The Complete Bad Boy Billionaire Boxed Set

by Amelia Wilde

  Angie is still talking, but I haven’t taken in a word she’s been saying. Something about the recovering market, more about potential sale prices and added value….

  My phone buzzes with a text message, but it’s probably from Jess. I’ll get to it when I’m back upstairs.

  “Right,” I say, the next time there’s even a hint of a lull. “If you could email this all to me that would be…that would be great. And I’ll get back to you on Monday.” I don’t bother telling her that I’ll have a final decision. Standing here right now, in the New York City sun, I feel entirely undecided.

  About selling, that is. Not leaving. I’m going to get out of here, and I’m never going to lose myself in the business of other people again.

  “That’s great!” Angie chirps on the other end of the line. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you. This is going to mean great things, Carolyn!”

  Never let it be said that Angie doesn’t have a bubbly personality.

  I drop my phone back into my purse, take one more deep breath, and square my shoulders.

  I’m doing the right thing. Once I’ve made a little headway with packing, I might even text Ace and ask him to talk.

  I push open the door to the lobby, blinking in the relatively low light, and take a moment to adjust my purse.

  And then my heart pounds, so hard it feels like it might burst right out of my chest, because standing in the center of the lobby, looking at me, is Ace.

  I want to run toward him, and I want to run back out onto the sidewalk, because the surge of electricity that streaks through me is almost too strong for my body to handle. Those gray eyes, that body, Jesus….

  He’s clutching a folder in his strong hands and seems frozen to the spot, but then he blinks and takes a deep breath.

  “Ace,” I say, not caring in the slightest that Arnie the doorman is riveted to the scene, having put down his copy of today’s Times.

  Ace shifts his weight and moves toward me, and it jolts me out of my own head. I’m still too close to the door, and it takes everything I have to walk toward him with a measured pace.

  It’s only a matter of seconds until we’re standing face to face. I breathe in the spicy scent of him and my entire body relaxes.

  “Hi.”

  His eyes bore into mine.

  My entire being hangs on his presence.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Ace

  I’m on the way out to the car to tell Noah to stay where he is at any cost, but there she is.

  Her hair is a little windblown from being outside, cheeks pink, face determined, and I fall in love with her all over again just by watching her come through the lobby.

  When she sees me, her mouth drops open and she freezes in place, eyes locked on mine.

  “Ace,” she says, and it’s like there’s nobody else in the lobby. Nobody else in the entire world. Or it would be, if the doorman—Artie?—had decided not to flip his newspaper down onto his podium to watch.

  He is nothing to me.

  Carolyn is everything.

  It hits me that I’m clutching the folder so hard that the edges are curling, and Arnie’s eyes are flicking back and forth from me to Carolyn.

  I can’t stand here forever, even if it feels like time has stopped.

  I take a deep breath and move toward her, across the suddenly vast expanse of the lobby, and it seems to wrench Carolyn out of her frozen stillness.

  If she starts to run right now, I’ll die, because I’ll be in the middle of a Lifetime movie.

  The thought would make me laugh if this moment wasn’t so deadly serious.

  Carolyn meets me in the middle of the lobby, and everything around us disappears.

  She’s so close that I can smell the light, flowery perfume she wears—not every day, but sometimes, and I can see a slight quiver in her chin. All the words I’ve prepared over the last several hours fly right out of my mind.

  I’m rendered speechless by her.

  But I can’t be speechless. This is my moment to shine, damn it, and I’m not going to stand here tongue-tied until she makes the first move.

  “Hi.”

  The word comes out unbidden, and not nearly as confident as I hoped, but Carolyn sucks in a little breath like she’s surprised that I could think of something so genius.

  She swallows.

  “Hi, Ace.” Her eyes are dark, deep, and shining. The charge between us is palpable, running up and down the length of my arms. I want to reach out and take her into a hug and never let go again, but there’s housekeeping of infinite importance to be done first.

  I can’t remember a damn word of all the things I wanted to say to her, but as the moment stretches on I start to think it doesn’t matter. It’s just absolutely essential that I say something, anything, to break the silence and thrust us into the future.

  Even if it scares the hell out of me to do that.

  Something shifts inside of me. It does scare the hell out of me. I’ve never liked to admit that shit terrifies me. I’ve never liked to be that kind of man. But it does. Things that are this important make my heart pound.

  I take in another breath and fall into Carolyn’s eyes.

  “It scares the fuck out of me to say this,” I start, my voice tight with emotion. “But I’m sorry. I never should have walked away from you.”

  Carolyn’s hand flies to her mouth, and her eyes go bright with tears. Just as suddenly, she drops her hand. “No, you should have.” If I know her at all, she’s struggling mightily to keep her voice level. “It was none of my business. I just was wrapped up in—” She looks away, shaking her head. “I was wrapped up….”

  I can’t stop myself. I reach out and put a hand on her shoulder, soothing, and then move my hand down to her wrist, taking her hand. “Carolyn.”

