4,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Michelle Love
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
I'm a self-made billionaire.
A master at what I do.
And I always get what I want.
I've never asked anyone for anything.
I thought I would never be in her position.
That was until my ex appeared to haunt me.
There is only someone that can help me,
and that's the same girl that begged me not to destroy the lighthouse.
She agreed to help me, not knowing what I needed from her
and now we are being fake married.
Keywords: Guaranteed HEA, no cliffhangers, happily ever after. billionaire, bad boy, office romance, steamy romance, contemporary romance, love books, love stories, new adult, alpha male, romance, action, adventure, steamy romance, small-town secrets, hot, alpha hero. free book, free novels, romantic novels, and sexually romantic books.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
Ähnliche
THE BILLIONAIRE'S LIGHTHOUSE SERIES
A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
The Sons of Sin 8
Michelle Love
©Copyright 2023 by Michelle Love
All rights Reserved
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights are reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
DO YOU LIKE FREE ROMANCE BOOKS?
Blurb
HER CASTLE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
HER QUEST
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
HER VENGEANCE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
HER CONTROL
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
HER DEMISE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
HIS COMMAND
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
HIS REVENGE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
HIS PURSUIT
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
HIS SUBMISSION
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
THEIR LOVE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Sneak Peek Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Other books in this series:
Sign up for Michelle Love's Mailing List
DO YOU LIKE FREE ROMANCE BOOKS?
Sign up for my newsletter and get The Unexpected Nanny, Dirty Little Virgin and other romance books for free!
Sign up now
https://www.steamyromance.info/free-books-and-audiobooks-hot-and-steamy/
Want to see the rest of my books?
Go Here!
https://books2read.com/ap/8YkZvR/Michelle-Love
Blurb
I'm a self-made billionaire.
A master at what I do.
And I always get what I want.
I've never asked anyone for anything.
I thought I would never be in her position.
That was until my ex appeared to haunt me.
There is only someone that can help me, and that's the same girl that begged me not to destroy the lighthouse.
She agreed to help me, not knowing what I needed from her.
And now we are being fake married.
HER CASTLE
An Alpha Billionaire Romance
––––––––
By Michelle Love
Chapter 1
Elizabeth
––––––––
The stairway shakes a little as my grandfather lumbers up the swirling staircase in the middle of the old lighthouse. I follow closely behind him, a little afraid of the darkness inside the old building.
His flashlight bobs with each step, making odd shadows dance across the peeling white-painted walls. “They moved this thing in yesterday, Elizabeth. I thought you might like to see the inside of one of these things.”
“It’s pretty dark,” I say. “I can’t really see anything.”
“Wait till we get all the way up and we can look down,” he says as he huffs and puffs with the long climb we’re making. “Then you’ll see how neat this old building is.”
My grandfather has headed up the conservation committee in our small town of Chesapeake City, Rhode Island for as long as I can remember. The city is full of old buildings he’s petitioned to make into historical places.
This lighthouse sits on the northern side of the city. This side isn’t known for the historical sites as well as the southern side is. My grandfather expects a fight about making this lighthouse a historical monument and getting government protection for it.
“Being this lighthouse was moved here, I think I’m in for a fight, Elizabeth. It might be a long one and I hope you’ll take over the fight when I can’t anymore.” He stops to catch his breath as he’s begun to wheeze.
My grandfather has had asthma forever. Lately, his color has been getting worse, and he is paler than usual. It has me worried about him. For the first time in my memory, I think he may be getting too old to fight for the things he loves so much.
“I’ll be happy to take over the fight, Gramps,” I say as I wait behind him.
The wheezing stops just as suddenly as it began and he forges ahead again. “Great! I knew I could count on you to keep up my work,”
“You can always count on me Gramps. Always,” I say as we make it to the top step and onto a flat surface.
He points the flashlight down and it lights up what seems to be a living area. “Down there is a kitchen and dining area, a living area, and one bedroom and bathroom. A really cozy little setup. If this place was refurbished it’d make a very nice, quaint place for a couple. Maybe newlyweds or an older couple. During the day, the view from up here is amazing. I can’t wait to show it to you in the morning as the sun rises.”
A couple of sleeping bags are laid out on the floor and a lantern is in between them. Gramps lights it up and turns off his flashlight. “You made the trip up by yourself today while I was at school, Gramps?” I ask as I climb into the sleeping bag.
He nods and eases his large body down to sit on top of his. “I did. There’s a picnic dinner in that basket over there. What do you say to grab us a couple of those ham sandwiches and a couple of sodas?”
“I say yes, sir.” Taking the basket, I get the things he’s asked for and hand him a sandwich and a soda pop. “Grape, right, Gramps?”
