Billion Dollar Enemy

by Olivia Hayle

  “We can go now,” I say. “Do you feel finished here?”

  “I do. I’m not sure how much more attention I can take.” Her voice is playful, but the sentiment is genuine. Being the center of attention—having a function revolve entirely around you—is tiring as hell. I’d know.

  I take her hand in mine. “Then come on, baby. Let’s get out of here.”

  We make our way out of Between the Pages and the Skye Hotel, out to where Charles is waiting with the car. I open the door for her and she slides into the backseat. Charles gives her a warm hello, shooting me an excited smile. He’s in on the surprise.

  “I’ve gained a whole new appreciation for you tonight,” Skye says.

  “You have?”

  “Yes. For handling all those press conferences and interviews without breaking a sweat.”

  “Well, I’ve had a fair bit of practice.” Reaching over, I put a hand on her knee. “And I hope you’re not completely worn out. We’re making a surprise stop before dinner. I have something to show you.”

  “You do?” Her eyes instantly alight with mischief, a smile on her lips. I press a kiss to her temple. Two years in, and those eyes still get me going.

  “Just something to celebrate my author wife.”

  “Author fiancée,” she corrects. “We’re not married yet.”

  “Because someone can’t decide on a venue.”

  She tugs at my arm, mock outrage in her voice. “Try finding a place that will fit two hundred people and still feel intimate.”

  “I would be happy eloping,” I say. “I’ve said that since the beginning.”

  Skye rolls her eyes at me, scooting over until she can rest a hand on my thigh. “You say that, but then I ask you about guests, and you rattle off a list a mile long. I know what you’re doing, you know.”

  “What am I doing?”

  “Using our wedding as a chance to network. It’s like you’re giving out favors to people, because you know they’ll appreciate being invited, and they’ll inevitably be more positive to your developments because of it.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but what’s she’s saying is too spot on. Skye grins in triumph. “See? And I don’t object, but that means I’m inviting a dozen authors and half the publishers in Seattle.”

  I wrap an arm around her. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

  “No,” she lies. “Tell me again.”

  I murmur it against her ear. “I love you.”

  “I love you too. Will you please tell me where we’re going now?”

  “Good try, but no.”

  “Torturing someone with suspense isn’t a very loving thing to do.”

  I laugh, my hand tightening around her waist. “You’re not the least bit tortured.”

  “Perhaps I’m just good at keeping it all inside.”

  Her hair smells like flowers underneath my lips. “You did well tonight. I’m so proud of you. The bookstore. The book. The reading. You’re born for this, baby.”

  She’s quiet for a few moments before she murmurs “thank you” into my neck. It’s muffled with emotion, and this, this right here is what I love the most with Skye. It’s always real between us. Every word, every touch. Not once have I had to wonder if she cares about me, and I’ve done my best to make sure she never wonders it about me.

  Trust. Communication. Love.

  All the things I never had in previous relationships. Experiencing it with Skye now, it’s obvious how false my last one had been. To believe I’d ever missed Elena!

  “You know,” I say, “If I were to meet Ben now, I’d shake his hand in thanks.”

  She turns to look up at me. “You would?”

  “Without hesitation,” I say. “He helped pave my way to you.”

  Skye’s mouth drops open slightly, her gaze locked on mine. She’s speechless. I’d smile at the sight if I wasn’t knocked over by the emotion in her eyes.

  “Oh, Cole,” she murmurs. “I love you so much.”

  I clear my throat and look past her, at the driveway we’re turning onto. The large gate swings open on our approach. It diffuses the moment, and I’m glad of that, because this conversation has drifted into territory I’d rather not have Charles exploring with us.

  “We’re here,” I say softly.

  Charles parks the car in front of a large porch. The house is three stories tall, the facade white brick and ivy. Skye climbs out of the car before I can open her door, eyes wide. Artfully placed lights illuminate the beautiful brick inlays. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a house,” I say.

  “I can see that, silly. Who lives here?”

  “No one, currently. What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful. There’s so much charm.” She runs her hand through the little pealing fountain in the center of the driveway. “There are lights on inside. Are you sure no one lives here?”

  “Positive.” I take her hand in mine and pull her along up the stairs. “Do you want to look inside?”

  “Can we? Cole, what is this place really?”

  “It’s a suggestion.” I open the front door wide for her. Charles had prepped the place before, and there are lanterns everywhere, all filled with burning candles. The lights line the double staircases. They illuminate a large living room. Even devoid of furniture, it’s easy to picture the place filled with life and love.

  Skye walks ahead of me. Her silk dress shimmers in the candlelight, her hair a waterfall down her back. “Oh my God. It’s magnificent.”

  I put my hands in my pockets and follow her as she explores the bottom floor. “It’s spacious,” I say. “Has a great view, too.”

  She stops dead in the living room. “Oh, look at this fireplace. It’s massive.”

  “There’s two, actually. The master bedroom has one as well.”

  “Oh, and look at all these built-in bookshelves!”

