One Night Second Chance: A Billionaire Boss Enemies to Lovers Romance (Billionaire Keepers), page 1
One Night Second Chance
A Billionaire Boss Enemies to Lovers Romance
Aimee Bronson
Copyright © 2023 by Aimee Bronson
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Prologue
Amber
It was the perfect night.
The streetlights burned like the stars I couldn’t see on the busy street as I walked with Dante. My heart lodged like a lump in my throat as my body coursed with desire for him.
We reached the house I lived in with my grandmother and little sister. But my grandma , or Gramma, as we liked to call her, was away for the weekend, on a quick ladies' trip with her book club, and Ella was sleeping over at her best friend’s house. The house was empty.
It was a thought that crashed loudly in my brain as Dante and I walked up the short path of brick that led to the small porch.
The overhead light on the porch was as harsh as a spotlight, more to intimidate people than provide any sort of ambiance, but Dante’s dark brown hair shone under the bright lights. His dreamy blue eyes glimmered with a mystery that I was dying to learn.
Dante didn’t speak much. He was guarded. But I knew he lived with his dad, and I knew he didn’t like to talk much about his dad. He never mentioned his mom, which gave me the impression that she wasn’t in the picture.
He definitely wasn’t the brooding, quiet type. Dante was all about fun and took me on adventures I would never have even considered. He was five years older than me, twenty-four to my nineteen, and almost certainly bad news. But I didn’t care.
Some might consider him to be the proverbial forbidden fruit, but I wanted every bite. But still, nobody could know.
I knew I had a bright future ahead of me. I was awarded the Winston Scholarship of Culinary Promise, which allowed me to go to one of the best culinary schools in the country. It was an opportunity that we never could have afforded on our own. And I knew my grandma would say that messing around with a guy like Dante was just a distraction that I didn’t need.
But when I first saw Dante, on the grounds crew of the Culinary Institute of America, I had to know more about him. Unlike me, he didn’t seem to think much of the future. On a different day, I’d remember to be bothered by that, but with him standing on my porch, looking at me like I was the only woman in the world, I didn’t care about the future.
Besides, with time, I could convince him we had a future. He had to see it, too.
Dante reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. At well over six feet tall, he towered over me. The feeling of his rough, calloused thumb on my cheek sent shivers down my spine and…to other places.
“You’re so beautiful,” he rasped. I blushed under his intense gaze. In this light, his eyes almost looked black.
“I should go,” he said, looking anxiously toward the house. “I don’t need your grandmother finding me standing here with you this late at night.” A humorless chuckle escaped his lips.
I had never told him that my grandmother would disapprove, he just somehow knew. Dante knew he was probably bad for me.
“Actually, she’s not home.” The words came out in a rush as he had started to turn and walk away. He looked back at me and smiled. And oh god, I was lost in that smile. A slight dimple popped out on his right cheek and his teeth were so white and so straight he dazzled. He didn’t seem real.
He slowly turned and took the last few steps so he was standing right in front of me. Barely any room between us for a breath.
“And Ella?” His voice was low and gravelly. It did wicked things to my insides. I had to remind myself to breathe.
“She’s at a sleepover.” I shrugged, trying to act calm. “It’s just me here tonight. I’m all alone.”
I tried my best with a wicked smile, but I was starting to get out of my depth here.
“Would you like to come in and have a drink with me?” The words were barely a whisper. The dimple in his smile seemed to know that I wasn’t actually inviting him in for just a drink.
“I would love to have a drink with you, Amber.” His words were slow and purposeful and full of what was left unsaid.
My cheeks flushed, and with slightly shaky hands, I turned toward the door, trying to get the key in the lock. After a few tries, I turned the knob, and we both stepped into the dimly lit space. The only light was from above the oven in the back of the house.
My body thrummed with anticipation as he stepped around me and into the house. He was so close. Dante smelled like something woodsy, with a hint of fresh cut grass. I swayed, trying to get closer.
But I shut the door and followed Dante into the modest living room. The small space was packed full of old furniture, cozy blankets and pillows, and so many pictures. My grandma had pictures of everything: family, friends, Jesus. Her Catholicism ran deep, and if there was any doubt about that from this room, the large print of the last supper over the dining room table in the next room really drove home the point.
Dante did a small circle of the room.
“This is a nice house,” he finally said, turning to me.
“Thanks. It’s nothing special, but it’s home.”
He chuckled, but there was no humor, just darkness.
“Trust me. This is luxurious compared to where I stay.” I sensed some bitterness in his tone. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him more about where he lived. I didn’t care where it was. I just wanted to get to know him and be close to him.