His smile answers me. I know his favorite pop is grape. Gramps and I have slumber parties all the time. I’m my parents only kid and I think he feels sorry for me. He and my grandmother had five kids and all of his other kids, my aunts, and uncles have large families. I think he feels I’ve been shortchanged by my parents.
A loud siren rings out, making me jump. I shake my head as I sit up in my bed. It’s my alarm. It was all a dream.
My heart is pounding as I try to come back to reality. Gramps is gone. He died a year ago. I don’t understand why I keep having these very vivid dreams from when I was a little girl.
Looking out of my second-floor bedroom window, I see the sun rising behind the old lighthouse that still stands on the water’s edge not too far away from my apartment.
Gramps never could get that place into the history registry. Since it was moved there by the owner, it’s not considered historical.
It’s historical to me, though. My grandfather and I had many sleepovers in the old building. We’d walk along the shoreline and pick up shells and bring them home when we made our visits. Nearly once a month, we’d go. Until I went away to college.
Not a month after I graduated with my history degree, my grandfather died, joining my grandmother in Heaven. She left us two years before he did. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss them.
With my dream, I think Gramps is trying to tell me I need to make a visit to the old place. I haven’t been over there in nearly a year. It sounds like a great idea for a sleepy Sunday afternoon to go back in there and have a nice reminder of when days were simple and me and Gramps were like best friends.
We may not have been able to get that lighthouse protected the way we wanted to but so far the owner has left it like it is. And thankfully there’s never been a no trespassing warning posted on the property.
Luckily we don’t have very much vandalism in this town to make that a necessity for most property owners. Which is good for people like me who like to hang around old buildings and conjure up old memories.
Chapter 2
Zane
“I want it boarded up and fenced off today, Troy. I don’t want to wait for Monday. I plan on selling that thing and I don’t want any more damage to it than it already has. Hell, I may have to bulldoze the old thing, but until I can get down there to see it for myself and make a decision, then I want it secured. Vandals can trash an old thing like that in no time,” I say as I look out the window of my Plaza Hotel Penthouse in New York City at the dawning day.
“But it’s Sunday, boss. I don’t think I can rally any of my men to do that today,” he whines.
“I do not pay you to whine at me, Troy. I suppose if you have to fly your ass down there to do it, then that’s what you have to do. It’s not like you don’t make enough money to do that. And you can take my private jet if that’s what you have to do. Hell, take the wife with you. Make a day of it. It’s supposed to be beautiful in that quaint Rhode Island town.” I tap my finger on the table to indicate for the maid to place my breakfast on it instead of hovering around, waiting for me to get off the phone.
“It’s Chesapeake City, right?” he asks and I hear his wife squealing in the background. She’s delighted so he should stop trying to get out of what I need him to do for me.
“It is.” Picking up the cup of hot coffee, I blow over the surface, making the steam swirl. “The lighthouse on the property may be a piece of crap but I don’t know that for certain. Either way, it will be removed from the property. I’m going to build upscale condos on it. With the purchase made, I want the property secured. The old owner left it wide open. I have no idea how bad the condition of the whole property is but that really doesn’t matter. Bulldozers make conditions right pretty damn quickly.”
“Okay, boss. I’ll get on it right away. I’ll let you know when I’ve got it done. You want me to send you pictures?”
“No, I’ll be going down there soon. Just lock it up for me,” I say then end the call.
Grabbing up a bagel and slathering it with cream cheese, I place a layer of smoked salmon across it and take a bite just as a knock comes at my door. The maid hurries to answer it and I hold my hand up then wiggle my finger for her to come to me first.
She does so and I whisper, “If that’s Miss Saunders, tell her I’m not in.”
With a nod of understanding, the maid walks away and when she opens the door, I hear the shrill voice of the woman I was worried would be coming here this morning.
I made a grave mistake last night. The liquor got to me, I’m afraid.
“Where is Zane?” she asks. “I must see him.”
“He’s not home at the moment. I will be sure to tell him you stopped by, Miss Saunders.”
Easing out of the dining room just in case Meagan manages to get her head in enough to look around, I hide just inside the pantry in the kitchen. I feel like an idiot, but seeing her is not a thing I can handle right now.
I still haven’t figured out how to tell her that was a drunken mistake that will never happen again.
“Let me in to wait for him,” Meagan snaps at my elderly maid. “He and I are a thing now. He’d expect you to let me in to wait for him.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Lois says apologetically. “I cannot let you in without him telling me to.”
Meagan makes a loud huff, no doubt. “Tell him to call me as soon as he comes in. I’ve tried calling him, but it keeps going straight to voicemail for reasons I cannot imagine. He and I had an intimate night, and I know he wants to see me today.”
“Of course he does, ma’am,” my maid says. “I’m sure his phone has run out of battery. I’ll make sure to let him know you were here and would like to speak to him, Miss Saunders.”
