Very Irresistible Playboy: Billionaire Bachelors: Book 1

by Lila Monroe

  “I don’t really have a lot of choice,” Max protests. “Artie won.”

  “He won the treasure hunt,” I correct him, feeling a spark of rebellion. “The board still gets to vote on the sale. And the chairman, for that matter. So why aren’t you in there fighting for it?”

  “It’s no use,” Max says. “It’s too late.”

  “No, it isn’t!” I exclaim, getting angry now. “This isn’t one of your assignments. You don’t have to just stand on the sidelines observing, then leave when you’ve had enough. If you want that company, you’ve got to get in there and make it happen. Show them they’ve got an alternative. Unless . . .” I pause. “Unless all the things you said about being ready for the responsibility were just bullshit, and you’re happy to get back to your life as an international playboy.”

  Max looks annoyed. “Is that really what you think of me?”

  “Show me a reason not to,” I counter.

  There’s a long pause. “You’re right,” he says. “Fuck. The meeting has probably started.” He heads for the exit, then turns back to me. “Aren’t you coming?”

  I pause. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I need to see this through.

  “OK. One last stop on this treasure hunt.”

  Before the game is really over.

  25

  Hallie

  I’ve never been so impatient for an elevator in my life. And it’s not even my company at stake. I tap my foot against the glossy floor in the Carlisle building’s lobby as the numbers slowly creep down.

  “Can we just take the stairs?” I ask.

  “It’s twenty floors up,” Max replies.

  “OK, maybe not.”

  Finally, the elevator door slides open and we pile inside.

  “Thank you for coming with me for this,” Max says quietly, catching my eye in the cramped space. “You were with me every step of the way before.”

  The words send a pang through my heart. “Yeah,” I say. “I was.”

  Before he believed the worst in me, without even letting me explain.

  He looks like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Look, I know maybe I can’t take back what I did. I’ll understand if you’re really done with me after this. But just know I’m sorry, and that I want nothing but the best for you.”

  My heart aches, and I almost want to throw myself into those muscular arms. But then the elevator glides to a stop at the top floor, and there’s no time for misguided making out. “This way.” Max grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway to a pair of double doors. He throws them open, revealing a massive boardroom—and a whole table full of people.

  Who are now staring at us.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Artie blusters, at the head of the table.

  I gulp. It’s like a Carlisle family reunion in here. Cordelia, Parker, and Brad are sitting beside Artie, looking peeved. There’s a line of strangers, clearly confused, and on the other side of the table is Franklin Carlisle himself. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes gleam with curiosity.

  Ernest Hammersmith catches my eye and gives a little wave. The eleven other figures just gape at us.

  “Have you voted yet?” Max demands.

  “You can’t just barge in here like this,” Artie splutters. “You don’t have enough shares for voting rights. Get out.”

  “No,” Max says firmly. He steps up to the table. “Did. You. Take. The. Vote?”

  “We were just about to when you walked in,” Ernest pipes up. “But I’ve got to say this is an interesting turn of events. Perhaps we should hear what the young man has to say before we do anything hasty.”

  A murmur of agreement passes around the table. Artie’s face shifts from white to red. “Now look here—”

  “Arthur Augustus Franklin Junior,” Franklin says, in a voice that makes everyone fall silent. “Quiet.”

  Artie’s mouth presses into a flat line. With a glare at Max, he sinks into his seat.

  Max approaches the table. His face is determined, and there’s a fierce light in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. Damn if it doesn’t make him even hotter. But it’s not his good looks that are going to convince the board not to take the easy way out.

  “Carlisle Publishing has been around for nearly two hundred years,” he begins, looking at each of the board members in turn. “That’s a hell of a legacy. It’s a heavy legacy, in some ways. I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to run away from it, chasing adventure instead of thinking about my responsibilities. Then three weeks ago my grandfather sent us on a scavenger hunt through the company’s history. At first, I wasn’t sure I was even going to stay in the running. But the farther I went, the more I realized how much this company matters. How much it matters to me.

  “I learned a lot of things on that trip around the country. To recognize a good thing when it’s right in front of me.” He looks at me. “That great things come out of working as a team. And that there are people and places worth sticking around for and dedicating yourself to.”

  Oh boy. Seeing him like this, it’s hard not melt into a puddle of sentimental goo. Despite all my best intentions, I can’t deny it anymore: I’m in love with him.

  Hopelessly, ridiculously in love.

  Max looks around the table again. “Carlisle Publishing is one of those places. I don’t want to lose the legacy we’ve built. I want to build it bigger, better, to meet the challenges ahead of us. I’ve seen how this business works from the ground level. I’ve been the one out there in the field, finding the stories that get printed and run around the world. I know I can take us even farther if you give me the chance.”

  He pauses. “So that’s what I’m asking. For the chance to prove how much I care about this company. A chance to see how much we can build together.” His gaze slides to me for just a second, and I can’t help wondering if he’s talking about more than just the business. “If I disappoint you, you can still sell in a year, or two, or whenever you feel it’s time. But I don’t think I will. I think we’ll build something truly great together.”

