. But I’m not entirely sure if the English ever got this far—it’s hard to tell when they are pulling your leg.

  I pass the pub, which means I’m not far from the cottage.

  Finally, almost home.

  Oh, how I’ve missed you. Nearly two years away, longer when you count university and my residency in London.

  I can’t wait to surprise my sister, Lauren. She was devastated when I told her I couldn’t get Christmas off this year. For sisters, we’re close. I think it’s because Mum and Dad were never around, so we only had each other. But, little does she know I was able to switch contracts with one of the other doctors, who had fallen in love with one of the peacekeepers. She couldn’t extend her contract and, lucky for her, I stil
l had six months left on mine, which meant voilà, contracts changed, and I was on the next plane out of there.

  It’s funny how determined you are never to follow in your parents’ footsteps, and yet here you are, years later, traveling in the exact same shoes. I decided not to pursue becoming a specialist like them as I wanted to use my skills to help people who really need it. I want to make a difference, and that didn’t go over too well in our household.

  “No daughter of mine is going to Africa to work. She wasn't brought up like that.” Those were my father’s words when I told him I said no to a prestigious private hospital who offered me a high-paying job. He was so angry with me until my fiancé told them he was traveling with me, that he wanted to develop our life skills over there, and that it would look good on our resumes when we eventually did come home and took over his family’s practice. My father thought it was the best idea in the world and was fully supportive of us. In the end, that didn’t work out so well for me.

  I wind my way up the long driveway to the cottage. It’s pitch black all around, tiny specks of light glow from the houses that dot the inky dark surroundings. White smoke billows out of the cottage’s chimney, twisting its way into the night sky.

  Oh, how I’ve missed the smell of a good fireplace. The smoky, woodsy scent, the crackling of the logs as they burn. Many nights were spent sipping hot cocoa in front of its warmth while reading a good book, in your flannel pajamas with Scottie curled up on his mat in front, snoring away. Nan sitting there knitting us beanies and mittens like she did every single year.

  My heart is bursting with excitement. I can’t wait to do all those things with my sister this year. But secretly, I’m looking forward to a hot shower, soft bed, comfy pillows, and a huge, snuggly duvet.

  Finally here, I jump out of the car, quickly grabbing my bag from the rear seat. I only have the one. You don’t need much when you live in an African refugee camp and wear scrubs all day.

  The cold air stings my face. It shocks me. I’ve forgotten how cold Scotland is in the middle of winter. Making a mad dash to the front door with my head down, protecting it from the howling wind, I turn the knob knowing out here no one locks their doors, and push through. Instant warmth hits me as I shake off the remnants of the snow from my coat. I drop my bag on the wooden floor of the foyer, then hang up my winter jacket onto the hook. Rubbing my hands together, my skin comes back to life quickly as feeling returns to my fingers.

  I close my eyes and take in the smell of the log fire, the smoke almost tickling my nose. I inhale deeply, taking me back to a time when life wasn’t so damn complicated. My eyes open, and I expect to see my sister, Lauren, rush out and greet me. What I wasn’t expecting was a stranger—a sexy stranger at that—who’s standing in my childhood home, naked.

  I take him in.

  All of him in.

  Oh my.

  Wow.

  That is impressive.

  2

  Lilly

  “Who the hell are you?” His deeply accented voice echoes through the cottage vibrating deep down into my bones, and most certainly my lady bits. The white towel that he was using to dry his dark, almost black hair drops to the floor in surprise.

  My eyes can’t seem to stop scanning every inch of his amazing body, from the deep olive skin, down over each perfectly cut muscle sculptured like some kind of renaissance masterpiece. Are men supposed to look like this? Because I have never seen any so perfectly made before.

  My eyes travel further over him, down, down, down to…

  Okay, um, what does one do with something like that? I mean I’ve seen dicks before, I’m a doctor, but this one is well, wow. It’s the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen, and we all know there are some ugly dicks out there. But when you stumble upon a prized beast like this, you have to take your time to admire it—this dick deserves admiration. I bet women make a sacrifice to the dick gods when he unwraps himself.

  It’s the perfect length. Not too big, not too small, just the right amount of girth, too. Meaty enough to fill you up, but not too much that you think you’re being split in two. There’s a nice even color tone with the perfect amount of veinage. Even his balls are impeccably symmetrical. No one has fucking perfect balls. No one. And, of course, he manscapes. This man cares for his lady friends, he understands what happens when a stray makes an appearance.

