by Danes, Ellie
Second Chances
A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
By
Ellie Danes
www.EllieDanes.com
Table of Contents
Second Chances
Copyright
Welcome
Book Description
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
Epilogue
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Copyright
First Edition, June 2018
Copyright © 2018 by Ellie Danes
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations are the product of the author's imagination.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.
License
This book is available exclusively on Amazon.com. If you found this book for free or from a site other than an Amazon.com country specific website it means the author was not compensated for this book and you have likely obtained this book through an unapproved distribution channel.
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Book Description
My overbearing father thought he was protecting me.
He put me up in a swanky condo for school, paid my bills and took care of everything.
Little did he know he left me at the doorstep of the hottest bad boy I’ve ever met.
Dean was everything I never knew I wanted and everything my Father hated.
He came with muscles, an attitude and a secret.
Now we are both set on a path and can’t turn back.
If we follow through, it could change his life.
If we fail, it could ruin mine.
Chapter 1
Dalton
I finished the last of my crunches, did some stretching and finally jumped up from the mat laid out on the gym floor. The gym had been one of the many nice amenities that I was able to get access to as manager of the upscale community.
It was a sweet gig, and I was lucky to have it.
I had received stares throughout my workout.
Both good and bad.
The men always gave me sneering looks. I definitely didn’t fit in here. My tattooes glistened, accentuated by the sweat on my skin.
On the other hand, the group of young women doing Pilates in the corner had appeared to be fighting over which one might be able to extend her workout in my apartment, with me as a willing workout partner.
What they didn’t know was there wasn’t a chance in the world I would risk this sweet gig for a few minutes of bed bouncing fun.
I definitely had my chances.
My father had seen fit to throw me a bone and assign me this prime position. As much as I hated toeing the line dad laid out, I was tired of being a screw-up without a purpose or a plan. By managing one of Dad’s vast holdings and working hard, I hoped to one day be able to fully leave the past that was chasing me in the rear-view mirror. The problem with the past and mirrors was that it kept things in focus, and I still had a big secret that ensured my dark past kept me in its clutches for a while longer.
I tossed back some water from my bottle, flung the towel over my shoulder, and made for the door. I needed to shower and check for service requests made last night to ensure they got resolved immediately, as these people didn’t wait for anyone.
I almost felt like whistling as I headed toward the apartment in the corner of the first building, first floor where everyone entering the upscale building knew where to find the me. As I entered and made tracks to the bedroom, I couldn’t help glancing about at the sparse furnishings. I kept promising to do something to make the place feel more like a home and less like a college dorm occupied by fraternity brothers. One simple couch was laid out in front of the large screen television that supported my sports addiction, and a long coffee table for beer and whatever miscellaneous items I dropped on the way to my bedroom each evening was all that adorned the open living space. The bedroom boasted a king-sized bed, a dresser, a chair draped with discarded clothing, and one nightstand with a single lamp and alarm clock. The simple furnishings were not a choice, but rather an aversion to going out and facing decisions about such mundane items as furniture. I spent most days working off the list of well-to-do tenant demands. I also spent time taking care of additional business needs, and finding some relaxation in the local music scene.
Five minutes later, I stood shaking off the last drops of my shower, staring at the foggy mirror. I cleared a space with my towel so I could see my reflection. My brown hair tended to run a bit on the long side, and summer had been bleached lighter shades in a few places, the style of coloration people paid thousands to achieve in this pretentious city. My blue eyes took in the reflection, with a slight grimace. As I stared at my tattoos that were on full display, I had to acknowledge a few bad decisions from my reckless youth. One in particular caught my full attention and held. I let my eyes gaze on the name indelibly inscribed over my heart, a steady reminder of why I refused to get involved with people, and the cost of truly trusting a human being with your soul.
Flinging the towel onto the rack, I pushed my thoughts back to what had to be done today, and away from the mistakes of days past.
Dressed and headed for the kitchen, I flipped the top of the laptop at the little table and four chairs that served as my only work area in the apartment. It always took the ridiculous machine longer than me to wake up. Leaving it, I spent time rattling around the kitchen, fixing an egg white omelet, fresh squeezed green juice, and gathered up my vitamins. With my meal firmly in hand, I returned to the computer to check in on what “fun” activities the residents had planned for my day.