He always told me that where he lived was no place for someone like me. That really pissed me off. I tried to explain to him that I didn’t come from a wealthy family. I was on a scholarship. But he still seemed intimidated by his assumptions about me and kept me at arm’s length.
“So…a drink?” I asked nervously. I wasn’t proud that I was about to dig into my grandma’s wine stash. But desperate times and all that.
“That sounds great.” His charming smile and dimple returned.
“Okay, I’ll grab a bottle of wine. Please, make yourself at home.” I saw him take a seat on the couch from the corner of my eyes as I dashed into the kitchen to get a bottle and some glasses. I dug the glasses out from the back of the top cupboard. Gramma usually just used juice glasses, but I wanted to impress Dante. I checked they weren’t too dusty, but they seemed fine.
I thought for a split second before microwaving some chicken nuggets from the freezer and cutting up some slices of cheese. I searched for my grandma’s fancy serving tray she used for company and dumped the nuggets, cheese and some cherry tomatoes that we had lying on the counter. Reaching into another cabinet, I came out with the toothpicks and the nice cocktail napkins.
There, it looked fancy. Even though I doubted that Dante really cared about my hostess skills.
Balancing everything on the tray with the bottle of wine tucked under my arm, I carted it all to the living room. As I was setting it on the coffee table, Dante put his hand lightly on my arm. Awareness zipped through me and I almost dropped everything and pounced on him. But I gathered myself and twisted off the wine cap–yes, we really were fancy in this house.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he said, his smile warm and easy, making my blood warm and a glow spread through my body.
I waved my hand as if I entertained people every evening.
“It wasn’t any trouble. Besides, it’s been a long day and I’m pretty hungry,” I lied.
I passed him a napkin, and he picked up a chicken nugget.
“I see you’re putting that fancy degree to good use,” he said, shooting me a wry smile. Oh, that smile was really going to be the end of me.
I laughed. The tone sounded off in my ears, equal parts nervous and full of wonderful anticipation.
“You’re wasting all this money when you already know how to heat up a mean chicken nugget?” he teased as he took a bite.
I laughed again.
“I’m on a scholarship! Look around, does it look like I, or my grandmother, can afford that fancy school?”
“You’re going places, sunflower,” he said. He picked up his wineglass and settled back on the couch, taking a sip. I loved it when he called me that. Dant
He said that it was difficult to be sad around sunflowers and I liked to believe that my presence brought him joy. I know his presence brought me lots and lots of joy.
I connected my phone to the bluetooth speaker–the one modern thing in my grandma’s living room–and played one of my favorite playlists.
We sat on the couch, talking. Well, Dante did most of the talking. He stayed clear of anything too personal, but he told me stories about his adventures and the places he wanted to travel. I knew he couldn’t afford the things he talked about, but I also knew I could listen to him talk all day. He had so much charisma and an amazing sense of humor. It was impossible to not hang on his every word.
Dante was irresistible.
The song changed and a few familiar notes from an old 90s rock ballad started to fill the room. Dante stood up, setting his wineglass on the table, and reached his hand out to me. I took it shyly, and he pulled me up and close to him. We began to sway around the living room and he led with so much skill and precision.
Nothing else existed. We were the only two people in the world.
Dante’s eyes were dark with desire. The easy smile was gone from his face, and I couldn’t help but feel like prey. I was helpless against him.
Impossibly, he pulled me closer, my breasts pushed against the hard planes of his chest. My nipples ached for attention, and I felt the heat from his body seep through the layers of cotton that separated us. His rough hands were on my hips, holding me firmly in place. His warm breath floated across the skin just below my ears and I felt goosebumps break out. Shivers skittered down my spine and my skin began to heat.
He looked at my lips briefly before his eyes moved to mine. Was he asking me for permission? Was he kidding? How could I not let him kiss me?
I nodded, barely noticing the movement.
And then, suddenly, his lips were on mine. He kissed me gently and softly, my lips parting to taste him. He tasted faintly like the red wine we had been drinking. His tongue softly swept in my mouth, skilled and patient.
My eyes were closed, as all I felt was the sensation of his mouth against mine.
Then his hands started to move. Dante slipped his hands up the hem of my T-shirt and rested them on my skin. His touch was searing and did nothing to cool the heat that was flooding through my body. My core was throbbing, anticipating what might happen. What I hoped would happen.
His hands brushed further up my back, setting off a glittering trail of pleasure at the touch.
“Where’s your room?” His voice was even huskier than usual, laced with need and desire.
Without a word, I took his hand and led him up the staircase. I was only just noticing how ridiculously pink the walls were in my bedroom. The last time it had been painted was when I was about six years old and really going through a Barbie phase.
