Risking Her Heart: A Contemporary Romance Novel

by Rochelle Katzman

  Livvie exhaled loudly as she stood. “I think I’m going to go back to my room and lie down.” She started to walk away.

  “Wait.” He grabbed her arm to stop her. “If the only way you feel alive is to write, then write.”

  Livvie turned and looked at him. “But I need to make money, Drake.”

  “I know, but maybe that’s the problem. You’re so worried about finding a writing job that you stopped doing what you love.” He paused. “I’m sure you wrote as a child even though you weren’t getting paid.”

  “But I still need to make money.”

  He looked at her with those gorgeous emerald-green eyes. “I understand, but if you start to write from your heart, it’ll lead to something. Olivia, when I bought this land from Mr. Birkshire, I knew I wanted to create a vineyard. But I had no idea if I’d make great wines that I could make a profit on or really bad wines and this place would become more of a hobby. I was well aware there was a chance I’d have to go back to Wall Street.”

  “But weren’t you already a billionaire?” Livvie was convinced he didn’t understand her after all.

  Drake ran his hands through his hair. “Yes, but I’m not one of those men who could quit his job on Wall Street and then have nothing to do all day but spend his money. I need a life purpose, Olivia. I find that even wealthy men with families who quit their day job have too much time on their hands. Maybe they have too much time to think. I don’t know. All I know is that they end up being really selfish and self-centered.”

  Livvie rolled her eyes.

  “You think I’m arrogant, Olivia. And you’re right, I am. But I try hard not to be selfish. Just because I don’t want a long-term relationship with a woman doesn’t make me selfish. Being stuck in one relationship for the rest of my life holds no interest to me. Period.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “Maybe.” Drake shrugged.

  Livvie started to walk away when she realized that for the first time in her life, she could have the last word with a man, so she turned toward Drake again.

  “Oh, and Drake?”

  “Yes?”

  “Writing isn’t the only activity that makes me feel alive.” She smiled as innocently as she could and then turned and walked away again.

  The look on Drake’s face had been priceless. But somehow, she knew he’d still get his way.

  “Oh, and Olivia?”

  She grinded her teeth and turned.

  “Write,” he said with a huge twinkle in his eye.

  Livvie groaned and then continued to walk away. She heard his laughter all the way back to the door of the castle.

  But what bothered her the most was the fact that he was right. She should be sitting her ass down to write. She should also be doing a lot of other things, too, including staying away from Drake Morganthal.

  Chapter Six

  By the time Livvie had reached her room she was fuming. Why was it that men always had to have the last word? Plopping herself onto her bed, she closed her eyes and counted to ten. What the fuck had just happened? One minute she had been feeling sorry for herself, and the next, Andrew had tried to make a move on her. But would she have let him? If Drake hadn’t busted them, would she have kissed Andrew? Livvie sighed. No, she wouldn’t have. Andrew was adorable, but he didn’t excite her. Drake, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. When Drake kissed her, she felt as if she was in the middle of an earthquake, tornado, and tsunami, all at the same time. That kiss… Livvie inhaled. She had never felt the earth shattering when she had kissed a guy before. In fact, she had never enjoyed kissing, period. Either guys didn’t know what to do with their tongues, or their lips were too gentle. Something always turned her off. But Drake’s kiss was the opposite.

  Livvie drifted to sleep until she heard a knock at her door. She bolted out of bed, secretly hoping it was Drake wanting to kiss her again. And that maybe he had been as affected by the kiss as she had been. But as she moved closer to the door, she thought he probably hadn’t been affected by it at all. After all, he was used to making out with famous women who kissed for a living in movies.

  “Who is it?” Livvie yelled when she reached her door.

  “It’s Mr. Birkshire, Ms. Collins.”

  Why was everyone so formal around here? And what was his first name? She’d have to remember to ask Drake. She opened the door to find Mr. Birkshire standing in the corridor with his arms clasped behind his back.

