The Billionaire's Return

by Ava Miles

  ~ Dare Valley Meets Paris Mini-Series ~

  Volume Four

  Margie & Evan

  © 2015 Ava Miles

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  Margie Lancaster has traveled home to Dare Valley with a broken heart. Her time with Evan Michaels had to end since the opening of her new bakery is just around the corner. But Evan isn't finished with his Pocket Venus. He returns to Dare Valley in all his billionaire alpha glory determined to find a way to keep Margie and the true love between them—even after all the secrets he kept from her. As he attempts to forge a life for himself in the small town, can Margie overcome her tragic past enough to find her happily ever after with Evan? And can Evan discover his true happiness again by re-inventing himself before all the money and glory got in the way?

  To my favorite people when I used to work corporate and for all I learned.

  And to my divine entourage, who always manages to take everything I've learned and spin it into gold.

  Chapter 1

  Evan fell back onto the mattress he’d dragged into the lab and stared at the ceiling. He finally had a working formula for the invisible paint.

  For the last month, he had done nothing but work on his new invention. Now that Margie had refused to marry him, it was all he could stand to do. Luckily, even though she’d taken his heart with her, she hadn’t taken his creative fire. Since that horrible night in front of the Eiffel Tower, he’d lived almost solely in his mind. The rest of him felt like an empty shell.

  A beep signaled that someone had entered the apartment and deactivated the alarm. So Chase had finally decided to come to his rescue. Evan groaned. Didn’t his friend understand it was pointless? Nothing was going to rescue him from this loss. He’d thought his father leaving him when he was a kid was bad. But this? Oh, how the fates had decided to punish him. His hubris must have been horrendous if this was the lesson they’d dished out.

  Margie had told him she loved him, but she clearly didn’t.

  The door to his lab clicked open, and he heard powerful footsteps cross the floor. He didn’t bother to sit up. There was nothing he could do to hide how bad things had become from Chase. The evidence was all around him. He couldn’t sleep in his own bed anymore after making love to Margie in it, hence the mattress in his lab, and the lab was coated in an array of trash from the take-away food he barely ate enough of to keep his body going.

  “Evan,” Chase said in a voice he’d never heard.

  A ball of sorrow lodged under his ribs, and he closed his eyes for a moment, hoping it would pass. It didn’t. “I found a working formula for my invisible paint. We can start producing samples and testing it.”

  That’s how he thought about it now. His paint. She was lush and mysterious. Maybe she would bring him back to life. If she couldn’t, he wasn’t sure what could.

  The mattress dipped, and a comforting hand settled on his shoulder. When he turned to look at his friend, Chase’s face was tense, his eyes almost compassionate.

  “You’d get your butt kicked in the boardroom with that mushy look,” Evan said, deciding it was finally time to sit up.

  “I’m happy to hear about your progress with your paint,” Chase said. “But when was the last time you took a shower?”

  He barked out a laugh, a wild one, he realized. “I don’t know. Do I look like Howard Hughes yet? At least I hid the milk bottles.”

  “Jesus,” Chase said, hauling him up. “That’s not funny. You’re taking a shower, and then you’re either shaving that beard off or trimming it. You’re a double for a criminal on America’s Most Wanted.”

  That wasn’t true. No one wanted him. Least of all the woman he loved.

  “And I won’t ask why you have a portrait of a Roman goddess resting against your workstation. I’m afraid to hear the answer.”

  Evan turned to look at the portrait of Artemis. “She’s Greek, not Roman, and I hoped…”

  Better not to mention his slender hope that she might help him again—like she had done in that fateful game of poker. It had been a desperate move, asking his art dealer to find him a painting of the goddess. And which one had the esteemed man sent over to him? One of Artemis with her faithful deer and a loaf of bread on a stone table. He’d almost sent it back, the loaf reminding him too bitterly of the baker who had stolen his heart.

  “I also won’t ask why you’re sleeping in here,” Chase said as they left the lab. “Promise me you’ll at least start sleeping in the guest room.”

  He cast a quick glance at his friend. “You must think I’m a wimp.”

  A strong arm came around his shoulders. Chase led him down the hall, and Evan almost leaned in for comfort.

  “No,” Chase said in a quiet voice. “I couldn’t sleep in my bed for a couple of nights after Trisha left me. But then I decided I wasn’t going to let her have that much power over me.”

  “But Trisha was a cold-hearted bitch,” Evan said.

  “She wasn’t in the beginning. My success changed her. The seeds were there when I married her, but…well, it doesn’t matter now.”

  “I really loved Margie.” It was funny to say it in past tense. He still loved her. He didn’t know how to stop.

  “I know you did,” Chase said, guiding him into the bathroom. “Please tell me I don’t have to help you the rest of the way.”

  When he reached to pull off his shirt, he noticed it was stained. And that he couldn’t remember when he’d last changed. “I can manage to undress myself, Chase. Even if I am a total fool.”

  Chase headed to the door. “You aren’t a fool. You’re only a human being. Now get in the shower and wash off that grime. I’m going to make you some coffee and breakfast.”