  The sound of her name brings her up short, and she looks up into my eyes, blinking back tears, biting her lip. “Yeah?”

  “I should never have walked away from you,” I say again, emphasizing every word. “It was a huge fucking mistake. Because I love you.”

  Her smile is so brilliant, so wide, that it’s almost blinding. “Don’t break my heart, Ace Kingsley.”

  “I’m trying to put it back together. Here.” I push the folder toward her.

  She takes it, her eyebrows drawing together. “What is this?”

  “Everything that happened in Italy. And more.”

  With one swift movement, Carolyn pushes the folder back into my chest, insistent, with an expression that’s half grin, half pleading. “I don’t need it.”

  “Carolyn—”

  “I don’t need it, and I don’t want it.”

  “You do.”

  “I don’t.” She laughs, her voice high and free. “I don’t need it for me, and I don’t need it for my former website.”

  “Former?”

  “I shut it down,” she says, dropping the folder to the floor and taking both my hands in hers. “Rumors are bullshit!” she cries, and Arnie laughs and tries to hide it with a cough. “I’m done with rumors. I’m done with anything that could possibly take me away from you. I don’t need your folder. To hell with your folder. If you want to tell me something, you can tell me, on your own time, and—”

  I take her face in my hands and muffle her words with a kiss that makes my chest hum with warmth and security and stability and the knowledge that I am never, never going to be alone again.

  The meaning of it breaks over me like the dawn.

  Carolyn pulls away. “I’m such an asshole.”

  “You are not,” I say, going back in for another kiss.

  She puts her fingers to my lips while my hands go to her waist, pulling her in. “I never answered you.”

  “Answered you about what?”

  “I love you, too! So much! Do you hear that, Arnie?”

  Arnie guffaws behind his podium and lifts up his newspaper, and I lose myself in another kiss that’s so deep and so strong, I never want to come back to
the surface.

  With Carolyn by my side, I’m invincible.

  “I love you,” she whispers into my ear the next time we come up for air.

  It’s the beginning to the world’s most beautiful eternity.

  Epilogue

  Carolyn

  “Wake up!”

  The playful whisper is close to my ear, and I roll over and try to pull the pillow back over my head. It’s swiftly pulled out of my grasp.

  “Wake up, gorgeous.” This time the tone is sultry, and a strong hand slides down over the bare, smooth skin of my stomach, toward the space between my legs.

  I giggle and push the hand away. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “It’s almost dawn.”

  “Why are you waking me up before dawn?”

  “Because we’re leaving.”

  I push myself upright in the massive bed in the center of Ace’s penthouse bedroom. “Leaving?”

  “Yes. We’re going on a vacation, and we’re leaving with the sunrise. The plane is ready to go. It’s just waiting on us.”

  “Where are we going?” I rub the sleep from my eyes and run a hand through my hair.

  “You’ll find out when we get there.”

  Ace’s hand goes to the back of my head and he kisses me, lighting up my entire body with need for him. The tease blocks my hand when I reach for the front of his boxers.

  “Come back to bed. We don’t have to leave yet.”

  “If you want time to shower, you’ll have to get out of bed this very instant, love of mine.”

  I fall dramatically back on the bed and sigh.

  Ace scoops me up into his arms and carries me, laughing, to the master bathroom, where he deposits me before the shower and turns on the water. To the perfect temperature, as always.

  I step into the shower and let the warm water cascade down over my skin, my heart picking up speed. A surprise vacation almost makes up for the fact that Ace has woken me up at this ungodly hour. Of course, he’d never dream of flying commercial, and his private jet is one of the best-outfitted I’ve ever seen.

  Not that I’ve had many opportunities to fly on it, since we’ve been busy figuring out which of our combined properties to keep.

  I finally sold my apartment, to Angie’s delight, and moved into the penthouse with him. Over the past few months, he’s shared many of his properties with me—one in Phoenix, another in Seattle, one on the Gulf Coast—and there are more. He’s far more invested in real estate than I ever have been, and he’s got the gorgeous homes to prove it.

  While I shampoo my hair and soap up my body, running a razor over my legs as quickly as I can, Ace disappears from the bathroom, returning when I’ve stepped out with a complete outfit in his hands.

  “You forgot panties,” I say as I towel off my hair.

  “I didn’t.” He holds up a silky, yet comfortable pair.

  That’s my man.

  The rest of the outfit is standard travel fare—yoga pants, a tight-fitting hoodie, and a tank—only boosted several notches by the fact that Ace had it custom-made for me by his own tailor. As a result, all of it fits like a glove.

  Ten minutes later, I’m dressed, my hair is dried and gathered into a loose bun on top of my head, and I’ve got traveling makeup on—which is to say, none.

  When I come back into the bedroom, Ace grins at me. “Let’s go.”

  “Packing?”

  “Everything’s on the plane.”

  “I just need my phone, then—”

  He holds it up with a wink, and I break into a run, jumping up and throwing my arms around his neck at the last moment. He catches me as I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling me close, and kisses me hard.

