Melody Anne's Billionaire Universe: Controlling the Billionaire (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Billionaire Communication Book 1)

by Fifi Flowers

  Waverly ignored my words completely. “When do you expect us to get this touristy excursion in? We have a meeting early tomorrow with our guys who have been doing legwork this week, followed by the presentation. Saturday, a wedding for me… I guess Sunday?”

  She opened the door to another comparison to our past. “If I remember correctly… There is always time after morning workouts to tour cities.” I watched her face as I added, “We have the rest of today. Let’s get going. It’s clear and sunny. Time to add the Space Needle to your list of things you know about Seattle and then we’re heading to the dock where the harbor cruises depart.”

  “I suppose we’re taking the tourist trolley too?” She was shaking her head, wearing a beautiful grin that had me wanting to wipe it right off her face with my lips.

  “Correct. I already purchased tickets online. All we have to do is take the elevator down, hit the pavement for a short walk and a trolley will appear at the stop… Let’s go.”

  She didn’t put up a fight at all and allowed me to touch her back to guide her in and out of places. The best part was that she accepted my hand and held it tightly as we moved through the streets. My heart was going wild in my chest, but I was careful not to fuck up my luck. I needed to keep our day focused on exploration and not push the past on her too much. But I was being my old self and hoped that it reminded her of our wonderful times together while we made new memories.

  It felt like a dream I had for years, but it was real. I just needed her to completely come back to me as I often imagined. I had been doing my best to show her how good we were together. And I was pretty sure there was no fiancé in the wings and I planned to push things further, smoothly.

  As our day progressed from one touristy spot—starting with the Needle that had an even better view than her old apartment—to the next, she seemed totally happy. During our hop on and hop off tour, we had a few snacks and drinks when we saw someplace inviting. I had suggested eating a meal, but she shook her head and suggested we made our last stop at the public market so we could cook at home.

  Hearing her mention the word home reminded me of our time in Marseille. We often went out for lunch and, at times, breakfast, but dinners were mainly shared in the apartment on the balcony. I had high hopes that I could get us back to where we left off before whatever happened.

  Not knowing the reason why she never returned made me crazy. However, something told me that she had a good reason. At times, I wondered if I had said or done something because I had a feeling she had been upset with me in the past. I replayed the last night and the morning and our last words at the train. Did I not show enough emotion? It killed me to have her leave and I did my best to hold back tears. Not very manly to cry I kept telling myself until I made it out of her view before I found myself wiping my face.

  Maybe if I told her I loved her…she may have said the same and knew that I really wanted her back… Would she have said the same? Would I have scared her? I found myself wanting to profess those words a lot since finding her again and I wanted her to repeat them back to me. Those weren’t the exact loving words I heard from her lips when we wandered around the Market Place that struck me.

  “Love, are you okay? Where’s your mommy or daddy?” Waverly was speaking French to a little crying girl as we stood in the middle of the market on our last stop. The little girl spoke to her explaining what they looked like and the last place she had been with them.

  Getting my head out of the cloudy past, I helped Waverly and the little girl get to someone who may be able to help with a PA system. Luckily, as we walked down rows looking for help with the little girl hoisted high up on my back to give her a better view while she held Waverly’s hand, she spotted her family. Pointing the way, when we were in shouting range the parents heard their daughter calling out to them.

  With the happy reunion complete between parents and child over, I wanted to continue to converse in French with Waverly but I wasn’t sure the time was right. I didn’t want to push her and have her shutdown. The day had nearly been perfect. So, instead, I led her back to the area where I was about to suggest everything to make bouillabaisse. I loved that she agreed and that she helped me prepare the fish and shellfish filled stew we had made together years ago.

  We were on the right track.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Waverly

  In another city on the water, I was transported back to our beginning. Seattle was nothing like the old French seaside village but there was a similar vibe as there was in San Diego. Maybe it was a combination of a few different things—a watery view along with open-air produce markets, fresh fish available from local fishermen and the ability to walk around the town rather than driving.

  Then there was Morgan and his overly charming self. He was back to being my gorgeous, musclebound tour guide holding my hand and protecting me. Pointing out spots of interest I should’ve known and some I did but remained silent until he asked questions. Like he had done in the past, he showed signs of the same study skills. He must’ve researched Seattle carefully since he had already informed me that he had never visited the city. He was so good that you’d think he had lived in the city, not me.

  You’ve conveniently blocked some of it, Waverly. Easier to say you don’t remember than to relive the happy memories that you can never see or hug again.

  Morgan’s version was much better anyway.

  Done with our touristy excursion for the day, we stopped at the famous Market Place since I had mentioned cooking dinner back at the apartment. Morgan looking around at all of the seafood on display suggested making bouillabaisse, a specialty of Marseille. With memories suddenly rushing back to me in waves of pure joy, I agreed.

  Shopping around for all of the fresh ingredients, the strangest thing happened—a little girl tugged on my arm speaking French. She had gotten separated from her parents and wanted help.

  Oh no, Waverly… You spoke French! He heard every word.

