Best Friend's Ex Box Set (A Second Chance Romance Love Story)

by Claire Adams

  Thankfully, he and Owen got along pretty well now, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my brother finally got used to the fact that I had, in fact, wrangled the wild rock star and not only locked him down, but domesticated him, as well. He'd never believed that such a thing could have been possible, but there I was—there we were.

  “Do you think the mayor will come tonight?” Grace asked as she checked her reflection in the visor mirror, making sure that everything was perfectly in place and that her makeup looked as good as it had when she had left her house. “I honestly can’t believe I’m attending this event,” she said, sounding overly excited, almost like a middle school girl going to a high school party.

  I eyed my friend, wondering why she was so enthusiastic. While I was blown away by some of the names that were going to be present, Grace had been in the limelight for so long that I just assumed she knew most everyone and that she’d grown used to attending events like this. Surely once you'd been to enough of these things, you'd get over them and perhaps even begin to see them as something of a chore, right? But there she was, acting like a girl heading to her first prom.

  Unlike Grace, I no longer felt the need to be famous. Once upon a time, I thought that if I got myself out there that all of my dreams would come true, but recently I had come to realize that I already had everything I needed. Owen was so much more than I could have ever imagined or wished for, and I couldn’t wait to see what else our lives would hold for the future. Now that his touring days were behind him, he had really delved into his record label, signing some new talent that, in my opinion, was going to make him a great deal of money. The sky was the limit for the future.

  “Wow. I don’t think the orphanage has ever looked so good,” I remarked as we pulled into the parking area.

  I gazed up at the brick building with pride, admiring some of the changes that had been made thanks to my new foundation—the one I was funding with sales from my songs.

  It wasn’t much yet, but I wanted to do what I could, and I wanted the children that stayed there to think of this place as a home, not a jail or a place of purgatory. It had to be, above all, a place in which they could feel safe and wanted. With Owen’s help, I had started to oversee some renovations to the building and land, changes that I was really proud of. Tonight’s fundraiser would hopefully allow me to expand and help other orphanages as well.

  I focused on the spotlight shining brightly on the name of the building as, below it, elegantly clad men and women ambled through the doors, heading through to the gymnasium where the event was being held. Owen and I had gone back and forth on where to hold the event. In the end, we had both finally decided that having it here where the attendees could see where their money was going was the most sensible option.

  We climbed out of the car and made our way up the stairs, then headed down the hallway to the gym, which, in stark contrast to its usual simplicity, had been turned into a formal affair. A pianist was situated on stage, playing some soft music while everyone mingled. I was a little in awe of the big names in attendance, including politicians, musicians, and a few actors. Knowing my boyfriend, he had probably just gone through his Rolodex and casually pulled out names of people he thought might support our cause; he was extremely well-connected.

  “I’m off to mingle!” Grace announced cheerfully as we walked through the door, immediately disappearing into the crowd. I looked at my brother, and we both shook our heads. I had no idea what had gotten into my bestie, but she seemed to be very into the event.

  “Do you see Owen?” I asked Jackson, surveying the attendees for the familiar face that still got my pulse racing every time I laid eyes on it.

  “No, I don’t see him, but I do see food, and lots of it. Delicious, delicious food.”

  I rolled my eyes. If there was one thing my brother could do, it was eat.

  “Come on then, I know what you're after. Let’s get something to eat.”

  I followed the path he made through the crowd over to the buffet. The spread was impressive. Definitely gourmet quality, but as suave and sophisticated as the hors d’oeuvres were, I was pretty sure we would still be hitting up a fast food joint at the end of the night on the way home.

  “This is a pretty sweet layout,” Jackson admitted as we stood around, nibbling on the appetizers. “Owen really pulled this off. I wasn't expecting him to go all out with the catering like this.”

  “Leave it to you to judge an event based on the food,” I joked, my attention wavering as I scanned the crowd for Owen.

  I spotted Talon in the distance, so I excused myself and walked over, tapping him on the shoulder. He spun around, moving with cat-like grace. As soon as he saw me, he grinned cheekily and allowed his eyes to rove up and down my figure for a few moments. I rolled my eyes, making sure he saw the gesture.

  “Nalia, you look hot,” he drawled, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Have I told you how lucky a man my brother is?” he winked.

  I gave him a once over in return. He looked rather dashing in his tux, the way it was molded to his lean frame. “You’re not looking so bad yourself,” I replied warmly. “Thank you so much for coming, Talon. It means a lot to us.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said, patting his pocket. “Hell, I already have my donation all written up. No way I'm not chipping my share in for such an awesome project. You guys really have done a great thing here. Respect.”

  “Well, the orphanage will appreciate it, I can guarantee that. Hey, have you seen your brother around here?”

  Talon laughed. “You mean the nervous wreck I passed earlier? The man is a billionaire—how the hell he can be so nervous about a charity event is beyond me. Sheesh. You'd think he'd never stood up in front of a crowd in his life before. Weird, huh?”

