Charmed by the Billionaire

by Jessica Lemmon

  I search my brain for remnants of the speech I halfway prepared to give him tomorrow. I need more time. I’m not ready.

  “Okay, I’ll go first. But only because you’re forcing my hand. I wanted to save this for last.” He pulls his T-shirt over his head and tosses it onto one of the loungers next to the pool. Soft pink light glows warmly on his bare skin, shadowing the bumps of his ab muscles and the round firmness of his pecs. He’s beautiful. A golden god. And for a brief moment in time, I could touch him whenever I wanted.

  It’s been a little over a week since I’ve seen his body, and already it feels like an eternity. I don’t mean to, but my eyes feast on his torso. Halfway through their exploration, they snag on something new. He notices me noticing. He doesn’t say a word.

  “You have another tattoo.” The fresh ink, so recent his skin is red, surrounds the carpe diem tattoo.

  “I was lost,” he says, his voice choked with an emotion I refuse to name. “Now I’m not. I have to cover it up before we get in the water, though. It’s still new.”

  “It’s a compass,” I whisper, my hand going to the necklace draped at my throat. He touches the pendant before his glittering brown eyes hit mine.

  “When I gave you this, I told you that you were your own true north. And you are. You always will be. No matter what happens in the future.”

  It’s harder to ignore my heart when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs, but I block her out and focus on Benji. Benji, who tattooed a compass onto his flank. I shake my head, unsure how to respond. He keeps talking and saves me from it.

  “When you left my bed for the final time, and life was like it used to be, I didn’t have any direction anymore. I have felt lost every day since. I don’t ever want to feel that way again.” He touches the tender skin around the compass tattoo. “I had this done as a reminder of my true north. There is a capital C where the N should be. It’s for Cris. You’re my true north too.”

  His smile isn’t the confident, disarming smile I’m used to seeing. It’s more hopeful, less sure, and a million times more genuine. Something has happened. I clutch hands with my heart and pray he gives us what we’ve longed for over the last year or two. Or hell, ten.

  “Remember when you said I was never getting married and I agreed I wasn’t?” he asks.

  A rocky start, but I nod anyway.

  “Marriage has always been a far-off idea attached to some faceless, nameless person. The idea of it is absolutely fear-provoking.” He takes both my hands in his. “But when I picture marrying you, it’s way less scary.”

  I don’t want him to make promises out of guilt or to make himself or both of us feel better for a little while. So I say, “You don’t have to—”

  He interrupts me.

  “Let me finish. I’m not saying you have to marry me. I’m not saying you have to marry anybody. What I’m saying is, I can’t…” He licks his lips. “I don’t want to let you go. And that’s something I’ve never said to anyone. Because everybody goes, Cris. My parents left, and they didn’t choose to. They left me alone, and I made myself sick over it. Did you know I had stomachaches every day for the first year I lived with the Owens?”

  He never told me. Poor Benji. I hate picturing him as a sad kid—as a sad adult. Sad, period. His smile is my refuge.

  “I have loving, kind adoptive parents who treat me like gold. Brothers who treat me…well, back then not like gold, but eventually they did when we grew up. And then when I was on TV on this show called Divide and Conquer. It was this huge math competition—”

  “Divide and what?” I ask as a smile trembles on my lips.

  “I know. Stupid.” He shakes his head, embarrassed. He’s so endearing, I fall in love with him a little more. “Anyway, before the show aired I thought I was going to die of a stomachache. I didn’t tell anyone, but I was scared to death I was going to lose. Not just the competition but everything that meant anything to me. I latched onto that group, onto my friends. I was terrified I was going to bomb the tournament and then they’d leave too.”

  He moves his hands to my jaw and tips my head. I’m staring into his eyes. Those caramel-colored eyes. There’s definitely something in them I’ve never seen before. It looks like what’s in my heart. It looks like love.

