One Last Time

by Danes, Ellie

  One Last Time

  A Billionaire Romance

  The Ironwood Billionaire Series

  By

  Ellie Danes

  www.EllieDanes.com

  Table of Contents

  One Last Time

  Copyright

  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

  Epilogue

  For Super Fans

  Free Books & Follow

  More From Ellie Danes

  Copyright

  First Edition, September 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.

  Book Description

  Three months and counting until I leave this city behind.

  The place I had dreamed of building a life, until it all fell apart.

  Too many bad dates to count.

  A broken engagement.

  A job I don’t love.

  And how do I celebrate?

  Being stood up by a blind date.

  And then he showed up.

  The hot stranger that rescued my night.

  I’d take his pity, and so much more.

  Declan Erikson is all that’s on my mind,

  but everything I don’t need.

  Tall, dark, handsome and rich with a heart of gold.

  I thought I had made up my mind,

  But I’m finding it growing harder

  to make the right decision.

  Especially, when he’s promised

  to give it all to me.

  One Last Time is a standalone billionaire romance and is Book 4 of The Ironwood Billionaire Series.

  Chapter 1

  Declan

  “Congratulations! Ten big years. How’s it feel?” Vivian stood in the office doorway and stared at me with her overly white smile. “I got you a little something to celebrate.”

  She padded over to my desk with the box of bourbon in her hands. It was strategically held so her breasts rested on top, with the bow perched in between them.

  “Thanks,” I said with a grin. “You really didn’t need to.” I played with the ring on my hand, twisting it. It was a nervous habit, and something about Vivian made me nervous. Her five-foot-two frame made all six-foot-one of me nervous, mostly because I wasn’t sure what she would do next.

  “So, can we drink it tonight?” She flipped her blond hair over her back, revealing her shoulder and neck. Then she slowly placed the box on my desk. Her cleavage was obviously showcased in the pink sundress that definitely wasn’t suitable for the office. No one seemed to mind that she didn’t follow the dress code, though.

  I took a long stare and then looked up, meeting her blue eyes that had caught me stealing a glance. Vivian smiled and stood up straighter, accentuating her curves and breasts.

  “Raincheck?” I said. “I have a meeting tonight with a client.”

  I pushed the box of bourbon aside and grabbed the portfolio on my desk and flipped it open.

  “Sounds perfect. It’s a date!” She giggled as she lingered a bit longer and then pretended to pick a piece of something from my suit. “Is this a new client?”

  “It’s an athlete. I’m hoping to land an endorsement deal. We’ll see.” I walked past Vivian and headed toward the door. “Do you know if Charles is still in the office?”

  “His light was on when I walked past.” Vivian followed behind as I left my office and headed down the hall of the Erikson, Inc. headquarters. “So, next week then?”

  “Sure.” I quickened my pace toward Charles’s office.

  Charles. My father had always insisted I call him by his first name while in the office. As if everyone didn’t know I was his son. It seemed ridiculous, but he wouldn’t even respond if I called him Dad. I did it anyway—oftentimes when I just wanted to get a rise out of him and piss him off.

  When it really counted, I addressed him as Charles, and this particular instance just happened to count. A possible endorsement deal with a popular former athlete had come across my desk and I knew that my father would likely be interested in this particular individual.

  Vivian continued down the hall toward the elevator, much to my relief, and had all but disappeared from my view as I approached my father’s private office. As I raised my hand to knock on the door, it opened as soon as my hand touched the cherry wood surface.

  “Declan?” My father’s voice filled my ears as his piercing blue eyes met mine.

  Everyone at the company said we looked a lot alike. I’d definitely inherited his deep blue eye color and thick brown hair. Also, my strong, well-defined chin and the ability to grow a perfect goatee were two other traits that were passed on to me by Charles Michael Erikson.

  Another similarity was my athletic frame. Back in my college days, I was an avid football player and fan, and over the years, I’d been able to maintain my physique.

  “Charles,” I replied, clearing my throat, attempting to sound more in control than I actually felt.

  “Come on in,” he said firmly, briefly raising his eyes up from the paperwork on his desk. I could see that he was on a business call, and the tone of his voice made it evident to me that it was likely an important one.

  I entered his office quietly, taking in the wooden bookshelves and the large metal desk he was sitting at. Sitting down in one of the leather chairs, I made myself comfortable, still watching him intently as I waited for him to finish his call. He signaled me with his pointer finger and a fervent wink of his eye.

  After what seemed like forever, he finally hung up the phone and turned his attention to me.

  “So, I hear that you have some good news for me, then?” he asked, brushing his graying goatee between his fingers.

