Exes (Billionaire Romance #3)

by Aria Hawthorne

  EXES

  A Second Chance Billionaire Romance Novel

  By Aria Hawthorne

  Copyright © 2017 by Aria Hawthorne

  “Advance Reader Copy” Kindle edition

  ISBN: 978-0-9968364-3-2

  Published by French Kiss Press LLC

  Website: frenchkisspress.com

  Twitter: @frenchkisspress

  Facebook: facebook.com/AuthorAriaHawthorne

  Instagram: instagram.com/authorariahawthorne

  Amazon Author Page: amazon.com/follow_ariahawthorne

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  If you would like to read another one of my stand-alone romance novels, set within the same world and sharing some of the secondary characters in EXES, I recommend reading CLOSER and DEVOTION, which are available free through Kindle Unlimited on Amazon US, UK, Canada, and Australia.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  *Proofreading provided by Anna Albo Editorial Services

  BOOK SUMMARY:

  Release Date: January 3, 2017 - Contemporary Billionaire Romance - Full-length, stand-alone novel with HEA - Suitable for mature readers; 18+ years.

  When Chicago real estate tycoon Harvey Zale pings a “friend of a friend” with a flirtatious text, he never expects to start an addictive sexting affair with a complete stranger. He’s a billionaire who can get any woman he wants, but he can’t have her—his mysterious, sultry Contessa, who inspires his nightly confessions and soothes more than just his conscience from the consequences of his own shallow ambitions.

  He’s determined to build the tallest towers in the world and he needs to sell his Chicago riverfront property to finance it. But when Alma Castillo, the Lara Croft of antique hunters, shows up on his land, claiming the existence of a priceless Tiffany stained-glass window and doing everything in her power to muck up his deal, he knows he’s got more than a stray cat to collar and tame. She’s not only on a mission to save long-lost antiques; she’s also on a personal crusade to hate his guts.

  He would know. She served him divorce papers a year ago, just to prove it.

  And he’d care a helluva lot more if his ex-wife’s sassy tongue and wicked intelligence didn’t turn him on every time she called him “a**hole” and if she didn’t look so damn cute in those baggy overalls, disguising her affinity for being naughty as much as being nice.

  Perhaps even as naughty as his Contessa, who unlike Alma, doesn’t know anything about his real identity or flawed, billionaire reputation, which flames his desires to escalate their fantasy relationship into the reality of one scorching night of mindblowing...

  If he could only get his mind off his ex-wife—the only woman he's ever truly loved. God, woman...if she would just let him pleasure her scornful frown and turn it oh, oh, oooohhhh so upside down, maybe he could convince her to marry him again.

  But no one ever said it was easy being a greedy opportunistic billionaire bastard, especially one who happens to know there’s nothing better than make-up sex with an ex…

  Please note that all of Ms. Hawthorne's billionaire romances are stand-alone novels set in Chicago with minor subplots and secondary characters that intersect, but each book can be read and enjoyed in any order.

  Chapter One

  Gazing aimlessly out the window of his riverfront home, Harvey Zale slouched deeper into his leather recliner. The twilight sun washed swaths of solar orange across the mirrored panels of Chicago’s endless skyscrapers. Skyscrapers that he had helped to build. He couldn’t remember their names—only their current worth on his balance sheet, which had become the sole measure of his life. A damn financial piece of paper. His life summed up in numbers. He sloshed the whiskey in his tumbler, but failed to take another sip. He had already drunk two full glasses and was starting to feel the effects—the unforgiving judgment of his inner demons. Demons that threatened to destroy him.

  His cell phone rang. He sat up straighter in his seat with hope. Was it her?

  Then the unpleasant ring tone dampened his spirits. He withdrew his phone from his pocket and answered the call in silence.

  “It’s done Harvey,” the man on the other end confirmed. “He’s sold them to you.”

  Harvey felt nothing but dread. “How much did you have to pay?”

  “Less than we even expected. Van der Meer wanted anyone other than Watercross to have his designs for the Li Long Towers. Even if it meant selling them to you at a discount.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Harvey muttered, taking a long swig from his tumbler and feeling the sting of the premium whiskey in the back of his throat.

  “Well…you know the old saying: good men live through history; great men make it. Congrats, Harv. You’re going to build the tallest buildings in the world.”

  Harvey stretched out his long legs and peered down at his well-worn cowboy boots. The tallest buildings in the world, repeated in his mind, wondering what the man who owned the rights to build the tallest buildings in the world would say to the man who wanted to jump from their pinnacles.

  Six months ago, the news that he had secured Sven van der Meer’s designs to construct the Li Long Towers would have been the only thing he wanted to hear. Now, he only heard the disconcerting echo of hollowness in his chest, like a coin dropping through a wishing well that had long since run dry.

  The man cut off the call without saying good-bye. Exactly how Harvey liked it. No formalities. No bullshit. Just business. It was always “just business” to Harvey Zale. Cold, calculated financial transactions. And the whole world knew it.