  “This last week I have been so sick,” he tells me. “Terrified. It took me way too long to realize why. What I’m terrified of losing, Cris, is you. I worry I blew my shot at having a future with you because I was too stuck in my own head to take a chance. So this is me taking it. The night in the hotel room, with the roses and donuts and the candles, I told you I was going to make sure you knew how the man in your future should treat you. But you’re not going to need that advice any longer. I am the man in your future, and in your past, and here, in the present. And I know exactly what you need.”

  I swallow thickly, my mouth dry and my eyes wet.

  “All you have to do is give me one more chance. You can’t pretend it’s enough for me to be your boss or your best friend or your client. I need you to be all in, Firecracker. I need you to give us your best damn shot. If I blow it, then you can try and get rid of me. But I deserve a chance to love you the way I know I can. The way I already do.”

  Tears shimmer on the edges of my lashes and his face goes blurry. “You do?”

  He gives me one of those melty Benji smiles—a real smile. A smile the likes of which I haven’t seen since the night he suggested we didn’t stop what we started.

  “Duh. I was afraid to say it, and so my body made me say it. I’m torn up. A complete wreck. I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat or sleep or function if you tell me no tonight. But I love you enough to let you tell me no if you have to.” He lets out a laugh that sounds the slightest bit unsure. “I’m really hoping you don’t tell me no.”

  “Why would I tell you no when I’ve been in love with you for weeks—years, probably.” I roll my eyes. “You’re my ultimate weakness.”

  His lips cover mine, his arms wrapping around me and holding on tight. As I kiss him, I consider all the ways he’s shown me he loves me without saying it. Without either of us realizing what he was doing.

  “We wasted too much time,” he whispers against my lips, his fingers diving into my curls. “I’ve been shortsighted. I’ve been selfish. I’ve been—”

  I smother his words with another kiss he doesn’t waste any time deepening. I reach for his belt and he tugs at my clothes. Soon I’m no longer wearing my T-shirt. Then my pants are being pulled from my legs. He shucks his jeans next, and once we’re both down to our skivvies, he’s grinning, the happiest I’ve ever seen him.

  He tips his head toward the pool. “Get in.”

  “You have more tricks up your sleeve?” I ask as he carefully tapes a plastic covering over his fresh tattoo.

  He hoists one amazing eyebrow. “Not in my sleeve.”

  I dive into the deep end and then rise out of the water into rose petals, dodging the floating candles flickering on the water’s surface.

  He dives in next. When he pops up, he pushes his hand through his hair and blinks long eyelashes at me. Water rolls down his cheeks, his smile permanent. He leads the way to the shallower part of the pool and I follow. When I reach him, he catches me and locks my legs around his waist.

  “This is what I know for sure,” he tells me as I rest my arms on his shoulders. “I didn’t know what love was until I found you. My true north. My Firecracker. A future without you—every part of you—isn’t one I want to contemplate.”

  “Same,” I say, my voice cracking.

  “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  Through my own incurable smile, I oblige him. “I love you too.”

  He places a gentle kiss on my lips again. “I say we start with the donuts, take a shower, work our way to the bedroom, and then we can talk about when you’re moving in.”

  My head snaps back and I blink at him. “Isn’t that fast?”

  “Is it? You
’ve already raised three kids. You’re an empty nester. What are you waiting for?”

  I laugh. He makes a very good point. “I can’t think of a single reason to say no. I mean, you were my first.”

  “Your first,” he says, his voice a low possessive growl. “And your last.”

  We make out for a while longer in the pool. Until the thick ridge of his erection is nudging my center and we’re both out of breath. We skip the donuts and shower and go straight to the bedroom. After a sweaty round of the best makeup sex ever, we circle back and check the other two items off the list at the same time.

  While sitting on the bench in the stone-walled shower enjoying our crème-filled donuts, Benji talks about the way life will look once I move in. And the photos of us we’ll take and hang on the walls.

  He promises to make frames for them.

  Turn the page for a preview of Once Upon a Billionaire

  Once Upon a Billionaire [Preview]

  CHAPTER ONE

  Vivian

  Vivian Vandemark isn’t my real name.

