by Aurora, Lexi
I turned on the ovens to prepare for the day, standing close to them as they heated up. It was always cold in the bakery in the mornings, especially during the fall and winter, but when the ovens got going the place felt warm and inviting. I pulled out the ingredients I needed to start the morning with our usual selection—fresh-baked muffins and warm, fluffy biscuits, as well as cinnamon rolls that melted on the tongue. The cinnamon rolls were my favorite, and Rosie had a taste for them as well. They usually sold out fast, so every once in a while I would set one aside for her for when she woke up. I made a note to do so this morning; I had missed her last night. We’d had a special event at the bakery that had kept me up late cleaning up the place, and I hadn’t made it upstairs until after she had gone to bed.
As I started to mix the ingredients for the rolls, I thought back to last night and the conversation I’d had with our neighbor. I had wanted to tell my mother about it right away but didn’t want to wake her when I got upstairs. The conversation gnawed at me and had kept me up all night. Our neighbor, Mr. Eustacio, who owned the laundromat next door, had told me that some big development company was proposing to the city to buy the buildings on our block and wanted to develop it into condos. I thought about losing this place, the only home I’d ever known, the place I loved and worked and lived, and it made me sad.
When my father got sick and began his rapid decline from his diagnosis to his final days, he confessed to me that he wanted to see me take over the business and then pass it on to the next generation. I told him I would do whatever it took to make the dream a reality, that it was my wish too. An offer from a development company would probably be for so much money it would feel like I was playing Monopoly, but some things don’t have a price tag. I would never sell, no matter how tempting the offer was. I loved this place like it was a part of my family.
I sighed as I flattened out the dough with my hands, then began to roll it out with a pin, putting all of my muscle into it. I found the motions soothing and comfortable, especially since I found that I could put all of my aggression into rolling and the dough would benefit from the effort. The truth was, the money we’d get from selling this place would help us in every way. Since taking over the bakery, I was struggling to make ends meet. My father was a gifted baker and had the biggest heart of anyone I knew, but he wasn’t the greatest businessman. It took me weeks after his funeral to find the courage to go into his office and look through the business files. I was surprised to find the state they were in. He didn’t have files so much as piles. There were about two dozen banker boxes filled with papers in no discernible order. I’d find a bank statement, a Christmas card from his college roommate’s family, and a handwritten grocery list all in the same box.
I had always thought my father to be larger than life—he had brought life into this place somehow that I just couldn’t seem to replicate, no matter how hard I tried. I don’t know how much money he made, but the bills that kept arriving after his death were larger than I’d assumed they’d be. At the end of each month, I was struggling to stretch what we made to pay everything. We had steady, regular customers, but it always seemed like it was barely enough to cover what I needed to take care of mama, Rosie, and myself.
I finished putting the rolls together and placed them in the oven, then started mixing the muffins. By the time I got them in the oven to start on the biscuits, it was already just twenty minutes before we opened. I looked at the clock and cursed as I burnt my finger on the corner of the cinnamon roll pan, running it under cold water for a moment as I watched it rise and blister. I shook my head at my clumsiness, then left the kitchen and went up front to the store, turning on lights and flipping chairs down from the tables. I arranged the cinnamon rolls in the display case and turned on the colorful Christmas lights that my father had hung up around the bakery years and years ago. It gave the room a festive glow that reminded me of him every time I turned them on.
A few minutes later, I opened the front door to greet the two men who were waiting there when we opened. They were partners, older men named John and Ashton, who lived across the street and came in every morning for coffee. I beamed at them when I opened the door and welcomed them in.
“Good morning,” I said brightly as we crossed the room. I pulled out a cinnamon roll for each of them, knowing what they were going to order. It was easy to guess with these guys, who were simple and friendly.
“Morning, Sloane,” Ashton said, grinning at me as I bagged up their rolls and turned around to pour their coffee. “How are you? How’s Rosie?”
“She’s good,” I told them. “Sweet as ever. She’s probably still sleeping upstairs with my mom.”
“You should put her to work around here,” said Ashton. “She would liven the place right up.”
I put my hands on my hips, pretending to be offended. “You mean I’m not lively enough for you?”
Ashton laughed as I handed him his coffee. “You’re perfect just the way you are, darling,” he said. John winked at me. They paid, dropping a nice tip for me in the jar before disappearing with their food. A few more people came and went, and I served them in between running back and forth from the kitchen to prepare the muffins and biscuits for the displays.
When I came back out front, my hands filled with muffins, I stopped dead when I saw who was standing at the counter. I didn’t know him, had never met him before, but he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. He was tall, broad with green eyes and dirty-blond waves. He had a polite smile on his face that broadened when he saw me, especially when I dropped half of the muffins I was holding and looking down stupidly to watch them roll to the floor. I blushed and crouched down to pick them up, dumping them in the trash before wiping my hands on my apron.
“Hi,” I said, looking back up at the man, who was grinning at me, one eyebrow raised.
“You okay?” he asked. I nodded, cursing myself, and bit my lip.
“What can I get for you?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice smooth and soft. “What would you recommend?”