  “I don’t know why he's be so nervous, but I better find him. Talk him down,” I sighed. “Enjoy yourself, and don't party too hard. Yet!”

  “Yet!” he replied with a laugh. “That's the key word, my dear, yet!”

  I walked on, wondering where Owen could be. Finally, I spotted him near the stage. “Hey, sweetheart, why are you hiding out over here?”

  “Hey, babe,” he said, leaning down to kiss me. He looked drop-dead sexy in his white tux, his hair carefully styled and held in place with so much gel that I was sure it wouldn’t move even in a hurricane. “You look good enough to eat. Way tastier than any of the swanky dishes I had the catering company whip up. Kinda making me hungry,” he said with a grin.

  “Later,” I promised as he pulled me to his side, wrapping an arm around my waist. “And speaking of the catering company, wow! I think it’s safe to say that this event is a success already. You did an amazing job, my love. The orphanage is going to benefit greatly from this.”

  “I’m just glad I could help with something that means so much to you,” he told me, his expression tender.

  I melted against him, once again finding it hard to believe how lucky I was. And believe me, it had nothing to do with the money or who Owen was professionally. I loved Owen for Owen and would have loved him for his heart and soul had he been penniless. I was absolutely sure I would love him for the rest of my life.

  “Come on, let's get things moving. We've got a schedule to stick to, and we don't want to waste anyone's time. A lot of big names have come out to support this, and we don't want to let 'em down,” he reminded me, tugging on my waist.

  I followed him up the steps and onto the stage where the pianist was just finishing up a number. Owen nodded to him, and he stood, exiting the stage as Owen moved to the front of it. As soon as he was in front of the crowd, any trace of nervousness he’d had seemed to vanish. The stage really was a place where he felt truly at home, whether in a small dive bar in front of a dozen people, or on an arena stage in front of a crowd of hundreds of thousands of people.

  “Good evening!” he shouted as if he were at a concert. “And thank you all for coming tonight. This is a very special
night because we're all here to honor a cause that is very dear to someone who is very dear to me. My amazing girlfriend, Ms. Nalia Dean.

  “I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge all the selfless work she's done for this orphanage. Your contributions tonight will continue the progress we have been fortunate enough to make from a humble beginning and hopefully, many other orphanages in the future. I promise you that your generous contributions will make this place a safe, wonderful home for these children for many years to come.

  “You're not just building a place, ladies and gentlemen. You're not just stacking bricks and cement on top of one another. No, you're building lives. Beautiful, wonderful lives, full of hope and promise for the future.”

  He then looked over at me, motioning for me to join him. I put on a smile as I nervously stepped up next to him, wondering what on earth he was about to do.

  “As many of you might know, Nalia is a very talented pianist, and we have been working on her album in the studio for a few months now. Would you like to hear a song from her?”

  I blushed as the crowd clapped and whistled. Owen was smiling down at me, nodding in encouragement. He leaned over to whisper some encouraging words in my ear. “Show off, babe.”

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped over to the piano and sat down at the keys. I launched into a new song, surprised when Owen came to stand behind me, the mic in his hand. He began to sing the lyrics. We had practiced a few times before, but his voice still brought tears to my eyes. Maybe because he was singing a song we had created together, and he sang from his heart what we created from the heart.

  The crowd fell silent as I poured myself into the song. And with the intensity of the music and the performance, coupled with Owen’s sweet voice, my heart was overwhelmed with love for him. His voice trailed off as he finished the lyrics and waited as I finished the last few notes. I simply sat there for a moment, my heart pounding in my ears as silence fell over the entire space.

  Then, abruptly, the place erupted with shouts and cheers louder than I could have ever imagined. Smiling bright, I stood and glanced back, intending to prompt Owen to take a bow with me.

  But he wasn’t where I had expected to see him. Instead, my eyes fell toward the floor where Owen was behind me on bended knee. In his hand, he held a small, black box. The crowd’s applause died to silence, and Owen looked up at me, smiling with tears rimming his eyes.

  “Nalia Dean, no one has ever made me feel the way I do when I am with you, and I don’t ever want to find out what it feels like not to have you by my side. You are the most compassionate, loving person I have ever known, and I am so damn happy to have you in my life. I love you, more than any words could ever express. So, in front of all these witnesses, I’m asking if you will make me the happiest man on the planet. Will you marry me?” He opened the black box, revealing the most exquisite ring I’d ever laid eyes on.

  “Owen,” I whispered as my hand covered my mouth in surprise, tears blurring my eyes. “Yes, yes, yes, I will. A million times, yes.”

  He smiled and slipped the ring on my finger before rising to gather me in his arms, kissing me and holding me tightly against him. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

  “For what?” I asked, pulling back to look at him.

  “For taking a chance on me. For believing in what we could be. We are going to make a beautiful future together.”

  And we did.

  Click here to continue to my next book.