  It sounds fancy, though, doesn’t it? That alliteration of both Vs is to die for and reminds me of a classy label on clothing. Vandemark could have been the next Gucci. Maybe in another life.

  I changed my name because my actual last name has been tainted by the man who gave it to me. My father is a criminal. Was. Was a criminal. It’s hard to get used to the idea that he’s no longer living. One would think since he was in prison for the last several years he’d be easy to forget, but that’s only because I haven’t told you who he is yet.

  Walter Steele.

  Yes, that Walter Steele.

  The man who robbed his investors of millions and millions of dollars to line his own pockets. That man is my father.

  Was. Damn. That really is hard to wrap my head around.

  The trial was bananas. It lasted one hundred days, and during that time my mother, brother, and I were harassed nonstop by the press. That was six years ago. Since then I’ve fallen off the radar.

  My mother quite literally fell off the radar when she swallowed a lot of pain relievers and chased them with a lot of vodka. That was the day my father was sentenced. By then I was twenty-three and out of the house. My younger brother, Walt, was twenty. He’s been trying to finish what booze my mother didn’t since then. He’d been an addict most of his young life. I’ve never enjoyed escapism as a hobby.

  Until now, I suppose.

  Chicago is a far cry from Clear Ridge, Ohio. Clear Ridge has an unassuming Midwest vibe. The town is mostly shopping malls and chain restaurants, tall maple trees, and fences surrounding green, grassy yards. The live-work site currently being built is unique to this area. It’s impressive, even if the company building it is the bane of my boss’s existence.

  I’m employed in a government office in this aspiring city. The building I walk into each day is half the size of my father’s former summer home. Half.

  I used to be a high-powered executive. All my faith, trust, time, and savings were wrapped up in our family’s company. And then it all turned out to be a sham. On my watch, everything fell apart. Steele Investments toppled like a house of cards, taking my position with it. My father went down with the ship, the rest of my family “spared,” if you could say that.

  I’ve never felt more powerless. Watching my life crumble reminded me of TV footage of the World Trade Center vanishing in a plume of smoke on 9/11. When I left that life behind, I swore never again.

  I’ll never again stand by, unwittingly, while someone steals (steal/Steele—how about that for irony?) people’s life savings and retirement funds. I thought I was living the good life, but it was blood money.

  Now, I buy my clothes at department stores or Target—they have some really nice clothes, by the way. I also cook at home a lot—not well, but I’m learning. And I endure the office coffee even though I pass a drool-worthy Starbucks each and every morning on my way to work.

  I’m paying penance for a life I never chose. Thanks, Dad.

  The second I set foot in the office, I’m met with raised voices. The loudest of the two is Gary, an otherwise mild-mannered inspector at our bureau. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him raise his voice. My boss, Daniel, however, has a well-known temper. His blood pressure often runs high—you can tell by his reddened face.

  Gary and Daniel are in Daniel’s office, and while I can’t make out what they’re saying, it’s obvious they’re having a disagreement.

  “Amber.” I lean into my coworker’s cubicle. “What’s going on?”

  She looks over her shoulder and gives me a smile that is half amused, half surprised. “Gary is fit to be tied.”

  “Yeah, I hear that. What’s it about?”

  “Who do you think?” She raises one prim, blond eyebrow.

  “Nathaniel Owen,” I answer. The billionaire in charge of the live-work project has been mentioned about a billion times since I started working here, and never favorably.

  “The one and only.” Amber, still smiling, stands and leans a shoulder on the cubicle wall. We’re both facing Daniel’s closed door where the “conversation” is going strong. Nathaniel Owen’s name is used like a curse word in this place. I’ve never interacted with him personally, but I’m familiar with the type.

  Rich. Entitled. The kind of man who believes he’s above the law.

  The door swings open and Gary steps out, his mouth a firm line of disapproval. He huffs past Amber’s cubicle and we brace ourselves for Daniel’s wrath when he looks at us. No, wait.

