In Love
Fiona Davenport
Copyright © 2021 by Fiona Davenport
Cover designed by Elle Christensen
Edited by Jenny Sims (Editing4Indies)
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.
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Contents
In Love
Prologue
1. Rhett
2. Rhett
3. Rhett
4. Rhett
5. Rhett
6. Rhett
7. Rhett
8. Rhett
Epilogue
Epilogue
About the Author
In Love
Rhett Whitney didn’t have time for love until he met a beautiful intern and pictured her round with his baby. His reaction to Charlotte Kennedy convinced the real estate mogul that love at first sight was real.
Unfortunately, Charlotte wasn’t too sure about her boss’s motives when he has her pulled from the program to work as one of his assistants. Rhett has his work cut out for him to convince Charlotte that he’s in love.
Prologue
Rhett
“You’re at the office?” my brother’s voice groaned over the speakerphone. I could practically see the exasperated frown on his face. “It’s six in the morning.”
“I’ve got shit to do,” I grunted.
“Were you there all night?” His tone was knowing rather than suspicious. He knew me a little too well. We weren't just brothers; we were fraternal twins.
Impatience bled through my tone when I asked, “What do you want?”
“Rhett, bro. You are forty-fucking-years old, a real estate mogul worth billions with an army of employees. Why the fuck do you work twelve hours a day, seven days a week?”
We’d had this argument over and over, so I didn’t dignify his question with an answer.
“You need a woman.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see the action.
“Don’t roll your eyes, Rhett,” he groused.
Sometimes, this twin thing was a pain in the ass. “Take your own advice, Noah,” I goaded, echoing his superior yet petulant tone.
“Hey, no one can do what I do. You’ve got lackeys for your shit,” he defended.
He had a small point, but I wasn’t going to admit it. Noah was a world-renowned heart surgeon and scientist. He’d been the catalyst for some groundbreaking research and the inventor of new surgical tools that decreased the mortality rate during heart surgery to less than twenty-five percent. Still, it wasn’t like he spent his time off wife hunting.
“Did you call just to nag me? Or is there something you actually need?”
“Mostly just to harass and annoy you. But also to tell you that the foundation needs a new research facility. I wanted to give you a heads-up because the CEO will be calling.”
“I’ll tell my assistant to put him right through.”
“Thanks.”
We caught up for another ten minutes or so until my secretary knocked on my office door. I said goodbye to Noah and waved her in.
“Blake is bringing the new interns through the office,” Lois informed me. “If you want to run away or hide, now would be the time to make your move.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I replied with a chuckle as she gave me a snappy salute before spinning around and walking out.
Every summer, Whitney, Inc. hired a group of interns to work in this building, our New York office and the company's main headquarters. It consisted of recent graduates—within the last two years—college students who needed somewhere to start in the business. It was difficult to gain experience through a job when no one would hire you without it.
On their first day, the head of the human resources department took them on a full tour of this building. My office was on the top floor and took up most of it, except for a few meeting rooms and offices for my four assistants.
It was the only day I regretted my glass walls. The kids tended to gawk, and I felt like I was in a fishbowl. After the first two summers, I had new panes of glass put in that could be frosted with the touch of a button. I was about to hit it when Blake appeared, followed closely by the most gorgeous creature I’d ever seen in my entire life.
If the rest of the interns were staring at me, I didn’t notice because I couldn’t drag my gaze away from the incredible beauty. She was facing the opposite direction, giving me a view of her long, wavy red hair that hung to the center of her back. She was short but slender with the exception of her curvy hips, round, juicy ass, and thick thighs that I got a hint of from the short hem of her skirt. Fuck, those were going to be spectacular wrapped around my head. My gaze trailed down her toned legs, and I frowned at the amount of skin she had on display. She looked stunning in her outfit, and the tease of her thighs when the skirt moved was hot as fuck. But I didn’t want anyone seeing it but me.
Then my girl turned around, and my breath stalled in my lungs.
Her emerald green eyes showed sharp intelligence, but they were also soft and kind. She had a small smile on her rosebud mouth and a cute little nose. And...FUCK. Her tits were perfect. They were full and lush, more than a handful but not too big for her frame. My mouth watered at the thought of sucking on her puckered tips.
My cock had turned to stone the second I saw her and became painfully harder as I took in all of her features. But when my eyes dropped to her wide, breeding hips, then back up to her big tits, I suddenly imagined her with a swollen belly and nipples dripping with milk. That fantasy sent all the blood in my body rushing to my cock and had me spurting a little come in my pants.
I knew she was mine. There was no doubt. And I intended to get inside her as fast as possible and make my fantasy a reality by putting my baby in her belly. Fuck. This woman was going to make me a daddy, something I hadn’t even realized I wanted until I saw her.