“See that you do,” Meagan says with a snippy tone to her shrill voice. “I’ll be at the bistro on the corner. Tell him to come see me there.”
“I will, Miss Saunders.” The sound of the door closing lets me know I can come out of hiding, and when I step around the door to the pantry, I’m met with a pair of disappointed, light blue eyes. “Really, Mr. White? That woman?”
“I know, Lois. My God, do I know. I had too much to drink, and she swooped in on me when I least expected it. I have no idea how I’m going to shake her now.” Going back to the dining room, I sit down to finish my breakfast and suddenly don’t feel the least bit hungry.
“How long has it been?” Lois asks as she takes the feather duster out of her white apron and begins dusting the furniture. The lightweight particles fill the air and land on her black dress.
“She’s been after me for years. I haven’t kept count,” I say then sip my coffee. “Her position as a judge in this town makes her a necessary acquaintance for me. It makes the eviction process much faster for the real estate my company rents out to be settled in a timely fashion.”
“Money,” Lois says as she moves a Tiffany lamp underneath it to clean it. “The root of all evil.”
Her short, white, tight curls bounce a bit as she jumps up to reach the top of the lamp to dust it. I get up and hold my hand out for the duster. The woman is about four feet tall and I hate to see her trying so hard to do the littlest thing like taking the thin layer of dust off the top portion of the lamp.
“This is why you have that stepping stool I bought for you with some of that evil money you’re talking about. The same evil money that pays your wages. Nice wages, as a matter of fact.” I hand her the duster back after freeing the expensive lamp of the dust it had accumulated since yesterday’s dusting.
A nod precedes her words, “I’m only saying that you don’t have to make the judge your bedfellow to get justice, Mr. White. There is more than one judge in this city. Meagan Saunders is not the only one, you know. And she’s an aggressive piece of female. You’ve really put your foot in it this time.”
“I know that. I do. I think a trip out of town might be the thing to get her to forget about me,” I say as I pick up my phone to check out some exotic destination to hide from her at.
“I doubt that would work. She’s been waiting for you for quite some time. And now that you’ve given her a taste. Well, I doubt she’ll be easy to get rid of. Like a bad smell, you know?”
With a groan, I go and fall onto the expensive leather sofa in the living area and throw my arm over my eyes. “What am I going to do about her, Lois?”
“If you were married already, she could never have gotten to you in the first place. How long are you planning on waiting to find a wife? You’re thirty-five for goodness sake. Most men have entire families by your age.”
“Most men don’t have the demanding job I have, either. It’s not easy accumulating the wealth I have, Lois. It takes lots of time, energy, and attention. Woman take that too. I don’t have enough for both.”
“Shame, then,” she says as her feather duster kicks up some more particles into the air that float past her nose, making her sneeze.
“Bless you. And it is a shame. But I don’t know what I can do about that.”
Chapter 3
Elizabeth
With Sunday’s chores out of the way, I walk down the street to visit the old lighthouse. My grandfather has stayed on my mind all day long. The list of things I needed to do today, my one day a week to get things done, grew. Laundry, grocery shopping, wash my car, vacuum, mop, dust. It took nearly all day and the evening snuck up on me.
The summer air is nice and there’s a pleasant breeze coming in off the bay as I walk along to make what now will be a quick visit to the place Gramps and I would hang out at so often. The sound of a hammer bangs away in the distance and has my natural curiosity looking around to see who’s doing what.
The sound gets louder the farther I walk, then I see a truck parked at the edge of the little dirt road that leads to the lighthouse. A woman is sitting on the passenger side of the truck with the door open.
“Hello,” I call out as I come up to her.
She turns and gives me a smile. “Oh, hello.”
Looking out at the lighthouse, I see a board is covering the door and it sends a chill through me. A man walks around from behind it and comes our way with a hammer in his hand.
“What’s going on here?” I ask the woman with confusion.
“This place has been bought by my husband’s boss. You’re soon to have a brand new set of luxury condominiums.” She steps out of the truck and offers her hand to me. “I’m Sandy.”
I shake her hand. “I’m Elizabeth. So, the lighthouse has been sold? I had no idea it was even up for sale.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. I guess it was. My husband’s boss, Zane White, just acquired it. He told my husband to get down here and board it up and put up some fencing to keep everyone out.”
My heart stops, and I look at the old place I may never get to see the inside of again. Not ever!
“This is terrible,” I mumble.
“Why?” Sandy asks me. “It’s just an old rundown building. The property will be looking fantastic in no time. You’ll see.”
“This place has a lot of memories for me. My grandfather and I used to have sleepovers on the observation deck inside. We used to watch sunrises there and some sunsets too. We used to look for shells on the shoreline and pick them up and take them home.” I look at the man who’s just finished boarding up the place and find myself near tears.
