Bad for Business: A Hate to Love Forced Proximity Billionaire Romance, page 1
Copyright © 2025 by Kat Singleton LLC
Cover Design by Summer Grove @summerrgrove
Developmental Edit by Salma R.
Line Editing by Holly at Bird and Bear Editorial Services
Edited by Sandra Dee with One Love Editing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is for anyone that’s ever felt unlovable. Someday the right person is going to show you that loving you is the easiest thing in the world to do.
Bad for Business is a billionaire, black cat x golden retriever, publicist x client, loathe to love romance novel. It is full of banter, sweet moments, and scenes that’ll have you blushing. I hope that you love Camille and Ryker as much as I do. This is the second book in my Pembroke Hills series.
Bad for Business contains mature content that may not be suitable for all audiences. Please go to authorkatsingleton.com/content-warnings for a list of content warnings for the book.
CONTENTS
1. Camille
2. Ryker
3. Camille
4. Ryker
5. Camille
6. Ryker
7. Camille
8. Ryker
9. Camille
10. Camille
11. Ryker
12. Camille
13. Ryker
14. Camille
15. Ryker
16. Camille
17. Ryker
18. Camille
19. Ryker
20. Camille
21. Ryker
22. Camille
23. Ryker
24. Camille
25. Ryker
26. Camille
27. Ryker
28. Camille
29. Ryker
30. Camille
31. Ryker
32. Camille
33. Ryker
34. Camille
35. Ryker
36. Camille
37. Ryker
38. Camille
39. Ryker
40. Camille
41. Ryker
42. Camille
43. Ryker
44. Camille
45. Ryker
46. Camille
47. Ryker
48. Camille
49. Ryker
Epilogue - Camille
Do you want more Camille and Ryker?
Do you want more Pembroke Hills?
Acknowledgments
Also by Kat Singleton
Keep reading…
Lucy - 1
Links
About the Author
ONE
CAMILLE
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, staring down at my phone screen. I scan the text over and over again, hoping I’m reading it wrong. Unfortunately, examining it a few more times only confirms what I already knew—I’m not reading it wrong.
TROY VAUGHN
Meet at the office in twenty. We have an emergency.
I groan, propping my shoulder against the wall of the restaurant. I look across the dimly lit room, my eyes focusing on my date. Even though it’s only our first date, I was actually enjoying my time with Evan—which is really saying something. Dating in Manhattan is brutal. Every man I’ve ever met is far too full of himself, or too concerned about getting in the good graces of my dad in the hopes of being repped by our PR firm.
But not Evan. He’s nice. Normal, kind, and not boring at all.
And I’m going to have to ditch him.
My phone vibrates again in my hand.
I let out a disgruntled sigh, knowing that if Dad’s calling me, something really bad has happened.
“Hello,” I answer, keeping my voice composed despite the frustration coursing through my body.
“Camille. Why aren’t you answering my texts?” Dad’s gruff tone leaves no room for arguments and I feel like a child being scolded all over again—and I always hated getting in trouble.
I still hate it at twenty-four years old.
“I’m sorry. My phone was in my bag and I was on a—” I abruptly stop before continuing the rest of that sentence. Dad doesn’t care that it’s a Saturday night, and he definitely doesn’t care if I’m on a date. All he cares about is that I drop everything and fix whatever he needs me to fix.
And the worst part is, he knows that’s exactly what I’ll do.
“You’re needed at work. Be here in twenty.” He hangs up before I can say anything else.
I slide my phone back into my bag before letting out a groan. I look at Evan from across the room as he studies the menu intensely.
God, I hate that I have to run out on our date.
People always like to call me cold, but they’d be wrong. I have a heart, which is unfortunate for me because I know I don’t have the time to explain to him that something came up with work, but I also don’t have it in me to fully ditch him.
Evan must sense me approaching because he looks up with a smile.
Ugh, why did it have to be on the day I had a normal man as a date?
“Hi,” I begin, shifting uncomfortably on my feet, “I’m so sorry to do this, but an emergency came up at work.”
Evan’s eyebrows rise to his hairline as he slowly shakes his head. “Please, don’t apologize. I get it.”
His words make me feel even worse because he’s a pediatric emergency doctor. He really does have to run out for work sometimes and now my job seems minuscule compared to his.
“Right, well have a good rest of your night.”
I know I should stay and explain myself more, but I’ve already spent too much time coming over to let him know I was leaving. Besides, the odds of me seeing him again are slim. I’m sure with me ditching him like this, he won’t be calling me for another date. Not that I don’t blame him.
If I’m being honest with myself, he’s probably too nice for me anyway. I rush out of the restaurant, already saying a prayer to the taxi gods that I can hail one quickly. With no traffic, it takes twenty minutes to get to the office. But this is New York and on a Saturday night, it’ll take at least forty.
