by Lexi Aurora
“My baby,” he cooed, holding her tight, lacing our free hands together. “The other most beautiful girl in the world.”
“I—”
My words were cut off when the door burst open and Cooper’s entire family poured in, not just his mother and his sisters but all three of his brothers, along with Susie, who bounced over to Cooper to see the baby.
“What are you guys doing in here?” Cooper asked. Abigail came up to him, taking Lily out of his arms.
“To hold the baby,” she said. “The nurse told us it was time. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have known, and you would have just hogged her all day.”
“She’s literally my baby,” Cooper said. “She’s my child.”
“Yeah, well, she’s my niece,” Abigail said, smiling down at Lily, touching her skin with the tip of her finger. “Auntie calls dibs.”
“Then me,” said Bradley.
“Oh no,” Marie said. “Grandma gets first. Give her here.”
I had to laugh, feeling warm and perfectly whole as I watched my new family pass my daughter around, each of them loving her more than the last. I had never felt as happy in my life as in that moment, knowing that my daughter would have the big, loving family that I’d missed out on when I was a kid. I looked up at Cooper, who was watching the same thing—our daughter being loved and well-cared for by her family. He met my eye, then, leaning down to kiss me, and for the first time in my life, I knew what it was like to be whole.
THE END
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PREVIEW: Bought out by the Billionaire by Lexi Aurora
I’ve never met a woman I can’t have.
I’ve never had a deal I can’t close.
Until I meet her and her family’s bakery.
I have to keep my mind sharp, my business game on.
But her sexy body is making it hard to concentrate and her passion is making me hard.
I can’t believe I fell for him so easily.
I should have known someone like that would have ulterior motives.
But I can’t stop thinking about him.
Or throwing myself at him.
When I find out what he really wants, I am hurt.
Why do I keep seducing him?
I should be angry, not turned on.
Is it wrong to believe this could be real?
Am I a fool to think he could be the one?
Warning: Bought out by the Billionaire contains adult language and situations. It is intended for mature readers. There is no cheating, and a HEA is guaranteed.
It is a stand alone novella that is part of the Stonecutters Billionaire series.
Chapter 1: Sloane
I woke up early, before the sun was up, stretching as I blinked the sleep out of my eyes. I glanced over to see that my daughter, Rosie, was asleep in bed, her long eyelashes fanned out over her delicate cheeks. Her hair was messy and curled around her face, and her mouth was hanging open as she slept. I smiled, my heart feeling as warm as it always did when I looked at my girl. I slipped out of bed quietly and grabbed the clothes I had laid out for myself the night before, tiptoeing out of the bedroom we shared and into the bathroom down the hall. I undressed and got into the shower, finally washing off the flour that still coated my skin in a layer from yesterday. By the time the bakery had closed last night, I’d been too exhausted to do anything but drop into bed after giving Rosie a kiss good night.
After I got dressed and ready for the day, I crept down the hallway to my mother’s room and knocked softly on the door. I pushed it open gently, careful not to let it squeak the way it sometimes did if it swung on its hinges too fast.
“Mama,” I said quietly, peeking into the room. My mother was sleeping. She blinked her eyes at me and sat up.
“Hey, honey,” she said in a drowsy voice, sounding like she was still half-asleep. “You going downstairs?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Rose is still asleep. Have her come down when she wakes up.”
“Okay,” she responded. I shut the door quietly and walked away, down the stairs and into the back room of our family bakery. I flipped on the lights as I went through the room, illuminating the kitchen, which was small but could perform miracles in the right hands. Those hands used to be my father’s, and his father’s before that. This bakery and this house had been in my family for generations, and I had grown up thinking of it as home.
I turned on the ovens to prepare for the day, standing close to them as they heated up. It was always cold in the bakery in the mornings, especially during the fall and winter, but when the ovens got going the place felt warm and inviting. I pulled out the ingredients I needed to start the morning with our usual selection—fresh-baked muffins and warm, fluffy biscuits, as well as cinnamon rolls that melted on the tongue. The cinnamon rolls were my favorite, and Rosie had a taste for them as well. They usually sold out fast, so every once in a while I would set one aside for her for when she woke up. I made a note to do so this morning; I had missed her last night. We’d had a special event at the bakery that had kept me up late cleaning up the place, and I hadn’t made it upstairs until after she had gone to bed.
As I started to mix the ingredients for the rolls, I thought back to last night and the conversation I’d had with our neighbor. I had wanted to tell my mother about it right away but didn’t want to wake her when I got upstairs. The conversation gnawed at me and had kept me up all night. Our neighbor, Mr. Eustacio, who owned the laundromat next door, had told me that some big development company was proposing to the city to buy the buildings on our block and wanted to develop it into condos. I thought about losing this place, the only home I’d ever known, the place I loved and worked and lived, and it made me sad.