“Hi there,” he says with a friendly tone. “Troy Sandoval with The Sandstone Company. How do you feel about getting a brand new condo complex right here in your little town, miss?”
“I feel like I don’t want to see that there. I feel like I want to keep the lighthouse here instead of that terrible idea,” I stammer. “I’ve tried on many occasions to get this property declared historic but haven’t managed to do that yet. This place is special to me.”
“Oh,” he says, his green eyes drooping a bit at the edges. “I’m sorry to hear that. But the lighthouse might be sold and moved somewhere else. If the owner decides to do that instead of demolishing it.”
“Demolishing it?” I cry. “He might tear it down instead of keeping it intact and selling it? That’s terrible!”
The man seems stunned by me and goes around the truck. “Sorry, lady. The fencing will be done tomorrow.” He pulls something out of the back of the truck and I see it’s a sign on a wooden stake. A no trespassing sign.
I watch him take the hammer and pound it into the ground. “I can’t go look around anymore?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Boss’ orders. Sorry, lady.”
I turn and start to walk away in a daze. The lighthouse is off-limits to me. It’s been taken away just that quickly. I have no idea what I can do to stop this.
I’ve circled numerous petitions as has my grandfather, to get the place protected and none have gotten enough signatures thus far. I don’t see how that will help this time either.
My head feels light as I walk back home. The truck comes by me as they leave the place I used to think of as our own little personal spot. The place we would hang out and talk about our day and our plans for the future.
The place where Gramps and I could just hang out and enjoy each other’s company. And it’s going to be taken away. Gone like the wind.
It’s not fair!
It’s not a thing I can allow to happen. Maybe I should chain my body to the building. Maybe I should go back down there with my own hammer and take the plywood off the door and go inside and occupy the lighthouse to stop its destruction.
But maybe the owner will decide to sell it. Maybe I could get the town to buy it and put it in one of the parks or something. But it still won’t be the same as where it is now. On the bay where you can look out over the water and watch the birds flying around.
We watched a storm come in once. I was afraid and Gramps showed me how the storm was a necessary part of our ecosystem. The lightning that filled the sky and made me jump was explained as he told me it brought nutrients to the ground that helped things to grow thick, tall, and strong.
Every day that next week, we went back to the lighthouse and he pointed out the new growth the rain and lightning had made to the area surrounding the lighthouse.
I remember being amazed that something that looked so destructive really wasn’t at all. The wind blew away trash, debris, and old leaves, leaving the area clean. The rain washed away bird poop that had accumulated all over the shoreline where birds would stand and wait for little things to get close to the edge of the water for them to grab and eat.
The whole thing was mind blowing to me and made me have a new respect and better understanding of nature. All because I was able to sit in the top of that lighthouse and look out the windows that surrounded the observation deck and watch the whole thing happen.
Now I’ll never be able to do that again. I’ll never be able to take my kids, if I ever have any, up there so they can witness the things I have. I’ll never be able to walk my dog, if I ever get one, up the swirling staircase to get some much-needed exercise. None of it!
And it’s all because of some dumb-ass who wants to tear down a piece of history to put up some damn condos, which we have way too many of anyway.
I don’t know if I can just sit by and accept that.
Chapter 4
Zane
“What do you mean she refuses to go?” I ask my secretary who has called me to tell me some woman from Chesapeake City, Rhode Island is at our office and is refusing to leave until she can talk to me, personally.
“I told her you only see people who have made appointments and she said she wanted to talk to you and it would only take a minute or two of your precious time,” Lane tells me.
“Did she actually use the word precious?” I ask as I walk down the sidewalk toward the building I own, and our offices are located at the top of.
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm.” I wonder who this piece of work thinks she is. “Did she give you any idea what she wants?”
“She’s muttering a lot about a lighthouse as she paces back and forth in front of your office door.”
“The lighthouse on the property I bought last week, I’m guessing. What the hell does she care about that?” I ask as I turn to the right and head up the sidewalk that will take me in the back entrance so I can take the private elevator up that goes directly into my office. That way, I don’t have to come in contact with the woman who has plans to bother me with such a mundane thing as an old building that was never hers.
“Yes, that lighthouse, Mr. White. I don’t think you own any other lighthouse, sir.”
Cocking my head to the side with my secretary’s curt remark, I choose to blow it off. The woman pacing around the reception area must be working her nerves as she’s never spoken to me like that before.
“I’m coming up, but don’t tell her that,” I say as I use my key to get into my elevator. “What’s this trick’s name?”
“Elizabeth Cook.” Lane’s voice changes to a whisper. “And she is a feisty one, I can tell you that much. She has a very determined look on her face, sir.”
“Few people are as determined as I can be. Tell me, what color is her hair?”
“Blonde.”
