Indebted: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

by Tharp, Emma

  "You're okay with the terms? Any questions?" I ask.

  "Absolutely. I will pay this back—every cent." She’s sitting up straighter and her tone is full of confidence.

  "I know you will. I'm giving you the choice. You can either start paying it back after a three-month grace period or I can give you up to twelve months’ grace. You don't have to start paying the loan back for one year, but when your payments do start, they'll be higher. It'll give you time to build your business. Which would you prefer?"

  Either option is good, but with the payments being so high, I know she's going to need more than three months. She might even need more than twelve, but that's all I can allow. With her track record, I know she's going to be coming back to renegotiate, and that's when my fun will begin. I can be patient.

  "I'll take the year. It's so very generous of you. I don't know how to thank you," she says. Her eyes are sparkling and the happiness on her face is priceless. She's really too beautiful for her own good.

  Standing, she makes her way toward the door. "Thank you, Donovan. It was so good to see you. This is going to change my life."

  I get up to walk her out. "You’re welcome. It was nice to see you, Liza."

  When she throws her arms around me, I'm so caught off guard that I gasp. She smells like summer and sunshine, just like she always used to. "I promise, I won't disappoint you."

  "I know you won't," I say, even though that remains to be seen.

  Four

  Liza

  Eight months later

  I’m startled out of watching a Top Chef marathon by a knock at my door. I'm not expecting anyone. My makeup is off and I'm in my favorite loungewear, sweats and a beat-up old T-shirt.

  Padding to my door, I peek through the peephole, relieved to see it’s only Spencer.

  I swing the door open. "What did you bring?"

  He has two paper bags in his hands, and he holds them up and shrugs. "I had a feeling that you hadn't eaten dinner yet and we need to catch up."

  Being simply too exhausted from catering a sweet sixteen party uptown today, I hadn’t even thought about making something to eat. My evening plans were to binge-watch TV as I finish invoices. "You're right. I haven't eaten and I definitely need some best-friend time."

  Spencer breezes past me and sets the bags on my kitchen table. He pulls out a few containers and the smell of garlic chicken wafts past my nose. "I know you've been working too hard. Fill me in and tell me how it’s been going."

  Grabbing plates off the shelf, I bring them to the table and set one in front of Spencer and one on the table in front of me. Then, I grab a set of chopsticks from the bag and open the containers, scooping chicken and rice out onto my plate. "You're so good to me. I'm exhausted and only planned on having a bowl of cereal tonight." I don't admit to him that that has been my life almost every day lately.

  As soon as I got the money to start my catering company, I located a commercial kitchen and got to work building my business. I've been busting my ass every day. It took me longer to get my licenses and permits than I thought it would and I didn’t realize the importance of building relationships with vendors. Thankfully, I’ve been in the city in the restaurant business, which got my foot in the door, but time has not been on my side.

  "Are you ready to hire me yet? You told me you’d be back for me." Spencer raises his eyebrows and pops a piece of sweet-and-sour chicken into his mouth, red sauce dripping down his hand. Without preamble, he licks it off.

  I throw a napkin at him and he laughs. "No, I can't afford to hire you yet." I wipe the corners of my mouth with my napkin. "The truth is, I don't think I’m making enough money to start paying off my loan in four months."

  Despite the beautiful commercial kitchen, my list of clients is growing too slowly for me to keep up on the rent. Not to mention, my freezer died on me last month and I lost over a thousand dollars in steak and seafood, on top of the price of the new freezer. And without a real marketing budget, I have to rely on social media and word-of-mouth. It's working, but not fast enough. My food is good, that I know. At the end of any event I cater, everyone tells me how amazing everything was. If only I could afford to hire Spencer. I know he would help me build my website and we could take on larger events. Right now, that feels like it's going to take forever.

  Spencer stands and walks over to my refrigerator and takes out the bottle of Chardonnay. He pulls out the cork and pours two glasses, then makes his way back to the table and nudges one in front of me. "This conversation requires wine. Tell me, princess, what are you going to do now?"

  My heart rate accelerates and all of a sudden my meal starts churning in my stomach. I set my chopsticks down. "I don't know."

  "You're going to have to think of something."

  I take several sips of the cool wine and set the glass in front of me. “I'm going to have to go back to Donovan Monroe and ask him if we can renegotiate the terms of my loan."

  "Great idea, but do you think he’ll go for it? You need to make this work, because trust me, you don't want to come back to the restaurant. Keeps getting worse without you there."

  Guilt washes over me. I promised Spencer that I'd be back for him and I hoped that I could've made good on that promise sooner. I'm going to have to work harder, I just don't know how. "Have any idea how we could add a few more hours to the day?"

  Spencer swirls the wine around in his glass and tilts his head. "No, I don't know how to do that. But…" He stands and walks to the living room where he left his backpack and rifles through it. He comes back with a pair of kneepads and hands them to me. "These will help."

  I scratch my head. "What the hell are these for?"

  Spencer waggles his eyebrows like he does when he's talking about being naughty.