  He steps back, and the room is silent. Even Artie looks stunned. He starts to open his mouth—but Ernest beats him to it.

  “Hear, hear!” the gallery curator says. “Now that’s more like it. I motion to install Max Carlisle as CEO and delay any sale offers pending the company’s performance.”

  “Wait a minute!” Artie bursts out, but the murmurs rising around the table drown him out.

  “Vote!” Ernest calls out. “All in favor of the motion?”

  He holds up his hand. Other hands lift all around the table. All of them, in fact, except for Artie, Cordelia, Parker, and Brad. Even Franklin raises his hand. Artie shoots him a dirty look.

  “You don’t have any voting shares left.”

  His grandfather beams back at him. “I can still throw in my support.”

  “More than fifty percent in favor,” Ernest announces. “The motion passes!”

  He gets up out of his seat to shake Max’s hand. If I thought Max had been lit up before, now he’s absolutely glowing. The other board members crowd around. They only part when Franklin approaches.

  “Max, my boy.” Franklin sounds choked up. “Look at the man you’ve become. You kept me waiting long enough.”

  “Gramps.” Max looks a little emotional, too. “I’m going to make you proud. I swear it.”

  “After today, I know you will,” Franklin says. Then he leans in with a mischievous grin. “You know, this treasure hunt was only for my shares in the company. The rest of my estate is still up for grabs…”

  There’s a beat, and then Max laughs. “I’ll be just fine,” he says, slapping his grandfather’s back.

  “I know you will be, but one day you might be happy to be my heir. When you have a family of your own…” Franklin gives me a meaningful look, and Max tenses.

  “I should go talk to the others,” he says, and quickly walks away.

  Watching the congratulations, a lum
p rises in my throat. This is Max’s moment. And I don’t belong here. I’m not a Carlisle, and I never was. Our relationship was only just pretend.

  I slip out of the room and hurry to the elevators. Funny how every time I’m heading down on one of these elegant cars, I find myself close to tears. But this time, I can’t hold them back.

  It’s over.

  And now I have to figure out what the future holds for me.

  26

  Hallie

  “Hallie!” Jules exclaims the second I walk in the door. I stop in my tracks. She’s not usually quite that enthusiastic to see me. You’d think I’d been missing for weeks. All I did was wander around Manhattan for a while, walking off some of my heartache, before I headed home.

  “Jules,” I reply slowly, looking her over for any signs that an alien being has taken over my roommate. No, she looks like her usual professional, collected self. Other than the slightly crazed gleam in her eyes.

  “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” she says.

  “Um, no.”

  “Perfect. We have to go grab some dinner.” She grasps me by the elbow and hauls me right back out the door.

  “Okay,” I say, still bewildered. “Dinner sounds good, but what’s the occasion? Did you win some major case or something?”

  “No, no. I just thought— Your new job! We should celebrate your new job.”

  That would sound reasonable if I hadn’t started that new job three days ago. And if we hadn’t already gone for drinks. I eye her suspiciously as she ushers me down the hall. “Jules, are you feeling OK?”

  “Sure. Just hungry!”

  “I guess I could eat. I didn’t get near craft service,” I add. “And then . . .” Well, I’m not ready to talk about the whole Max part of my day.

  Luckily, Jules seems distracted. She checks her phone as we head downstairs, then grabs my arm when I try to hail a cab. “We can walk!”

  “In those heels?” I look down at her don’t-fuck-with-me stilettos.

  “They’re comfortable. Really.”

  “Uh huh.” I follow, suspicious, as she charges down the street. “Where do you want to eat?”

  “This new place opened, right around the corner.”

  “Oh, great. What kind of food?”

  “Mexican, or Greek, or something. How was your day?”

  “Good. Melissa is letting me get more and more involved in the shoots.” I pause, thinking about what happened after work. My heart squeezes. I don’t think I want to bring that up right now. Jules has listened to me mope about Max for weeks. Whatever she’s excited about, I don’t want to ruin it by being a downer. “Anyway, all good there.”

  “That’s awesome. I knew they were crazy not to take you on that first time around. Watch out, world! Hallie Gage, star photographer, has arrived.”

  I laugh. “I’m not quite there yet. But it does feel like I’m finally on my way.”

  Jules stops dead outside a nondescript building. “This is it.”

  I look up suspiciously. “Are you sure? It doesn’t look like a restaurant.”

  “That’s the gimmick,” she says. “Like a pop-up, or secret, or whatever.” She hits the buzzer, and then leads me inside a plain hallway.

  “Real secret.” I look around again. “Are you sure, because—”

  Jules flings open a door at the end of the hallway, and I stop on the threshold,

  “Jules?” I ask, slowly. “This isn’t dinner.”

  It’s a photography studio. The most stunning studio space I’ve ever seen. The windows are huge, with a whole wall of drop-cloth. There’s a workbench already set with a dizzying array of cameras and equipment, at the far end lies a sleek black desk with a computer set up for editing, and there’s even a space just off the main room, already set up as a dark room.

