by Erika Rose
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
EPILOGUE
The Billionaire's Devotion
By Erika Rose
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.
Text copyright © 2017 Erika Rose
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Prologue
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
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
EPILOGUE
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Teaser
Prologue
A tale of the girl next door
Her sexy rich neighbor
A murderer on the loose...
Cole Matthewson has time for only one thing, his investing firm. When he returns to the Hamptons for a family reunion, he never would've expected a killer to strike on his own street. Now he will do anything it takes to keep his new lover safe.
Rose Adler, still recovering from a failed relationship with a cheating ex, is rocked by the death of her friend and neighbor, Emmaline.
She vows to find justice for her friend even as she finds herself falling for her overprotective control freak and deliciously handsome neighbour Cole.
Can Cole learn to be a part of Rose’s life without taking over?
Will Rose find justice for her friend’s death?
Will the murderer lurking in the shadows be caught before he strikes again?
CHAPTER 1
As he opened the front door, the memories flooded back.
He hadn’t been here since a year ago when he left with plans to come back every other weekend. Like most things in life, that hadn’t happened.
It was late evening as he stepped into the single story house with the blue front door in the quiet part of Tuckahoe. The house was quiet; the only movement was the dust motes that drifted in the late afternoon sun shining through the windows. They moved without purpose or direction, merely floating to remind him of his neglect in taking care of the house.
The security guard at the entrance of the gated community didn’t even recognize him; he had to show identification as proof of residence. Another reminder of his absence in the past year.
It wasn’t a large house, but neither could it be considered small. The single story house boasted four bedrooms, of which the fourth had been converted a year earlier into a study. As you walked in the front door, a short passage led you into the living room.
He lived close to the beach. If you sat on the back deck at the small table that he purposely set there for that reason, you could see the Atlantic as it crushed against the shore. On quiet evenings you could hear it roar with fury, or when it was calm the soft sound of waves rolling onto the shore.
He set his overnight bag along with the single bag of groceries down in the living room, subconsciously running a finger over the small side table. His finger came up dusty leaving a clear line on the ebony table, reminding you of its beauty underneath.
Before he had left New York he had seen the weekend as an intrusion with his investment business, but now as he walked into his house he was suddenly grateful for the family reunion that had warranted the trip to South Hampton.
He walked through the house thoughtlessly, more reminding himself what it looked liked than with purpose. His cleaning lady had come by after he had left last summer, and thankfully she had removed the linen on his bed and had covered it with a dust cloth.
Moving to the linen cupboard he pulled out clean sheets and bedding and placed them on the bed, when he remembered an urgent email he needed to answer that had came through on the drive.
Disregarding the bed and its linen’s he collected his laptop and grabbed one of the beers from the grocery bag, frowning at the meager contents of the bag.
He had only grabbed what he deemed necessary for a two night stay, in retrospect a dozen beers, a frozen pizza and a bag of crisps might be selling it short.
The beer was room temperature in his hand as he opened the screen door leading out onto the deck. A cool breeze slapped him in the face, almost berating him for not returning sooner and reminding him it was early fall. The breeze carried the scent of the ocean, and although he had missed it over the past year’s polluted Manhattan air, the chill it brought with it had him closing the door.
He moved to the front door where he had a small table set on the porch that had never been used before. Normally he didn’t care for passerby’s and nosy neighbors, but the house was simply too dusty to work inside.
He sat down at the small wooden table and opened his laptop. The front porch was secure from the cool breeze and he could see the sun setting over the horizon; a fair trade for curious neighbors. While it fired up he searched his phone for the number of the cleaning lady he had used the year before.
“Luisa speaking.” Her Latina accent clear. He vaguely remembered her being in her forties with grey hair starting to pepper the once ink-black mane.
“It’s Cole Matthewson, I don’t know if you remember me?”
To his surprise Luisa immediately answered with his address.
“That’s impressive. What are the chances you could come by tomorrow and whip it back into shape?”
“Certainly sir. I’ll be there at eight thirty.”
“Great, see you then.”
Now the dust motes’ life expectancy had severely decreased, Cole turned to his laptop. He pulled up the email from one of his biggest clients who were concerned about the fall in stocks of a certain market.