  Get Each of My Newly Released Books for 99 Cents By Clicking Here

  Click here to get my book Swipe for free

  BILLIONAIRE AND THE AMISH GIRL

  By Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams

  Chapter One

  Grace

  When I walked out of the front door of my apartment building, I realized that this morning was one of those perfect, Chicago summer mornings. The temperature was warm, the humidity was low, and the whole city was awash in the lush greenery that made slogging through the cold, wet winters totally worth it. I smiled as I smoothed my new, red sheath dress and bent to wipe a bit of dirt off of the matching pumps I'd bought on my last trip to my favorite boutiques on Michigan Avenue. I dug into my bag, looking for my sunglasses, and quickly found them, then checked to make sure I had the presentation I was drafting for next month's meeting. When I was certain that everything was where it was supposed to be, I turned and headed toward the L, breathing deeply and feeling cheerfully optimistic.

  A half an hour later, I stepped inside the large, glass and steel office building where I worked as a CPA for a large tech company. I stopped for a moment and thought about how far I'd come and how different my life was from my rural upbringing in northern Indiana. When I was a child, I couldn't have imagined living in this city or working at a job like the one I had now. The only thing that I had known back then was scripture and dutiful service to the community.

  I shook my head, trying to let go of the memories that hovered in the recesses of my mind as I waved at Gertie, the security guard who sat watching the front desk, and headed for the bank of elevators that would take me up to the 37th floor.

  I punched the up button and thought about how I loved my family and missed them all terribly, but from the time I was a young child, I knew that following the traditions of the Amish had never felt right to me. Thankfully my parents had been accepting of my differences and had supported me when I announced that, after my rumpspringa, I'd chosen not to be baptized, but instead would be applying to the University of Chicago so that I could pursue a degree in finance.

  The car arrived and I stepped into it, holding the door for a man who was consulting a piece of paper before choosing a floor. I smiled and recalled how the next spring, against all odds, I'd received a letter of acceptance from UC and an award from the Amish Descendant Scholarship Fund covering the cost of tuition and room and board for all four years. That summer, my sister Faith got engaged to Samuel Yoder and I spent the entire time before I left for college helping plant celery and get the house ready for the October nuptials. I felt sad that I'd be missing out on such a happy celebration, but Mamm reassured me that there would be others and that I would always be welcome in our family home.

  We stopped on the 25th floor and the man got out. I recalled how tensions rose in the community when word got back to the bishop of our district who also happened to be my father's older brother. He'd warned Dat and Mamm that if I left, I'd not be welcome back in the church unless I agreed to be baptized. Dat had stood firm against the edict and told his brother that all of his children, baptized or not, were welcome in their own home at any time. My uncle didn't take the news well and it made things tense when I'd return home for a visit.

  The elevator dinged as I reached the 27th floor, and when the doors opened, I found myself standing face to face with my boss, Mike Killian.

  "Good morning, Mike!" I said as I waved and headed toward my office.

  "Morning, kid," Mike grunted as he sipped from a Styrofoam coffee cup and scanned the screen of his phone. "Oh, hey, Grace, I need to talk to you about the New York presentation. Come by around ten, will you?"

  "Sure thing, Mike," I said as I pushed open the glass doors that led to the front lobby of Riser Tech. "I'll drop my things off and come down to your office." Mike simply nodded before disappearing into the elevator.

  I said good morning to the front desk staff and then headed back to my own office, tucked away in the back of the accounting department. The year before I had been promoted and made assistant to the director of auditing. Our department examined potential new client accounts and reconciled the books before Riser Tech did any business with them, and then
advised them on what technology they'd need to adopt in order to complete a seamless transition with the Riser Tech team who would manage their IT needs. Riser Tech had suffered a major blow the year before when it took on a client who was not entirely solvent. The company then went bankrupt after we'd signed all the contracts. Now that Riser was poised to merge with Mija-Walco, the CEO and executives who all worked on the 28th floor had made it a priority to avoid repetition of the mistake and had spent time formulating a plan to prevent it from ever happening again. I was now part of a six-member team whose sole focus was vetting clients and laying out their options.

  I spent the better part of the morning reading and responding to email as well as dealing with questions from the accounting staff that ran reports for our team. I had just finished putting together a presentation that I was scheduled to make later in the week when the alarm on my computer went off letting me know it was time to get down to Mike's office. I saved the file I was working on and grabbed the file on the Mija Oil account and headed out.

  "Mike?" I said tapping lightly on his door as I peered into his office. He was on the phone and waved me in pointing toward one of the chairs across from his long desk. I crossed the room and took a seat facing the floor to ceiling glass windows that overlooked the Chicago River. No matter how many meetings I attended in Mike's office, I never lost the sense of awe and wonder I felt the first time I looked out those windows and saw the sunlight sparkling on the water. Mike joked about how they'd put him in this office because it was out of hearing range of anyone who mattered, but the reality was that he worked harder than anyone else at the company and spent more time at the office than he did at home. This office, and every piece of uniquely crafted furniture and artwork in it, was Mike's reward for a job well done.