  “Hey, Mr. Birkshire. Is everything okay?” She had no idea why she had asked him that except that for a split second she thought maybe Drake was throwing her out of his house. Maybe he had bought her a plane ticket to Hawaii as he had mentioned.

  “Of course, I was just checking to see how you’re enjoying your stay so far?”

  “Um, it’s been interesting.” Livvie smiled.

  “Interesting is good in life sometimes and very much needed.”

  Mr. Birkshire paused, and Livvie shifted her feet a little.

  “Do you want to come in?” Livvie asked.

  Mr. Birkshire unclasped his hands and presented her with a wrapped package.

  “No, thank you. I also came here to give you this.”

  Livvie looked at the present and then back at him. “What is it?” She didn’t think her winning raffle ticket included a gift.

  “It’s from Mr. Morganthal. He wanted me to give this to you immediately.”

  With trembling hands, Livvie took the gift. It felt way too heavy to be a plane ticket. Livvie felt relieved and confused at the same time.

  “Why?”

  “Open it and find out.”

  She held the gift in her hands as if it was a treasure. It was wrapped in purple wrapping paper with a big lavender bow. How did he know her favorite color was purple? Hands shaking, Livvie opened the package. She could have thanked Mr. Birkshire and sent him on his way, but she needed him here. The package was taped pretty well, but she didn’t want to rip the paper. Even though it was silly, she wanted to save it forever.

  When she finally had the package unwrapped, Livvie stared at a brown leather-bound journal with her name on the bottom in gold. She opened the journal, and on the first page, Drake had written her a note in black ink.

  May this journal be filled with your beautiful words. Write until your heart’s content. ~ Drake

  Tears welled up in Livvie’s eyes, but she held them back. “He gave me a journal,” she said softly.

  Mr. Birkshire nodded. “Yes, he’s one of the most thoughtful human beings I know.”

  “He is?” Livvie asked. Drake and Mr. Birkshire had been friends for a long time. Livvie wanted him to tell her everything he knew about Drake.

  “The journal obviously didn’t break his bank account, but he knew you needed it as your survival tool.”

  “Did he tell you why?” Livvie asked.

  “He doesn’t need to. If he believes someone needs something, he’ll do everything in his power to give it to that person.”

  “I just saw him maybe an hour ago.”

  “He must have known how badly you needed this.”

  Livvie swallowed and hugged the journal to her chest. “Drake had told me that you sold him this land.”

  “I did, and I’d do it again,” he said.

  “You believe in him,” Livvie stated.

  Mr. Birkshire nodded. “He has proved himself many times.”

  Livvie was dying to ask him how, and her eagerness for answers must have shown on her face.

  “Do you know the charity you attended where you won the raffle?” he asked.

  “Yes, it’s for an autistic school.” Carly had worked there for years.

  “Mr. Morganthal was jogging through town about nine months ago and ran into an autistic boy and his father. The father was trying to get his son to do some form of physical activity. The boy took to Mr. Morganthal, and the father was more than pleased. Mr. Morganthal said he would jog with them if it’d help. So they met every day for a few wee
ks. But the boy needed serious help, and his dad couldn’t afford to send him to a decent school. Mr. Morganthal started doing research and found the school where you bought the ticket. But they were filled to capacity. And it didn’t matter that he would have paid them in cash for the remainder of the boy’s schooling. Then he found out they were hosting a charity. The one you attended. He offered them his best wines, but they didn’t want to promote drinking. So they came up with the idea for the winner to stay at his vineyard for a week. And if Mr. Morganthal agreed, then they would allow the boy to attend the school.”

  “And I won,” Livvie whispered.

  “I’m assuming you’ve gotten to know Mr. Morganthal a bit over the last twenty-four hours. Do you think he’s the type of man who’d readily open his home to a stranger?”

  “No,” Livvie said.

  “Exactly, but as that was the only way to get the boy into that school, he agreed.”

  Livvie swallowed back her tears.

  “And then, Ms. Collins, he took it a step further. Knowing that the family wasn’t wealthy, he paid for their move to Los Angeles and bought them a house right near the school.” Mr. Birkshire paused. “You look surprised.”