  I expected Morgan to say something to me after we reunited the frightened girl with her parents. He didn’t mention a word about my fluent French but, instead, took my hand and led me back to bends filled with fish on ice, fresh herbs and vegetables. Gathering everything for the fish soup, we added wine, cheese, olives, baguette, and dried fruit into fabric bags we purchased. And for dessert we picked out a variety of macarons before heading back to the apartment—something we never had in Marseille, but I loved them just the same.

  “Too bad we don’t have a balcony to eat dinner on,” I said without thinking once everything was ready to consume. I’d like to say that the wine had gone straight to my head but it was something else. I felt completely comfortable alongside Morgan in the kitchen like we cooked together most nights. It was like we were back in his apartment and that there was no gap in time. The time we were apart no longer existed. That probably made no sense or sounded crazy but I couldn’t explain it.

  You’re just crazy about him, Waverly. He’s stolen all of your brain cells.

  I had a feeling he was thinking something similar by the smile on his gorgeous face and his casual response. “I miss our balcony.”

  He had me wondering. Did we need to bring up the past? Did we need to rehash what kept us apart? I didn’t really want him to confirm that what I had heard about how he treated women was true. I didn’t want to hear what number I was or about the other roommates that probably followed me. I wanted to pretend that I was the one that got away and he realized it years later. I didn’t want to think about how horrible the rest of my trip had been or how I wanted to run back and take my chances. I shook my head at the thought of what could’ve been if I had returned and threw myself at him only to be laughed at…

  “Are you okay, Waverly?” Who asked me that, Morgan or my overactive mind? It was when he stroked my arm and repeated those same words that I realized it had been him. I nodded and moved out of his touch to grab silverware, bowls and cloth napkins as we settled on eating by the window.


  “You know I really love living by the water. I would go crazy if I wasn’t near it. I could live without a view from my house…I think. I don’t know. But it’s still different at home…not sure it feels like home… I like that I can walk to shop and eat…you know what I mean. It’s just that the same feel isn’t there. Seeing the same people. Bartering for things. Buying fish at the Seaport is about the closest I feel to Marseille. I really miss the sound of French spoken everywhere…”

  Be prepared, Waverly, here comes the part about your French today.

  “Spanish is the thing I need to brush up on…” He didn’t go there. “Oh hey! Did I tell you…no, I didn’t. There’s a fisherman down on the dock that is French. In fact, he’s from that little village where we met. He has a brother in San Diego that owns a French-Mexican fusion restaurant. We should try it.”

  He said so many things that had me frazzled throughout dinner while I responded with my own observations between Seattle and San Diego. They happened to remind me of Marseille often, too.

  I was on pins and needles the whole time, waiting for him to come right out and talk about us. He didn’t. He just talked about things we did without saying “we” and I smiled and even laughed. I just knew that when we got to the “us” part it would be painful for me.

  Fortunately, we made it through the evening without scrutinizing our lives, past or present, and lived in the moment. It was kind of like we had been; never speaking about anything that wasn’t happening in those moments. We had a new bubble. The best part, years later, was our conversations of things that were to take place in the future. He hadn’t said the word forever but he spoke about where his venture into televised sports was heading and how great everything was coming together. And because of my secret decision to take him up on his offer, I knew we had some kind of future together—whether it was personal or business.

  I just wasn’t sure how and when to tell him.

  Because you’re a chicken, Waverly.

  I wasn’t afraid really. I had been working hard to line things up so transitioning the new man in charge went smoothly. If I was a bit frightened, it had nothing to do with my uncertainty of Liquid Rush TV—I just knew it would be a hit. It was that Morgan hadn’t asked me to come with him in a while. What he wanted to talk about was far more personal.

  “So tomorrow after we finish with your brilliant presentation, you will direct me around the part of the city where you lived. I rented a car and we’re all set. You can share your past with me. What happened in your life before we met ten years ago and I will do the same.” He stood up and began to stack dishes before moving to the kitchen to clean up. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you go take your shower or tub before you turn in?”

  He remembered my routine. Shower or tub before bed. I wasn’t sure if I should ignore him and help in the kitchen or do as he suggested… Instead other words formed, “The sofa pulls out into a bed…I…I told you that you’d…you’d be more comfortable in a…in your own hotel…hotel room.”

  Damn it, get a grip, Waverly! Why must you always sputter around him?

  “That’s a huge king-sized bed in there. I think we can both fit. We can put pillows down the middle so you don’t feel tempted to wrap your body around me… Did you by chance bring one of my t-shirts to sleep in or do you need a new one?”

  There was that cocky attitude of his I knew so well. Did he really need to bring up the t-shirt? If I was truthful, I would’ve told him that I was no longer wearing them because his scent had faded. There was no reason to sleep in them without the benefit of sleeping with him enveloping me. He may have been correct that I didn’t trust myself so I had another solution that sounded ridiculous when it came out of my mouth.

