The Heir & I: Taming The Billionaire

by Lara Hunter

  These same senses underwent a second assault as they were struck with the shattering notes of a hard rocking heavy metal tune; one that managed to drown out all attempts at conversation that transpired between my date and myself. Finally Kirk just motioned for me to write down my drink order, which he then passed on to a waiting waiter.

  “This seems like a really cool place!” Kirk screamed above the music. “Doncha think?”

  “Oh yeah!” I replied, flashing an awkward thumbs up sign in his direction. “The best!”

  OK, so maybe the conversation-killing music was a blessing in disguise.

  Finally Kirk suggested that we get up and dance and as we walked hand in hand toward the rickety wooden dance floor that formed the center of Jubilee, I recalled the many passionate, heartfelt dances that had transpired between Oliver and me.

  Somehow it didn’t feel the same when Kirk took me into his arms; his own arms loose and tentative as he swung me around the floor.

  Keeping a respectful distance between us, we moved out of synch and even stumbled a bit as we tried to match the rhythm of the song. Twirling slightly away from my date, I stumbled backward against the tall, muscular body of another dancer on the floor.

  Turning with a flourish to apologize to the gentleman I’d just jarred on the dance floor, my mouth fell agape as I faced the man whose image haunted my mind.

  Refined and handsome in a sleek black dinner suit, Oliver Clark looked strangely out of place on a stained, rickety dance floor and suddenly I wondered if he was something out of a dream.

  But when he said, “Good evening, Lily,” his voice sounded all too real and in lieu of answering his very polite greeting, I turned and ran from the floor.

  Racing through the crowd in the direction of the door, I cleared the club entrance in seconds; emerging in the moonlight to cover my face with my hands, letting loose with a loud, sharp sob that released my long held sorrow.

  How could I ever escape that man? And even if I resigned from Clark Industries, how could I escape his memory?

  My troubled meditation was soothed somewhat by the sudden presence of two strong hands on my shoulders; hands that I simultaneously hoped and feared belonged to Oliver.

  Raising my head, my gaze locked with a pair of eyes that were blue, not brown.

  “Are you all right, Lily?” Kirk asked me, tone low and gentle.

  Nodding, I stood upright and squared my shoulders; forcing a faint smile as I replied, “I’m OK, thanks. I think, though, that maybe you should take me home now.”

  Kirk looked at me for a long moment, then nodded.

  “I think you’re right,” he agreed, adding in a lower tone, “I don’t have a chance here, do I Lil? You really are in love with that man.”

  I bit my lip.

  “I’m sorry, Kirk,” I offered with a smile. “I know this sounds hopelessly clichéd but I do hope we can still be friends. Good friends.”

  Wrapping his arms around my shoulders, Kirk nodded as he turned my body in the direction of the parking lot.

  “We can, dear,” he affirmed, adding with a gentle nudge, “Now let’s get you home.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  ~

  Oliver

  Saturday evening came around far too early for my liking; particularly as this night provided a dismal capper to a downright miserable week.

  I had to admit it; Lily’s rejection of my gift had left me disgusted, frustrated and more than a little stunned. What did this woman want, anyway? I had given her the prettiest, most expensive gift I could find. What more could I do? Did she just enjoy torturing me?

  During the week, of course, I could bury my worries in the pile of work that filled my office inbox. I’m proud to say that my relationship woes did not destroy the newfound momentum I’d established at work; even my father, another person I’d managed to royally tick off, stopped briefly in my office to deliver a brief, roughly spoken compliment (“Good job, I suppose,” were his exact words) regarding my recent performance on an important project.

  OK so I didn’t expect the dude to nominate me for Employee of the Year anytime soon but at least I saw some remote hope for our relationship.

  Not so when it came to Lily. And while I could forget this fact during the work week, it wasn’t easy to do so on the weekend—the time I usually spent with Lily.

  I spent all day Saturday moping in my apartment; finding no easy escape route from my exhausting, stifling haze of complete and utter misery.

  Around 5 o’clock that evening, I had had enough. No woman was going to make a weepy, emotional mess of Oliver Clark—and if she didn’t realize what a find she had in me, then I would just call up one of the many beautiful women who did appreciate and want to be with me.

  OK, so the first five women I called had already made plans for the evening; the sixth had just come down with an inexplicable headache, and the seventh seemed to be having problems with her phone—or at least that seemed to be the case, given the loud click I heard in my ear the moment I said, “Hi, it’s Oliver.”