Everything else was forgotten as I jumped to my feet and stalked swiftly out of my office. “Blake!” I attempted to hide my hunger with a jovial tone. My head of human resources turned and looked at me as if I’d grown another head. “I’m here to welcome our new interns,” I fibbed. It was partly true, but I was only interested in one.
“Um...interns,” Blake mumbled with a confused frown. “This is Rhett Whitney, CEO and owner of Whitney, Inc.”
They were all gaping at me with looks of surprise and a lot of hero worship, which made me uncomfortable. Yeah, I’d made the World’s Sexiest Billionaire Bachelors list a couple of times, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. Apparently, short, light brown hair, green eyes, a strong jaw, and narrowed chin with some perpetual scruff did it for some women. Add that to the fact that I kept myself in top shape, which meant defined muscles that would have been bulky on someone who didn’t have my large frame, and it seemed I was worth being added to a list that only made my life more annoying.
That damn article, which my brother had done the phone interview for—behind my back—had haunted me with every love letter that arrived, every pair of panties thrown my way, every woman—and man— who eyed me like a piece of meat. If I’d been remotely interested in a relationship or believed any of these women weren’t seeing dollar signs when they looked at me, I might have been open to the idea. Instead, I had to hire a private security team and bodyguard because some truly psycho people existed out there.
I only cared what one woman thought about me, and I scrutinized her expression to catch any hint that she felt a sliver of the connection that had slammed into me. Her features were mostly neutral, bu
t her eyes were trained on my face, and I felt the zip of electricity snap between us. Then—for only a couple of heartbeats—her eyes dropped to take in the rest of me, and when they returned, there was a spark of appreciation.
Okay, she’s definitely attracted to me. I can work with that. I’d have her in my bed, legs wide open, and filling her womb with my come in no time.
Blake cleared his throat, and I rattled off a bunch of platitudes—welcome, glad to have you, I’m sure you’ll do a great job, etc., etc., etc. My gaze stayed glued to my woman’s face the whole time, and eventually, though she tried to hide it, she squirmed self-consciously.
When I finished speaking, Blake thanked me and urged the group to follow him once more. I was sorely tempted to grab the object of my growing obsession, but a voice in my head was yelling at me to stop thinking with my dick and have some patience. It was annoying as fuck...but not wrong.
Clenching my hands into fists, I glowered as I stomped back to my office. I needed her near, and the only way I could think to do that was to make her one of my assistants. Luckily, one of them had just been promoted so there was a spot open. However, it was unlikely an intern would be qualified, so I was going to have to come up with a plausible explanation that didn’t include, “Because she’s mine, and I need her where I can fuck her any time I want.”
I stopped at Lois’s desk since it often came in handy that Lois seemed to know everything and everyone around here. “The red-haired intern in the front of the group. In the gray skirt and white blouse.”
Lois raised a brow and waited.
“Find out who she is and send me her resume.”
She cocked her head and studied me for a minute, likely debating whether it was smart to pump me for more information. Wisely, she simply nodded and turned back to her work. I wasn’t ready to talk about my future wife. Not yet.
I intended to google her while I waited, but by the time I had unlocked my computer and signed into our private server, bypassing the firewall, my email pinged with a message from Lois that had several attachments. I printed them out and relaxed in my chair as I read the information in her personnel file. Her name was Charlotte Kennedy—beautiful. But it would be even more so when it was Charlotte Whitney.
Twenty-one, although her birthday was in a couple of months.
That made me nineteen years older than her, which probably should have made me stop and rethink things. Instead, I started wondering if she was untouched and thought of all the things I would teach her. Things she would only ever use with me. Because if I found out someone else had touched what was mine, I would kill the son of a bitch.
Home address was listed in Manhattan.
Graduated Summa Cum Laude from NYU with a degree in economics and a minor in child development. Plus, she was a Rhodes Scholar.
Worked in the daycare at K-Corp all through high school.
She’d also interned with Diego Sanchez for a year—a close friend of mine who also happened to be an entrepreneur who bought businesses, built them into a success, and sold them off.
She volunteered at the animal shelter on 1st and 38th and taught swimming and tumbling lessons to children under five at the local YMCA.
Clearly, she loved children. Which boded well for us because the moment I saw Charlotte, I knew I wanted a large family. My brother was going to drop dead when I told him, considering I had no interest in a family at all during our conversation only minutes before the interns arrived.
But just from the one cursory perusal of her information, I was confused about why she was on the intern team.
Overqualified was an understatement.
Although, I was beyond relieved to see that there wouldn’t be too much pushback from HR when I promoted her. She wasn’t as experienced as I usually expected of my direct reports, but it would be easy enough to convince them she was a diamond in the rough. Which couldn’t have been further from the truth. Charlotte was the brightest gem I’d ever seen.
I pored over her application and college transcripts multiple times, making sure I didn't miss a single detail. Not that this small amount of information would satisfy me for long. However, something had been poking at the back of my mind, and I’d been unable to grasp it even though something told me it was an answer that I needed.