“The cinnamon rolls are good,” I said, gesturing toward the display case. He smiled at me, glancing at my name tag.
“Sloane. That’s interesting.”
“My mom named me after her first dog,” I told him. He laughed.
“Still beautiful,” he said, meeting my eye when he said the word. I felt myself blush again and then looked away.
“I’ll have a cinnamon roll.”
“Coffee?” I asked, still not looking at him. I felt his eyes on my face, felt him gazing at me, but couldn’t bring myself to meet his eye.
“Sloane,” he said softly, and I did look at him then. “Coffee would be perfect. Thank you.”
“I’ll have it right up,” I said, holding his eye. There was a look of interest on his face, one that was inviting and warm. I noticed that he glanced down at my lips when I smiled at him. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a credit card, handing it to me. I looked at him while I swiped it, then handed it back. He took a seat at an empty table, and I felt his eyes on me as I worked, pouring coffee into a mug for him and setting his cinnamon roll on a plate. I took a moment to collect myself before I carried it over to him, meeting his eye as I set it on the table in front of him.
“Sit with me,” he said softly, taking my hand before I could pull away. His skin was soft and warm on mine, and the touch sent a shiver down my back that had nothing to do with the chill outside. I glanced around the room—there were other customers there, too many for me to take a break. I shook my head.
“I can’t,” I said, gently pulling away from him, though I couldn’t help but return his smile. He gazed at me for a moment before I walked away and back behind the counter, disappearing into the kitchen so that I could tame my heartbeat before I saw him again.
Chapter 2: Reid
I SAT AT THE TABLE , sipping the coffee Sloane had brought me and keeping my eye out at the counter for her to come back. I had notic
ed how she’d looked at me when she’d first seen me, the same way I had been undoubtedly looking at her—with plain interest and attraction, as well as a little shyness on her part. I was never shy—it wasn’t in my nature—but the pink flush on her cheeks when she got flustered speaking to me lit up her face, making her look even more beautiful than she already was. Sloane was gorgeous and petite, probably almost a foot shorter than me, with dark hair that curled around her shoulders, and soft, pale brown eyes. I had trouble looking away from her as I was speaking to her, and I could tell that she was having the same problem.
I watched her emerge from the back, her eyes not meeting mine as she came back into the store. She was looking decidedly away from me, though at times I would catch her looking, just briefly catch her eye, and smile at her before she looked away. It made me wonder if she was shy in other ways, in other places, if she’d have that same look on her face while I undressed her. She seemed like it would take some convincing to get her into my hands, but I had decided the moment I’d seen her that I had to try.
When I was finished with my cinnamon roll and coffee, I brought the dishes back up to the counter and put them down. Sloane looked up at me, and I smiled at her, making her blush again. I loved that I was making her so nervous by just looking at her and wondered if I was affecting her in other ways.
“Sloane,” I said. She parted her lips to speak to me, and I couldn’t help but to glimpse at them, noting how full they were, how soft and pink and pretty. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.”
“Now you have,” she said, smiling at me. “Did you like it?”
“I’ve enjoyed myself very much,” I said, holding her view. There was something bewitching about her gaze, how it was sweet but bold at the same time. I could tell there was a fire behind that shy expression, and I badly wanted to see it, to get to know the private side of her. I wondered how she would look opened up to me completely, and see who she really was outside of the bakery.
“Good,” she said, dragging her teeth across her bottom lip. It was then that someone came into the bakery behind me, and Sloane glanced over my shoulder.
“Thank you again,” I said, winking at her when she caught my gaze. She blushed again and I grinned as I turned around and made my way out of the bakery. I walked down the block a bit and got into my car, only then remembering that I’d forgotten to drop my business card off with Sloane for her to give to Henry Wright, the owner of the bakery. I had been so distracted by the girl that I had completely forgotten why I’d gone to the bakery in the first place. I sighed, shaking my head and laughing at myself—I wasn’t usually so unfocused around women, but there had been something about Sloane that had gotten under my skin the moment I’d looked into those gorgeous brown eyes.
I started my car and pulled away from the curb, driving through town and looking around as I did so. I loved looking at the old buildings and envisioning what could be. Real estate development wasn’t just my job; it was my creative passion. My latest project was the biggest yet, and sometimes I feared I had taken on more than I could handle. But every time I doubted myself, I’d remember the twenty-three investors I’d brought in on the deal and told myself that losing their money was not an option. I had been in real estate since I’d graduated from college and had started from nowhere, managing to build my small company into a multibillion-dollar international success. I hadn’t gotten there without a few bumps in the road, but if I’d learned anything from my father, it was that I could fight through anything and win. I had to. My father had never accepted anything less.
I got back to the office a few hours later, ignoring my messages and instead leaning back in my chair. Sloane was on my mind still, something that surprised me. Pretty women were a dime a dozen, a renewable resource that I could get my hands on whenever I wanted. Still, even as I thought through the list of women I could call to keep me company tonight, the only person in my head right now was the shy girl behind the register I’d met at the bakery earlier. I decided that I would go in the next day and bring her my card—it would give me an excuse to see her again, perhaps ask her out. Though I knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to get involved with someone in the middle of a big deal, I found I couldn’t get the idea of taking Sloane out, kissing her, or taking her clothes off, out of my mind.
