Wanted by the Billionaire

by Cora Bell

  It was the place my parents had met thirty years ago when the neighborhood had flourished.

  I only wished my parents were alive to see what I planned on making of the place.

  Stepping out, I let my gaze travel to the top of the building. Three stories of broken windows and a lot of dirt.

  Lou joined me on the sidewalk. “Sir.”

  “Lou,” I said in return, unbuttoning my jacket to set it in the back seat. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m going in with you.”

  I grinned at him. “But then who will stay with the car?”

  He glanced at the limo, looking torn, and making me laugh.

  “It was a joke, Lou. I think it’ll be fine.”

  But Lou didn’t seem as convinced. He set his jaw and scanned the street and the sidewalk, glaring at anyone who was closer than twenty-five feet. After that measured look, he nodded at me and followed me to the front of the building.

  “They said your intruder was coming in through the back. The second story stairwell,” Lou said.

  I nodded. I didn’t love the word intruder, though. If the man was homeless, he wasn’t intruding so much as surviving. That thought gave me pause. If I started my project here, that meant whoever was living here was going to get thrown out. I was going to be responsible for putting someone out on the street.

  But what about all the people you’ll be helping?

  I had to remember that. My parents had helped so many people. That’s why I was doing this, right? To follow in their footsteps. To help the people they hadn’t been able to help because of their untimely deaths.

  “Watch your step, sir,” Lou said as we shoved open the front door.

  It was a mess inside. Boards and dust and dirt everywhere. If someone had been living in here, they definitely hadn’t been using the front door as their entrance.

  But if you looked past all that, if you could ignore the mess, you could see the potential. Large windows, high ceilings, wide-open spaces. I still didn’t have a clear vision of what this place could be, only that it could be something great.

  Before we’d even gone ten feet, dirt covered our shoes. I hadn’t realized how much time it was going to take to get this place in order. Simply cleaning it out was going to take weeks—and that was if I had a heavy crew. Which meant I needed to get started right away.

  After another step, I heard a shuffling noise. My gaze shot to the stairs where I spotted brief movement out of the corner of my eye.

  “Too big to be a rat,” Lou murmured.

  He was right. It looked like a person.

  I strode in that direction, Lou on my heels. More noise came from overhead. The definite sound of footsteps. Fuck. They were running.

  Which meant someone really was staying here.

  “Wait!” I yelled, not wanting to scare them. “We’re just looking at the place.”

  I reached the top of the stairs and saw the figure dart to the window across the space. Damn, they were quick. But then they knew this place better than I did. I ran after them, dodging boxes and boards—pieces that almost looked like they were being used for furniture.

  They hiked their leg over the ledge of a window, head down with a dark hood over the top.

  “Stop!”

  The figured looked up and the hood fell away. Dark curls tumbled down and wide green eyes stared back at me. Holy fuck. It was a woman. A young one—and beautiful. It was a shot to my system. A complete jolt that had me stopping in my tracks.

  And then she was moving again.

  “Wait,” I called, running to the window. She was already halfway down the stairs, using the metal rail to swing around like a trapeze artist.

  “Mr. Trainor,” Lou said from behind me.

  In that split moment of hesitation, I realized there was no way to catch up. Even if I booked it to the front of the building.

  My tie dangling, I leaned out the window and watched as the woman raced down the alleyway, her dark hair flying like a banner behind her. My blood burned in my veins, more alive than I’d felt in weeks.

  It had been a young woman in here the whole time. I turned around slowly and took in the space better than I had the first time. It looked…almost like a home.

  This woman had made it into something real.

  “What the…?” Lou looked around as well, his eyes widening at the scene on the wall.

  A huge mural of France stretched out, the Eiffel tower rising to the ceiling and rolling hills of green stretching on for what looked like miles.

  I walked over, reaching out automatically to touch the surface. How the hell had she done this? Or had it even been her?

  I glanced around again. Maybe a whole group of people was living here. But I only spotted one pile of blankets on a wooden palate in the corner. Just one place to sleep.

  Lou picked his way through the space, shaking his head in awe. “It’s like a whole house.”

  He was right. There was a living room, and an area screened off for the bedroom, as well as the place that had to be the kitchen. I ducked down and found a few pots and pans stacked neatly in a row. There were even utensils and cloth napkins that looked like they’d seen better days.

  But with the mural painted on the wall and some kind of design on the curtains that separated the living room from the bedroom, it looked almost…fashionable.

  “It looks like she’s been living here a long time,” I said to Lou.

  He propped his hands on his hips. “She?”

  I nodded. “Didn’t you see her?”

  I couldn’t get her face out of my mind. Or that dark hair. She looked like a goddess, not a homeless person. And in her own way, she lived better than most.

  This was clearly her sanctuary.

  I walked around the curtain screen and found a box she seemed to be using for an end table. On top was a flashlight and a picture of two women. One a sophisticated-looking woman with short, dark hair, and the other was my mystery woman.

  Her lips curved in a secretive smile and those eyes burned into mine, like she was staring right at me.

  I straightened. I couldn’t help but feel like I was invading her privacy. Even though this was my building, this was her home.

  “Don’t touch anything else,” I told Lou.

  “What are you going to do? Tell the police?”

  “No.” I shook my head slowly. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

  In fact, all the artwork had given me an idea.

  This place would make a great center for art students. The ones who couldn’t afford to take traditional art classes. The ones who lived on the less fortunate side of town. And, apparently, the ones who were homeless.

  But I couldn’t do it on my own. I needed help. I needed a creative mind.

  I needed the homeless girl.

  “We’ll come back later,” I told Lou.

  “Sir?”

  I didn’t explain, just walked to the stairs. The only way I was going to find her was if she came back. And I had to find her.

  Something about her eyes, her stare, her passion—all of it got to me.

  Even if I had to stake this place out for weeks, I was going to find this woman.

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  Falling in Love