Kennedy. It wasn’t an unusual surname, but I couldn’t figure out what it was about it that kept nudging me. Setting the packet of papers aside, I went back to my earlier intention and googled my girl’s name.
Motherfucker.
Charlotte (Charlie) Kennedy was the oldest child of Hazel and Jamison Kennedy. The same Jamison Kennedy who owned one-third of K-Corp, one of the world's biggest investment firms. A man who was known for being a little overprotective of his wife and daughters.
That explained her internship with Diego. He was married to Thatcher Kendall’s daughter, and Thatcher and his brother Justice were the other two owners of K-Corp. Diego had mentioned the tight net these men cast over their families more than once. Apparently, Thatcher had almost killed him when he showed up at their house with his daughter, who was suddenly engaged and pregnant.
If Charlotte’s father interfered, it would make things a little more difficult, though not impossible. Absolutely nothing would stand in the way of me claiming her for my own.
Since Jamison was such a prominent figure in New York City, write-ups on his family were easy to find. However, none of them had information that wasn’t easily accessed by the public. Justice, Thatcher, Jamison, and their close friend, Jonah Carrington—who I’d dealt with on occasion since he handled the security for my company—were all well-known billionaires with a reputation for fiercely protecting the privacy of their families. I respected that, even if I was disappointed not to learn more about Charlotte.
“Lois!” I shouted. She rose from her desk and walked into my office, all at a snail’s pace. Dammit. She hated it when I yelled rather than used the intercom, but I’d been anxious and forgot. “Sorry,” I mumbled when she finally entered.
“Yes, Mr. Whitney?” she asked primly. Fuck. She was really annoyed. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she spit on my lunch later.
I gave her my most winning smile, and she rolled her eyes. Lois and her husband were disgustingly in love, and my charms had zero effect on her. Something I usually appreciated...unless I wanted something she wasn’t willing to give. Which, in this case, was her speedy cooperation.
I sighed. “I’ll do better,” I promised.
Noah thought it was absolutely hilarious that Lois treated me like a wayward child and got away with it. He’d never worked with her, though. She was brilliant and near perfect at her job. I wouldn’t give her up without a fight to the death, and she knew it.
“Fine,” she agreed, and I blew out a relieved breath.
“I need you to call HR and tell them to hire Charlotte Kennedy full-time. She’ll fill Wilford’s position.”
If Lois thought my request was strange or disagreed, she didn’t say so. “Anything else?” she asked.
I hesitated before giving her my next instruction, knowing it would reveal more than I wanted at this moment. And/or make me look crazy. The truth was, my sanity would only be in jeopardy if I didn’t get what I wanted, so I added, “Tell Duncan to move into Willford’s office today and put Charlotte in the office next to mine.”
Lois was a master at remaining calm and keeping a mask of professionalism on her face. When a tiny smirk kicked up one corner of her mouth, I was shocked. I kept expecting her to question my instruction, but instead, she just said, “Will do,” and sauntered out of the office.
I didn’t get a damn thing done the rest of the day. My mind wouldn’t focus on anything other than Charlotte. My body already craved her, and I had to remind myself that she didn’t know me. Fucking her on day one was out of the question. How long I had to wait constantly changed as I justified it happening sooner and sooner. How long would it take to make her fall in love with me when the pull betwe
en us was so strong? I wanted my ring on her finger and our baby growing inside her as soon as possible.
The one task I managed to complete was to set up security for Charlotte and put a plan in place for the possible eventuality that I’d need to grab her sexy ass and steal her away. I was covering all of my bases because Charlotte was going to be mine one way or another.
1
Rhett
One Month later
“Charlotte!” I shouted as I brooded at my desk, staring out at the city through my floor-to-ceiling windows. My fingers drummed an impatient beat on the tabletop as I stretched my neck from side to side, attempting to loosen the tension.
“You bellowed, Mr. Whitney?” A deceptively sweet voice floated in from the doorway, and I narrowed my eyes and turned my chair to look at its owner. Shrewd green eyes assessed me with a stubborn glint that both turned me on and infuriated me at the same time.
“When are you going to knock off the ‘Mr. Whitney’ crap and call me Rhett?” I growled. I was frustrated as fuck and taking it out on the source.
“When you call me Charlie,” she retorted with a slightly smug curve to her kissable lips.
My mood darkened at her sly comeback. Charlotte was one-hundred-percent woman, and the name Charlie didn’t reflect that. Besides, Charlotte was an absolutely beautiful name, and I intended to pass it along to one of our daughters. Someone I would also never refer to as Charlie.
But now wasn’t the time to revisit that argument. “Do you have plans for lunch?” I didn’t wait for her to reply. “Cancel them. I’m taking you to an appointment to tour a potential property.”
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