  Was it morning? Evan had lost track of time. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he immediately turned away. He looked like a hiker who’d gotten lost on the Appalachian Trail for weeks. But what did it matter? He didn’t care how he looked. He didn’t care about much of anything. Except his paint.

  After showering, he decided to shave off his beard. He’d only grown it to help disguise his identity while in Dare Valley. Perhaps erasing it would help dull his memories of Margie.

  Except he didn’t want that. She was one of the best things to ever happen to him. But he couldn’t bear the pain he felt, and he didn’t know how to keep the good and leave the bad behind.

  He donned fresh clothes, and by the time he entered the kitchen, his stomach was growling. Then he noticed the letter Margie had given to him through his chauffeur wasn’t sitting where he’d left it—dropped it—on the counter.

  “Give me the letter, Chase,” he said in a hard tone, striding across the kitchen.

  Chase only slid him a cup of coffee. “I wondered why she tried to call and text you after refusing to marry you. She even called you from Dare Valley, which is pretty expensive.”

  “Dammit! You had no right to keep tabs on me.”

  Chase walked to the stove, put a pan on the gas burner, and turned it on. “Evan, I pay your phone bill every month.”

  He crossed the room, only stopping when he was close enough to feel the low warmth emanating from the blue flame. “Bullshit. You have one of our accountants pay my phone bill.”

  Chase shrugged. “I checked because I was worried about you. You know, Louis had some very interesting news to share with me when I called him.”

  His chauffeur so deserved to get fired for that, but Evan wouldn’t do it. He knew Louis cared about him. He was a nice elderly man of fifty with a wife and three kids.

  “Margie was pretty desperate to talk to you. But let�
�s forget about that for the moment. Why did you have Louis take her to the airport, Evan? She’d just broken your heart.”

  His mind swirled like the eggs Chase was whipping with a fork. “Because I told her I would.”

  “I see,” Chase said, grabbing some butter from the fridge and putting a dollop in the pan. “The letter is pretty telling, don’t you think?”

  He wasn’t surprised Chase had read it. Even if it did make him want to punch him in the face. “She felt guilty. That’s all. She has a good heart.” But not big enough to fully accept him for who he was.

  “She didn’t say she didn’t love you,” Chase continued, pouring the eggs into the pan. “Quite the contrary, in fact.”

  “I know what she said, dammit!” The words were hardwired into his brain.

  Dear Evan,

  I’m crying as I write this because I don’t know what to do. You sent your chauffeur to take me to the airport, and so I’m writing a letter for him to give you since you won’t pick up the phone or answer my texts. I went to your building, but your security guard wouldn’t let me in. I waited outside for a few hours in the rain, but you never came out. Did you see me? It hurts to think you would ignore me like this, but I understand why.

  I didn’t mean to hurt you, Evan, but I know I did. Oh, God, I know I did. Even though we aren’t together right now, I can feel your pain, like I could always feel your emotions when we were together. I don’t know how to do this, to explain. I never imagined you would ask me to marry you, and I didn’t know what to say but no. My life is in Dare Valley. My bakery is opening in two weeks.

  And you…

  Oh, Evan, you were right when you said you feared I couldn’t accept you as a billionaire. But it’s not you. It’s the money and the life. It’s the private tours at the Louvre and solo cruises down the Seine with a wait staff just for two.

  I don’t want that life again. I left it so long ago. And even though I know you aren’t my parents—and that you love me enough to want me to marry you—I can’t go back. You love Paris and all it offers you. You love penthouses and yachts and race cars.

  And you love inventing.

  That’s the part of you I always loved most. The simple Evan. The one who didn’t need all that stuff to make him happy.

  I’m writing this in the hopes that it will reach you, that you’ll read it, and that some part of you will understand. Please don’t shut me out like this. I don’t know where we go from here, but I don’t want our time together to end like this.

  I thought about changing my flight and staying for a few days, hoping to catch you coming out of your building. But I’m stubborn and I know how stubborn you can be too. I’m afraid you’re never going to speak to me again, and that breaks my heart more than anything.

  Because I really loved you too. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I thank you for showing me so much. Things I can’t even describe because I’m crying too much right now and my head is too foggy from being awake all night.

  Evan, please let me explain better than this letter. I’ll even fly back to Paris for a couple of days to say this in person. Just call me, okay? I don’t know how to make this better unless you do.

  All my love,

  Margie

  Someone was grabbing his hand and putting something in it. He looked down and realized it was a plate of scrambled eggs. He walked woodenly to the kitchen table and sat down, but he wasn’t hungry now. Her words had stolen his appetite again—like they had the first time he’d read the letter after Louis gave it to him. She’d also given Louis the box that held the engagement ring Evan had chosen for her.

  He’d thought about going to the airport to talk to her, but by then she’d already boarded. And what was he supposed to say? Nice knowing you? He didn’t think he could squeeze those words out.

  He didn’t know how to do this either.

  “Eat, Evan,” Chase said, setting a cup of coffee in front of him before crossing the kitchen to pour himself a cup.

  Then he sat across from him as Evan tried to eat the eggs. They didn’t taste like eggs.

