The Billionaire's Rekindled Desire: A Billionaire Boss Second Chance Romance, page 1
The Billionaire's Rekindled Desire
Billionaire Boss Second Chance Romance
Olivia Cruise
Copyright © 2023by Olivia Cruise
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
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
30. Chapter Thirty
Also By
Chapter One
Leah
There was nothing I could do to change Mrs. DeWallace’s mind. We’d spent the better part of the last hour squabbling over whether or not the chartreuse wingback chair she had picked would fit with the current color scheme of her living room.
“Mrs. DeWallace, you already have several accents of cobalt blue here! If you add that to the room, it’ll draw the eye away from the bright pops of color you already have,” I explained, exasperated that someone with as much money as Mrs. DeWallace would want to furnish their home so garishly.
“Oh my dear Leah, don’t you think the chartreuse and cobalt go well together?” the older woman argued back, her bangles jangling on her wrists noisily. “It certainly seems to fit the art nouveau style to me!”
“It does,” I admitted, untucking my clipboard from my side, “but the rest of your house is decorated with neutral colors. If you have one room that’s this brightly colored, it’ll completely stand out from the rest of your house.”
“I think I like it that way,” my client said with finality, after glancing at the rooms I was pointing to in my notes. “Everyone should have a bit of weirdness to them. And their home décor.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Fine, Mrs. DeWallace, have it your way. You’re the one paying the bills after all.” The older woman nodded crisply with a triumphant smile and I huffed out a dry chuckle. “Just make sure you tell my boss that you’re the one who suggested this color cacophony, not me.”
Mrs. DeWallace ran a hand over the soft velveteen of the highly debated wingback chair fondly. “Don’t worry, dear. When people ask me about how this went, I’ll make sure to tell them that you took care of all the utilitarian aspects so I could have all the fun.”
She winked mischievously and I sent her a half grin in return, unable to believe that someone who hired an interior designer in the first place wouldn’t listen to their advice.
But that was how most of my work went—making suggestions and vision boards and searching tirelessly for the perfect piece only for the client to do all of it themselves. Ultimately, I still got paid, so it didn’t really matter one way or the other, but I was starting to grow tired of watching a beautiful space be ruined by people’s personal taste.
And it wasn’t as though the apartment I shared with my best friends was any better—
“You cannot let that monstrosity continue to sit in our living room, Kate,” I said pointedly, gesturing to the rack of weights in the corner that was teetering precariously on one full leg and a cinderblock. “Isn’t that why you work at a gym? To have access to this stuff?”
Our friend Alexandra giggled from her seat at our dining table as Katie retorted good-naturedly, “I know you think you’re the last person standing between everyone and poor taste, Leah, but I promise you no one who visits cares about the weight set.”
“It’s an eyesore!” I shot back, looking hopelessly to my right. “Please tell her that it makes this look like a frat house, Alex!”
Katie turned to look at her too and Alex blushed at our stares, meekly shrugging, “I don’t know…it’s kind of nice to be able to exercise here instead of at a gym.”
Turning to face me with her hands on her hips and a cocky grin on her face, Katie teased, “That’s two against one, babe.” The way her golden locks caught the light, creating a halo of warmth around her, was a sight to behold, and her eyes glistened with a playful twinkle.
As I gazed to my right, my attention was captured by the mesmerizing sight of Alexandra, who stood there with an air of quiet sweetness that was impossible to ignore. Her curves were a work of art, gracefully accentuated by the way her tank top hugged her form.
My heart swelled with gratitude as I looked at my two best friends standing by my side. An only child, I had lost my parents at a young age. My grandmother told me that my mom had passed away during childbirth, followed shortly by my dad, who succumbed to a rare cancer, possibly devastated by my mom’s death. So my Nonna had raised me, recently passed away herself, and though I knew I had other relatives out there, my friends had become my chosen family.
I opened and closed my mouth several times in search of a reply but found none other than a sigh. “Goddamnit. Alright, whatever. But when I’m living in New York and you come to visit for a month, don’t bring that with you.”
Katie swished her hair over her shoulder and in a faux haughty voice that made Alexandra laugh, tutted, “Oh, perish the thought, Leah! I would never dream of ruining your chic penthouse in the clouds!”
“You’re pushing it,” I warned, pointing at her and then at our doubled-over friend. “And it isn’t that funny. I’m just trying to make sure the guys that come here actually think we’re adults and not still college kids.”
“Oh, lighten up,” Katie said, coming over to pat me on the shoulder while she gestured back to the decrepit rack. “Any woman with a weight set in her twenties is bound to attract only the best men.”