  Livvie nodded.

  “And that’s just one of many stories about his generosity and thoughtfulness.”

  “Then why won’t he consider entering into a committed relationship? Why is he so afraid?” Livvie blurted out and then bit her lip.

  Mr. Birkshire opened his mouth and then shut it. She was worried he wouldn’t tell her why, and she really needed to hear it from the one person who seemed to know him.

  “I won’t tell you all the details of his life. Only he can tell you. But I feel you should know that his parents got divorced when he was ten years old.”

  “And that scarred him?” Livvie knew of many people who had grown up in divorced homes, and they weren’t all messed up in relationships. It seemed as if Drake had been more affected than most. But who was she to judge?

  “It did,” Mr. Birkshire responded. “But it was more than that. Mr. Morganthal watched his mom suffer from a broken heart. The actual divorce didn’t damage him as much as watching his mom become sadder and sadder throughout her marriage. She didn’t physically die, but in a way, what happened to her was just as bad.”

  “And he fears that.” Livvie didn’t need to ask that as a question. She knew it was the truth.

  Mr. Birkshire nodded, confirming what she thought.

  “And he doesn’t want to put anyone through that.”

  That makes sense, thought Livvie. Mr. Birkshire turned as if he was going to leave but then pivoted back around.

  “I almost forgot to tell you; Mr. Morganthal has a business dinner in town, and he won’t be home. Would you like me to send your dinner to your room?”

  Livvie’s heart delved into her stomach. “Yes, please,” she said softly.

  Mr. Birkshire turned again, but Livvie had one more question for him.

  “Mr. Birkshire?”

  He turned. “Yes, Ms. Collins.”

  “Will you please call me Livvie?”

  Mr. Birkshire paused. “Only when you’ve earned it.”

  Livvie wasn’t sure what he meant, but she knew he wouldn’t explain. “Then thank you for bringing the journal to me.” She forced a smile.

  Mr. Birkshire turned and left her room. Livvie closed the door. Still holding on to the journal for dear life, she leaned against the door and slid to the floor.

  “Who are you, Drake Morganthal?”

  Chapter Seven

  Livvie sat on her bed cross-legged and scrolled through her empty journal. Although she had read Drake’s message a million times, it was time to deal with the rest of it. Both her and her journal were empty. How funny and ironic. It was up to her to fill the journal and to fill herself with happiness. And this leather-bound object would help her heart become content once again.

  It was interesting that Drake had bought her a journal and not a laptop. But she was well aware of why he had chosen a journal versus a laptop, and it had nothing to do with money. He knew Livvie would be more inspired to write with a journal. And as a little girl, that was how she had learned to write. How fitting that he had chosen to bring her back to her beginnings, to simpler times. Drake had given her the most precious of gifts. He had given her back her dream. And right this second she was holding her lost dream in her trembling hands.

  Livvie picked up the purple wrapping paper she’d thrown on the floor and noticed a pen taped inside. She laughed. It was a Tiffany pen, her favorite. When she was fifteen years old, she’d asked her parents to buy her a Tiffany pen for her birthday. At that age, she was writing like crazy, and she wanted a special pen to go along with her dream. She remembered in detail the euphoric feeling she had when she’d picked up the pen for the first time and wrote in her notebook. This leather-bound journal would help her feel whole again. It was the missing piece to her puzzle. And it had nothing to do with a man except for the person who bought it for her.

  This feeling she was experiencing had been missing every day when she’d wrote for Raven’s Edge; a feeling she hadn’t felt in years. Her epiphany made her feel incredibly sad but free at the same time.

  Now more than ever, she knew what she needed to do. She closed her eyes and squeezed them shut exactly as she had as a little girl. Within seconds, different story ideas came to her, like magic. But one story stood out more than the others. Then she slowly opened her eyes and turned to the first page of her new journal.