  Looks at me.

  “Vandemark. Get in here.” He vanishes into his office.

  Daniel is in charge of my paycheck, a paycheck I need very badly, since I refuse to touch the money in an account I set up after Dad’s trial. That money is for my brother’s rehabilitation. Those places aren’t cheap, and I’ll drain every dime out of it if it makes him better. I failed him once—I won’t fail him again. He’s the only family I have left.

  Anyway, my paycheck. It’s all that stands between me and homelessness, so I tend to be more gracious to my boss than he deserves.

  Amber whispers “good luck” as I leave her side and enter the lion’s den, aka Daniel’s office.

  “Good morning.” I try to sound breezy.

  “Not even close.” He’s pacing the floor, hands on his hips, frown marring his receding hairline. “Nathaniel Owen is a burr in my ass.”

  That should be the motto of the Clear Ridge Bureau of Inspection.

  “I need you to go to the Grand Marin site,” he tells me. “Owen’s crew is there today, and I have it on good authority he has a meeting with the mayor which means he’ll likely be onsite. I don’t care if the mayor is in Owen’s pocket. We are not. At least we aren’t any longer.” He mutters that last part while looking out the window facing the alley.

  “Not Gary?” I can’t imagine a scenario where Gary would do anything short of aboveboard.

  “Owen paid off Gary. He had to have.” Daniel’s face turns beet red. “That electrical inspection paperwork flew in here on wings for my approval. It was way too fast. Gary was bribed. Mark my words.”

  I’m not a conspiracy theorist, but in this case Daniel makes a great point. Nothing happens fast in our little government bureau, and it’s particularly suspicious that Owen seems to make things happen at lightning speed compared to everyone else.

  “Did Gary quit?”

  “I fired him.” Daniel puffs up his chest, proud.

  “Seriously?”

  “No one at CRBI accepts bribes and remains on my payroll.” He ices me with a glare. “You’ll do well to remember that since you’re heading over there.”

  My blood heats. I’d never accept a bribe. Especially one from a stubborn billionaire.

  “We have a narrow window to teach Owen a lesson. You’re just the woman to do it.”

  “I hope you understand that I will not falsify paperwork in order to shut him down, either. I respect your mission, Dan
iel, but I’m not going to stoop to Owen’s level.”

  My boss’s grin is a tad creepy, but approving. “I know you won’t. All you have to do is ask Owen for proof of a passed electrical inspection. He won’t be able to show you one because he doesn’t have one—not legally, anyway. I never signed off on it. Therefore, you can shut him down.”

  “Wouldn’t you be a better candidate?” I don’t do site visits. In my six months as chief desk jockey, I haven’t been to a single construction site. It’s part of my plan to lay low. If I’m not in charge of anything I can’t fuck it up. Not to mention I’d have no idea what to do once I got there. “We both know how much you’d enjoy nailing his ass to the wall.”

  “More than you can imagine, but my schedule is full. Since Gary was fired, the next inspector in line handles their shit-show. Our other inspectors are busy, and frankly, I don’t want to wait another second. So, you get a raise. Congratulations. This project is a nightmare.”

  Did he say raise? My ears perk. Despite wanting to lay low, an increase in my income would be nice. Given that I refuse to touch my brother’s and my nest egg, I have to keep the lights on at home somehow.

  “If Owen isn’t there when you get there, let the site manager know you mean business.”

  Nathaniel Owen has a reputation for completing projects on time, which is a rare and coveted quality in a builder. He also sidesteps rules and does things his way rather than follow the letter of the law. The city of Clear Ridge doesn’t take kindly to rule-benders, and Daniel hates them. Look at that, my boss and I have something in common.

  “No problem,” I assure Daniel.

  Maybe delivering justice will be cathartic. I can’t go back in time and keep my father in line, or recoup the money of the people who trusted him, but I can prevent Nathaniel Owen from lining his pockets with even more money. The Owen name is stamped on nearly every new build within a thousand miles. How much more can the guy possibly need?