“You mean gym bros?” I smirked, knowing how many of them Katie complained about working with.
Katie snickered. “Fair enough, Leah, fair enough. But you have to admit it feels good to tell one of them how much you lift, right?”
I rolled my eyes. She was right, of course, as she often was, and I had no room left to argue. Katie had seemed to figure out that I used the very weights I’d just been complaining about whenever my roommates weren’t around so that I didn’t have to travel to a gym either.
“Touché,” I replied wearily, massaging my temples and picturing my own décor vision board to ease the pain. “Did any mail come today, Alex?”
“I was with the twins all day,” she answered, rising from the table to come join Katie and me on the couch, her smile shy and saucy, “and you’ll never guess what I overheard.”
Alexandra was a nanny for one of the wealthier families in town and had the privilege of occasionally picking up gossip about them that was then shared with Katie and me like our personal soap opera. We scooched closer to her, eager for news on the latest semi-scandal that involved some flirtatious behavior at a recent party and the resulting rumors.
“Well, you didn’t hear this from me,” Alex began as she always did, tucking her knees to her chest while reaching down to subconsciously pick at her fuzzy socks, “but I think the incident happened at the Buchmanns’ private party…the one with the masks and secret VIP list…”
When I wasn’t being entertained by Alexandra’s pseudo spycraft or Katie’s latest series of exercises she wanted to try with clients, I would hunt for my next job. I’d applied to several high-end stores, hoping that they would be more interested in my bachelor’s degree and high-scoring NCIDQ exam than the only year of real-world experience I had.
Because I was currently employed at Timeless Furniture Emporium as a day-to-day consultant—which meant I got shipped out to random clients with enough cash to pay my bosses—I also had a few connections, though many of them had rarely spoken to the directors I addressed my resumes to. So unless I got unfathomably lucky, I seemed destined to remain here for the time being, waiting for the big break I’d thought living near New York would bring me.
Katie, Alex, and I had actually chosen this apartment—a cozy six-hundred-square-footer—because it was about an hour away from the bustling urban center. As we’d unpacked, the three of us had happily agreed that the distance would keep us from dealing with a lot of traffic and let us leave our work behind when the end of the day rolled around.
However, that peace and quiet also meant we missed out on some things, and in my case that was job opportunities. The closer to New York you were, the more likely you were to be hired because of how demanding employers could be. No one I had talked to wanted to wait an hour for me to get there if they needed something first thing in the morning, and they also didn’t think I’d sti
And so I had started planning to move into the city itself, scouring realtor sites for crummy one-bedroom apartments that I could afford. But I wasn’t willing to make the final step until I knew I had a job waiting for me there. In short, my life was in limbo.
On occasion, I would think about what things would be like if I had chosen a different career path that was less specific. An English or math degree would have allowed me to expand my search into a variety of jobs that would have let me work close to home. But every time I started down that line of thought, I would always come to the inescapable conclusion that I didn’t want to do anything other than interior design.
It was rare, but one of the moments I loved when decorating someone’s home was finding the exact piece they were looking for. The awestruck joy that would fill their face could only be matched by added surprise if I happened to suggest something great they hadn’t even thought of themselves.
I felt lucky to get to play with color and texture for a living and wasn’t about to give that up just because job offers weren’t raining down on me.
As I reflected further on my current life situation, a wave of emotions crashed over me, memories of my romantic life flooding my mind. It was a bittersweet trip down memory lane, filled with moments of joy and heartbreak. Sebastian, my first love, had held a special place in my heart, but then he’d shattered it into a million pieces, leaving me wounded and vulnerable. Despite trying to move on, my connections with others paled compared to what I had felt with Sebastian.
Perhaps when the time was right, when my heart was healed and my soul was ready, I would be open to love once again, ready to write a new chapter filled with hope, passion, and a deep connection that would surpass even my first love. But for now, I needed to redirect my attention toward my professional goals, to invest in myself and my growth.
“What time will Kate be home tonight?” I asked Alexandra from the stove while stirring a pot of noodles.
She toed off her shoes by the front door and set her bag down with a groan. “I don’t know. I think she has that seven o’clock yoga class to teach still.” Alex and I shared a look of joking incredulity at the busy hours Katie kept before I turned back to the simmering sauce on the stove.
“Then I guess it’ll be a spaghetti dinner for two,” I announced, reaching to my left for the cabinets where we kept the bowls I’d picked up secondhand on our third day of living together. I had met Katie and Alexandra at a party in my senior year of college, and ever since that night of drunken gossiping, we’d been inseparable. When we had finally decided it was time to move to a new city to begin adult life, it’d been a no-brainer that we would move in together and split the rent.