I was surprised when the first document was a notification of a new resident, because there hadn’t been any indication of new applications coming through the portal in days. I was shocked and surprised that an apartment had been rented completely without my knowledge, and I had less than a week to prepare the space. I read the information about the new tenant: 25 years old, graduate student, and female were all the details besides her name. Brittany sounded like a surfer blonde with an attitude, and considering what apartments in this complex went for a month, she had someone backing her in a big way. As I reached the box at the bottom with comments, my heart stuttered to a stop.
“Family friends with August Jones,” was the simply typed message that raised my blood pressure to boiling just by reading it. How the heck did my father know this woman? Wouldn’t be surprised if she was some little floozy the douche bag had on the side. My mother didn’t have a backbone capable of standing up to
my dad, so she either wouldn’t know or care. I had zero doubt that my father had women on the side, but even for him, placing one in his own son’s building seemed a bit ballsy.
Trying not to let my temper get the best of me, I printed out the paperwork needed and tried to focus on the work I needed to get done before Brittany arrived. I went to the box that held all the apartment keys for the building and withdrew the one for 2A that was just a few doors down from my own apartment. Normally I was provided more advance notice before a new tenant arrived, but with three days until this chick would be moving in, I had to be quick with inspecting and doing a move-in check of all features of the apartment. When you paid the kind of rent these abodes cost, perfection in the details was required.
As I headed for the door and turned to check the inbox for other service requests I might help resolve on the way, I put the thought of my father’s involvement with this woman out of my mind.
As I walked down the hall, my mind was swirling in a million directions. My father had never bothered to come visit me since I moved into the apartment, and all communication between us had come through a host of administrative personnel tasked with doing my father’s bidding. Not that seeing my father was high on my list, as I had long been written off as a total loser and someone my father chose to keep hidden from his high-profile life.
Unfortunately, no interaction with my father meant I wasn’t able to see my mom either, and that bothered me more than I would ever admit out loud. My mother had never possessed enough gumption of her own to stand up to the force that was my father. She had tried to support and protect me as a child, and I could totally acknowledge that with ten years in the rear-view mirror. I had spent every moment as a teen acting out against my father, and finally had driven a wedge so deep between us it hadn’t appeared repairable. Which was why when I was offered this job, I had been shocked at the olive branch of trust my father had extended, even if he had been unable or unwilling to do it in person.
I wanted to see my mom, and maybe somewhere down the road even make amends with dad. When the doubts snuck in and I had those weak moments in the dark, I reminded myself of the biggest reason that could never be a reality for me. Inhaling deeply, I acknowledged that some transgressions, while they start off small, can snowball so big they eclipse your life. I should know—every second I was off my game and thought things were getting back on track, something would happen to push my back against the wall. No sense worrying about something I could never change. Still didn’t mean I couldn’t be the least bit curious about the new tenant and her relationship with my father.
Stepping into the vacant apartment, I flipped on the light switch. The smell was stifling and had me crossing the expanse of hardwood floors to open a window. I started an inspection of the apartment. The clean stainless steel and granite of the kitchen were all pristine from the scrub-down I had given it when the last tenant had left two months prior. I would need to run a cloth over everything and dust, but as I surveyed each room, I didn’t think the place needed more than that to be worthy of the illustrious Brittany.
I hoped the new tenant liked the digs. I was by far the youngest unmarried tenant in the building and while I made it a policy not to get involved with the tenants I had to wonder if she had a boyfriend. Was she going to be the kind of chick I could hang out with? Maybe watch football and swig beers with on the weekend. Or would she prefer high dollar fancy caviar dinners, expensive champagne, and guys who didn’t have a past they were still paying penance to outrun. Not that I cared either way, I tried to remind myself.
As I finished with the apartment, I thought maybe I could get a bit of that good karma playing in my favor with some fresh flowers, or a gift basket to brighten the place. If word got back to my father about it, and how accommodating I could be, well I wouldn’t complain. Closing the door as I exited, I found myself lightly humming on the way to the next item on my task list.
Chapter 2
Brittany
I stood with my parents on the front steps of the swanky apartment complex where I would be living, patiently listening to the extended list of warnings, explanations, and demands my father was reciting. Mother stood gazing at him, mouth slightly agape and patient as ever.
The movers had relocated everything efficiently that very morning from the spacious estate to the apartment. I was ready to enjoy my first night completely on my own for the first time ever, in a place that hadn’t been decorated by my father. Maybe I would watch a sitcom, read a book, or take a bath with a glass of wine.