  Finally, though, I scored a date with Kelli—what was her last name again? Elated that Lily and I were no longer dating, Kelli agreed to meet me at the Jubilee dance emporium that evening and while this low rent night club was not on my list of favorite haunts, I supposed that the loud music—paired, of course, with the company of a gorgeous woman—would dull my senses and drown out the memory of another woman; one that at this point seemed unattainable.

  Two hours later I sat at a table across from the lovely blonde Kelli; dressed that evening in a sharp black spaghetti strap that showed off her slender body to glorious effect. Leaning forward across the table, I ran my fingers through her luxurious mass of thick golden hair and stared deep into her wide blue eyes; seeking to lose myself in all her beauty.

  Strangely, though, I felt not even a twinge of excitement as I laid my eyes on this striking woman; and when she spoke, I found it very difficult to focus on her words.

  “I’m glad you called me, thanks for that,” she told me with a grin. “About all I was planning to do tonight was my nails and maybe check out the monster truck rally on cable.”

  I stared at her, not sure quite how to respond to this empty, banal sentiment.

  Lily would never say anything so—well—dumb. And she’d never thank me for going out with her, I thought silently, adding aloud, “Glad you could make it, Kelli. Would you like a drink?”

  Soon Kelli and I occupied our mouths with copious reams of cheese sticks and alcoholic beverages; blissfully stilting any and all attempts at genuine conversation. And when they were gone, I invited her to dance.

  The moment we hit the dance floor, Kelli flung herself into my arms and ground her nubile, voluptuous body against mine; searing me with a blatant gaze of narrow eyed seduction as she thrust her chest against mine and gyrated her slim, fit hips in my direction.

  Normally I would be turned on by such a blatant advance, especially when performed by such a hot, alluring woman. Somehow, though, I felt repulsed by her display of crude sexuality; I felt myself stiffening against her, and not in a good way.

  Lily would never make a spectacle of herself in front of all these people. Kelli stepped away from me to show off what appeared to be her advanced twerking skills. Impressive.

  In an impulsive move I swept my date’s body up tight in my arms; not in a fit of passion, but in an attempt to reign her in a bit. Then, settling my head on her shoulder, I allowed my gaze to wander disinterested across the width and breadth of the dance floor.

  My body tensed as I immediately recognized someone I knew; a Clark Industries clerk named Kirk Taylor.

  “This seems like the type of place that a no account, working class loser like him would frequent,” I sniffed silently. “I kind of wonder, though, what kind of girl he’s scored for a date.”

  I jumped in spite of myself, and my blood ran cold, as my question was met with a shocking, downright unbelievable answer.


  “Lily…” I breathed aloud, recognizing at once the voluptuous brunette that danced with Kirk. “No, it can’t be—when she could have a rich, successful guy like me, why would she waste her time with a lackey? This just doesn’t make one bit of sense.”

  I cringed as my previously flirtatious date froze in my arms; at once pulling away from me to pin me with a cold, condemning stare.

  “I said all that out loud,” I told Kelli, biting my lip as I added, “Didn’t I?”

  Kelli said nothing, just left my arms and gestured broadly in Lily’s direction.

  “Go ahead, Oliver,” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips. “Your mind and heart are already with her—not with me. Your body might as well join them.”

  I froze, staring with an open mouth at the woman that—for all intents and purposes—had just put me in my place.

  “Why Kelli,” I breathed. “I do believe that’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said. By a long shot.”

  Obviously not taking this as a compliment, my angry date turned away from me with a hale and hearty, “Screw you, Oliver Clark!”

  Shaking my head at her ire, I dismissed Kelli with a casual wave and turned to face the woman that really mattered; one whose lush, voluptuous body now collided with mine at the center of the dance floor.

  The instant that she turned to face me felt more like an eternity. For a timeless moment I stared into her wide, expressive eyes, not knowing quite what to say or do.

  “Good evening, Lily,” I muttered finally, breathless as I awaited her reaction.

  I cringed seconds later, as—once again—Lily Ashton turned away from me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ~

  “Just so you know, Oliver. I can’t always accommodate weekend appointments—especially not first thing Sunday morning.”

  Seated behind her desk with her back straight and stiff, Dr. Ann Goldman folded her arms before her as she continued, “So what did you need to talk to me about this morning? That couldn’t possibly wait until Monday morning?”

  I sighed, hanging my head as I finally gave voice to an undeniable truth.

  “I’m in love with Lily Ashton,” I revealed. “There, I’ve said it. I can’t deny it any longer. I am madly, passionately in love with this woman, and I need desperately to get her back into my life. I’m nothing without Lily, and I don’t want to live one more day of my life without that wonderful, brilliant, beautiful woman.”