With two fingers he deftly answered the mail with speed and accuracy, the way he did all things. If anything he could never be faulted for being slow or inefficient. You couldn’t be when you had your own Investment Firm in a city like Manhattan. The sharks were always circling the smaller fish, and Cole had made it a priority to
never be seen as one.
He took a pull of the lukewarm beer knowing it would’ve tasted better had he waited an hour and cooled it first. Shoving the thought aside he started answering the other mails that had come through.
As the owner of CM Investing Solutions, he had enough staff to be able to delegate most of his work, but Cole preferred keeping his hand in and loved the rush when the right investment paid off overnight.
It was that rush that had him use his entire trust fund at the age of twenty-two to start his own firm. Many had said he needed experience working in a large firm for years before attempting to start his own. But a summer spent as an intern had given him the background he needed. Cole was a fast learner and had never performed well within others boundaries or their expectations.
He had invested a large sum in a fund most of the big firms had said would be a non-payer, instead when the markets turned two weeks later Cole was flush, his competitors embarrassed and his phones didn’t stop ringing. They hadn’t stopped ringing since.
Success had never been something Cole flaunted with, although the comfort and reputation it brought with it had made him one of the wealthiest investors in Manhattan; and one of the most popular when it came to the ladies.
Speaking of ladies, Cole opened mail from a lady he had spent one night with a week ago, imploring him when they were repeating their night together.
His lip curled in a cocky way as he briefly answered the mail.
Although the night we spent together would always remain with me, I am not ready for commitment which would be inevitable with a wonderful woman like you. It would be unfair of me to take you from what you deserve when I could never be the man to provide it.
After he hit the send button a small flicker of guilt passed through his system. It was the same explanation he gave to every woman he had slept with, only the word order varied slightly. The fact that he knew it by heart hardly ever made him feel guilty. He wasn’t sure why it did now.
He didn’t have time for dating, sweet romances or relationships. He made that clear whenever he met a woman, it was her choice whether or not to spend the night with him. To Cole’s delight none had ever declined him. At least he was honest; he placated the niggling voice in the back of his mind saying it was cruel.
He sat back, beer in hand and looked at the other houses on the street. All the houses were designed the same, only the color of the shutters and the landscaping differed. When he had decided on investing in property in his home town a secure gated estate seemed like a better investment than a standalone on the beach.
When he was away like he had been for the past year, he didn’t have to worry about a break-ins and free-loaders because of the security the estate provided.
Although he would’ve liked to be on the beach, he thought as he noticed movement across the road. It was the brunette he had noticed last year moving in the front window of the house. He remembered her living there with a man, presumably a boyfriend or a husband. Since Cole wasn’t your usual interested neighbor, he had never met her. He had merely seen them when coming and going from the house.
The front door of the house opened and she stepped into the dusky evening light, chocolate brown hair falling over her shoulders. Even if she wasn’t your usual Manhattan beautiful, there was something about her. From his vantage point Cole could see her eyes were as brown as her hair. She smiled at the dog yapping at her from next door as she hefted a large black bag alongside her.
Where was the man Cole had seen last year?
She didn’t even notice Cole on the porch across the road as she struggled with the bag to the garbage can. As she hefted it to put it in, something sharp inside slit the bag open scattering its contents on the sidewalk.
“Shootin’ Fiddlesticks!”
Her voice rang clear in the quiet neighborhood and Cole couldn’t help but laugh at her choice of words. He stood up from his seat on the porch, closed his laptop and sauntered over the street to where she was now crouching and picking up trash.
“Shootin’ Fiddlesticks?” Cole asked as he bent and picked up an empty milk container and tossed it in the can. “Are you a primary school teacher or something?”
She lifted her head and looked at him with a frown before smiling. On both her cheeks a dimple popped before her generous lips spread in a smile. “No a paralegal, but when you’ve got a voice that carries in an open office you learn alternatives to swearing at work.” She stood up and brushed her hands on her thighs before holding one out to Cole. “I’m Rose Adler.”
“Cole Matthewson.” Cole answered as he noticed he was wrong. Her eyes weren’t the same color of her hair. The edges were but there were speckles of caramel and hazelnut causing them to appear lighter.
“I know.” She shrugged as she bent and quickly grabbed an empty box of female hygiene products. When she met his eyes again a blush colored her cheeks as she tossed the box in the can. “Emmaline told me.”
