Just One Weekend: A Billionaire Romance (The Ironwood Billionaire Series Book 5)

by Ellie Danes

  One Last Time

  A Billionaire Romance

  The Ironwood Billionaire Series

  By

  Ellie Danes

  www.EllieDanes.com

  Copyright

  First Edition, November 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.

  Table of Contents

  Just One Weekend

  Copyright

  Book Description

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

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  Book Description

  Brains, brawn, money and ambition.

  I’ve been the man every woman has wanted, except for one.

  And the reason why she didn’t has haunted me, my entire life.

  Until now. A simple deal has unlocked the answers I need,

  but it comes with a price even a billionaire can’t afford.

  She needs me to play the part; rich, successful, her boyfriend. Just one weekend.

  All things I can do without even acting, but she’s about to get the full package and everything that comes along with it. Her first real experience, with a real man.

  I’m about to shake up her corporate world and show her what she’s been missing.

  She’s about to hand me the answers I’ve been searching for my entire life. A secret I’ve held from everyone. I never expected such a simple deal, would change my entire life.

  Just One Weekend is a standalone billionaire romance and is Book 5 of The Ironwood Billionaire Series.

  Prologue

  Weston

  “Are you sure you want to do that Jace?” I nodded toward Declan as Jace continued to push his chips in to the center of the table. “Declan is a hell of a bluffer, I bet he’s holding four aces right now.” The rest of the group laughed at my sarcastic remark.

  Declan Erikson was anything but a good liar and an even worse poker player. Unlike me.

  I could lie with the best of them. It must have been a trait I inherited from one of my parents. At least that’s what I assumed. These guys, they were different. Most were tough negotiators and businessmen.

  They made billions from being calm, cool and collected. I certainly didn’t fit. At least from an appearance standpoint at least. I was much more rugged, edgy, tattooed. My longer shaggy hair made me look more like a biker or bad boy than who and what I really was.

  Jace was a newly minted billionaire. Kyle and Declan were used to the lifestyle of the rich and famous, and Colin, well, being an ex pro athlete had its advantages. Especially when his family had built an entire company and brand around his failed sports career. I guess he took the good with the bad, but he was making the best of it.

  I knew food and business. I also knew that the three kings and two queens I held in my hand were absolutely going to take the pot and leave Jace and the rest of this filthy rich crew owing me some cash.

  It was my time to collect and get out. I glanced down at my watch. Ten-thirty. It was time to get on the road and take what was mine.

  “Alright Jace. I don’t know what Declan over there is really holding, but since everyone else has folded, I call you and raise. How about a hundred?”

  Declan immediately folded his cards and tossed them on the pile. “I’m out,” he chuckled.

  “Well Jace? What do you say?”

  Jace thumbed through his chips and laughed. “No way. All or nothing.” He leaned back in his chair and laid his cards on the table face down. “I mean, are we playing poker or old maid here?”

  The rest of the group leaned forward, their elbows on the table as they looked at me.

  “How much is that?” I asked.

  “Shit, I don’t know, maybe two-fifty.” Jace spread the chips out in front of him and then raked them back into a pile. “Let’s just call it two-fifty.”

  “Done,” I said as I quickly counted out the matching chips. “Let’s see ‘um.”

  Jace flipped his cards showing a handful of red hearts. “Told you, bitches.” He laughed as he began to reach for the pot.

  “Hold on there, not so fast.” I dropped my cards on the table and then stood, revealing the full-house I had been holding.

  “Damn it, Stone!” Jace pushed back from the table shaking his head. “Why do you always do that to me?”

  “Because it’s easy to do. I certainly hope you’re better at running your business than you are at gambling.”

  The rest of the group laughed. “Screw you, Chef,” Jace snapped back as he reached for his beer and took a big swig from the bottle.

  “Boys, I’m going to call it an evening. I have a long drive ahead of me and honestly it’s the last thing I feel like doing right now.”

  I had made this same for as long as I could remember. The long trip back home. As much as I wanted to forget the place, and the people that left me behind I was always searching for answers.

  Maybe this year. I thought to myself.

  “Why don’t you just leave in the morning? Hell, at least give us a chance to win our money back,” Kyle said as he thumbed through his dwindling stack of chips.

  “Nah, I really just want to get past this. Besides, aren’t you the treasurer of this little poker group? Just add my winnings to next month’s pot. What is that in there… about six or seven hundred thousand?” I asked as I glanced down at the table. “Jace, thanks for hosting this little get together. I love what you did with the place by the way.”

  The rest of the group laughed as they looked around Jace’s penthouse suite. He had locked in the 77th floor of the Ironwood but clearly, he hadn’t spent a penny more on furniture or decorations.