“Light or dark?” I ask as I look up to see I’ve barely made it to the fifth floor. I’ll have to have maintenance check out this elevator, it’s going much too slow.
“A darker color, you know, kind of like a golden color, skirting on the edge of brown,” she says.
“Short, long?” I ask.
“Long, past her shoulders,” she answers me.
“Pretty, ugly, fat, short, tall, tell me about her.” I watch the elevator slow to a crawl and get the feeling my ride on it will not take me all the way up.
“To be honest, I have to say she’s beautiful, sir. Pretty, dark green eyes, tall but not too tall, you know. Curvy, not rail thin. A real beautiful woman, but let me tell you, she has this look on her face like she means business. I don’t know exactly what it is she wants as she said she’s only going to tell you that, but get ready to give it to her.”
“We both know when it comes to business, I don’t give in.” The elevator stopped completely, and luckily, I was on the eleventh floor, and it didn’t stop in between floors. “Call maintenance and have them see what the fuck is wrong with my personal elevator. It just completely crapped out on me. Now I have to come in through the front. Don’t greet me by my name when I come in. Call me by some other name and buzz me into my office. Act like I’m there with an appointment with me instead of me being me.”
I smile as I walk out of the elevator with my quick thinking. I can sidestep this broad for an eternity if I want to. Why bother with a conversation with her. I’m not about to give into whatever she’s wanting from me anyway.
Getting into another elevator, I end the call and place the cell phone into the inside pocket of my suit. It’s a new Saint Laurent virgin wool number in black and pretty expensive but she’ll never know that if she’s from Rhode Island. Two and two won’t be put together by the poor hick of a female.
A tremor of emotion I hardly ever get runs through me as the elevator doors open when we stop on the top floor. Fear. For a second, I wonder if the bloodhound, Meagan Saunders, is lurking about.
I’ve managed to evade her quite effectively since my mistake. I had to take one phone call. I told her I was sorry about everything. I never meant to use her and it would never happen again.
She replied that it would happen again and I needed to understand she’s out for more than a one-night stand. She wants me to be the father of her children, the yin to her yang, the groom to her bride.
She’s a very open book, that woman!
The amount of people in the elevator makes it impossible to ease out of it and take in my surroundings for her. Meagan is thin and could be hiding behind the slimmest of furnishings.
A small tree limb moves in one of the planters near the office door. I hesitate then realize it was just the wind caused by a large man passing by it. Relief is expressed with a loud sigh and I realize my hands are balled into fists.
Shaking off my anxiety, I open the door and step inside the office. Looking back, I close the door behind me as Lane says, “Good afternoon, Mr. Dungareepore. You can go right into Mr. White’s office. He’s waiting for you.”
A smile moves over my lips with her over-the-top, made-up last name. I give her a nod as I hear another woman say, “I thought you said he wasn’t here.” A hand touches my arm, and I freeze. “Please, Mr. Dunga, Mr. Dung. Oh, for Pete’s sake. What was your name again, sir? I’m so sorry, I didn’t get the whole thing when she said it.”
Without looking at her as her voice is soft, sweet, amazing, and sensual without her realizing it, I look at Lane and give her a look that says I can’t remember the entire made up, ridiculous name she came up with either.
“This is Mr. Dungareepoop. Pore.” Lane’s face turns red. “Dungareepore. And you can’t bother him, miss. He has important business to see to.” Lane gets up and comes to pry the woman’s hand off my arm.
“Please, sir, please,” she begs me as her grip tightens. “I only need a minute with him. I just have to ask. Please.”
I try not to look at the woman who’s begging me and holding my arm and sending some amazing feelings through me with her touch and the sound of her sweet voice. Something takes me over and I can’t help it. I turn to look at her.
She’s a nice height, maybe five, eight, or nine. The top of her head comes to my chin. Her dark green eyes look kind and are framed with not overly-mascaraed lashes. Her lips are stained pink, and her bottom lip is plump. Her cheekbones are high and rose-colored. Her hair hangs around her face, framing it with golden hues.
“Hey,” I say like some kind of a dork.
“Hello, sir.” She lets my arm go and steps back, making her below the knee length, royal blue dress move like fluid around her calves. With her hand extended, she introduces herself. “I am Elizabeth Cook. I’m from Chesapeake City, Rhode Island and I really need to talk to Mr. White. If I could borrow only a couple of minutes from your meeting I’d be so grateful, you have no idea.”
Well, shit! Now, what do I do?
Chapter 5
Elizabeth
The man in front of me is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in real life. He’s tall, broad in the shoulders, and wearing a very nice suit that feels like it’s made out of a fabric I’ve never felt before.
His eyes are a mixture of greens and browns, a hazel color I’ve never seen quite the same before. His smile is nice. Not soft, not hard, just nice, really nice.