Surprisingly, amidst all the scheduling and packing of cardboard boxes, none of us had thought to bring cutlery or dishware, so I’d been sent out in search of the chipped baby-blue bowls I now held in my hands. Ours was a pieced-together existence, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Especially not after seeing Alex practically faint in her seat at the sight of the meal I’d prepared. “Leah, you’re a culinary genius.” She sighed, leaning in to take a deep sniff of the spiced tomato sauce. “I haven’t eaten anything since lunch, so do you care if I dig in now?”
“Mangia!” I playfully exclaimed, throwing my arms out in the way my Nonna used to, before returning to the kitchen to grab my own bowl.
“You look like you had a rough day,” I said, giving Alex time to take a few mouthfuls. “Is that spit-up or baby food on your shirt?”
“Both,” Alexandra answered in a muffled tone, spooling more pasta onto her fork as she explained, “Lisa couldn’t keep anything down today…I think she might be sick.”
Lisa was the youngest child that my best friend nannied—Katie and I would always tease Alex about how the kid would send her home with little reminders of their day in the form of nebulous stains. “Well, hopefully it isn’t contagious,” I concluded, joining Alex at the table. “I can’t get sick right now, not with all the clients I’m about to have shoved on me.”
“Oh! That reminds me!” she said, riffling furiously through the pockets of her cardigan. “I saw this in the Kingsleys’ newspaper this morning and I thought you might like to look at it.”
My brows furrowed in confusion when she handed me a clipping that read, in bold, black ink, SEARCHING FOR SENIOR ASSISTANT AT UNLIMITED DESIGN. COLLEGE DEGREE IS A MUST. It was simplistic, but the idea of another job prospect started my gears turning.
Below the ad was a phone number and the image of a nice-looking woman who I could only assume was the hiring director. “Thanks, Alex.” I smiled, pocketing the advertisement and praying that it wasn’t a scam.
Chapter Two
Sebastian
“Look, I don’t care how much money it’ll cost to redo the ads, just make it happen,” I grunted into the phone, exasperated that one of my managers had the gall to argue with me.
“Whatever you say, boss,” the man grumbled on the other end, hanging up and leaving me to smack my phone down on my desk in frustration. I had no idea why it was so difficult for him to understand that our newest commercial for an update to our graphic design software needed to showcase its sleekness and affordability. Some people just had no common sense when it came to business, I supposed.
My secretary rapped once on my office door before entering, saying with a knowing tone, “Sounds like Peter’s giving you lip again, Mr. Walker.”
I glanced up at Diana, forcing a tight smile across my face to hide the irritation. “Nothing I can’t handle, Ms. Elmore.” Then, I pointed to the neat files stacked in her hands. “I’m assuming those are for me?”
She nodded and handed the manila folders to me; they were far weightier than I’d expected and I lightly chastised the older woman, “Hey, what did I tell you about carrying this much around? Next time, please just tell me to come get them. The last thing I need is for my favorite secretary to carry any more of the burden than she already is.”
Diana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms defiantly. “I might be old enough to be your granny, Mr. Walker, but that doesn’t mean you need to treat me like glass. Need I remind you of how I wheeled big, heavy boxes around before working here?”
Setting the stack carefully on my desk so as not to disturb her work, I threw my hands up in surrender, knowing better than to start an argument with a woman who had every intention of winning, even if I was her boss. She smiled triumphantly and adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose before turning to leave.
“Oh, and Mr. Walker, don’t forget that meeting you have today with Mrs. Stryker. She seemed very eager to show you her list of possible hires this morning,” Diana said over her shoulder before slipping back out the door.
That reminder made me completely collapse on my desk, head buried in my hands as I contemplated asking to reschedule with Mrs. Melanie Stryker, the most tenacious of all my employees. While her drive to give jobs to as many people as she could was admirable, it also brought some idiots, like Peter, into the company.
And then I had to deal with them.
“Fuck,” I muttered, reaching up to loosen my tie and tug at the collar of my button-up, which now felt even more constricting. For a long time, I had been toying with the idea of getting an assistant, someone who could do the busy work of being my middle man. But I hadn’t found anyone yet and was beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.
After all, I had been blessed with Diana who took on work without even being asked to, and even her heroic efforts weren’t enough to soothe my stress. And if my worst fears were realized and I actually got an assistant, they might end up being an idiot too.
Surrounded by pointless confusion and an inability to decide whether or not to meet with Melanie, I stood and headed for my office door. I straightened my appearance only slightly—yanking at my tie until it looked less crumpled—and asked Diana to, “Please, hold down the fort for the next fifteen minutes.”