I curse under my breath when I find a line of people waiting for a cab.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, looking down the street to see if I’ll have a better chance if I move away from the group of people.
Knowing I don’t have many other options, I hurry down the street and like the universe might actually be on my side for once, a cab rounds the corner and heads in our direction. I know it’s rude because I’m technically cutting everyone waiting, but I can’t worry about that right now.
I wave down the driver and let out a sigh of relief when they pull to the curb.
“Hey!” a man yells from not too far away.
I glance over my shoulder as I grab the door handle to find a frowning man and a woman next to him aiming dirty looks in my direction.
They were technically the first in line but I don’t bother responding. I open the door and slide into the back before anyone can stop me. New York doesn’t have any rules, and I certainly wouldn’t abide by them anyway. Not tonight. Not when I’m already preparing myself for the disappointed look Dad will give me when I show up late.
“Where to?” the driver asks.
I’m in the middle of rattling off the address and begging the driver to break a few different laws to get there when my phone rings again. I don’t even have to look down to know who it is.
I swipe to answer and press the phone to my ear. “I’m on my way,” I state, sitting back in the seat. This taxi smells like pine and it’s so overwhelming that I can already feel a headache blooming because of it.
Dad lets out a disapproving sigh. It’s so loud I can hear it through the phone. “Get here faster,” he unreasonably demands before hanging up the phone.
Twice in one night. This might be a new record.
I roll my eyes and toss my phone on the empty seat next to me. As an only child, I get all of Dad’s harsh comments and poor attitude. It’s also probably because I was a daughter and not a son. I know it kills him that I wasn’t a boy, but that’s not something he’d ever actually admit.
“Boyfriend troubles?” the driver asks, watching me through the rearview mirror.
I stare back at him for a moment, not really wanting to chat. But since I need him to focus on getting me to the office in record time, I force a polite smile and answer honestly, “Daddy issues.” I nod my head to the road. “I’ll give you an extra twenty if you can get me there in the next fifteen minutes.”
He whistles. “That’s impossible, darling.”
I frown at the pet name from a complete stranger. He isn’t smooth in using it, but the wide grin tells me he thinks the opposite.
“Nothing’s impossible with the right mindset. Guess you don’t want the tip badly enough.” I rip my gaze from the mirror and stare out the window, silently telling him the conversation is over.
He doesn’t say another word for the rest of the car ride. Despite his lack of faith, he manages to get me there in sixteen minutes. I tip him anyway because I feel too guilty not to, despite him being over by one minute. He broke s
ome rules for me. He earned the tip.
Once inside the building, I take the elevator to our floor and prepare myself for the worst.
TWO
RYKER
“I can’t even look at you right now,” Dad spits, his gaze razor-sharp as he stares at me from across the table.
“It’ll be fine,” I tell him, keeping my voice calm. I think he’s overreacting about my current predicament, but for once, I keep my mouth shut—even though it’s hard to do so.
Dad’s laugh tells me he actually finds none of this funny. “Fine? None of this is fine, Ryker.”
I shrug because what does he expect me to say? For the record, I don’t see why he’s so upset. There’s one small video circulating around the internet that someone got of me when I had a little too much to drink last night.
It isn’t that big of a deal.
Unfortunately for me, the people sitting around the table, all of them glaring at me like I’ve majorly fucked up, think otherwise.
“It doesn’t look good right now, but we’ll come up with a plan,” Troy speaks up.
Dad aims an intense look in Troy’s direction. He watches him closely, as if he’s trying to figure out if Troy believes what he’s saying or not. Troy Vaughn runs the most prestigious PR firm you can find. He’s the best that money can buy which means my Dad must think we’re in deep shit if he’s bringing him in.
“Can’t we just start the meeting without Camille?” a guy next to Troy asks.
I vaguely remember Troy introducing him as one of his employees, but I can’t remember his name. He’s got to be barely in his twenties—if he’s even that old.
“No, Brennan, we can’t. She’ll be the one who has to clean this up.”
The guy—Brennan—doesn’t argue any further. I don’t know if I would either with how annoyed Troy is.
I clear my throat and sit up in my chair. I look at my dad, even though I know at this point, it seems like it’s Troy who’s making the decisions right now. “I’ll put out a public apology. Things like this always blow over. They’ll forget about me and jump onto the next new scandal, just like they have in the past.”
Dad grunts. “Ryker, this isn’t blowing over when the entire board is threatening to deny you from taking over my position. You’ve fucked up.”
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can get any words out, the door to the conference room swings open.
“Finally!” Troy barks, his eyes focused on the woman walking into the room.
At first, I can’t really see her face, but when she looks up and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, my entire body freezes the moment my gaze lands on her face.