Too bad his last name is so jacked-up!
“So what do you say, Mr. Dungapoo?” I ask.
“White,” he says.
Feeling confused by his answer, I frowned as I asked, “Huh?”
The secretary who was tugging at me stops and walks back to her seat behind the large reception desk. “I knew it,” she mumbles.
The hot man takes the hand I was holding out to shake his and turns it over. As he brings it to his lips which are the nicest color of caramel, I watch them touch the top of my hand and my knees go very weak.
His other hand moves through his dark hair that’s just long enough to lose your fingers in when they go through it. It looks soft as silk and I bet it smells great too.
“I was trying to avoid you, Miss Cook. I am Zane White. The man you’ve been looking for.” His voice is deep and flows like satin when he speaks.
“The man I’ve been looking for,” I repeat.
And maybe he is that man!
With my weak knees, my right ankle twists a bit, and my high heel makes me fall a little. His strong arm is right there to stop me. “Oops!” he says with a laugh. His arm goes around my waist to hold me up, and he looks over his shoulder at the secretary. “Hold my calls will you, Lane?”
“Of course, sir,” she says as she pulls her glasses down and, looks at him over them and shakes her head.
He smells so expensive he should charge women to breathe in his scent. I can’t even explain the smell as it has to be things I’ve never even heard of before. The best way to describe it is, money. Tons and tons of it. Because that’s what it would take to get this perfect mixture of sin, pleasure, and fantasy rolled into one smell.
The sound of a beep makes me look up as I’ve been watching my feet. They feel as if I’m floating but I am taking a step at a time. My black, heel-covered feet walk next to his black, fancy, shoe-covered feet. Just walking next to him like this makes me feel as poor as a church mouse. His attire alone probably costs more than the car I drive.
Opening the door to his office, his hand moves to the small of my back. “I’m so sorry about how this all started. I’ve had some issues lately. Please accept my apology, Miss Cook.”
His hand stays on me as we glide over the black carpeting. His office is a mixture of blacks, deep browns with some reds here and there. Masculine to the max.
“With the company name of Sandstone, I thought your office might be more of a neutral color. How wrong I was,” I say as he keeps his hand on my back all the way until I sit in the soft, black leather chair with tons of cushion in the back and the seat.
“I like dark colors. Sandstone came from the stone I chiseled for my father’s marker.” He moves around me to lean on the front of his large, dark wood desk that has not one thing on top of it.
“Marker?” I ask, as I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about.
“He died when I was nineteen. He had cancer.” His eyes stay on mine and show no sign of pain in them at all, which is amazing to me as he talks about his dead daddy.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I certainly didn’t mean to bring up anything so hurtful.”
He shakes his head a little, unbuttons the two buttons on his black suit jacket, and then leans back, using his hands to hold himself up. I can see the muscles of a six or eight-pack of abs bulging under the white button-down shirt. My mouth waters, and so do other parts of my female anatomy.
“That was a very long time ago. No reason to be sorry.” He re-positions himself to stretch out his long-as-hell legs that swell as his upper thighs give the fabric of the pants a workout.
I swallow hard as I watch them ripple a little. “You work out?”
His smile beams radiantly. “Yes. Do you?”
I shake my head. “No, sir. I mean, I walk a lot. All the time, actually. But I detest exercise. It’s boring to me. You know, too repetitious. I prefer walking and taking in the sights over going to gyms.”
“Rhode Island offers you a lot of outdoor time, doesn’t it? You look fresh. Sun-kissed,” he says as his eyes roam over me.
I feel very odd with his gaze and try to recall why the hell I’m here. Here with this gorgeous man who’s looking at me with such an expression, I can’t recall any other man ever looking at me with.
“The lighthouse on the property you purchased. It’s special to me,” I blurt out like a person with no social skills whatsoever. I might as well be Frankenstein with all the diplomacy I used to say those words.
“How so?” he asks as his arms cross over that wide chest of his. It makes his biceps knot and the heat that’s been building inside of me goes two degrees higher. Five more and I most likely will spontaneously combust!
“My grandfather took me there when I was a kid. I watched a thunderstorm once from it.” I stop myself as my words are coming out all choppy and I just can’t think straight with the way he’s looking at me and smelling so great and looking so damn fine it ought to be illegal. “How’d you get so fucking rich?”
Oh shit!
The way he moves is like a cat. He leans forward and when his hand touches my chin, I shiver. “I work very hard, Miss Cook.”
Hard, now that’s a word I would definitely use to describe this man. I bet he does everything very hard. And now I’m sweating. Three, two, one. Am I on fire yet?
“I’m sure you do. So do I, Mr. White. You see, my grandfather and I have spent years trying to get that lighthouse under the protection of the historical society of our town. But we’ve never been able to. And that was okay, until you bought the property and now it’s just not okay to get rid of the memories my grandfather created for me there.”