  Dr. Goldman nodded.

  “Well it’s good that you’re finally willing to admit what the rest of us have known, for quite some time,” she told me, adding as she cocked her head in my direction, “The only person that doesn’t know this, as a matter of fact, is Lily. So how do you plan to show her your love?”

  I shrugged.

  “I don’t know!” I exclaimed, adding as I spread my arms in a desperate gesture, “Just the other day I bought her an expensive and very beautiful gift, which I handpicked at her favorite department store—a gift she rejected and sent back to my office. If she rejects such a grand gesture, then what on earth will she accept?”

  Dr. Goldman sighed.

  “Oliver, don’t you get it yet? Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve told you all along? Lily Ashton is an intelligent, independent woman. You can’t buy her love. You have to tell her, to show her.”

  I nodded.

  “OK, so how do I do that?” I pressed her. “I mean, I’ve never had to express myself in words or even actions to a woman. Usually the gifts, the dinners, the trips, just said it all for me.”

  Ann nodded.

  “That’s probably because, as I said before, Lily is a very special woman. And you in all likelihood feel more for her than you do for all the other woman combined,” she offered, adding as she leaned across the desk and fixed me with an apprising stare, “All you have to do, Oliver, is tell her what you truly feel—how you truly feel. Speak your heart. Then show her your heart—sweep her up in two loving arms and never let her go.”

  I thought a moment, then nodded.

  “So that’s really your professional advice?” I asked her, smiling slightly. “Is this what they taught you to say in psychology school, when a man asks you for advice on how to pursue a serious relationship with a woman?”

  Dr. Goldman shrugged; then out and out shocked me with a girlish grin and an excited, high-pitched giggle.

  “That’s my advice as a therapist, and as a woman,” she told me, adding with a sly wink, “Go get her, Oliver.”

  Chapter Twenty

  ~

  Lily

  It was with slow, trudging steps that I made my way into the offices of Clark Industries; greeting Monday morning with a sense of dread that clutched the pit of my stomach.

  I didn’t particularly want to see Kirk this morning; our car ride home Saturday evening had been so awkward and stilted—we both seemed relieved as he finally and mercifully dropped me off at my front door.

  Yet while I could manage polite smiles and empty conversation for the kind, good-natured office clerk, I honestly didn’t know what I’d say or do if I ran into Oliver and just how, I wondered, would I continue to work at Clark Industries without associating in any way with the boss’ son?

  As the harsh light of Monday morning flowed free through my bedroom window, I’d been sorely tempted to call in sick—or maybe even dead! Eventually, though, I pulled myself out of bed, threw on a freshly pressed pant suit and headed into the office.

  Trisha needs me. Harry Clark needs me—and even if he didn’t, I can’t allow his son to mess up my career—or, for that matter, my life, I mused, lifting my chin as I trudged up the stairs en route to my office. And really, what are the odds that I’m going to run into Oliver today, or—for that matter—anytime soon?

  Since I switched jobs, we’d pretty much managed to avoid each other—working on different floors, eating lunch at different times, and studiously avoiding words and eye contact during that rare company meeting. And especially in light of the events of last weekend, I had the feeling that he’d pretty much be keeping to his side of the building.

  My spirits lightened as I considered this fact and while my heart still hurt at the memory of last weekend—indeed, at the memory of the last few months of my life, and the grand romance that now seemed like a lost dream—I realized that I owed it to myself to steel myself against all thoughts of Oliver and go on with my life.

  Committed and newly energized by this fresh, empowering concept, I actually smiled as I passed the threshold of Trisha Vance’s office suite; my mind reciting all of the projects and tasks that were likely to consume my day.

  This smile dissolved seconds later, as I saw that a particularly conscientious co-worker had preceded me into the office; and it wasn’t Kirk or even Trisha.

  My eyes flew wide as they beheld the vision of a gorgeous, muscular man; a bronzed god that came complete with thick, dark hair, wide ebony eyes, bronzed skin and sculpted features, and a tall, muscular frame currently draped decoratively across the surface of my desk.

  He was a handsome, smiling dream of a man who could stir the heart of just about any woman.

  And never in my life had I ever been more sorely tempted to just haul off and slug another human being, and hard.

  In the interest of saving my job and, for that matter, saving myself from imminent criminal prosecution, though I swear to you not a jury in the land would convict me—I opted for plan B; looking Oliver Clark straight in the eyes and saying, “Unless you are here on company business, Mr. Clark, I would highly suggest that you get off of my desk and out of my office.”