“Cute room,” he said, and I flushed with embarrassment.
“I–It’s been like this for a long time now. I’ve just never bothered to change it.”
“I like it,” he said and pulled me back into his arms. He moved away slightly to tug my T-shirt over my head. I quickly helped him out of his shirt. I had to remember how to breathe when I saw all that gorgeous skin. He was all long lines and lean muscle built from actual work. His skin was tanned and brushed with dark hair. In an instant, Dante was urging my jeans down my hips and legs. His own pants were quickly removed.
I barely noticed as he reached around to unclasp my bra. But I was certainly aware when he replaced the cups with his hand, teasing each nipple with his rough thumb.
I moaned loudly as he took my bottom lip between his teeth and pushed into a deep kiss with searching, pulsing tongues.
Slowly, he led me down to the bed, and I knew I would never be able to look at this horrendous pink quilt in the same way again.
Dante’s hands were everywhere, exploring my body thoroughly and drawing moans and sighs from my lips.
Dante slipped a hand beneath the waistband of my underwear and brushed his thumb against the tight bundle of nerves between my legs. My back arched from the mattress; the sensation was so overwhelming. I had made friends with my vibrator thinking about Dante. But Dante actually here in my bed? That was all too much for my poor, overworked nervous system to process.
He began to rub the spot more steadily, fumbling slightly to find the rhythm that set off fireworks behind my eyes. When he got it right, a loud moan escaped, and he muffled the cry with a kiss.
“Does that feel good?” he asked, continuing with the relentless torture.
I smiled and gasped, “Yes, Dante, fuck, that feels good. Better than I could have imagined,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering closed.
I could feel how wet I was for Dante as he kept touching me. He moved away, and I whimpered at the loss of contact. He chuckled, but came back with a condom he grabbed from his wallet.
He rolled on the condom and then turned his attention to my breasts, covering one nipple in his delicious mouth.
At the same time, he tugged my underwear down and tossed them to the floor. I felt him notch against my entrance and slowly push in. My body pushed back against the invasion, and Dante reached his hand between my legs and started to rub again. Glittering bits of light flashed filled my vision, and I felt my body relax and start to let him sink into me.
Dante stayed still for one long moment, both of us trying to catch our breath. Slowly, he started moving. Pleasure and warmth washed over me as Dante moved, whispering beautiful, dirty things in my ear and touching me everywhere. It wasn’t long before I felt the tension building, rising, tightening to something impossible in my body before shattering into shimmering pieces. Dante quickly followed me over the edge and dropped his forehead, slick with sweat, onto mine.
I heard the words slip past my lips before I could stop them.
“I think I love you, Dante.”
He kissed my forehead.
“Sunflower, you’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever met,” he said and rolled to the side, falling asleep.
I wished I hadn’t said that. I felt like I ruined a perfect moment.
But also, I wished he’d said he loved me, too.
Chapter 1
Amber
Six years later
A dream of mine had long been to work and live at a resort. Ever since I learned that was an actual job, it seemed like an amazing opportunity. Get paid to work in a career that I loved while traveling somewhere new? Sign me up!
When I saw Kingfisher Shores from the rail of the ferry, I couldn’t help the smile that threatened to crack my face in two as that dream finally came true.
The resort was more breathtaking than I had imagined. It sprawled expansively across lush, green grass and met the sandy coastline. The resort–and its many, many amenities–essentially took up this entire South Carolina island, actually. The guest side of the resort included the large main building with traditional hotel rooms and the restaurant where I would work. Cabins were tucked in the trees that still covered the northern edge of the island and cottages sat on stilts, hugging the coastline and looking out over the ocean. The sandy stretch of beach had lounge chairs, umbrellas, facilities, and a snack shack.
The outdoor amenities were nothing short of impressive. Besides the beach, there were several playgrounds, volleyball courts, a golf course, a more upscale, private restaurant, and a bar that supposedly had more of a VIP nightclub feel for the adult crowd. Since we were dependent on the ferry here, there was a small market, drugstore, and convenience store–mostly catering to the staff that lived on the island. All Kingfisher Shores staff lived here and housing was concentrated near the ferry terminal. There were a couple of dormitories, shared cabins, and private cottages. I was beyond grateful to be assigned a private cottage.
As I started hauling my bags down the gravel path that led to the main building, I heard my name being called.
I spun around and saw a woman about my age, mid-20s-ish, running toward me. Her bright red hair was flowing behind her in the breeze and was, quite frankly, gorgeous.
“Amber?” she said, breathlessly, when she caught up with me.