  “Fine. You can have the room and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  I was shocked by his quick response that actually made me feel childish and stupid. “If you remember… Oh, that’s right you don’t remember…but I was always a perfect gentleman when you slept in my bed… I never forced you to do anything until you willingly gave yourself to me.” I just stood there with my mouth open and my eyes wide while I watched a sexy smirk appear on his face. “I was right! You don’t trust yourself with me.”

  “You’re impossible.” I stormed off toward the bathroom to shower.

  Nice exit, Waverly! So dramatic!

  I shook my head at my own thought and action.

  Showering gave me time to cool down…or heat up… Morgan always seemed to love to push my buttons since day one when he strolled into my office…back into my life. He was nothing like Maverick. Maverick never spoke dirty to me or suggestive or whatever you wanted to call it. He was sexy sweet and Morgan was sexy naughty. Both had their own charms. I thought of them as two different people. Obviously, they were the same person… Maybe it was just the time apart that had changed him… Maybe he saw me as a different person too.

  I was so confused. I wanted to mourn the loss of my Maverick and appreciate Morgan as a new man. I had to admit that he was exciting. My body was always on fire when he spoke suggestively to me. I had seen that underneath all of his cockiness that he was still tender when he helped take care of me and talked to me about his creation and played tour guide extraordinaire.

  Toweling off, I dressed in lounge pants and my own t-shirt and headed back out to apologize for my craziness.

  “I have a peace offering.” Morgan spoke first as I found him in the kitchen. “The surprise I didn’t let you see in the one bag.” He piqued my curiosity and I tilted my head as he smiled sexily. “Come on. You’ll love it. It will be perfect with dessert.”

  I had forgotten all about the sweet little crunchy meringue treats with filling.

  “Oh my God!” I exclaimed, seeing two tea cups sitting on the island and watching him pour thick goodness into each one. “You made French style hot chocolate! I could kiss you!”

  “No one’s stopping you.” I loved the wink he gave me as he put his cup to his lips. With a tad of chocolate on his upper lip he added, “I have so much more to give you.” His tone was sweet.

  It was my turn to reverse my earlier flip out. “You’re right. The bed’s big enough. You can sleep in it too.” I wanted to add that the pillows would be down the middle but I tried to be mature about the situation. And I waited for naughty Morgan to chime in with his usual comment but instead he declined my offer in favor of the couch.

  Of course, that wasn’t the end of the evening. In predictable fashion, he took off his t-shirt and handed it to me. “It looks better on you. Goodnight, my Waverly.”

  My Waverly?

  I stood there shocked for a few minutes giving him enough time to brush his lips softly across mine before turning away from me. How my feet moved from that spot, I’m not sure. Maybe I floated on a cloud into the other room.

  I just know that I tossed and turned the rest of the night—getting a shitty night’s sleep. Thoughts of Morgan’s bare muscular chest, strong arms, rippling abs and v-cuts sailed into my head as I slept in nothing more than his t-shirt. That wasn’t a smart move but I couldn’t help myself and it most likely contributed to my lack of sleep. All of which made getting up the next morning for our meeting and presentation difficult.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Morgan

  As much as I wanted to march right in the room where Waverly was sleeping, I had to let her come to me as she had before. Something told me that she was close to giving in to me. When the time was right, I would have her. She would be mine forever. I just knew it and I knew that if I peeked into the room she would be wearing my shirt. No need to rush. I had a few more nights to work my way into her bed…and, more importantly, into her heart.

  Starting with the next morning, I tiptoed into the bathroom, showered and dressed way before the sun came out. There was no point in me trying to sleep any longer. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable but my body was aching for attention and I couldn’t shut my brain off. So dressed in a suit and tie, I left a note fo
r Waverly to meet me at the pastry place we had set for our pre-presentation meeting. I needed to get myself plied with strong coffee.

  By the time she finally arrived, looking beautiful, I had already fielded several business calls and emails. I hadn’t even spoken or presented my ideas to my father yet or the Butler Industries board of directors and I was more than halfway to launching a prototype of the channel. Technical had come on board and were working their magic with programming and everything that went into going on air…going live…or online…whatever they were calling it. It was a learning experience for me and I was loving every minute while hoping Waverly would jump onboard.

  Following our meeting that surprised me—she had practically let the guy be in control—we walked back to the Anderson Corporation building to head up to an executive boardroom. The presentation was flawless with a video outlining everything the cyber security division had to offer to insure their company’s safety. Again, she let our main guy and another guy from our team field questions and speak about what they had been doing for the last two weeks since they had arrived in Seattle.

  I had hopes of her walking away and leaving everything in the hands of the cyber security crew to come with me. I didn’t push any of my (hopeful) suspicions on her in favor of focusing on her. Like I had promised, I had a rental car waiting and told her to hurry up and get ready to be my tour guide.

  Out of the meeting long before noon, like I hoped, she agreed to show me her life prior to San Diego and when we met. Directing me to her childhood home in the Queen Anne area we found an open house sign in the front yard. It was a great two-story craftsman style house that had to have an amazing view of the downtown area.