  “It’s weird,” he told Chase. “Nothing tastes good anymore. I’ve been too busy with my paint to look up why that happens to the body. Must be something about trauma.”

  “Just eat, Evan,” Chase repeated. “Knowing why isn’t going to change the feeling.”

  “But it’s weird, isn’t it?” he asked. “If you ask me, the whole love thing is weird. I’m starting to believe more in that whole mind-body connection.”

  Chase settled back in his chair. “Let’s change the subject before you go all New Age on me. Have you given your paint a name yet? Please tell me it’s not from Harry Potter.”

  He shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to answer. No, the name wouldn’t come to him. Okay, that was a lie. He kept wanting to name it after Margie somehow, but that simply could not be done.

  “You’re evading, Evan,” Chase said. “You didn’t call her Margie, did you?”

  He must be the most obvious idiot on the planet. “I haven’t named it yet.”

  “Evan…”

  “Why don’t you name it?” he asked in his single flash of non-paint brilliance for the day. “You know our clients and our market best. You’ve been making fun of my names for years. Time for you to give it a go.”

  Chase studied him. “I know you have a name, Evan. You get pretty intimate with your inventions. I want to know what you’re calling her.”

  “And I told you. I don’t have a name.” He set his fork down. There was no way he could shove any more of those tasteless eggs into his mouth.

  He reached for his coffee and took a sip while Chase studied him. There was a line between his friend’s brows, and Evan knew he was debating telling him something. His belly tightened.

  “Whatever it is, don’t tell me,” he said, setting his cup down.

  That only made Chase’s mouth twitch. “I think it’s time. Seeing you like this…reading Margie’s letter… She called me, Evan. Called the switchboard at headquarters and asked to speak to me. When the secretary put her off, since she didn’t have a clue who she was, your girl said bold as brass that she had important information about one of your inventions and needed to speak to me right away. Suffice it to say, she was immediately put through.”

  That hollow part in his chest didn’t feel so hollow anymore. Suddenly it felt like it was filled with a million knives, tearing him apart from the inside out. “Please don’t say any more.”

  “She’s worried about you, Evan,” he said gently. “Sick with worry. I think she might have been crying, but she was pretty brave about it. She told me who she was and gave me a short version of what had happened. When she asked me if I knew how you were doing, I told her I hadn’t seen or heard from you in a couple weeks.”

  He had to clear his throat to speak. “I could feel you watching me on the security cameras in the lab. I didn’t like it, so I disabled them.” If his paint had been ready, he might have painted himself invisible instead.

  Chase rolled his eyes. “I let you disable them.”

  “I could have kept you out of there,” Evan said with a snarl, “but it would have taken time away from my paint.”

  “I told Margie I would check on you, and so I am,” Chase said, sipping his coffee. “You have to resolve this, Evan. Like a man.”

  He pushed back from his chair as anger spurted through him. “Don’t bring my masculinity into question. I didn’t do this. She did.” Turning, he left the kitchen and went back to the lab.

  Just as he expected, Chase followed him. “A man doesn’t run away, Evan.”

  He fisted his hands at his sides and turned to face his friend. “What in the hell was I supposed to do after she turned me down? Say okay, thanks anyway, and take her to the airport? I’m not that big of a person, Chase. Did you ever talk to Trisha after she took those confidential papers from your office and left you?”

  The grooves aroun
d Chase’s mouth deepened for a moment. “You better believe I did. I gave her the riot act, which she deserved, and then I sicced the best corporate espionage and divorce attorneys I could hire on her.”

  Margie didn’t deserve the riot act. She’d only told him the truth. He just couldn’t thank her for it. “And yet you ended up giving her a considerable part of your personal fortune.”

  “She got a good lawyer too. But you’re evading the issue, Evan.”

  He turned his back and walked over to the computer screen displaying the paint formula. Like most great equations, it was perfect in its simplicity. He’d finally figured out how to change the matrix in the paint so it wouldn’t bind the pigment. Instead, he was going to use the polymers to make both the pigment and the surface it covered invisible.

  “I want to get back to work,” he told Chase. “I’m sending Rajan the formula today so he can start creating the physical paint. I’ll fly to DC in a few days so we can test it out.”

  “Margie’s bakery seems to be a success,” Chase continued like Evan hadn’t been talking business. “Have you looked it up online? There are at least sixty five-star reviews on Yelp already. Her cinnamon rolls are as incredible as the former owner’s, apparently, but people are also touting her baguettes. They taste just like loaves baked in Paris, many say. And then there are the croissants…”

  Those knives were twitching inside Evan again, and he could feel his life force bleeding out. Other people were tasting her bread now. For a time, she’d fed him, and his life had been transformed by it. No more.

  “I’m happy to hear about her success,” he said, and even he could hear how hoarse his voice sounded. “I always knew she would do well. She’s a great baker.”

  “And a fierce business owner,” Chase said, coming forward until he stood next to him. “I was impressed with her, Evan. When she called. It took courage.”

  He could almost hear what his friend wasn’t saying. “Courage you don’t think I possess.”

  “That’s for you to decide. But I’ve liked this new you since you visited Dare Valley.”