I tried to distract myself by going through the paperwork from the other sales in the neighborhood, noting there were only three more buildings to sign contracts on, including the bakery. That deal was different, though, because of the complications that my lawyer had come across. A few more steps I’d have to take, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I had closed on most of the deals myself—though other men of my position in the company would gladly hand over those meetings to other employees, I had always been hands-on with my business and always would be. I liked the thrill of the negotiation, the feeling of taking over a place piece by piece until the land was mine to do with as I pleased. It was like playing a game, developing something new in a place that hadn’t been revitalized in too long. The phone rang and I picked it up off my desk.
“How’d it go, Reid?” It was Allan Dane, my lead investor. He was anxious to get the project started. “Did you get it done?”
“The Ruske property is complicated, Allan. I’m trying to find a way to do it simply—that takes time.”
“Bullshit. It’s not complicated, but you are insisting on making it complicated. A contract is a contract, and if people don’t keep up their end, there’s a price to pay. That’s business.”
“Business indeed, but these are people’s lives here. I just need two more days and it will all be taken care of.”
“Fine. I’ll give you one day, and then I’m taking it into my own hands. Me and the other investors are losing money every day you pussyfoot around the issue here.”
“I’ll get it done,” I said before I realized he had already hung up. Allan was an old friend of mine but a shrewd businessman. I knew he was serious and so I’d have to get my part done by tomorrow.
I WENT HOME EARLY THAT day, deciding to spend the night alone instead of calling a friend or a girl to come over and keep me company. My head was spinning with the numbers, thinking about the project, Sloane, the bakery. I spent the night reading but couldn’t really focus on my book. I was too distracted, so I got dressed at around midnight and went for a run around my neighborhood, allowing the chilly air to clear my thoughts and prepare me for the next few days of getting through the contracts.
Keep reading Bought Out By The Billionaire – it is available online, check Lexi Aurora’s author page for its availability.
PREVIEW: Bound by the Billionaire by Lexi Aurora
Bound by the Billionaire
I wanted her the moment I saw her. I never thought she would get caught up in one of my games. I’ve never been with someone who was both soft and willing and yet somehow so hard to get. But my world is changed now. If only I knew how to change hers for the better.
Kim Davidson:
I have responsibilities to take care of. I have a son.
I can’t keep letting him take me like this.
In the storage room at work.
True, he owns the building, and many more like it.
But I’m not ready to fall in love again no matter how he makes me feel, and especially someone as unstable and eccentric as him.
If only my body would let me forget the first time I tasted him and felt those hands.
The way he bound me as part of one of his bored rich boy games.
Warning: “Bound by the Billionaire” contains adult language and situations. It is intended for mature readers. There is no cheating and a HEA is guaranteed.
Chapter 1
K IM DAVIDSON TRIED to pull together some energy. Her shift at Elixir had been crazy busy. From the minute she’d arrived, she was running. Her boss’s mother-in-law was turning seventy and the party of twenty was demanding and, worse still, bad tippers. That would mean less money
this week, and already her mother was complaining when she’d left in the morning.
“You know Derek really needs some new shoes. His feet are cramped in these,” she said while getting Kim’s son ready for school.
“I know, Ma, I’m trying. I start the new cleaning job at the gallery tonight that’ll help. Things will be better. Promise.”
Her mother kissed her on the cheek. “Kimmy, honey, I know you try so hard. Your ex-husband should be paying for some of this, you know. Useless man!”
“Please, Ma, I don’t want Bruce involved in my life, or in Derek’s life. We’ll be fine.” She bent down to her son. “Won’t we, D?”
“Yes, Mama,” the little boy said.
Kim kissed him. “You be a good boy at school. I’ll try to get home before you fall asleep.”
Her mother didn’t understand. Yes, she’d like money from her ex-husband—that would make everything easier—but the price she’d have to pay would be too much. He wouldn’t just give them money and leave them alone; she knew him too well. If he gave them money, he’d expect to be involved in their life, and she would not have that. Never again. She was fine without a man, better than she’d ever been. She was in control of things. This was all just a tiny blip; she’d soon be back on track. Just a bad patch to get through. Once she got going with this regular job cleaning at the gallery and then with the two waitressing jobs, she ought to be able to save some money and get them all sorted out. It’d been tough for her mother too ever since her father died—one of the reasons Kim lived with her. But Kim was going to get them all out of trouble. They’d be fine; they just needed to give her a bit of time. There was no need to get her ex involved in things. Kim was done with men anyway. She’d learned her lesson; life never was a fairy tale. No prince on a white horse was going to save her. She would need to do it for herself.
She arrived at the front of Rive Gauche Gallery and tried to forget the five hours of running around waiting on demanding old women and men with grabby hands. A new job needed new energy. She took a deep breath and opened the door. She entered the glass-fronted building and found a security guard at the reception desk.