When my father got sick and began his rapid decline from his diagnosis to his final days, he confessed to me that he wanted to see me take over the business and then pass it on to the next generation. I told him I would do whatever it took to make the dream a reality, that it was my wish too. An offer from a development company would probably be for so much money it would feel like I was playing Monopoly, but some things don’t have a price tag. I would never sell, no matter how tempting the offer was. I loved this place like it was a part of my family.
I sighed as I flattened out the dough with my hands, then began to roll it out with a pin, putting all of my muscle into it. I found the motions soothing and comfortable, especially since I found that I could put all of my aggression into rolling and the dough would benefit from the effort. The truth was, the money we’d get from selling this place would help us in every way. Since taking over the bakery, I was struggling to make ends meet. My father was a gifted baker and had the biggest heart of anyone I knew, but he wasn’t the greatest businessman. It took me weeks after his funeral to find the courage to go into his office and look through the business files. I was surprised to find the state they were in. He didn’t have files so much as piles. There were about two dozen banker boxes filled with papers in no discernible order. I’d find a bank statement, a Christmas card from his college roommate’s family, and a handwritten grocery list all in the same box.
I had always thought my father to be larger than life—he had brought life into this place somehow that I just couldn’t seem to replicate, no matter how hard I tried. I don’t know how much money he made, but the bills that kept arriving after his death were larger than I’d assumed they’d be. At the end of each month, I was struggling to stretch what we made to pay everything. We had steady, regular customers, but it always seemed like it was barely enough to cover what I needed to take care of mama, Rosie, and myself.
I finished putting the rolls together and placed them in the oven, then started mixing the muffins. By the time I got them in the oven to start on the biscuits, it was already just twenty minutes before we opened. I looked at the clock and cursed as I burnt my finger on the corner of the cinnamon roll pan, running it under cold water for a moment as I watched it ri
se and blister. I shook my head at my clumsiness, then left the kitchen and went up front to the store, turning on lights and flipping chairs down from the tables. I arranged the cinnamon rolls in the display case and turned on the colorful Christmas lights that my father had hung up around the bakery years and years ago. It gave the room a festive glow that reminded me of him every time I turned them on.
A few minutes later, I opened the front door to greet the two men who were waiting there when we opened. They were partners, older men named John and Ashton, who lived across the street and came in every morning for coffee. I beamed at them when I opened the door and welcomed them in.
“Good morning,” I said brightly as we crossed the room. I pulled out a cinnamon roll for each of them, knowing what they were going to order. It was easy to guess with these guys, who were simple and friendly.
“Morning, Sloane,” Ashton said, grinning at me as I bagged up their rolls and turned around to pour their coffee. “How are you? How’s Rosie?”
“She’s good,” I told them. “Sweet as ever. She’s probably still sleeping upstairs with my mom.”
“You should put her to work around here,” said Ashton. “She would liven the place right up.”
I put my hands on my hips, pretending to be offended. “You mean I’m not lively enough for you?”
Ashton laughed as I handed him his coffee. “You’re perfect just the way you are, darling,” he said. John winked at me. They paid, dropping a nice tip for me in the jar before disappearing with their food. A few more people came and went, and I served them in between running back and forth from the kitchen to prepare the muffins and biscuits for the displays.
When I came back out front, my hands filled with muffins, I stopped dead when I saw who was standing at the counter. I didn’t know him, had never met him before, but he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. He was tall, broad with green eyes and dirty-blond waves. He had a polite smile on his face that broadened when he saw me, especially when I dropped half of the muffins I was holding and looking down stupidly to watch them roll to the floor. I blushed and crouched down to pick them up, dumping them in the trash before wiping my hands on my apron.
“Hi,” I said, looking back up at the man, who was grinning at me, one eyebrow raised.
“You okay?” he asked. I nodded, cursing myself, and bit my lip.
“What can I get for you?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice smooth and soft. “What would you recommend?”
“The cinnamon rolls are good,” I said, gesturing toward the display case. He smiled at me, glancing at my name tag.
“Sloane. That’s interesting.”
“My mom named me after her first dog,” I told him. He laughed.
“Still beautiful,” he said, meeting my eye when he said the word. I felt myself blush again and then looked away.
“I’ll have a cinnamon roll.”
“Coffee?” I asked, still not looking at him. I felt his eyes on my face, felt him gazing at me, but couldn’t bring myself to meet his eye.
“Sloane,” he said softly, and I did look at him then. “Coffee would be perfect. Thank you.”
“I’ll have it right up,” I said, holding his eye. There was a look of interest on his face, one that was inviting and warm. I noticed that he glanced down at my lips when I smiled at him. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a credit card, handing it to me. I looked at him while I swiped it, then handed it back. He took a seat at an empty table, and I felt his eyes on me as I worked, pouring coffee into a mug for him and setting his cinnamon roll on a plate. I took a moment to collect myself before I carried it over to him, meeting his eye as I set it on the table in front of him.
“Sit with me,” he said softly, taking my hand before I could pull away. His skin was soft and warm on mine, and the touch sent a shiver down my back that had nothing to do with the chill outside. I glanced around the room—there were other customers there, too many for me to take a break. I shook my head.
