Crave Me: A Billionaire Boss Romance

by Amy Brent

  “Julian? I meant what I said, you know.”

  “I know,” I said gently. “I know you did.”

  There was silence, almost as if she was giving me a chance to say it back. And in that silence, I heard the unmistakable sound of expectation. I knew she wanted me to tell her that I loved her too. But I didn't want to tell her I loved her like this. Not after an emotionally intense – and distressing – situation. And certainly not over the phone. If I did tell her that I loved her, it needed to be under better circumstances. Not over the phone. Not like this.

  “I guess I better get going.” The sadness was back in her voice and it sent a lance of pain through my heart.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to think of how I could reassure her. How I could let her know that I indeed cared about her. I settled on something sort of generic that probably wasn't as reassuring as I'd intended it to be.

  “This isn't the end, Sabrina,” I said. “It doesn't have to be the end of things. You know that, right?”

  “I hope not,” she said softly. “I couldn't bear losing you.”

  Everything in me hurt. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from falling. “And I can't imagine losing you either, sweetheart. I really can't. Somehow, someway, we're going to get through this. Together.”

  “I hope you're right, Julian.”

  “Trust me.”

  Chapter Nine

  JULIAN

  Sabrina and I spoke every night for the next few weeks, and it always killed me to be away from her. There were times when she was fighting with her father or stressed about a job interview, and I wanted to go over there to comfort her. Reassure her. Make her see and believe that everything was going to be okay. But I couldn't. I needed to keep my distance from her family, let them repair their relationship before I interjected myself into the mix again. Sometime, later on down the line, when Sabrina and her father had fully healed, we could see what happened between me and her dad from there.

  Or at the very least, we could wait until Sabrina was out from under her parent's roof and on her own. Because that was my first, and worst mistake – we should never have slept together in her parent's house. Not after they'd taken me in as their guest. Not that I had much say in it, but looking back, I felt terrible about crapping on their hospitality by secretly sleeping with their daughter. It had been a low class, low rent thing to do. And for that, I was sorry and ashamed of myself.

  Every night, before we'd get off the phone, Sabrina would tell me she loved me. Then she'd wait for me to say it back for a few, long, awkward moments, but I never did. She never stopped telling me, however, and for that, I was grateful. In the middle of the night, when I was alone in my hotel room, and eventually my own bed back at my finished house, I'd remember her and remember her sweet smile, and it kept me going.

  I was tossing and turning late one night, unable to sleep, when my phone rang. I assumed it was Sabrina, calling back as she sometimes did when she couldn't sleep. I didn't bother checking the display when I grabbed my phone. I'd simply grabbed it and answered. I was surprised however, when it wasn't Sabrina's voice I heard, but a man's.

  “Sorry if I woke you up,” Dave said quietly.

  “You didn't wake me, I couldn't sleep anyway,” I said, sitting up in my bed. I was stunned, almost too stunned to comprehend what was happening. I was beyond shocked that Dave was reaching out to me. “What's up?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Yes, we do,” I said.

  “My daughter insists she loves you and that I'm being ridiculous about all of this,” Dave said. “Am I?”

  “I don't know if I'm a good judge of that, considering the circumstances. I wouldn't consider myself an unbiased source in the matter.”

  “My wife agrees with her, mostly. She still thinks what happened and the way it all went down is pretty fucked up. But she thinks I'm being too hard on Sabrina too. She thinks I'm being an overly protective asshole. Which is the only reason I'm calling you right now. Let me ask you one thing, Julian – do you love my daughter? Was she more than just a good time for you too?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, unsure of how I should answer such a question. Either way, I was talking to my best friend about fucking his daughter. No matter what I said, I was still the asshole who'd not only slept with his daughter under his roof, but had damaged what had been a good relationship between Dave and Sabrina. The family was at war and that was my fault.

  “She wasn't just a good time for me, Dave,” I said. “That much, I can promise you.”

  “But do you love her?” he asked me.

  Taking a deep breath, I decided now was as good a time as any to answer the question that Sabrina had been asking me too. It wasn't how I wanted it to come out – I actually wanted to be in front of her, looking into her eyes when I said it. But the whole situation was all kinds of fucked up and there was no idea scenario for any of us in this situation. I'd wanted to tell her in person, but I obviously wasn't going to get that chance.

  “Yes, I do actually,” I said softly. “I love her very much.”

  Dave was quiet for a moment before saying, “Well I guess that makes it somewhat better then. Or at least, not quite as fucked up.”

  I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I didn't.

  Dave asked, “Can we get together sometime tomorrow and talk in person?”

  “As long as you promise not to punch me again,” I said.

  “You kinda deserved that.”

  “Yes, I did,” I said. “I'll admit that I screwed up. But I'd like a chance to make things right. Not just between you and me, but with Sabrina as well. Because believe it or not, Dave, I have fallen head over heels in love with your daughter, and I'd really like the opportunity to tell her that, in person. If you'd be willing to let me.”

  “Not so fast, Julian – let's take this all one step at a time. But yes, we can talk. Tomorrow. And I promise not to throw any punches.”

  “Fair enough.”