  “Let me show you the best part.” Grabbing her hand in mine again, I lead her onto the back porch. It opens up onto a wide lawn and beyond it, the million-dollar view over Puget Sound.

  “Oh my God, Cole.”

  “Beautiful, right?”

  “Yes.” I wrap my arms around her waist, resting my head atop hers. For a few moments, both of us stand in silence, taking in the view. “I’ve bought it,” I say finally. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re insane.”

  “Good insane, or bad insane?”

  “A bit of both.”

  I run my hand over her hip. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. We can find someplace else. I can rent it out or sell it.”

  “Don’t you dare sell it,” she says. “Oh Cole, it’s too much.”

  I tug her firmly against me. “Of course it’s not. We’re getting married, Skye. We need a house together. One filled with knickknacks and books and all the refrigerator magnets you like.”

  “No minimalism?”

  “Nope. I’ve left that behind.”

  “And no fake fruit?”

  I snort. “None at all.”

  “Good.” She relaxes against me, her hand on top of mine. “And maybe a few kids one day?”

  The tentative hope in her voice makes me smile. Before her, children had felt so distant. As had buying a house. But here with her, in this place, with my ring on her finger… I can’t wait. “Yes,” I say. “As many as you want.”

  “Good. We need drawings, you know, for all the refrigerator magnets.”

  “Right, of course. What else are kids for?”

  Her sigh is one of pure happiness. “And so they lived happily ever after for the rest of their days…”

  I laugh, turning her around in my arms so I can see her eyes. They blaze with joy. “Are you narrating our life?”

  “Perhaps. You’re marrying a writer, you know.”

  “Oh, I know.” I tip her head back to close the distance between us. “And I am very glad you came to Legacy that night to do research.”

  Her words are a soft whis
per against my lips. “Not as happy as I am.”

  “Oh? Want to bet?”

  “Sure, but you know what happens when you make deals with me.”

  My smile is wide. “You win, I know. But somehow I like that even more than myself winning. Funny, that.”

  “Love,” she says softly. “It’s called love. And that’s a wager we both won.”

  THE END

  Afterword

  Thank you so much for reading Billion Dollar Enemy!

  Keep an eye out for the next Billion Dollar book following Nick and Blair, set for release in October 2020… join the newsletter to get updates as well as a free short story!

  The following pages will include a short excerpt from my contemporary romance Arrogant Boss.

  Arrogant Boss

  Julian Hunt is a legend. A tech billionaire and a playboy philanthropist.

  He’s not someone you meet, not without a six-month wait. Except I did—and not in that sweet, meet-cute kind of way. I wish.

  No, I manage to run head-first into Julian Hunt in a nightclub. It’s the spill-my-drink-over-his-suit kind of headfirst, the break-my-heel kind.

  But the arrogant bastard doesn’t leave. No, he carries me to my car. He implies that I fell on purpose to catch his attention—how dare he!—and after I’ve chewed him out, he asks for my number.

  I don’t expect to see him again. After all, lightning doesn’t strike twice. Except it does, when Julian’s involved. Because when I walk into a business negotiation the next day, who’s sitting on the other side?

  Julian Hunt.

  He’s wearing a smirk and a perfectly tailored suit, and he’s not there to play. He dominates. I walk out of the negotiation having—somehow!—been offered my dream job. It's an offer far too sweet to refuse.

  But if there’s one thing more intimidating than Julian Hunt at a nightclub, it’s Julian Hunt as a boss. A persistent, dominant, sexy-as-hell boss.

  He might have decided that we’d be perfect together, but I won’t be tempted by his broad shoulders and wicked tongue.

  Julian might be a hunter

  But I refuse to become prey.

  Chapter 1

  Emily

  “Relax.”

  “I am relaxed!”

  Denise raised an eyebrow. “As if. I can practically feel the tension radiating from you across the table. Tomorrow’s going to go great. Both you and Turner have prepared for this for weeks.”

  “I know. But—”

  “No, stop thinking about it. A night of fun will do you good.”

  I took another sip of my fruity, wildly overpriced mocktail. “Okay, okay, I won’t think about it. You’re right.”

  “I always am. It’ll go great, Em.”

  “I don’t even know what you’re referring to.”

  Denise grinned. "That's the spirit. The only things you should be concerned about tonight are drinks, dancing, and dudes."

  “Dudes? Since when do we refer to men as dudes?”

  “It was an alliteration. I know how you like slogans and catchy titles. Oh! My co-workers are here.”

  Denise waved at a group of women making their way from the bar. They were dressed to the nines, in sky-high heels and matching clutches, and looked far more used to this scene than Denise and me.

  We were in a packed club in the Financial District, a place with a massive waiting list, all to impress Denise’s new colleagues. She’d been made a full-time writer at the online platform Yas.

  Yes, exactly like that—Yas. We both thought the name was a bit silly, and the platform vapid, but Denise was a brilliant writer and this was just a stepping-stone to world domination.

  As the supportive friend I was, I had come along to celebrate her promotion—even if that meant going to a too-expensive club, putting on a pair of uncomfortable heels, and breaking out a red lipstick I’ve worn too few times to justify the price.