  "No way. I can't do that." Sure, Donovan Monroe has changed. He is sexy as hell, with a masculine magnetism he didn't have in high school. I thought about him for weeks after I left his office the day I signed the loan papers. I even gave some consideration to calling his office and asking him out for lunch, but that thought was fleeting. He wouldn't want to have anything to do with me now, not like he did in high school. Aside from being one of the hottest men I've ever seen, he's smart and successful, too, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to walk into his office and go down on him.

  "Listen, desperate times call for desperate measures. You told me that the guy was good-looking.” He laughs.

  Tossing one of his kneepads at him, I join in on the laughter.

  "If you don't like the kneepads, I have so many more tricks in my bag. I'm willing to share. We got to do what we got to do to get me out of that restaurant!"

  I’m not that type of girl, but I’m fresh out of inspiration to get out of this mess. I grab the kneepad and stare at it, hoping I can come up with a better idea.

  Five

  Donovan

  "Could you work on the spot on my shoulder blade for a little longer?" I ask Suzette, my massage therapist. She has strong hands that rival any man's and a technique she learned in Sweden that tones down the stress I hold in my upper back. She's worth every penny, especially since I don't have to leave the comfort of my own home. She brings her table right to my place, any time I need her.

  "Of course," Suzette says, kneading the shit out of a trigger point.

  I breathe deeply through the pain. It will be worth it later. Work has been stressful lately; I have to do something to relieve it since nothing else I’ve tried has done the trick.

  My phone rings and Suzette pauses, giving me a moment to check it. I haven’t been able to be more than a foot away from it for the past few days. I have a huge acquisition I’ve been working on and everything seems to be delayed, hence my increased stress level.

  Checking the caller ID, I see it's Garrett, my brother. I silence the ringer and set my phone back down near the table. I'll call him when my appointment is over.

  "It's time to roll over now, sir," Suzette says.

  I do as s
he says and lie on my back. Just as I'm doing so, my cell phone goes off again with another call. Reaching for it, a huge grin spreads across my face. Liza Dooley. I don't answer the call, but wait for her to leave a voice mail. When she does, I listen to it. She wants to meet in regard to the loan agreement. Just as I predicted. I knew patience would get me everywhere. I’ll call her back later.

  While Suzette works on the tense muscles of my neck, my mind races with the possibilities of what this means.

  I wasn't sure if Liza would get in touch with me after our original meeting to sign the loan paperwork. I thought she might. It was clear that she liked what she saw, but for whatever reason she never picked up the phone.

  When she decided for a year-long grace period, I realized then it probably wouldn't be enough time for her to be working in the black. Start-ups take longer than most people think.

  This bodes well.

  It's been hard to keep her off my mind. She's always had that effect on me. I’d wonder how she’s doing with her business, in her personal life. She wasn’t wearing a ring. That gave me a tremendous amount of happiness.

  Half an hour later when my massage is finished, I get up and pay Suzette, adding a generous tip, and bid her farewell.

  Grabbing my phone, I dial Garrett's number. He picks up on the third ring.

  "Meet me for lunch?" I ask before he even has a chance to speak.

  "Sure. Everything okay? You sound amped up," Garrett says.

  "I'm great. I'll see you in an hour downtown, you know the place."

  "See you then." He ends the call.

  Running upstairs, I have a quick shower and change.

  The traffic in the city is jammed up today. Waves of stress creep up the back of my shoulders, undoing all the work Suzette put in this morning.

  Sitting in standstill bumper-to-bumper traffic, I decide to play Liza's message again.

  "Donovan, it's Liza Dooley. I was hoping we could get together at your earliest convenience." Her tone has a shaky quality and she clears her throat. "It's in regard to the loan agreement. Please call me back."

  Playing it back again, all of a sudden, some of the tension in my body melts away.

  I assumed this would happen. She's going to need to renegotiate the terms. She needs me again. I wasn't sure I'd hear from her for another few months. It's been eight months so far since she signed the contract and it's clear that she knows paying back this loan in four months is going to be harder than she once anticipated. I could hear the defeat in her voice. I don't know what it says about me that I derive so much pleasure from her situation.

  Traffic eventually opens up and I’m able to make it to the restaurant on time. I even find a place to park right down the street. All of a sudden, things are starting to look up.

  Inside the restaurant, Garrett waits for me in our usual spot. And, as always, he's early. I make my way to the table and have a seat.

  "Well, isn't this the perfect welcome," I say as I lift the glass of scotch in front of me and take a sip.

  He smiles and nods, lifting his own glass and taking a drink. "It sounded like you could use it when you called today."

  "It's true. Work has been more stressful than normal and I've had to clock in sixty plus hours a week for the last three weeks." Those are the types of hours I used to work when I was just starting out. In the last five years, my schedule has become laxer due to opening my own firm and hiring people to do the grunt work for me.

  Garrett cocks his head and gives me an unsympathetic frown. "You know I don’t feel sorry for you, but you'll get through it. When the smoke clears, why don't you take some time off and go to Monroe Cay? I can have everything ready for you. Just tell me when you're ready to go."

  Opening my menu, I stare at it and immediately know what I'm ordering.

  Just then, the waitress stops by and we place our orders.