Memories come rushing into my mind like a tidal wave.
The hurried frenzy of hands pulling at clothes. The crash of lips. The scrape of teeth. My mouth pressed against her delicate skin. My fingers slipping underneath the fabric of a skirt and….
“Everyone,” Troy begins, turning around in his chair to look at the woman walking in, and effectively cutting me out of what happened last New Year’s Eve. “This is my daughter, Camille. Ignore her tardiness. She’s typically far more professional.”
Camille—or Cami as I remember her—doesn’t notice me right away. She’s too busy looking at her father with an unreadable expression. I’m waiting for her focus to move from her father to me, wondering if she’s as shocked to see me as I am to see her.
“My apologies,” she begins, her eyes moving to my dad. “I wasn’t expecting to be called into work to—” Her words fall short when her eyes finally land on me.
I offer her a smile, trying to be polite as I work through the shock of seeing her again.
Her mouth falls open before immediately turning into a frown.
“Take a seat,” Troy demands in a harsh tone, taking me by surprise. From what he just said, she’s his daughter. Does he always talk to her this way? Is that normal for them?
Cami rips her gaze from mine and takes the chair next to her father, giving me no indication of what she’s thinking. Her poker face is immaculate, and I hate it. Does she not remember me? She has to remember the night we shared. Or is it that she’s just ignoring me? I don’t know which one is worse.
“What are we looking at here?” Camille asks, glancing over at me once before looking back at her father.
My dad huffs out a laugh. “The problem is,” he begins, his hand landing on my shoulder and squeezing—hard. “The heir to a billion-dollar entertainment company was caught on video bragging about acquiring a major TV network six months before it was supposed to be announced.”
I sink back in my chair, trying not to show any reaction to his words. In my defense, I’d been lured into giving out that information. How was I supposed to know the woman feeding me drinks all night was a reporter?
“People were guessing it was going to happen,” I offer, knowing the moment the words leave my mouth that I should’ve stayed quiet.
Dad’s jaw flexes. “You’re too trusting, and…”
“Charming,” I offer with a laugh, trying to ease the tension in the room.
“Immature,” Camille speaks up, taking me by surprise. I don’t seem to be the only one given how her father stares at her with lifted brows for a moment before looking back at me.
“Here’s the thing, Ryker,” Troy begins before letting out a long sigh. “You used to get away with things because you were young and fun. But you’re thirty now. You’re the only heir to Davenport Media which means you can’t get away with things anymore. This whole naive, golden-boy card has been played one too many times. It’s time for you to get your shit together and become the leader everyone expects you to be.”
I swallow as his words sink in. I’ve met Troy in passing before tonight, but this is the first time we’ve ever used them for PR. I don’t like the way he’s talking to me, but I know it’s best to not voice that feeling. He might have a point. Over the last year, I’ve been more reckless than what people are used to from me. The fact my father brought on Vaughn PR tells me that this time, it’s gone too far.
The bleak faces as I look around the room make me realize that this time it’s bad. The public’s perception of me doesn’t matter; it’s the board’s I need to worry about. And if they don’t believe in my ability to take over Davenport Media, I’m fucked. Bringing in Vaughn PR makes sense, no matter how much I don’t want to admit it. I have to find a way to fix this mistake.
If I’d known the woman was a reporter, I would’ve kept my mouth shut. She seemed so sweet and interested in knowing more about me. I fell right into her trap, apparently, and now I have to find a way to prove I won’t make the same mistake again.
“Whatever happened to ‘there’s no such thing as bad publicity’?” I offer, trying again to lessen the tension.
Camille lets out a shrill laugh. “Not to talk out of line here, but as your publicist team, it’s our job to be brutally honest with you. That’s a stupid saying and you’re not a reality TV star begging for crumbs of the public’s attention. You’re supposed to run a multibillion-dollar company. You have to act like it.”
My mouth falls open at her words. She was blunt the first time we met at a party; I just wasn’t prepared to be on the other end of it in a professional setting.
I’m still coming up with some sort of a response when she pulls her attention from me and instead focuses on her father.
“We need to do damage control. I can start coming up with a plan of act—”
“We already have a plan,” Troy speaks up, talking over his daughter.
My teeth grind at the way he talks to her. It isn’t the way a father should talk to his daughter, no matter if she works for him or not.
“Oh,” Camille remarks, plastering on a fake smile but I don’t miss how she straightens her spine at the harsh way he speaks to her. “And what is that plan?”
Troy looks in my dad’s direction and something about the look unsettles me. It’s as if they know that whatever the plan is, it isn’t going to be received well.
Dad nods, as if giving Troy the final approval he needs.
Troy looks back to his daughter.
“You’re going to take on Ryker as a client. It’ll be up to you to restore the board’s faith in him.”