It was Cole’s turn to frown. “Emmaline?”
“My neighbor.” She cocked her head to the left. “If you need to know anything about anyone on this street, you ask Emmaline. She was the first one to move in when the Estate was built. The original property belonged to her and her deceased husband. She says it is in the interest of the real estate agents to keep her informed.” The dimples Cole had noticed earlier were now prominent.
“Sounds like a clever woman.” He said as he bent and started gathering more trash.
Rose crouched next to him, collecting the last few items. Her soft scent drifted over to him, she smelled like a rose with a hint of something else. Soft and floral. The scent was both enticing and fascinating.
As they both tossed in the last few items their hands accidentally brushed. The touch had heat shooting through Cole. There was attraction here, and it was strong. He thought about the email he had just sent and took a step back.
“Weren’t you living with a man last year?”
Rose frowned. “Yes, but he moved out ten months ago. Is that the last time you were here?”
“Yes, I live in the city. I just came out this weekend for a family reunion. So you’re not together anymore?” Cole smiled charmingly hoping he didn’t seem like the nosy neighbors he always avoided.
“Well it was expected after he cheated on me twice in one month and I broke the engagement. I’ve thought about getting a roommate to help me pay the mortgage but I’ve decided to rather just sell and move on.”
She looked over her shoulder at the tidy house before turning back to Cole. “This place doesn’t hold too many happy memories for me, and besides it’s too big just for me. At least I got to keep it when I threw him out.”
“Makes sense. At least you found out about the cheating before the wedding.” Cole said lifting a shoulder.
“Probably. Still wasn’t fun finding out though?” She smiled mischievously and leaned closer to Cole. “Throwing all his belongings on the front lawn was a lot fun though.”
They both laughed as their eyes met. Rose sobered and tucked her hair behind her ear.
Cole’s interest had always leaned more toward blonde, tall and lean but there was something about the short brunette with curves that made him want to spend more time with her. There was a quirkiness he hadn’t come across too often in Manhattan. The women he knew back in the city wouldn’t even step outside their bedroom without make-up. Taking out the trash in sweatpants and a tank top would be considered social suicide for them.
Rose seemed comfortable enough in her own skin to not even warrant an explanation for her attire.
“I was just sitting on the porch having a beer, would you care to join me and you can tell me more about Shootin’ Fiddlesticks and lawn decorations?”
Rose smiled shyly and swiftly looked towards Emmaline’s house. “I’d enjoy that but I promised Emmaline I’d help her tonight.”
“Are you going to update her database of neighbors?” Cole joked.
Cole lifted his brows and nodded. “Sounds like an interesting view and an interesting woman.”
“She is.” Rose said fondly as she started to back away. “See you around Cole.”
As Rose walked back into her house Cole found him walking across the street alone feeling left out. An odd feeling for a man who always left first.
CHAPTER 2
Rose closed the front door behind her, both charmed and intrigued by her brush with Cole Matthewson. If Emmaline hadn’t told her the year before that he came from an influential family and ran his own investing firm she would’ve guessed he was a marine. His dark blonde hair was cropped short, making his face seem more rugged and strong without hair to soften it.
His green eyes had looked at her with interest. Something Rose hadn’t seen in a man’s eyes in a while. Maybe it was because she wasn’t looking. Ever since she had tossed Sam’s clothes out and the consequential fight to keep the house, she hadn’t been interested in another man. Until today.
Cole’s smile was both mischievous and sexy as he teased her about her choice of cuss words. A soft flicker of attraction fluttered in her tummy as she grabbed her phone, a sweater and her keys before heading the front door to Emmaline.
As she crossed the lawn she wondered if Cole had a girlfriend back in the city. It would be a shame she thought as Emmaline opened the front door.
“Rose! I’m so glad you came.” Emmaline greeted her dressed in a pink tracksuit with a bright pink flower pinned to her perfectly coiffed grey hair. “I’ve already started but I could use your opinion.”
“I said I would,” Rose said as she followed the energetic old lady into the living room. “I just had a minor incident with my trash bag. I keep telling myself to take out the trash sooner, but before I know it it’s overflowing and as heavy as a sack of bricks.”