  Haley drove down the paved road as if she had been there a million times. She hadn’t and couldn’t understand why she felt as if she’d lived there before. She wanted and needed this to be the perfect week. Not only because she finally had a vacation—one she needed badly. But also because this place…this beautiful, majestic place…made her feel as if she’d come home. The wood cabin sat against the clear blue lake, reminding her of the lake house she had once visited with her family. The wind blew the trees gracefully around the house, as if they were dancing a ballet. Haley stopped her car, opened the door, and ran out with her hands in the air, doing a dance of her own. Maybe hers wasn’t as graceful as that of the trees, but it was her version of a freedom dance. She was free for one week of her life, free from problems, worries and bills arriving in the mail.

  Livvie put down her pen as an, “Ah-ha” moment struck her, which felt overwhelming. The description she’d just written fit how she’d felt when she’d first seen Drake’s house—as if she had come home. Oddly, she hadn’t felt as if she really had a home—not since she had left her parents’ house to go to college. But the idea she felt at home here was somewhat terrifying, because she was experiencing an illusion. This wasn’t any more “home” than her house in Los Angeles. She had been here only one day, and yet she already felt a strong connection. She felt safe here. And after this week, she’d never return. She’d be back in Los Angeles with the exact opposite feeling.

  Livvie continued writing, and by nightfall, Mr. Birkshire dropped dinner by her door—salmon with fresh asparagus and roasted potatoes. It was just as delicious as yesterday’s dinner, except Drake wasn’t with her tonight, and she felt the loss.

  After she ate, she wrote a while longer and then tried to sleep. But she found herself tossing and turning, straining to hear if Drake had returned. Where had he been all afternoon and evening? Maybe he had gone somewhere else to get laid because she had turned him down. The idea made her feel sick. But finally, at two o’clock in the morning, she heard him outside his bedroom door.

  She was dying to thank him for the journal, so without analyzing and obsessing over her decision, she got out of bed. She was wearing one of her favorite pajama sets—a blue silk tank top that matched her eyes and blue silk shorts. She heard him open his bedroom door, so she quickly ran to her own door and opened it.

  With his hand on his doorknob Drake turned and looked at her, but she could tell he had been drinking. She co
uldn’t smell the cedar and his vines; all she could smell was alcohol. Livvie cringed inside.

  “Yes?” He looked at her as if he wanted to eat her, and then he raised an eyebrow.

  “I just wanted to properly thank you for the journal and the pen.” Livvie smiled up at him, but as he had been drinking, she guessed her timing was bad.

  “Then thank me properly.”

  He looked her up and down, making her instantly wet and aware of how little clothes she was wearing. She felt her clit pulse, so she immediately clenched her vagina, hoping to stop the feeling. She knew what Drake was like when he was sober; what was he like when he was drunk?

  Not feeling comfortable enough to look him directly in the eye, Livvie looked down at her bare feet. Thank goodness she had gotten a pedicure before coming here.

  Drake chuckled and opened his door. “Olivia, if you’d like to thank me properly, then thank me properly. Make up your mind.” He paused and looked as if he wanted to devour her. “But coming out of your room, for whatever reason, at two o’clock in the morning in the sexiest pajama outfit I’ve ever seen, knowing how badly I want to fuck you, whether I’m sober or drunk, was a really bad idea.”

  And then Drake shut his door in Livvie’s face. She guessed she deserved that. What had she been thinking, coming out here at this time of night—or rather morning? That was just it. She hadn’t been thinking. She’d needed to see Drake as she had missed him at dinner, and she felt a strange separation anxiety. That was a bad sign, especially because she came here to heal from men. Nice going, Livvie.

  Her frustration grew even worse when she heard Drake’s shower turn on. She forced herself to walk back into her room, close her door, climb into bed, and throw the covers over her head.

  A few minutes later, she heard a knock on her door. Hoping it was Drake, she jumped out of bed and opened it.

  “Here, put this around you.” Drake handed her a large blue blanket, which she secured around her. “Good. Now I can look at you without thinking dirty thoughts. Come with me.” Drake held out his hand, expecting Livvie to grab it.