  The music was a pulsing beat and bodies were writhing out on the dance floor. The club was packed. Just finding a table for the two of us had been hard enough, and I had no idea how we’d fit three more people here.

  Despite my promise to Denise, I wanted to glance at my watch. Tomorrow was a big day for my brother, and I had to be sharp…

  “Emily.” Denise snapped her fingers in front of my face. “They’re approaching. Look alive.”

  “Sorry!”

  Denise stood. “Hi guys! I’m so glad you could make it.”

  “Me too,” the blonde ringleader said to Denise. “We were ecstatic to hear that you’re joining Yas permanently."

  “Just ecstatic,” a brunette repeated from behind. I shook hands with all three of them and wished I could hear their names over the pounding beat. Their eyeliner was perfect, and I ran a hand through my loose hair self-consciously.

  The blonde took a seat next to me. “What do you do at Yas?" I asked.

  “I cover holistic beauty and experimental health.”

  “Wow. What does that mean?”

  “Trying a lot of funny-smelling products,” she said with an enviably raised eyebrow. “What do you work with?”

  This was where I wished I had a better answer than the truth. “I work in press and marketing.”

  “No way!”

  “Yeah.”

  “For what company?”

  I cleared my throat. “For Pet and Co.”

  She frowned. “I haven’t heard about that.”

  “It’s a pet and grooming business. Not really too exciting. I think it’s—”

  “Guys?” Elisa, the brunette, shot us all a secretive grin. “Have you seen who’s in the VIP section tonight?”

  Blondie next to me leaned back. “Do you mean the launch of Viper?”

  “Yes. Did you know?”

  She looked superior. “Why do you think we suggested this place?”

  Denise and I shot each other confused glances. “What’s Viper?”

  “Some new app.” She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s not important. Who is in attendance, however, is. Some of the hottest names in tech are here. Rafe Christensen, Danny Stephens, and of course… Julian Hunt.”

  “Hunt is here?”

  “I swear I just saw him.”

  “It wasn’t confirmed if he would attend or not.”

  The three of them craned their necks, trying to see across the club to the VIP section. Even from this distance, I could see the polished suits, the flowing bottles of champagne.

  Denise sidled closer to me. “That’s where we should be.”

  I snorted. “Right. Doing what? We know nothing about tech.”

  “Which is why they would love us! They’d find it refreshing.”

  “Aren’t you dating that blogger?”

  “No, that was ages ago! You have to keep up.”

  I grinned. “You’re impossible to keep up with, Denise.”

  “Come on, girls,” the blonde declared. “Let’s dance.” I grabbed my half-finished daiquiri and joined them on the dance floor.

  Nearly an hour later, I was done. I was so, so, so done.

  I could party with the best of them. But the business meeting for my brother’s potential contract was at ten o’clock the following day, and despite my promise to Denise, there was nothing more important.

  I grabbed Denise and gave her a quick hug.

  “I have to go,” I spoke into her curly red hair, hoping she could hear me over the pounding bass. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you for coming. Good luck tomorrow! Tell Turner I’ll be thinking of him.”

  “I will.” I grinned at her. “Don’t go too crazy tonight.”

  She gave me an innocent little smirk. “Who, me?”

  I shook my head at her in mock disapproval. If there was someone who could handle herself, it was Denise. Party until five and then up at nine for work, and do a damn good job as well. It was very unfair, but she’d always been like that. Too much energy for one person to contain.

  I made my
way through writhing bodies, my clutch tucked tight under my arm and the last of my daiquiri in my hand. I needed to find a place to leave the glass.

  Too many people. Too loud music.

  An arm wound its way around my waist and I twisted away. A man leered at me, a drink glued to his hand as his other reached for me.

  “Dance with me, sugar.”

  I frowned. “Definitely not.”

  This, too, reminded me why I didn't go out too often. Denise kept pushing me to go out with more men, and while I agreed that my semi-celibate status wasn't exactly enjoyable, you don’t find your soul mate in a club.

  I was by the exit when it happened.

  I heard a snap, and then I was airborne and tumbling. My hands reached out to try to steady myself and I fell straight into a passing stranger.

  A strong arm reacted but it was too late, and I hit the club floor with a crash.

  Embarrassment flooded through me and I scrambled onto smarting knees.

  “Are you all right?”

  I pushed my hair back and looked up to find the owner of that deep, rumbling voice.

  Cheekbones. Expensive suit. A concerned expression.

  No no no. I recognized this man.

  “I’m fine!”

  He reached down and strong arms fitted themselves under my shoulders. I was lifted to my feet like a child, only to find that I couldn’t stand properly. He frowned and looked down.

  I followed his gaze. “Oh. My heel broke.”

  “Occupational hazard.” His voice was smooth, polished. Dark. I cleared my throat and slipped out of my pumps. Barefoot, I only just reached his chin.

  Julian Hunt.

  Of all the men in the world, why did I have to trip into him?

  My eyes traced down the long column of his throat, his white shirt, the top button undone to expose just a hint of tan skin, a giant pink stain on his shirt…