  Damn! That reminds me, I have an Amazonian jungle covering my lady garden at the moment. I think it might be time for me to trim the hedges.

  Stop it, Lilly, my inner good girl yells at me. The way you’re looking at him is sexual harassment.

  She’s right, so very right, but I’m finding it really, really hard to look away.

  I’ve been suffering a long-extended man drought, and now this tall drink of water is standing before me, and I’m thirsty.

  Stop it, my inner voice yells at me again. He’s a stranger, a sexy one but a stranger none the less.

  I’m blaming the jetlag for my brain to be completely shut down in this moment.

  “Scusa...” he clears his throat, “… my eyes are up here.”

  “I know… I was just enjoying the view.” My hands rush to my mouth, but the words are out before I realize what I have said.

  What the hell has gotten into me?

  The hot stranger’s mouth twitches with a smile, but he recovers, keeping his face neutral.

  Where the hell is Lauren?

  Why would she have a naked guy in her home?

  Did she break up with Alistair, and I didn’t know about it?

  No, they’re so good together, they have been dating forever.

  “Who are you, and where’s Lauren?” I’m looking around the room, hoping she’ll jump out and surprise me, and that this handsome guy hasn’t just murdered my family.

  He frowns. “Lauren?” he questions.

  Damn! That accent is killing me. Italian. I have a weakness for accents. I mean, who wouldn’t when there’s a Roman god standing in front of you.

  “I don’t know a Lauren.”

  Then who the hell is he?

  “I’ll ask you again, who the hell are you? You better tell me, or I’m calling the police and having you arrested for trespassing.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Damn right, I am. And heads up, I have a black belt. So, I’ll kick your ass if you come anywhere near me.”

  “Have you escaped the mental institution? Should I be worried?”

  “I’m not crazy, you’re the one who has broken into my home.”

  “No, I haven’t. I’m renting this place.”

  “This is my house, and I can assure you I haven’t rented it out to anyone.”

  “It’s in my phone, the details. Let me get it.”

  My eyes narrow on him, but he seems genuinely confused by the whole situation, and my sister does have some hair-brained schemes sometimes, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she has rented out my room to someone.

  “Fine.”

  He turns on his heel and heads down the hall. I take a look at his toned ass as he walks away. Nice, tanned buns. He must sunbathe naked to get an all-over tan like that.

  Focus, Lilly.

  I grab my phone out of my purse and call Lauren. “Come on… pick up.” But the phone rings out. I send her a text asking her to call me ASAP.

  The beautiful cocked man comes out in a long-sleeve white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. Such a shame covering up a thing of beauty like that, but I can see he didn’t add any underwear because the dick print is pushing hard against the material.

  He flicks through his phone then turns it to me. “The email is from Lolly.”

  My eyes scan down the email that says he’s booked into my home for the next month.

  I’m going to kill my sister! Where the hell is she?

  “Lolly is my sister’s nickname, we’re Lilly and Lolly. Where the hell is my sister?” Handing his phone back to him I continue, “I can’t believe she did this to me. This is my home. I
… this was meant to be a surprise.” I sit in one of the armchairs beside the fire feeling a little woozy with all this excitement.

  “Lolly is your sister?” I nod. “The email says she was going away.”

  I nod again, but I’m not really listening to him. All I want is my bed, but it looks like he’s staying in that room. Tears start to fall down my cheeks with the shock of everything going to custard kicks in.

  “Signora, please.” He sounds like he’s unsure of what to do when a strange woman crashes his holiday, stares at him naked, then starts crying. I mean, surely this happens all the time, right?

  “I’m sorry. I just… I’ve just flown in from Kenya.” His chocolate eyes widen in surprise. “I have nowhere to go… my sister was supposed to be here. It’s snowing heavily outside.” I sniffle. “I’m sorry to ruin your holiday. I had no idea she wouldn’t be here.”

  The handsome man keeps his distance—probably smart.

  “I’ll go in the morning. Please, let me stay tonight?” He frowns a little but nods. “I’ll just go into the other room.” Pointing to the room across the hall. “That’s my sister’s.”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his dark, chocolatey eyes. Grabbing my bag, I walk into my sister’s room, the faint smell of her perfume lingers in the air. I fall onto the soft bed and scream into the pillow. Where the hell is she?