by Fifi Flowers
Table of Contents
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
Epilogue
Text copyright ©2018 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Melody Anne. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Melody Anne's Billionaire Universe remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Melody Anne, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
Controlling the
Billionaire
Billionaire Universe & Billionaire
Communication Crossover
FIFI FLOWERS
Table of Contents
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
Epilogue
Cooking with Morgan and Waverly
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other Books by Fifi Flowers
Chapter One
Waverly
“Rise and shine, Princess Sleepyhead.” I heard a foggy voice in the distance. “Your crazy father has made a mountain of flaky oh-so-français croissants. Plain ones and others stuffed with chocolate, cheese and fresh berries. You have to help me.” My mother’s plea was playful in nature.
I could imagine her face as I heard the laughter in her voice, but I couldn’t smell buttery pastry in the air. It was all a dream. One I wished to relive over and over. I didn’t want to wake up yet. I just wanted another chance to see them looking and sounding so real—and hit the snooze button.
With my eyelids closed tightly, the dream of crawling out of bed, wrapping a robe around myself and slipping my feet into slippers to venture into a chaotic kitchen sounded divine. I could imagine the “oohs” and “aahs” escaping from my mother’s lips while she sampled each creation as I padded my way down a long hallway. When I finally reached the kitchen, the view was of my father standing close by with a cup of strong black coffee in his hands, gazing upon his wife lovingly.
“Hurry up, Kitten, before your mother eats them all.” My father smiled at me as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes to focus on a white porcelain platter piled high with perfectly formed golden croissants. There must’ve been at least a hundred. More than we could ever eat between the three of us.
If only I could’ve reached out and grasped a delicious croissant or hugged my parents, but my alarm clock and reality had its own agenda for me. I wasn’t in my family home. I wasn’t even in the city where I grew up. I was over twelve hundred miles away from my hometown of Seattle, settled into a new life in San Diego, alone. Not that I hadn’t been alone way up north, but I did have somewhat of a stand-in family unit.
My parents had left me behind over five years ago with their untimely death when they were trapped in a manufacturing facility. For as long as I could remember they worked for the Anderson Corporation scouting locations to grow and expand the empire or inspecting existing companies to be taken over. It was while touring an established business that their careers ended permanently when an explosion erupted.
I remember the day I received the bad news vividly.
Like my parents, I had gone to work for the Andersons after graduating from college. Sitting in my small assistant office looking out at the Space Needle, I twisted my honey blonde hair up into a messy bun knowing my boss wouldn’t be back for the day. He was in meetings and I had a lot of paperwork and documents to sort through on the computer. Out of the view of others, I longed for a bit of comfort and kicked off my black heels that were a bit too high but looked great with my basic black suit, heightening my average stature.
Situated in my seat, I popped out my contacts and pulled out my unattractive glasses that hid my long lashes that framed my dark brown eyes. Ready to work, I leaned over my wireless keyboard and began to type while intermittently scanning documents. So absorbed in my work, I hadn’t even noticed that Joseph and Katherine had slipped into my office. A bit startled, they were quick to apologize. I just smiled and nonchalantly slipped my feet into my shoes to stand and greet them.
I was always happy to see them, but they didn’t seem as happy to see me and I figured it might be my appearance. Remembering that I was wearing hideous black framed glasses and probably had hair sticking up wildly, I removed the rubber band holding up my hair.
Oops, Waverly, you jumped the gun.
Their soured looks had nothing to do with me at all I quietly realized as it was evident that some tears had been shed by them. My second clue was when they took me in their arms for a group hug. I had no idea what had happened but felt my body shudder and tears welling up in my own eyes. I just knew that it had to be about my parents. I had no other important people in my life.
Raised by two professional people—an architect and a scientist—who worked together, I was often along for the ride. On the road. In the air. On the sea. My parents took me with them on most business trips with a bit of help while they were on work sites. When I was old enough to walk on my own and fully immunized, I went just about everywhere they went with a new person in tow that doubled as a teacher. It was very rare that we stayed in our home base which was Seattle. If they weren’t working, believe it or not, they loved to travel to remote places. You’d think that they would tire of living out of suitcases but they seemed to thrive on it.
I never set foot in a regular school environment for a whole year and was mainly home-schooled until I was in high school. That was the first time that I was without my parents since they thought it was important for me to have a social life. I would advise parents against making decisions like that. I believe teen years are hard enough and throwing an awkward child into the school system at that stage is a disaster in the making.