  The million dollar card game we liked to pretend meant everything to us was played on a folding card table as we sat in old, uncomfortable patio chairs, which was absolutely perfect for a guy like me.

  I slapped hands with the group and made my way towards the door grabbing the bag I had packed earlier.

  “I guess I’ll see you guys at some point in the next month or so. Try to leave Jace with at least a few pennies to buy a couch.”

  Without looking back I hit the button on the private elevator and ro
de it down to the lobby. Each ding of the elevator brought that dark cloud closer overhead. I dreaded this trip for everything it meant and everything it could be.

  Chapter One

  Ashley

  When I saw the sign for the Greenleaf Diner, I knew I needed a break from driving. I needed to stop and get something in my stomach in order to finish up the trip back home. I changed lanes and turned off of the highway at the exit, fighting off the brief flurry of irritable anxiety that I was somehow going to be “late,” even though I didn’t technically have a deadline for getting into town.

  I’d been planning my tactics for my homecoming for weeks--for months, even--ever since I confirmed that I would be going. It might seem silly to put so much stock into a stupid high school reunion, but I wanted to make as much of a splash as possible.

  I yawned as I turned off of the highway and pulled into the parking lot for the diner. It had been years since I’d been this close to my hometown; even for holidays, my parents and I would go to my grandparents’ place or to my aunts’ and uncles’ houses. I found a parking spot--not hard, so late at night--and turned off the engine to my car. Closing my eyes, I rested my head on the seat.

  I’d worked up to the last possible moment, making sure that everything at the office was taken care of so that I would be able to hit the ground running when I got back in a few days. I’d made sure to pack my laptop, my charger, and my work phone--just in case. If something happened at the agency, I would need to be in contact, and if I had some spare time during the trip, I planned on at least looking over paperwork and reading a few emails so I’d be as prepared as possible when I got back.

  The fact was, as pathetic as it was to admit it, I was a work addict. I tried to tell myself at first that it was because I was doing something that I loved and it was because I was doing important work, but the truth was--as I realized a few months before the reunion announcement--that I really didn’t have anything else going on in my life.

  I opened my eyes and rubbed at my face before making myself get out of the car. “A cup of coffee, and something to eat, and then I’ll get back on the road and get to the house,” I told myself, even as I locked the car up behind me and crunched on the icy-cold asphalt of the parking lot. My parents’ home would be abandoned because my parents were spending the winter in Italy, and they’d given me the keys to the house when I’d told them I was going to my high school reunion. Something I was dreading, but I knew I needed to do.

  The door to the diner creaked on its hinges in a welcoming, homey kind of way when I opened it, and a gust of hot air, full of the scents of cooking meat, hot oil, and frying starch blew against my face. This was definitely a warmer welcome than I would have gotten at my parents’ house, and my stomach lurched in my body, reminding me that I’d started feeling hungry about thirty minutes ago.

  I stepped into the diner and let the door shut behind me. The place was decorated with old, classic photos and knickknacks. At just before midnight, it wasn’t that busy; there were maybe three people seated at the tables, and a guy sitting at one end of the bar, hunched over the counter with his back to me. I spotted a couple of waitresses moving around, and the cook behind the counter, working away.

  “Come on in, honey--it’s raw out there,” one of the waitresses said. I had to agree with her; it hadn’t been so cold when I’d left the city after work, but as soon as the sun had gone down, it had gotten colder and colder. According to the display in my car, it was thirty-five degrees outside, and the weather forecast stated that it would get even colder, dipping below freezing overnight.

  I sat at the bar and one of the waitresses brought me a menu, giving me a quick smile and telling me to take my time as she poured me a glass of water. “I definitely want a nice, big cup of coffee, if nothing else,” I told her, and she nodded.

  “I’ll bring you a pot, how about that?” she said quickly.

  I smiled up at her.

  “You’re just trying to make it look like you’re not giving our Casanova here special treatment,” one of the other waitresses called out from behind the counter, where she was doing something to the register.

  “No, I’m just a nice person all around,” my waitress countered.

  Casanova? I looked around the diner to try and figure out who they could possibly be talking about. The booth across the dining room had an old man seated at it with one of his buddies, both of them reading newspapers over cups of coffee and the remains of some kind of deep-fried feast. Clearly not them--or at least, I was pretty sure it wasn’t them. One of the other tables had a few college-age girls seated at it, and obviously it wasn’t them.