His fingers leave my chin and I swear it burns! He moves back, then his back turns to me as he gets up and goes to sit in his massive, black leather chair with a very tall back. He sits and laces his long, thick as shit fingers together as he looks at me with those brown, green eyes which have gone dark. “You do understand the nature of business, don’t you, Miss Cook?”
“I do,” I say as I fidget in my seat. “But you understand the nature of memories and love, don’t you, Mr. White?”
He turns his head to the left and mumbles, “The nature of love isn’t a thing I know much about. My father was my only family and he left this world what seems like a lifetime ago, leaving me alone.” His eyes are dark as night as he looks back at me. “All I know is the nature of business. And business dictates that the lighthouse has to go. One way or another, it has to go, Miss Cook.”
Well, what the fuck do I do now?
Chapter 6
Zane
Her mouth hangs the slightest bit ajar as she looks at me then past me then back at me again. Now there’s a glimmer in her green eyes and she narrows them a little as she says, “Would you sell the lighthouse to the city, or better yet, donate it? I mean, if you’d pay to have it demolished then why not give it away?”
“Why would the city want it?” I ask as I lean back in my chair and watch her fidget in hers. She’s completely adorable as she’s trying to look all business-like but she doesn’t realize the sun shining through the window behind me is making golden strands of her long hair glisten. It’s mesmerizing.
“Because it’s a lighthouse,” her eyes roll to the right. “Who wouldn’t want it?”
“Do you have any idea how much it costs to move buildings, Miss Cook?” I ask and find myself straining to see more of her legs as she crosses them, making her dress hitch up a bit more.
Her calves are just the right amount of slender and plump. Her skin is a creamy color, like a very light latte. I wonder how she tastes.
“You have lots of money, Mr. White.” She licks her lips for some reason, and my eyes dart to her mouth to see her little red tongue move over those luscious pink lips. “It should be no problem for you to have it moved. It would give you a leg up in the community and help you sell those condos you’re going to build.”
“I don’t need a leg up or any kind of help selling those condos. The fact is I have a handful of them that will be filled immediately after they’re finished. So I’m not into this idea of me having the expense of moving this old, dilapidated lighthouse.” Leaning forward, I lean my arm on the desk. “Have you spoken to the city about this thing you’re asking of me, Miss Cook?”
She shakes her head. I watch a lock of her golden hair flow back and forth over one of her very perky breasts. “No. The truth is, I have no idea if they’d even want it. You see, this is about me and my memories. My grandfather passed away last year. That place is special to me. It holds tons of memories and.” She stops and looks all around before she continues, “I need it. Mr. White, I need to be able to look out the window of my bedroom each morning and see the thing. It’s all I have left. Can’t you build your condos somewhere else?”
Her sentimentality is sweet. “This is purely business. I don’t let things like sentiments get in the way of making practical decisions. I’d still be poor as a church mouse if I handled business decisions that way. Surely, you understand, Miss Cook.”
Getting up out of the chair she begins pacing back and forth in front of my desk as she wrings her hands in front of her. “Business is business, I get it.” She stops and looks at me with one wrinkle on her otherwise wrinkle-free forehead. I assume that means she’s very distraught. “But you have more money than most, or I wouldn’t even ask this of you. Please just think about leaving the lighthouse where it is and building your condos somewhere else.”
“No,” I say, feeling a little bit bad about having to say it. But only a little. I don’t cloud business with emotions. Not ever!
“No?” she asks with a deep frown. “Just, no? Not a, let me think about it? Not a, we can take some time and see? Just a simple, no?”
With a nod, I answer her, “No, just a simple word that lets you know I will not be doing as you have asked.”
Placing her hands firmly on my desk, she leans on them and her eyes go all shiny with unshed tears. “Please, Mr. White. I’ve never begged for anything and I am begging you to at least consider leaving the lighthouse where it is and build elsewhere. Please, sir.”
“You’ve never begged for anything?” I ask as I can see she’s not used to asking for anything more than once, obviously.
She’s very beautiful. I assume she always gets what she wants. How sad I have to be the first to end her run of getting what she wants. But someone has to be that person. The one who crushes one of her dreams. I wonder how many dreams she’s had that have gone uncrushed.
“I have never wanted anything this badly before. If you knew how my heart aches with the thought that I’ll never be able to go back inside of that place again you’d have more compassion for me.” One hand moves over her heart and inadvertently, her breast that has the blue fabric of her dress pulled tight over it.
I wonder how that breast would feel in my mouth.
“You say you’ve never wanted anything as badly as you want this building. And you want this building to stay where it is, really. You don’t want it to be moved into some city park. You want things to stay exactly the same way as you’ve always known them. But that can’t happen. Things change. Life goes on. The absence of that lighthouse isn’t a thing that should mean that damn much to you.”