My only saving grace was that I did know a few kids from my neighborhood and some kids from years that I did sporadically attend public school. Another thing that maybe helped me was the big rumor going around about my parents. I have no idea how or where it started but kids thought they were special agents for the government. In high school boys thought it was cool and it garnered me a few dates. None of them panned out. I guess I was not exciting enough on my own.
I did catch a break with one my junior year. I had a real-life boyfriend that took me to dances and held my hand proudly. Unfortunately, it didn’t last and he fo
und a new girl when my parents took me away for the whole summer before my senior year that turned out to be insignificant.
Rather than be crushed when I saw him with his arm around another girl, I looked forward to getting into college. It was my main focus. It was another separation from my parents but not a final one like their death. I always knew they would return, eventually. Realizing I would never see them again was heartbreaking. That wasn’t the only thing revealed to me in the days following their memorial service.
Come to find out, my parents had far more debts than they had assets. I found myself in need of selling their home, leaving me homeless. I was still living at home at twenty-seven years of age because, basically, I had the house to myself. I was shocked to see how much they had ran up their credit cards along with mortgaging their house to the hilt. Owning a house for over thirty years, most people owned their property out right. Not my parents. They apparently lived every day to the fullest and never went without anything. I thought they were well-off and I never questioned where things came from or whether they could afford certain items. It was all an illusion.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to use my own salary and savings to cover their financial burden with the life insurance payout, the house sale and most of the items in it, along with two fancy cars. It was Joseph that took me under his wing and helped me sort through everything pertaining to settling their estate.
First, by giving me a place to live—with reasonable rent—in a company-owned apartment that happened to be in the building where I worked. I didn’t even need a car for my commute and everything was within walking distance for shopping.
Secondly, he and his wife insisted on drawing me into their family circle which included their sons (close to my age), cousins and family friends. The hardest part was calling them by their first names. I felt like I was being disrespectful, but they insisted and it took me a while to feel comfortable enough to address them as they wished.
The Andersons in business and in their personal lives were the kindest people I knew. Joseph’s employees were never just people who worked for the multi-billion dollar company. People and their happiness…and sometimes their love lives really mattered to him. Everyone needed love and to be loved. He had a way of meddling—in a very loving way—that had gained him a big extended family.
I had not missed out on Joseph’s antics either. He never admitted to anything but I figured he was behind business trips I was sent on. There always seemed to be a single male executive involved. When I mentioned suspicious things to Joseph in front of Katherine, she would tell him to leave me be. I could see that standing back and letting things happen was not easy for him. The thought of not getting involved was too foreign for him and I knew from stories that he had meddled in his own kids’ romantic lives in some way. Why should I not experience the same treatment? I knew he felt a responsibility to me since I had lost my parents who were longtime employees of the Anderson Corporation.
I’m pretty sure that was the reason behind him offering me a chance at a new life away from the constant memory of my parents and the life—when not traveling—we led in Seattle. Perhaps it was how I often volunteered to travel that gave him the idea that I wanted to get away. Maybe he even thought that I had the travel bug like my parents. That wasn’t it. He was right, I felt out of place even with the love and support of his family. Their gatherings actually showed me what I was missing in Seattle and that I needed a change.
A major opportunity was posed to me two years after the anniversary of my parents’ death when Joseph introduced me to Boyd Butler, the CEO of Butler Industries. Too old for me and married, I knew it wasn’t another attempt to set me up with a man. “Nice to meet you, Waverly.” The handsome older man presented a firm handshake with a friendly smile. “How do you feel about warmer weather on the harbor?”
I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant so my answer probably was all wrong, but caused the two older men to laugh. “That would be great. If you’re here pitching a fab weather machine to heat us up and eliminate a portion of our rainy days, my vote is yes.”
I could use a bit more sunshine in my life although I had gotten more used to the gloomy weather in the last few years since the travel days with my parents had ended.
Joseph, once he reined in his laughter, explained to me that Butler Industries was a company located in a downtown San Diego skyscraper—almost identically situated. Mr. Butler was up for a visit with his longtime friend from way back. The way they said that had me thinking that they had probably pulled off some amazing gains in the business world to someone else’s disadvantage.
“What do you think about coming to work for me down south? I’m sure we can beat your salary…” He turned to Joseph. “Sorry old man, I need to make this appealing.” Then he turned back to me. “Like I was saying, an apartment in our building is turnkey ready and I guarantee a new adventure in the communications field… along with lots of sunny days.”