  At that point, I wasn't really in a good position to bargain with the man. The fact that he was giving me the time of day to talk it out at all was more than generous.

  All I could do was talk to him, see where it all went, and hope for the best.

  Chapter Ten

  SABRINA

  “You coming down for dinner, sweetheart?” mom asked, peeking her head into my bedroom with a friendly smile.

  “I'd rather not,” I said, flipping a page in my book. “I'll grab some leftovers later. Either that, or I'll just go out and grab something.”

  My mother sat down on the bed beside me. “I know it's hard, Sabrina. Your dad is stubborn, sure, but he's also hurting. You're his baby girl and Julian was supposed to be his best friend. What happened between you two – he's struggling with it.”

  “But we both know that Julian would never, ever take advantage of me, mom,” I said. “How long have you known him? Do you really think he's some sort of deviant sexual predator?”

  “I know he's not. And I also know that you've been in love with him since birth, pretty much. It just took us all by surprise, that's all,” she said. “You never expect your daughter to end up with a man that's your age. Especially one who watched her grow up. I'm not saying it's right or wrong, I'm just saying that it takes a little time to adjust to the reality life throws at you sometimes. And you know your father – he sometimes doesn't do well with unexpected curve balls. Especially, when they're of a personal nature.”

  I knew all of this. I understood it. “But it doesn't make dad's reaction right. Not at all.”

  “No, it doesn't,” she said. “But it makes it more understandable, doesn't it?”

  “Maybe so,” I mumbled. “But to keep me from seeing Julian? After I've told him a million times that I love him? That's an absolute dick move, if you ask me.”

  “Your father isn't perfect, but he's willing to admit when he's screwed up, Sabrina. Give him a chance to make amends. He might just surprise you.�
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  “I highly doubt it,” I said. “Old dogs, new tricks and all that.”

  “Just come down to dinner and let's talk, as a family.”

  She gave me a small smile as she patted me on the back. She stood up and walked toward the door, turning and looking back at me. I saw a look in her eyes that I couldn't quite place. It was then that I realized she was pleading with me – with her eyes. She had been caught in the crossfire and was watching her family get torn apart. I knew she was hurt and she didn't deserve this. The least I could do was go downstairs and enjoy dinner – ignoring my dad as mom and I chatted about whatever. I could go and have dinner – with her.

  “Fine,” I said. “I'll be right down.”

  My mom smiled and then walked downstairs before me, but I followed behind soon after. As I walked down the stairs, however, I noticed that there were four settings at the table – not just the typical three for us.

  “Are we having company?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at my mom.

  “Yes, we are actually,” my dad said, walking into the dining room from behind me.

  I turned and my jaw hit the ground as I stared at Julian, standing only a few feet away – and next to my father. My first instinct was to run to him, to embrace and kiss him. But I put that instinct in check. I knew that if I did that in this environment that had been superheated ever since that day, it would more than likely cause even more problems. There seemed to be a fragile peace in place and the last thing I wanted to do was jeopardize it. I needed to keep it together, keep the peace, and perhaps my mom was right – maybe we could make amends. I mean, if my father was willing to invite Julian back over, I supposed anything was possible.

  “Sabrina,” he said softly, a smile on his face. “It's good to see you.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “It's good to see you too, Julian.”

  My father cleared his throat before speaking, “Julian, I believe you have something to tell my daughter.”

  I looked at my dad, then back at Julian, a curious look on my face. I had no idea what was about to happen, but a million different nightmare, heartbreaking scenarios flashed through my head. My heart was thundering in my chest and I felt my palms growing damp with sweat. I didn't know what was about to happen, but I feared that I wasn't going to like it.

  “What is it?” I feared for the worst.

  I was suddenly sure that my father had gotten to him, convinced him to break things off with me in order to save their friendship or something equally as cruel as that. My head spinning and my heart racing, I steadied myself by placing a hand against the wall. And when Julian began to speak, I was suddenly grateful I'd had the foresight to brace myself against something.

  “Yes, I do. I have something to say to your daughter,” he said, clearing his throat and stepping forward, coming toward me. He took my hand in his, holding it as he spoke. “Sabrina Prescott, I know this may come as a surprise, but I love you.”

  My knees went weak and I almost toppled to the floor, despite the fact that I was holding on to the wall. “You what?”

  “I love you,” he said, and a nervous smile was shared between us. “I love you, Sabrina. There, I finally said it. And it feels damn good to say it too.”

  “I – I love you too,” I said, feeling as if I might pass out from all this going on at once.

  Right there, in my family's dining room, Julian was professing his love for me and I was able to give it to him in return. In front of my parents? Was I dreaming? Was this some sort of cruel hoax? An alternate reality? What in the hell was going on?

  I looked over at my mom who was smiling, her eyes welling with tears. She took my father's hand in hers and squeezed it tight. And while my father wasn't smiling and still looked distinctly uncomfortable, he at least looked to be handling this better than I thought. At least he wasn't throwing punches at Julian.

  While I was looking away, Julian dropped down to his knee. It took me a few seconds too long to process what I was seeing and realize what was happening. It wasn't until I saw the ring in the box in Julian's hand that it hit me.