  "Thanks, I'll think about it." My brother is so rich that he bought himself a private island in the Caribbean. It's beautiful and might be just what I need, but I can’t even think about a vacation right now. Looking back up at him, he's wearing a shit-eating grin. "What's going on with you?"

  "Sorry, I was just thinking about my time this morning with Camille."

  "You have it bad," I say. I’m really happy for my brother. His ex-wife totally screwed him over and got pregnant with another man's kid. Even though I'm happy for the guy, I'm not jealous. I'm having way too much fun in my life to be tied down to one woman. I look at life like a buffet. There's way too much to sample and enjoy to be stuck with one flavor forever.

  He takes a sip of his drink and nods. “I sure do.”

  "Okay, so how did this work again? She worked for you and then she fell for you?"

  He holds his index finger up. "Sort of. She fell for me after I took care of her.”

  I nod slowly while my wheels are turning. I think I see now what I need to do.

  Six

  Liza

  My stomach clenches as tight as a fist as I walk into Donovan's office. I kept hoping that it wouldn't come to this, that somehow, some way I'd be able to dig my way out of this without coming here. But there is no way that in four months I am going to have enough money to start paying my loan back. I just need more time.

  Donovan’s secretary tells me that he is ready to see me.

  Walking toward the door, I focus on putting one foot in front of the other. It drains all of my energy, like I’m going up a steep incline with no end in sight.

  I step inside his office and forget to breathe the second my eyes land on Donovan. His eyes are dark and his smile is warm. He wears his confidence equally well as his tailored suit. And his body is trim with lean muscle—clearly, he spends time at the gym. Daily. Everything about him exudes a powerful allure, and I can’t seem to stop staring.

  "It's good to see you. Have a seat," he says, pointing toward the chair I sat in when I signed the contract.

  "Thank you for seeing me." My voice sounds small and pathetic. Fitting, since that's exactly how I feel. I sit and smooth my hands down my navy pinstriped pencil skirt.

  "Of course. What brings you here today?"

  I can't help drinking him in. Somehow, I wish that I could zap some of his intensity and confidence and use it right now. Instead, nerves coil around my heart and my limbs causing my leg to bounce. I press it down with my hand and breathe deeply. "I'm not sure how to ask this."

  He leans in and folds his hands in front of him. What I wouldn't give to be that cool and calm. "Just ask."

  My fight-or-flight instinct kicks in hard and I know what I have to do. Bending down, I pull Spencer's kneepads out of my bag, put them on, and stand to walk toward Donovan. With a shaky breath, I brace myself. "I'm not proud of this, but I have to do something." Donovan's eyes nearly bulge out of his head as I kneel in front of him. "I'm not going to be able to pay back the loan in four months. I need more time, and I'm not too proud to beg."

  He pins me with his stare. It’s intense and beautiful and pulls the air from my lungs. He crouches down next to me and takes my elbow. "Please get up. We can work something out."

  Tears of embarrassment mixed with relief sting the back of my eyes but I blink them away as I stand with his help. "Really?"

  "Yes. Really."

  Heat prickles my neck and cheeks as I undo the kneepads and put them back in my purse. I can’t believe I just did that. What was I thinking?

  Taking my seat again, I push my hair away from my face. "What do you have in mind?"

  When he looks at me, it's not with pity, but concern, and it warms my heart and reminds me of why I considered him a good friend in high school. "We're going to meet again and go over all of your finances. I'm going to help you, Liza."

  The urge to cry nearly overwhelms me, but with strength I didn't know I had, I hold them back. "That would be great."

  "Good. We’ll set up a time this week."

  "Thank you so much, Donovan," I say as I stand up and make my way to the
door.

  "Liza," he calls, so I turn to face him. "Don't sell yourself short. We'll get this figured out."

  I nod and rush out of the office, barely making it to the elevator before the tears start rolling down my cheeks.

  I walk eight blocks before I finally stop crying. The meeting went way better than I expected. The kindness that Donovan used to show me in high school was there again today. Memories of days past when he’d help me with my homework or let me cry on his shoulder over a guy come flooding back. I can’t believe I ever lost touch with him.

  Reaching in my purse, I dial Spencer’s number.

  It rings so long, I think it may go to voice mail. "How did it go, princess?"

  "Are you busy?”

  “No, my phone was just buried in my backpack. Now stop with the suspense. How was the meeting?”

  “It was good. I'll be returning your kneepads. I didn't need to use them," I tell him, my voice still shaky from all the tears. It's hard to believe that I walked in there and put the stupid things on. It goes to show the level of desperation I was feeling.

  "Why not? I need all the details. I wish we could sit down over a glass of wine, but I'm on my way to hell, I mean, work."

  Guilt stabs at my chest. It'll be a dream come true when I can finally hire him to work for me. "I went in and told him that I wasn’t going to be able to pay back the money, and he said we’d figure something out."

  Spencer blows out a disbelieving sigh. "Do you really think that man is going to help you?"

  Without hesitation I jump to the defensive. "Absolutely. We were good friends in high school. I was always able to trust him then. I don't see any reason to not trust him now."

  "Okay. I hope you're right."

  Me, too. At this point, I have no choice but to believe him.