  When I finally bring myself to break away, he puts me gently back down on the floor and takes my hand.

  “No time to waste.”

  Thirty minutes later, I sink into my plush leather window seat and sigh, relishing the feeling of Ace’s arm wrapped around my shoulder.

  Fifteen minutes after that, we’re soaring above New York City as day breaks over the skyscrapers.

  “Gorgeous,” I whisper.

  “Not half as gorgeous as you.”

  I settle in.

  To the seat.

  To my life.

  To the adventure that will never end, with Ace by my side.

  Claim Your Free Book

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  Now…keep reading for a sneak peek of Always His, a hot bad boy second chance romance!

  Always His

  A Second Chance Romance

  Chapter One

  Samantha

  The downtown corridor springs to life before my eyes, all of it exactly as I planned: the benches midway down each block, their curved backs beckoning, the flower beds bursting with early summer color, the new streetlamps that will cast a lovely glow in the evenings, the wide sidewalks for pedestrian access that will boost foot traffic to the shops on Main Street.

  “Damn. That looks awesome.” My voice is barely above a whisper, because it’s not in at Ryder & Bloom, one of the Nation’s Premier Landscape Architecture Firms. Still, it’s within my rights to appreciate the results of several weeks of kicking ass on this project. Carson City, an hour north of here and in the middle of nowhere, is going to have a nice Main Street. It’s going to be so revitalized.

  “Sam?”

  I spin around in my chair to face my boss, Michelle Ryder, who also happens to be one of the partners in the firm and my personal career idol. At fifty, she’s chic and fashionable without appearing to care if anyone thinks she is, and her take-no-prisoners attitude has won us more than one contract that otherwise would have gone to one of the many other firms in the city.

  “I was just finishing up rendering for Carson City. See anything you want to change?”

  I ask the question casually, but everyone in the tiny firm knows that it’s far easier to ask Michelle if she wants any changes made when when she drops by. I learned that lesson the hard way two years ago. I had sent some drawings to a senior associate for final approval without one of her once-overs, and it became a major deal—people staying late, there were a bunch of extra meetings, the whole tamale.

  I won’t make that mistake again.

  Michelle comes over to stand beside my chair. I suppress the urge to leap to my feet, even though it’s like sitting in a queen’s presence. She peers down at the screen, then leans in and uses the mouse to zoom the image out. My heart starts beating faster. One word from her and it might add hours to the project.

  There’s a heavy silence, or maybe it just seems that way to me. I scoot slightly to the left in my chair, making sure there’s enough room for Michelle in front of my station. I redirect my focus to a legal pad lying on the side of my desk, trying to appear as if I’m scanning over a list of things I had written down, even though I’m trying to decode her expressions out of my peripheral vision for any clue as to whether—

  “Excellent work, Sam.”

  My chest floods with warmth at her praise, but I hold myself in check. But… The “but” never comes. Instead, Michelle leans a hip onto my desk and crosses her arms over her chest. “This is final, then. What else do you have to finish up this week?”

  “Just a few things for the arboretum.” The local university has contracted with us to redesign the parking area at their arboretum, one of the most famous in the nation. At least, that’s what’s printed on the sign posted out front.

  She nods, her gray eyes flinty. “Pass that off to Jason. I need you on something else.”

  I raise my eyebrows and lean forward a little in my seat. “Were there changes on the Thompsonville Memorial Park?”

  Michelle’s mouth quirks in a smile. “No. We landed something bigger than Thompsonville.”r />
  I smile back at her. “What is it?”

  “It’s something I think you’ll be interested in.”

  “Don’t toy with my emotions!” I put my hand dramatically to my heart and close my eyes like I’m genuinely suffering with this wait. Really, I’m excited…because Michelle wouldn’t be talking to me if I wasn’t going to be pretty heavily involved.

  “Pack your bags, because you’re going home.”

  I open my eyes and stare at Michelle, my mouth opening and shutting and it takes a moment for any sound to escape. “Wait…what?”

  “We got Cerberus.”

  “Really?” My voice goes a little too high. Cerberus Cement is a plant a few miles outside my hometown of Lockton—just far enough outside of it that they can pretend it’s not actually in the town, but close enough to employ a good tenth of the able-bodied men who live there. We sent a team up for a site visit a couple of months ago, and I thought we only had an outside chance on landing the bid.

  Michelle smiles at me, her teeth a brilliant white. “Yes. And it turns out that you were instrumental to us getting the contract. They were very impressed with your work on the prospective designs.”

  I smile, but there’s a strange tightness in my face. It’s not that I don’t love where I came from. My parents still live there, when they’re not at their condo in Florida for the winter.

  I straighten my back. I’m missing a key piece of information here.

  “Is this just another site visit?”

  Michelle shakes her head. “We’re going to need you to be there for at least a few days, maybe a week. The owner wants to meet with a representative to finalize the plans. I want you on it.”

  I take a deep breath, my stomach knotting. Staying in Lockton for a week increases the chances of running into—