  “No way,” I said, shaking my head, tears welling up in my eyes as I looked over at my father in disbelief.

  “Sabrina,” Julian said, holding my hand in his, “I've already asked your father permission, and he gives us his blessing – will you do me the pleasure of being my wife?”

  “Seriously? Yes! Yes! Of course,” I said, my mind and body alternating between a sense of euphoria and a state of shock as he slipped the giant rock on my finger. He stood up and we kissed, but I still felt like I might pass out.

  “When? How?” I asked, not able to form a coherent thought, let alone sentence.

  “Your father called to talk to me last night. Then we met earlier today,” Julian explained, pushing my hair from my eyes so he could stare more fully into them. “We worked things out, Sabrina. We worked it out and he understands now. He understands that what we have is real. And this isn't just some old guy preying on a young, naïve girl.”

  “Daddy?” I asked, choking on the words. “Is this true?”

  “It is,” he said, a small smile on his face at last. “I just want what's best for you, sweetheart. And Julian is a good man. He's one of the best I've ever known. If you two are in love, I support you being together. It's just going to take a minute for me to get fully used to it and comfortable with it. But – I'll get there. Just be patient with me, honey.”

  I couldn't believe it. Not only was my father saying we could be together – openly – he had given us his blessing to get married. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined anything remotely like that happening.

  “Are you happy, sweetheart?” my mom asked me.

  “Very much so,” I said, tears of joy filling my eyes. “I'm getting married to the man of my dreams! How could I not be happy?”

  EPILOGUE

  TWO YEARS LATER

  SABRINA

  Do you ever look at your life and wonder how you ever got so lucky? It's like, you can't quite figure out what you've done to deserve all of the good fortune to come into your world. It happens to me every single day of my life. I've got a husband who adores me, takes care of me, who provides for me, and who treats me better than any man my own age ever could, I feel truly blessed.

  Sure, people comment on our age difference and assume I'm with him for his money. Little do they know that I was once a little girl madly in love with him, long before he found success in business. It wasn't his money, it was him. But some people would never be convinced. I could just shrug those people off though, knowing the truth of the matter.

  I find myself sitting next to him, doing mundane things like eating dinner or watching tv, when it hits me all over again – he's my husband. Julian Pierce, the man I'd grown up around, the man I'd always crushed hard on, was my husband. This was real. Absolutely real. It was no longer a dream or a teenage girl's fantasy for me.

  I was better for him than Beth ever was too. I knew a side of him that very few people did, a side that only came from having grown up around him and seeing him in normal, everyday, mundane life. He was so amazing to me back when I'd been a child – I always knew he'd make a wonderful father. He was scared, of course, but once we discussed the idea, weight out all of the pros and cons, he realized that maybe I was right.

  My parents were excited for their future grandchild – a little girl according to the ultrasounds. Our family was just getting started, and no matter if we'd only have the one child or many more, I knew we'd be happy.

  The day Ella was born was the best day of our lives. I'll never forget how beautiful she was. She'd stolen my heart from the first moment she'd drawn breath. She was the most beautiful little girl in the history of the world. I was convinced of it and nobody would ever be able to convince me otherwise.

  But even more amazing than seeing my child enter this world and draw breath for the first time, was seeing both my father and Julian doting over the little girl, making
cooing noises, and planting soft kisses on her chubby cheeks and belly.

  “She looks like you,” Julian cooed. “She looks so much like you.”

  My mom beamed proudly at me, tears rolling gently down her cheeks. Her genes were good genes to have, I had to admit. Ella wasn't going to be lacking for beauty, I was convinced. Between my mother's genes and the genes of my very handsome husband, Ella was going to be the envy of many girls. I thought I did pretty okay for myself with my mom's genes – I did snag the man of my dreams, after all. But I knew that Ella was going to be an absolute stunner. She was going to do just fine for herself in this world. I was sure of it.

  And I made Julian promise me that no matter what, he'd always be understanding of Ella, allowing her to be her own person and be free to love whoever she loves. The last thing I wanted was for him to turn into my father and start punching out the men she fell in love with. Not only would he probably break a bone if he tried to punch somebody at his age, he would be a giant, flaming hypocrite if he objected to somebody she loved. All I needed to do was remind him of the incident – and that should shut him right up.

  Oh, and he better not punch any of her future boyfriends, no matter the circumstances. Because just like she was his little girl, I had been someone else's daughter once too. And he'd swept in and swept me off my feet. He needed to make sure to make allowances for such a fairy tale to happen for our little girl.

  But I had to admit, as I stared down at her sweet, innocent face, I understood my father – and my mother – more than ever before.

  Dad’s Business Partner

  Chapter 1: Megan

  It is a fact of life that when a woman wears sexy lingerie underneath her clothes - no matter how modest - she will feel confident and beautiful, even if no one sees it.

  It is a fact of my life that if I wear sexy lingerie underneath my clothes, not only will I feel confident and beautiful, but I would want someone to see it.

  I grew up around fashion shows. My father created one of the top modeling agencies in the country. Fashion had become my life - The slinky models with clothes that're barely appropriate, the snooty onlookers with money and skewed standards of what's acceptable, the electricity in the air.