  I look around in amazement. There isn’t just a ton of equipment—it’s top of the line. The lamps, the tripods . . . and the cameras . . . Fuck, there’s that baby I’ve spent the last six months drooling over at the shop. Whoever runs this studio, they’ve got amazing taste.

  Which begs the question . . . “Who owns this place?” I ask, turning to Jules. “What are we even doing here?”

  Jules grins. “You do. It’s yours.”

  “What?”

  She hands me a note, smiling even wider.

  * * *

  Hallie,

  You know writing is my thing, not taking pictures, or I’d have been able to get this together a lot faster. But they tell me every piece of equipment in this place is the best you could possibly get. And you deserve the best. You wouldn’t accept the money you earned, but I hope you’ll accept this gift from me.

  I’m also better at writing than talking, especially when something—or someone—matters to me this much. So in case I didn’t make it clear before, doubting you is the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life. And believe me, I’ve made a lot of harebrained schemes in my time. You didn’t just make me laugh and stand by me and turn me on more than any woman ever has. You’ve made me a better man. Being with you showed me how I want to be.

  There’s no way to put a price on that gift. This studio only scratches the surface of repaying you, but it’s the best I could think of. So take it. Follow your dreams. There’s nothing that would make me happier than knowing I helped you reach them like you’ve helped me.

  Everything’s in your name. No strings attached. But if you’re willing to take another chance on me, it’d make me even happier to be there with you. We only spent a week together, and already it’s hard for me to imagine my life without you. I love you, Hallie. I’d do anything for the chance to show you how much, over and over, until you know you never have to doubt me again.

  * * *

  Max

  * * *

  The letter wavers in my hand. I read it again, blinking hard.

  Oh my God.

  “Hallie?” Jules asks from the doorway.

  I stuff the letter into my purse and spin around. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. He dropped off the note this morning with instructions,” she tells me.

  Which means he’d planned this, all along. Even before he won the company back.

  “I have to go!” I hug her quickly. “I might still be able to catch him.”

  I dash outside and flag a cab down. “The Carlisle Publishing building,” I tell the driver. “Fast, please?”

  “I can do fast.” He hits the gas, and we race away.

  It takes way too long to get over the bridge. I’m ready to jump out and go on foot by the time we make it. I shove the driver a handful of bills run for the doors.

  My pulse thumps all the way up to the top floor. I’m practically hyperventilating when the elevator door slides open and—

  My heart sinks. The lights in the boardroom are out. A man in a janitor’s outfit is clearing away the empty coffee cups.

  I pull out my cellphone and dial. Pick up, pick up, pick up . . .

  “Hallie?” Max’s voice says in my ear.

  My heart leaps. “Max!”

  He says something, but there’s so much background noise, I can’t hear him.

  “Max? I can’t hear you. Where are you?”

  “Wait . . . I’ll go . . . anyway.”

  I want to shout in frustration. I listen closer, trying to pick up his words, but there’s just a loud hum of conversation. Then someone yells, “A dozen glazed, three crullers!” and I know exactly where he is.

  “Stay right there,” I tell him. “I’m coming to you.”

  I burst from the Carlisle building doors and sprint across the street to the donut shop where Olivia and I had our first conversation. Where I got sucked into this whole crazy situation. I probably look like a mad person when I fling open the door. But the only person whose opinion I care about is the guy just getting up from his table.

  Max steps forward to meet me. His smile is still a little hesitant, as if he’s not sure what I’m here for. Well, I can c
lear that up real quick.

  I grab him by his shirt pull him into a kiss.

  A hot, deep, “take me now, I’m yours forever” kind of kiss.

  Max’s arms come around me, drawing me even closer. The press of his lips is so sure and perfect it sends shivers racing through me. God, how did I go three weeks without kissing this man? The idea of giving it up seems impossible.

  Finally, we come up for air. “I’m really hoping that wasn’t just a ‘Congratulations on becoming CEO’ kiss,” he says.

  I laugh. “No. I guess you could say it was a ‘Here’s your second chance and you’d better not blow it’ kiss.” I take a breath. “And also, I love you too.”

  Max’s expression changes, and he kisses me again, with a new possession in his touch.

  “So you liked the studio?” he says when he releases me.

  “Like it?” I laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with it, too. You’re going to have some tough competition for my attention.”

  He chuckles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Competition seems to bring out the best in us, don’t you think?”

  “Hmm, most of the time.”

  His gaze lowers for a second. “Your roommate chewed me out twice as good as I’ve already done to myself. But if you need some more apologizing . . .”

  “No,” I stop him. “That’s okay.” I touch his cheek. “I’m convinced. The studio is amazing. That goes without saying. But really it was the letter that sold me.”

  Max bends his head close to mine. “I have been told I have a way with words. There are plenty more where those came from.”

  I laugh, a little breathless. “Do go on. I’m looking forward to hearing all of them. On one condition.”

  “Anything.”

  “That we’re naked in bed,” I grin. “With a box of those glazed donuts, to go.”

  27