  Ping.

  He glanced down at his phone before dropping his head back with relief. The whole world knew what a callous egocentric bastard he was—except for her.

  Are you alone?

  Harvey read her alluring text. He had hoped to hear from her tonight and the fulfillment of that wish fueled his unguarded emotions.

  Yes, he replied. And I’ve been waiting for you for three days. That’s the longest you’ve ever been away.

  Awaiting her reply, his heart beat like a sledgehammer inside his chest. The spontaneity and unpredictability of their mysterious affair intoxicated him almost into sanity. The possibility that she could disappear tomorrow and never be heard from again excited him, but it also made him uncomfortably vulnerable. He reached over and pulled the short gold chain on the banker’s lamp next to him, settling into the comforting shroud of darkness.

  You could have texted me, she answered. If you needed something…

  He imagined her saying it with a playful smile, perhaps while running her fingernails through his hair. She was always playful this time of night and it comforted him when so few things in his life did.

  Maybe I prefer to wait until you’re ready…and willing.

  His phone fell silent. He stretched out his legs and counted…three, two, one. He had initiated the first innuendo—a sly signal that he wanted what she was able to offer. He always wanted it, he thought, ever since that first reply to his text zipped across his screen—initiating their sexting affair. Now, he sipped from his tumbler, patiently awaiting her reply.

  I’m definitely ready and willing, she finally answered. I just shaved everything and the whole time I thought about you.

  He closed his eyes and dropped his head back with a sigh, sinking deeper into his recliner. God, how he loved it when she teased him like that—right from t
he start.

  Shower or bathtub? he prodded her.

  Tub, she answered without a beat. With only the light from my lavender candle guiding my way.

  Harvey unbuckled his belt and withdrew it from the loops like a whip. And now?

  Still damp with a white towel around my body, but open in the front. Relaxed and lying on my bed…wondering what you’re doing tonight.

  He had just gotten the news that he could build the tallest buildings in the world, and the only thing he wanted was to imagine himself in the tub with her.

  I was thinking about my life and work and how none of it mattered…unless I heard from you.

  You always flatter me like that, but I don’t believe you. Men love their work more than their own wives and children.

  He read her reply, almost able to hear her mocking laughter.

  I have neither, he shot back. He wanted to make clear that this was not an extra-marital fling for him. He may have been an opportunistic asshole in his professional life, but he wasn’t a philandering scumbag in his personal life. And I have more work and money than I’ll ever need or want.

  He paused, concerned he may have crossed a line. Perhaps he had been too confrontational? He didn’t want to be harsh with her. He was tired of being brisk and aggressive in his daily business routine, and in the isolation of darkness, the only thing he wanted was to be free—free from all the empty trappings of his beleaguered life.

  No discussion about work, she suddenly pinged back. Rule number one, remember?

  He remembered. It was one of the many things he loved about their exchanges. She didn’t know he was Harvey Zale, billionaire real estate tycoon and the most reviled man in his industry. He could be anything he wanted to be with her—including himself.

  I love it when you lay down those rules, he texted her. Remind me of what happens when I break one of them.

  His screen went dark. For a moment, he thought she had abandoned him.

  A serious rule? Like not discussing the details of our personal lives? Or a less offensive one, like not unzipping your pants?

  Harvey smirked and proceeded to unzip his pants.

  Definitely the less serious one, he thumbed back, releasing a sigh while holding back his desire to propose the punishment. Cat and mouse. He had to lure her in.

  Okay…no discussing work or our personal lives, he continued. Fair enough. Then how about you tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.

  Something I’ve never told anyone? she replied. You mean, like a secret?

  Yes, definitely.

  Oh my…you’re drinking again tonight, aren’t you?

  He downed his whiskey and eyed the bottle on the counter of the entertainment bar. Just getting started, he answered her. Go on…I want to hear it.

  You mean something other than the way I fantasize about you being in the tub with me?

  This time he hesitated. She was testing him, seeing if he could be distracted enough by sex not to pursue his original question. It was tempting. Very tempting. But Harvey wanted something more tonight, and he wanted her to know it.

  How about what keeps you awake at night?

  I’m telling you that I’m fantasizing about you being in the bathtub with me, and you’re feeling philosophical?

  I’m always philosophical, he countered. And I’m pretty sure you like it.

  Well…confessing my secrets to you hardly seems fair. I much prefer you to think I’m a perfect sinless sex goddess.

  It’s not fair, he nudged her. But neither is making me sit here alone, in the dark, half-drunk with my pants half-unzipped, wondering why your phone call is the only thing I look forward to during the day and the only thing I want to experience at night.

  There was a long pause. It made Harvey consider whether or not he had admitted too much. Fuck it, he didn’t care.

  And you and I both know damn well that no one is perfect, he shot back. If you were a perfect sinless sex goddess, I wouldn’t be interested in you. Trust me. I’m no saint either. Perfect and sinless is boring, and boring is far worse than flawed. So, c’mon now…the truth…what keeps you awake at night?