“But it does,” she says as she moves her hand off her heart and down to her side. “It really does.”
“Then you really need more of a life, my dear young woman. Because most people wouldn’t put that much energy into a material object. You do know some force of nature could come in and remove that building, don’t you? I’m not the only threat to its existence. Yet I am the only one who you are pleading to.” I tap the desktop as I watch her mind working.
I’m offering valid points and she’s trying desperately to unseat them all. She’s up against me, though. I am a master at this. She’s so out of her league.
“I suppose if nature took it, I’d be fine with that. I’d miss it but that would be an act of God and I never second guess the man upstairs,” she says then brings her hand up to her lips and puts her index finger near them and nibbles on her short fingernail.
I laugh and get up, going to her. Taking her hand so she can no longer nibble at her already nibbled nail, I bring her hand to my mouth, where I deliver another kiss to it. “No reason to bite your nails over something so trivial as an old building. Tell me, Miss Cook, is there a man in your life at the present?”
She shakes her head and I can tell she’s not breathing as I’m so close to her and I can see she’s nervous. So I let her hand go and take a step back, I notice her exhaling then she says, “No. What does that matter?”
Going back around behind my desk, I take my seat again and gesture for her to do the same. She does as I’ve asked, and I smile at her. “It’s just that I think if you had a boyfriend or husband, then you wouldn’t be here right now. All the way to New York to bother me about this.”
“Bother you?” she shouts, then jumps up out of the chair. Reaching into her purse, she pulls out a small business card and slams it on top of my desk. “Here’s my number. If you decide to grow a heart, give me a call and let me know about it. You heartless, son of a bitch!”
And off she goes to storm out of my office. Only the button has to be pushed to open the door, and I’m not about to let her out of here yet!
Chapter 7
Elizabeth
––––––––
Grabbing the doorknob, I try to twist it but it’s not moving. I pull it and still nothing and when his laugh comes from behind me, I spin around to find him standing right behind me.
“Hold on a minute, Miss Cook,” he says with that deep, sexy as hell voice that’s making me crazy.
His tall, lean body is merely an inch from mine and I can feel the heat of his breath on my face as he leans into me. I press my hands against his wide and awesomely hard chest. “What the fuck are you doing?”
His laugh is so deep I can feel it in his chest. “I’m showing you how the doorknob doesn’t work the way you thought it did. See.” He turns me around with his other hand and I can feel his body against my back. His mouth is near my ear, moving my hair with his words, “See, it doesn’t move. I have to push a button under my desk to get it to open. Won’t you please come back and sit down so we can finish our conversation. I don’t want you to leave mad. I’d like to make things a bit better for you if you’d let me.”
I’m shaking with anger and I think, a little sexual frustration as well. I wait to turn around until he steps back then I turn and find his hand at the small of my back, gently pushing me to go back and sit down on the comfortable chair in front of his desk.
He goes back behind his desk and opens a drawer. When his hand comes back out of it, there are several things he lays out in front of me. One is the keycard to a hotel room, I see. Another is one of his business cards and his signature is at the bottom of it. The third thing looks like a credit card but instead of Visa or Mastercard, it has his name across the bottom and at the top, it has the words, Plaza Hotel.
“I want you to take my personal private jet back home,” he says as his finger moves the business card forward. “You can give this to my pilot at the airport and he’ll take you back to Chesapeake City. But not until tomorrow. For tonight, I’d like you to be my guest at The Plaza Hotel. Here is the key to a room I keep there. You can simply leave it on the table in the room when you leave.”
“I can’t,” I say but he holds his hand up to stop me so I shut my mouth and watch him move his fingers to the last item on his desk, the credit card thing.
“This is my VIP card for The Plaza Hotel. You can use it at any of the bars and restaurants in the hotel. Feel free to use it all you want, it’s all on me. I don’t want us to part company with you absolutely hating me, Miss Cook.”
Looking at him I see his eyes are more green than brown right now and he does seem to want to get along. And maybe I should be trying to do that more so than begging and pleading for him to see things my way.
“I have a room for the night. Thank you, anyway,” I say as I lean forward and push the hotel keycard back to him. “The room comes with breakfast and since I’m not hungry, I won’t be dining at the hotel either.” I push the credit card back toward him. “And I have a round trip ticket so I don’t need to bother you with using your private jet.” I push the last piece of his offering back to him and give him a smile. “Thank you, though, Mr. White.”
“Call me Zane,” he says as he pushes the things back toward me. “And please accept my gifts. Surely you’re not staying any place nearly as nice as The Plaza. And I would assume that even if you aren’t hungry yet, you might get that way later.”
“I have no appetite with losing my lighthouse,” I say quickly.