  That just left the guy sitting a few seats away from me, hunched over the counter, looking down at his phone. From behind, I wouldn’t have ever called him any kind of Casanova, and even in profile I couldn’t really see the allure at first; he had dark shaggy hair that fell loosely around his face. He was wearing heavy jeans and a thick, dark green hoodie, with worn-down, washed-out boots on his feet and a leather jacket slung over the back of his chair.

  “She’s just jealous, Lucy, don’t pay her any attention,” the guy said, turning to look in our direction, speaking to my waitress.

  Seeing his face, I had to admit he was handsome. His sharp jawline, speckled with some stubble, balanced his face perfectly. He had the nicest eyebrows I’d ever seen on a guy, framing big, dark brown eyes, and a smiling, cupid’s bow mouth that had the faintest little twist at the corners like he knew the punchline to a joke he wasn’t telling anyone just yet.

  “Of course I’m jealous; she got to you first,” the other waitress said.

  I had to chuckle at that, and turned my attention back to the menu, listening as the two women continued to banter back and forth about the guy, with him occasionally chiming in. It took longer than I would have believed possible for me to finally decide on something to eat; my waitress brought me coffee and hot chocolate both, and I’d even taken a couple of sips, by the time I figured out what I actually wanted.

  “Made up your mind?” There wasn’t any impatience in the waitress’ voice as she asked me.

  “I’ll have the steak and eggs--and can I get some spinach in those? I saw you have a spinach and cheese scramble.”

  “Absolutely, not a problem,” the waitress replied; I watched her scribble some notes on her pad. “Do you want pancakes or french toast with that?”

  “French toast,” I said.

  “Good choice--the pancakes here have always been a little on the dry side,” the man at the other end of the counter said. I glanced at him and in spite of myself I felt a little rush of heat in my cheeks. Whatever charm he’d already worked on the waitresses, apparently I wasn’t immune to it, either.

  While the waitresses playfully scolded the handsome stranger, I felt my phone buzzing in my purse. I took it out and checked the flashing screen to see my friend Jess’s name. I figured she was probably worried she hadn’t heard from me yet.

  “Hey,” I said as soon as the line connected. “I’m fine; just got off the road to eat some dinner.”

  “How far are you from town?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “About twenty minutes, maybe a little longer?”

  “Oh--where did you stop off at?”

  “Green Leaf Diner,” I replied.

  “Ah, so yeah, you’re not too far,” Jess agreed. “You ready for the whole shebang?”

  “I’m just about as ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, thinking about the level of planning that I put into something as simple as a high school reunion.

  “I mean, realistically, it’s not like you have to worry that much; you legitimately are one of the most successful people in our graduating class,” Jess pointed out.

  Jess and I had been together through much of school. In high school she was much more into the Goth scene and darker music. She was attractive, but always seemed to pick the wrong guys just to get attention.

  We’d connected our fresh
man year in college during break and had somehow stayed on friendly terms even though we were complete opposites. It just worked. Jess was the type of person that could be alone for the rest of her life, unattached, and it wouldn’t bother her. She’d hook up every now and then and it was more than satisfying for her. That was the reason she chose to go to the reunion alone. She figured she’d just hook up with one of the guys that showed up alone.

  “I know, I know,” I said, sighing. “I just...well, you know. He’s going to be there.”

  “I know,” Jess agreed. “But you have to move past that, Ash, how many freaking years ago was that? Derek is probably old, fat and unsuccessful. I mean, the guy isn’t on any social media sites for a reason. I told you that you could be my wing girl. Besides, what about that last detail you talked about?”

  I grinned wryly to myself. “The contingency? That, I had a little bit of trouble trying to arrange,” I admitted. I glanced over at the good-looking stranger still holding down the other end of the bar and lowered my voice. “We’ll see, I may have another option.”

  “Do tell,” Jess said.

  “I can’t, and I don’t know for sure. It’s just an idea, anyway. If I can’t stand on my own two feet and make my reputation, I shouldn’t even try, right? Maybe I should just be your wing girl,” I giggled.

  “The offer stands,” she said, “and as far as I’m concerned, you shouldn’t try just because there’s no point. You got this.”

  I saw the waitress bringing my food and shifted the phone to my other ear as I cleared a space on the counter.

  “Hey--I gotta go, but I’ll let you know when I’m home safely,” I told Jess. I ended the call quickly and set my phone down on the counter.

  “Steak and spinach egg scramble, with french toast,” Lucy said, setting it down in front of me. “Enjoy, hon.”

  She turned and stepped away with a polite smile and then badgered the handsome guy a little more for his attention, flirting and being coy with him. She had to be at least forty, I thought, starting in on my dinner; not that it mattered, but the guy looked closer to my age than the waitress’s.