  “Yes.” I set the folder I was holding on his desk in front of him. “A former pro-football player. We may be able to talk him into an endorsement deal that will benefit our company and his career.”

  After putting on his reading glasses, my father opened the folder and began to browse through its contents. Something about him made me feel self-conscious whenever I was in his presence. I reached up and adjusted my tie as I watched him look over the athlete’s file.

  “Well, Declan, seeing as you’ll take my place as the CEO when I finally retire next year, perhaps you should be the one handling this particular deal,” he said, closing the folder and sliding it across the desk back over toward me.

  A small, sly grin was playing at the corner of his lips as he eyed me with a concentrated stare.

  He had been discussing this shift in ownership of the company for the past several months. I had been the president of Erikson, Inc. for the past ten years, but my dad had always been the CEO. When
he announced his plan to retire a few months ago, he named me as the sole heir and future CEO of the company. Somehow, though, he made me feel intimidated by the way that he looked at me and addressed me whenever it came to important business matters and situations.

  Though I’d never felt exactly inferior to him, I sometimes wondered whether or not I “measured up” to the incredibly high standards he had when it came to leadership and responsibility. Knowing that I’d have to fill his shoes one day soon was a constant reminder that it was time to for me to put my playboy days behind me and man up to the task. Not just in my business life, but in my personal life as well.

  This was one of the main reasons why women like my gorgeous and overly-flirtatious assistant, Vivian, were no longer on my personal “to-do list.” A few years ago, I would’ve had her bent over the desk in my private office and probably would’ve carried on a superficial fling with her until I became bored and moved on to another hot, long-legged vixen. However, with the constant pressure I’d been getting from both of my parents to settle down and start acting like an adult, I’d had to stifle my boyish, superficial passions and start looking for a more meaningful relationship with a woman of actual depth.

  Believe it or not, though, for a wealthy businessman like myself, that had actually been more difficult to find than anything else in my luxurious, sumptuous little world.

  My father founded Erikson, Inc. nearly twenty years ago, and he and my mother built the company from the ground up. The patents the company invented on footwear and clothing technology helped them turn it into a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate within the first five years. Ten years ago this week, I’d graduated from Yale with a master’s degree in business management, and my father made me the company president. That was why Vivian had been so adamant about celebrating with the bourbon.

  Now, at thirty-five years old, I was preparing to take over as CEO, and my father was giving me more responsibility than ever, yet his expectations had not wavered in the least.

  I thanked him for the opportunity and stood up to leave his office. Just as I was about to walk out the door, he called out to me one last time.

  “Declan,” he said sternly.

  I turned around to face him with my hand still on the doorknob.

  “Yes, Da—er—Charles?” I replied, stammering over my words like a nervous, bumbling schoolboy.

  “Don’t let me down, son,” he warned, winking. Had I not known any better, I’d have taken it as a playful, friendly comment. But, having been the only son of CEO Charles Michael Erikson, I absolutely knew better than to think that.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied coolly, and then let his office door shut behind me.

  Chapter 2

  Emma

  Am I really about to do this? Shaking my head, I made my way out to my small silver sedan parked in the far-left end of the Grantville Elementary School parking lot.

  It was a few minutes after four o’clock and I had stupidly let my best friend Chloe Wharton talk me into going out on a blind date. My date, a guy named Martin Langley, was supposed to be meeting me at a lavish restaurant called the Lovehouse—one of the nicest eateries in the area, which was actually the main reason why I’d even agreed to go in the first place. I figured that if the guy could afford to take me to the Lovehouse on our first date, he just might be someone worth getting to know.

  Chloe had told me that Martin was a friend of her brother’s and that he worked in the financial planning department at a huge corporation on the other side of town. Apparently, she thought that he’d be perfect for me because he seemed to be everything that my ex-fiancé was not.

  I had been single now for several months, and ever since the break-up I’d been focusing most of my time and energy on my teaching career. I had finally broken things off with my ex because his work was more important to him than I ever was.

  We had been dating for nearly three years when he’d finally gotten around to proposing to me, and the way that it happened was far removed from the romantic, dreamy type of marriage proposal that most women fantasize about. To this day, I still wonder why I accepted.

  We had just had a big fight, one of the worst fights of our relationship, and I was ready to call it quits for good. I had started packing up all of my things and had just filled my second suitcase when he came back to the condo after having stormed out in a fit of anger less than an hour earlier.

  He walked in the front door and his jaw hit the floor when he saw that I was in the middle of packing all of my stuff up. Without saying a word, he rushed down the hall and went into the extra bedroom he often used as his personal office space. Less than a minute later, he came back out to the living room and stood in front of me, looking at me in silence. He no longer appeared to be angry, and he was holding something in his hand.