“And he has some eligible sons,” Joseph offered up his own incentive…or not.
Oh no! Run away from that offer, Waverly!
A setup with sons? Sons plural. Were they going to be paraded in front of me to take my pick? Or was I going to be on display for them to decide if I was worthy of them?
“I don’t know.” I was hesitant. Not because of the move. Everything sounded great until Joseph chimed in making the job and relocation offer seem a whole lot like a huge matchmaking scheme.
“Don’t listen to that old love guru! He’s always trying to arrange everyone’s love life,” Mr. Butler spoke up and I wondered if “no thank you” was written all over my face.
“If I remember correctly, you, my good friend, are still married to the incredibly beautiful girl I pushed…shoved you, literally, into many years ago?” Joseph was puffing out his chest proudly and sitting up a little taller in his seat.
I felt terribly uncomfortable and wanted to slink away, right out of the executive boardroom that we were using for the meeting. I was fairly confident that they might not even notice my departure until Lucas, Joseph’s son entered the room.
“Looks to me that you’re both overpowering Waverly here. I have to ask what your intentions are with her. She’s a great employee and I have a feeling she’s about to be whisked away.” His little speech had quieted them enough for him to address me, directly, “Are they bullying you, Waverly?”
What did I answer to that question? Part of me loved the idea of escaping as far as I could away from Seattle and my past. The other side of me was leery about being bamboozled into a job position that came with strings attached in the form of a man. A relative no less could be sudden death. I didn’t want the added pressure when I would be learning about another kind of business. That needed to be the objective and where my focus would lie.
Luckily, with Lucas in the room I was able to pose my views and get clear cut—I hoped—answers that convinced me that San Diego was the right move for me.
Three years later, no setups with any of the sons, I was sure that I had made the right decision moving into a new life and city where I was making new memories.
Chapter Two
Morgan
Fish out of water. That was the best way to describe myself, I thought, as I met with a representative in the human resources department of Butler Industries. Located within the main corporate building in the heart of downtown San Diego, I dressed appropriately in a nice pair of khaki slacks, a white button down shirt and closed-in shoes. I had never in my life worked a regular job that required me to be fully dressed. Speedo. Board shorts. T-shirts. Flip-flops. In fact, I never had to worry about my overall appearance at all.
I went through my daily life with long blond locks bleached out from hours in the sun, immersed in a heavily chlorinated pool. If not for special shampoo applied to my scalp every time I finished swimming for the day, I’d probably have bright green hair. I had been in a pool year round since I was five years old when I began competitively s
wimming.
The whole family spent hours in or by the water. Our parents got involved as well: manning time clocks, running snack bars, cleaning up pool decks, and baking goodies. And, of course, driving four boys to practice nearly every day of the week until we could drive ourselves, or gave up water sports.
About the time that I could drive my three brothers to the swim club, my two youngest siblings were protesting and begging to play other sports, or no sports at all. I had also partially given up on swimming because I had gotten more interested in playing water polo. That was my main passion but our high school coach ran the entire aquatic program and insisted that we participate in swimming as well as water polo. It wasn’t as necessary for goalkeepers—like me who treaded more than swam—to hone their swimming speed, but I was a team player and participated.
Not only was I involved in the school team sports, but I also belonged to a water polo club that had games and tournaments year-round. According to my school coach he came first and would never allow me travel time when his seasons were in. I knew my priorities and didn’t mind it. I knew that colleges were scouting me at our high school events and I wanted to keep my spot as goalkeeper.
Water sports had been my career plan. From high school I went straight into a summer program at a local university that had offered me an outstanding opportunity. But first, I took a trip to Europe to play with my water polo club. That was when I plotted out my course to play it professionally. Not a big deal in the United States, but it was across the pond and I wanted in so bad I could taste it.
Promising my parents I would finish college—majoring in communications—I played water polo goalkeeper for four years, redshirting my freshman year. By the time I graduated, my bags were packed and I was ready to take off for Europe. A position was waiting for me in the South of France and I was on the first plane out to capture it and stayed at it until a hip injury. Stuck on dry-land, I watched a young up-and-coming star—that reminded me a lot of me—swoop in and take over my position brilliantly. I hadn’t imagined my career ending so abruptly. I figured I had about four more years to tend my goal. The sharp pain in my hip joint said otherwise and didn’t let up even with vigorous physical therapy.