“I can’t,” I said, gently pulling away from him, though I couldn’t help but return his smile. He gazed at me for a moment before I walked away and back behind the counter, disappearing into the kitchen so that I could tame my heartbeat before I saw him again.
Chapter 2: Reid
I sat at the table, sipping the coffee Sloane had brought me and keeping my eye out at the counter for her to come back. I had noticed how she’d looked at me when she’d first seen me, the same way I had been undoubtedly looking at her—with plain interest and attraction, as well as a little shyness on her part. I was never shy—it wasn’t in my nature—but the pink flush on her cheeks when she got flustered speaking to me lit up her face, making her look even more beautiful than she already was. Sloane was gorgeous and petite, probably almost a foot shorter than me, with dark hair that curled around her shoulders, and soft, pale brown eyes. I had trouble looking away from her as I was speaking to her, and I could tell that she was having the same problem.
I watched her emerge from the back, her eyes not meeting mine as she came back into the store. She was looking decidedly away from me, though at times I would catch her looking, just briefly catch her eye, and smile at her before she looked away. It made me wonder if she was shy in other ways, in other places, if she’d have that same look on her face while I undressed her. She seemed like it would take some convincing to get her into my hands, but I had decided the moment I’d seen her that I had to try.
When I was finished with my cinnamon roll and coffee, I brought the dishes back up to the counter and put them down. Sloane looked up at me, and I smiled at her, making her blush again. I loved that I was making her so nervous by just looking at her and wondered if I was affecting her in other ways.
“Sloane,” I said. She parted her lips to speak to me, and I couldn’t help but to glimpse at them, noting how full they were, how soft and pink and pretty. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.”
“Now you have,” she said, smiling at me. “Did you like it?”
“I’ve enjoyed myself very much,” I said, holding her view. There was something bewitching about her gaze, how it was sweet but bold at the same time. I could tell there was a fire behind that shy expression, and I badly wanted to see it, to get to know the private side of her. I wondered how she would look opened up to me completely, and see who she really was outside of the bakery.
“Good,” she said, dragging her teeth across her bottom lip. It was then that someone came into the bakery behind me, and Sloane glanced over my shoulder.
“Thank you again,” I said, winking at her when she caught my gaze. She blushed again and I grinned as I turned around and made my way out of the bakery. I walked down the block a bit and got into my car, only then remembering that I’d forgotten to drop my business card off with Sloane for her to give to Henry Wright, the owner of the bakery. I had been so distracted by the girl that I had completely forgotten why I’d gone to the bakery in the first place. I sighed, shaking my head and laughing at myself—I wasn’t usually so unfocused around women, but there had been something about Sloane that had gotten under my skin the moment I’d looked into those gorgeous brown eyes.
I started my car and pulled away from the curb, driving through town and looking around as I did so. I loved looking at the old buildings and envisioning what could be. Real estate development wasn’t just my job; it was my creative passion. My latest project was the biggest yet, and sometimes I feared I had taken on more than I could handle. But every time I doubted myself, I’d remember the twenty-three investors I’d brought in on the deal and told myself that losing their money was not an option. I had been in real estate since I’d graduated from college and had started from nowhere, managing to build my small company into a multibillion-dollar international success. I hadn’t gotten there without a few bumps in the road, but if I’d learned anything from my father, it was that I could fight through anything and win. I had to. My father had never accepted an
ything less.
I got back to the office a few hours later, ignoring my messages and instead leaning back in my chair. Sloane was on my mind still, something that surprised me. Pretty women were a dime a dozen, a renewable resource that I could get my hands on whenever I wanted. Still, even as I thought through the list of women I could call to keep me company tonight, the only person in my head right now was the shy girl behind the register I’d met at the bakery earlier. I decided that I would go in the next day and bring her my card—it would give me an excuse to see her again, perhaps ask her out. Though I knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to get involved with someone in the middle of a big deal, I found I couldn’t get the idea of taking Sloane out, kissing her, or taking her clothes off, out of my mind.
I tried to distract myself by going through the paperwork from the other sales in the neighborhood, noting there were only three more buildings to sign contracts on, including the bakery. That deal was different, though, because of the complications that my lawyer had come across. A few more steps I’d have to take, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I had closed on most of the deals myself—though other men of my position in the company would gladly hand over those meetings to other employees, I had always been hands-on with my business and always would be. I liked the thrill of the negotiation, the feeling of taking over a place piece by piece until the land was mine to do with as I pleased. It was like playing a game, developing something new in a place that hadn’t been revitalized in too long. The phone rang and I picked it up off my desk.
“How’d it go, Reid?” It was Allan Dane, my lead investor. He was anxious to get the project started. “Did you get it done?”
“The Ruske property is complicated, Allan. I’m trying to find a way to do it simply—that takes time.”
“Bullshit. It’s not complicated, but you are insisting on making it complicated. A contract is a contract, and if people don’t keep up their end, there’s a price to pay. That’s business.”