  “Emma,” he’d said softly. “Please don’t go.”

  But I was still in tears and my mind was all but made up. “Babe, all we ever do is fight anymore. Your job always comes before me, no matter what, and I just can’t live like this,” I explained through tear-streaked eyes.

  “Emma,” he said again, bending down on one knee.

  I stopped dead in my tracks and looked down at him. I really did still love him, but our relationship had become so strained and so unhealthy that I was sad, disappointed, and upset much more often than I was ever happy. But when he got down on one knee and held up his hand, it was like some kind of invisible switch in my brain totally turned “off” and my heart just completely took over.

  He opened his hand and there was a little gold ring box inside of it. When he opened it, a huge, gorgeous, sparkly diamond was the first thing I saw. It was bigger than any other piece of jewelry he had ever given me before. It was absolutely beautiful. I placed both of my hands on my cheeks and my mouth dropped open.

  “Emma, if you stay, I promise I will marry you,” he said softly, removing the ring from the box and taking my left hand into his.

  I was so stunned that I couldn’t even speak. I just stood there and let him slide the ring onto my finger. It hadn’t even registered yet that he had not even actually asked me to be his wife. So much for romance, huh?

  Completely caught up in the moment, I had simply answered yes. Of course, I had been saying yes to both staying and becoming his wife. Though, to this day, I still have no idea how or why I thought that agreeing to be his wife would somehow make things better between us. He didn’t change at all, and things never got any better—they actually got way fucking worse. He became controlling, manipulative, and emotionally abusive. Six months later, I packed up all of my belongings while he was out of town on a business trip and I moved out.

  My friend Chloe had been there for me throughout the whole ordeal, and she’d been hounding me relentlessly over the past several months to start “getting back out there” and enjoying the single life. Apparently, to Chloe, that consisted of dating multiple men with no commitments or complications.

  Personally, I’ve never had a “friend with benefits” kind of thing before, and honestly, I really didn’t see the point of it. I told Chloe that when summer finally came, I was already planning to leave the city and go back home to the country where I felt I belonged. She told me that she was determined to change my mind. I was guessing the blind date with this Martin character must be part of her elaborate plan to try and keep me from leaving the city.

  I sighed as I turned into the small parking lot of my apartment building and pulled into my assigned space. Turning the car off, I headed up to my second-floor unit to get ready for my date.

  When I opened my front door, I almost screamed in surprise when I saw Chloe seated comfortably on my white leather sofa. Her feet were propped on the ottoman and she appeared to be watching something on the screen of her smart phone.

  “Chloe, what the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.

  Honestly, I shouldn’t even have been all that shocked. Chloe did things like this on a regular basis. One night, she
popped up in the backseat of my car and had nearly caused me to run off the road and into a ditch.

  “I’m here to help you get ready for your date,” she replied excitedly as she hopped off my sofa and turned around to face me.

  “Um, I appreciate the offer, Chloe, but I’m quite capable of dressing myself for a date,” I replied with a frown.

  “Oh, please,” she said, rolling her bright blue eyes at me exaggeratedly. “If it wasn’t for me and my A-1 hair and makeup skills, you would never have gotten past your first date with your ex.”

  I knew there was no talking Chloe out of anything once she had her mind set, so instead of wasting time in an unwinnable argument, I reluctantly agreed to let her play Barbie with me and dress me up for my date.

  An hour and about three trial outfits later, she had me all dolled up in an asymmetrical lavender-colored knee-length dress with matching stiletto sandals.

  “Chloe, it’s April in New York! It’s not warm enough for this outfit yet. I’m going to freeze to death in this!” I complained.

  She had my long brown hair done up in a neat little bun with two wavy locks hanging loosely down on each side of my flawlessly made-up face. The lavender eye shadow she’d picked out made my brown eyes pop and she’d outlined my lids with a dark eyeliner to accentuate their almond-like shape. My lashes were so caked with mascara that they almost looked fake and she’d covered my lips in a shiny, shimmery lavender gloss that made them appear three times plumper than they actually were.

  Even if I’d wanted to complain, I couldn’t have. She had truly dolled me up like a goddamned movie star. I couldn’t deny the fact that I felt sexier and more attractive than I had since I’d broken up with my ex.

  “Chloe, you’re a fucking miracle-worker!” I exclaimed, as my eyes lit up at my own reflection in the full-length mirror on my bedroom closet door.

  “See? You look like a million bucks, Emma! Thanks to me, you just might get lucky and get laid tonight,” she said jokingly.

  “Yeah, right. There’s no way I’m sleeping with some random stranger on our very first blind date.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “And I’m taking a sweater just in case the temperature drops while we’re at the restaurant.”