My father had impressed studying, socializing to make the right connections, and attending the best society functions throughout my life. Television, art, and just about everything else I secretly enjoyed appalled him. After twenty-five years of being the good, dutiful golden girl in the family, I was ready to spread my wings and try new things on my own terms. Not that it meant I needed to do all of that on my own yet, without help on at least a financial level.
I am smart enough to understand that I was not meant to live as a struggling college student while finishing my MBA. My father had long ago pinned his hopes on me following in his footsteps and becoming a doctor, joining his practice, and finding another similarly gifted professional to wed me off to before the two children arrived. After a college experience that had been lacking the grades to make medical school, my father had pulled a few strings to have me admitted to an MBA program at the prestigious Ivy League school the city boasted. I could almost recite by heart the list of well-to-do accountants, business people, and other notable alumni, due to the amount of name-dropping my father had done to explain his decision on my schooling. My opinion had not been appreciated or heard during this gap period in education. Telling him I would rather paint and explore the creative arts would probably cause him to have a heart attack, and he’d possibly lock me up in that big ivory tower he had constructed in his mind for his princess.
A deep voice sounded from behind me. “Mr. and Mrs. Wellington.”
Turning, I recognized the man my father had been talking with in passing that morning when he had gathered the keys to my apartment. I bet my first full year’s salary that my father had also been drafting the man into spy service so he would keep my parents apprised of my comings and goings.
As I took in the dark features, fit frame, and baby blue eyes, I found my heart doing a tiny flip-flop. The man was more than passably attractive, but his working man hands, worn jeans, and white t-shirt would never fly in any of the restaurants I was known to frequent. He would prefer football to art I bet, and he’d likely never seen the inside of a college.
While my mind continued to add to the list of reasons he would never be date material, my heart and libido were doing a happy dance that this hunk of man lived nearby.
“Isn’t that right?” My father said as my mother raised a questioning eyebrow at me in silent rebuke.
“Absolutely,” I automatically replied, hoping that was the correct answer to the question I had completely missed.
“So how are my parents doing these days?” The man asked, suddenly drawing my complete attention.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I said without thinking about how offensive or snobbish the statement sounded.
“Dalton Jones the Third,” he replied and extended his hand with a slight twist of his lips that told me good manners were winning over his desire to throttle me.
“Jones? Like August and Mariah Jones?” I asked. The shock I felt was not easily filtered, and for the second time in less than a minute, Mother shot me a warning look.
“Yes, that would be dear old Mom and Dad,” Dalton said with an incomprehensible look on his face. “I’m sure they haven’t mentioned me. I’m sort of the black sheep of the family,” he whispered conspiratorially to Mother.
“That is the understatement,” my father groused out loud. “I do know your father said you had turned a corner and were doing a great job managing this building for him in recent years, howeve
r.”
“I do what I can,” Dalton said brightly as if the strange tension encasing them was not worrisome to him in the least.
I worried about how people perceived me every second of every day, and kept the peace with my father at all costs. Until I was able to pay all my own bills to keep myself in a lifestyle I enjoyed, it was how things had to be. Dalton on the other hand, did not appear to live by anyone’s expectations but his own, and he just shrugged off my father’s obvious disapproval. I hated to admit it, but his nonchalance and uncaring attitude about the approval others was a bonus in my mind.
“I just wanted to introduce myself to your wife and my new tenant, of course. Anything you require of me, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Dalton finished with a small nod to my mother and a glance my direction. Without a heartbeat of hesitation, he bounded up the stairs to the building again and was inside the doors before I could say it was nice meeting him also.
“Brittany, you stay clear of that man,” my father authoritatively said without any compunction or understanding that I was a grown woman and didn’t have to heed his advice.
No need stirring that pot, I decided. “Yes. I shall wait for you to find me a prince charming and force him to sweep me off my feet,” I said with a cheeky grin.
“Brittany, dear,” Mother reprimanded softly. “Your father only wants what is best for you.”
“I know, Mother,” I said, almost wishing my mother was the type to accept affection. I could really use a hug as I started on this new path.
It was big moments like these I missed my sister. Talia would be bouncing off walls and excitedly hugging me, I could just imagine it now. I sighed. Talia was never coming back, and my mother was never going to be warm and gooey. These were facts that no amount of wishful thinking was going to influence.
“I will see you next Sunday for dinner,” My father said with a slight nod before turning away from me and crooking his arm for my mother to take.