  The text thread suddenly went silence. After a moment longer than seemed comfortable, she messaged him her answer:

  Regret.

  It was a simple response—almost like a dismissive shrug—that made him rub his chin. He needed to tread carefully. But she made it easy on him.

  Are you surprised by that answer?

  No, he assured her. I just think that’s a tough one. I rarely regret anything. Probably because I’m such a heartless asshole.

  You weren’t heartless the other night.

  He stroked his jaw again, reflecting on exactly how he hadn’t been heartless the other night. Yes, it was true. He’d been seductively charming, at least enough to convince her to remove her panties and describe herself to him—in graphic detail. And it had been the crossroads of their seemingly casual, flirtatious sexting affair—the tipping point that officially stoked the flame of his desire and spurred his hunger to explore the mysterious connection between them.

  Then that means you can trust me…he texted back, reeling her in. If she had actually been there, he would have drawn her into his lap and kissed her neck before slipping his hand between her thighs and gently stroking her into submission. So tell me…I’m listening. What’s something you regret?

  For a moment, he almost thought he heard her heave a heavy sigh. He wanted nothing more than to make her exhale like that in surrender—over and over again.

  Oh… sometimes it seems like everything, she finally responded. Sometimes I replay the scenes in my life and think about how I could have been a little bolder and a little less fearful. I think about how I should have taken more risks and shouldn’t have been so cautious. I think about how I could have spoken up more for myself and not worried so much about what everyone would think of me if I did.

  Harvey kicked off his cowboy boots—a gift from his ex-wife—and shifted his weight in his chair. He loved these moments, these intimate confessions in the darkness that made him feel inexplicably alive.

  I just feel like I spend all my time hiding from my own life and myself, she added, like an afterthought.

  It was an ironic confession. She was, after all, sexting with a complete stranger and avoiding names and personal details while doing it.

  I think we’re all hiding behind something, he cautiously typed back. Even us tough guys who pretend we’re not.

  Maybe…she paused, as if she was weighing her thoughts. But you sound like someone who doesn’t care about what people think of you.

  I don’t, he shot back before revising that statement in his head. He cared about what she thought of him, but he wasn’t ready to say that. But being perceived as a fearless bastard isn’t as glamorous as you’d think.

  You make it sound like you’re someone very important…

  He was important—important enough to know that fame and fortune was a zero-sum game, the one cancelling out the other, ending in a soulless existence.

  I think you’re being too hard on yourself, he finally replied, intentionally evading her observation. You seem to be able to express yourself just fine.

  Yes, with you, I say exactly what I feel. There’s never any regret. It’s always effortless.

  Well, then…you’ll just have to spend more time talking with me. Problem solved.

  If she had really been sitting there on his lap, he would have brushed her hair behind her shoulder and nudged her for a lustful kiss. Instead, their connection dissipated into the digital netherworld. Harvey’s screen faded to black and he wondered how to proceed—if at all. Then her next text guided him out of the abyss.

  Okay, your turn, she nudged him with a ping. What keeps you awake at night, tough guy?

  He stared at her text. She was sassy. He liked sassy.

  Yes, it was his turn, he thought, mulling over his response. He knew exactly what she wanted from him, but coul
d he deliver the same intimacy and honesty that she had granted him?

  Well…probably realizing I’ve wasted my entire life chasing power and money and influence when none of it matters to anyone—least of all to me.

  There was a long pause before she answered. So you’re wealthy, but unfulfilled.

  In one single text, she ferreted out the core of what he’d been hiding from the world for years. Very wealthy, but completely, hopelessly lost, he finally replied, struggling with his decision not to lie.

  She responded with a smiley face poking himself in the eye. It was almost comical, as if she was mocking him and the ridiculous paradox of having loads of money and daring to complain about it.

  He resisted the strange urge to reciprocate with an emoticon—an irreverent animated one like a smiley bonking her emoticon with a hammer. Normally he wouldn’t be caught dead using emoticons. He was Harvey-fucking-Zale, after all. But that was her effect on him.

  Hmmmm. That’s too bad, she added to her emoticon. I don’t generally like very wealthy men because you’re right...they are usually heartless assholes.

  Harvey laughed aloud in the dark. Good, he replied. At least we’ve gotten that out in the open.

  Yeah, we wouldn’t want to be unclear about that.

  Harvey imagined her sarcastic smile spreading across her beautiful face. Even if she wasn’t beautiful, it didn’t matter to him. The only thing that mattered was that she understood him. At this point in his life, Harvey couldn’t think of a single person who truly understood him.

  Why not just donate it all? You know, write one big check to a children’s hospital or something?

  Yes, I’ve thought about that, he admitted. But I’m cynical enough to know that they’d probably just squander it. And what money isn’t squandered will be laundered by someone at the top equally as ruthless and corrupt as me.

  Oh my…so you’re a complete jerk then, too?

  The worst of the worst, he stressed.

  That explains a lot because I tend to date a lot of jerks.