The Billionaire Possession Series: The Complete Boxed Set

by Amelia Wilde

Since the phone call about Isabella, we’ve been keeping each other at arm’s length. I’ve been relying on an icy professionalism to get through the day, and he’s been acting like nothing happened.

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “I’m sitting right here.” I indicate one of the seats on the other side of my desk, like he’s one of my contractors or an investor—someone impersonal and forgettable.

  He nods, a strange expression on his face, and steps into the office. He closes the door with a gentle click and moves to one of my chairs. When he sits, he does it slowly and carefully. He’s an old man. He’s not the kind of man I would picture in some upscale retirement community in the south of France or somewhere like Florida, but he wouldn’t be entirely out of place there.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  I stack up the folders in front of me and snap them against the table, knocking them into a neat row. “For what?”

  “I shouldn’t have gone behind your back with your girlfriend.” The way he says girlfriend this time doesn’t hold even a hint of malice.

  “No, you shouldn’t have. But what’s done is done.”

  Dad shifts in his seat, folding his hands in his lap. “I didn’t realize how serious things were between you.”

  I laugh out loud, a short, bitter sound. “We weren’t close. We were...” I search for the right word. “We were screwing with each other.” My dad can’t hide the smile that flashes across his face, but he’s serious again in an instant. “It was nothing. A fling.”

  “You were willing to go awfully far for her. That loan...”

  “The loan was a stupid idea, and we both know it. I don’t need you to remind me.”

  He puts one hand on the surface of my desk. “I didn’t come here to make you feel—” He shakes his head. “I’ve never known you to even consider doing that for a woman. And you were trying to delay the project, and go against me, to save someone close to her. At least, that’s what I’m betting.”

  “Is it my turn to list all the things you shouldn’t have done?”

  “I think I have a pretty clear idea of what those are. But Jasper...” My dad swallows hard, then looks me in the eye. “You might have learned the wrong lesson from me.”

  “What lesson?”

  “I taught you all the business skills I know.” He sighs. “But I didn’t teach you that some things are more important than ramming through every project without any regard for the consequences. Things—I should say, some people are worth more than that.”

  “So this was about Mom.”

  “Son...” He leans back again, squaring his shoulders. “Not much in my life hasn’t been about your mother. But I didn’t throw myself into this business because I thought loving her wasn’t worth it. I did that because even after she…started her affair, I couldn’t stop loving her. And sometimes I’ve been outwardly bitter about that. Sometimes I’ve said things that make it seem...” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t want you to think that no woman will ever be worth your attention. This Ms. Gabriel—she was worth it to you. That’s all that matters.”

  I burst out laughing. “She played me.”

  A twinkle comes to Dad’s eye. “And you’re telling me that you didn’t do the same right back? If I know anything about you, Jasper, you started it.”

  My throat tightens, but I swear I won’t cry in front of him. “And what if I did?”

  “Then you met your match.”

  It’s a sharp pain my chest, so powerful I almost reach my hand up to try and shove it away. “There’s nothing to be done about it now. It’s way too late for that.”

  Dad gives me an indulgent smile. “It’s never too late.” Then he shrugs. “It might be too late for an old man like me, but not you. I think it’s worth another try. If only to get out of this mood.” He stands up, smoothing down the front of his jacket. “You’re worthless to me if you’re dragging down the entire office.”

  “Message received.” He’s almost to the office doorway by the time I can speak again. “Dad?”

  “Jasper?” He turns back, waiting.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  He looks at me for a long moment. It stretches out long enough that I get a flash of him as a young man, obsessed with my mother, excited about the future. He jumped in with both feet with no guarantee that anything would go as planned. And even though it didn’t, here he is, trying to convince me to give Isabella another chance. To give the entire mess another chance.

  “You do whatever it takes, Jasper. You do whatever it takes.”

  43

  Isabella

  I keep one promise, at least—I take the weekend and get myself back together.

  Saturday I book myself out completely, morning until night, at a spa and hotel outside the city. There’s nothing in it to remind me of Jasper, and nobody there has ever heard of him, so it’s a blissful day of being pampered from head to toe. When all of it’s finished, I swim laps in the pool, the tiny waves lapping at the tiled edges while the sun sets over the property’s manicured lawns.

  If he comes into my mind, I let him stay—for a moment. Then I let him go again. I don’t linger over thoughts of him. I don’t let myself. I’m not going to do that anymore, because it’s breaking my heart.

  Saturday night I settle into the pristine hotel room, where everything is a blank canvas of whites, splashes of neutral colors the only backdrops for paintings that make me think of absolutely nothing.

  That’s how I want it.

  For the first time since we broke up, I sleep all night.

  Sunday morning, I go for another round at the spa’s salon. The woman who washes and cuts and dries my hair is the opposite of Celine, my usual hairdresser, who talks a mile a minute and wants to know everything about my life. I’m usually happy to tell her at least some of the details, but this haircut—this haircut is zen.

  One more massage, one more lingering shower, and I’m ready to face the city again.

  In the car on the way back, the light scent of the spa’s soap still clinging to my skin, I watch the traffic surge around us. Cars rush forward, then stop suddenly when the lane backs up. I don’t care about any of it. I’m busy cultivating the tiny, tiny seed of calm that’s blooming slowly in my chest. In the weekend’s silence it had a chance to take root, at least.

  An airplane hums overhead, leaving a trail of clouds behind it as it heads for the airport.

  I could go international.

  The thought comes into the new quiet of my brain like a droplet of water on the surface of a pond.

  I could expand my online presence, and I could go international with Gabriel Luxe.

  This, unlike the calm, is a fast-growing idea, and the moment I start thinking, it’s like an explosion of color in my mind.

  I could do all of this, and it would eat up every last bit of spare time. It would draw me back into the embrace of sweet, sweet work, and it would keep thoughts of Jasper at bay for long enough for my heart to heal.

  Yes, I might need more days at the spa. And yes, I’ll still need to make time to decide what to do with my mother’s building. But this is the solution.

  This is the only good solution.

  I spend the rest of Sunday sketching out preliminary ideas, forcing myself to write them down slowly, and carefully, taking time to eat dinner and go for a run. I’ll throw myself into it—but while still maintaining enough balance that Angelique and Evie don’t feel the need to gang up on me in the middle of the work day.

  Is it excitement I feel when I lay down to sleep on Sunday night at a reasonable hour?

  It’s the shadow of it, at least, and that’s enough.

  Monday morning, energy thrums through my veins. I wake up an hour before my alarm and go running in Central Park. I fix my hair and makeup with the kind of focus I haven’t been able to grasp since...since things with Jasper took a turn for the worse. But I eat breakfast before I go to the cafe down the block. I’m not going to s
how up early and start harassing people, even if there’s a lot to be done, many plans to hash out.

  In fact, I wait until five minutes after I’m supposed to be there to get on the elevator up to the Gabriel Luxe offices.

  Angelique is waiting at her desk, and when she sees me, a big smile spreads across her face. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

  I know she’s really asking did you talk to him? I smile back at her. “Very nice. Can you get everybody together in the conference room?”

  “Right away.” She’ll probably also text Evie to tell her that I don’t look like a zombie version of myself anymore.

  It takes five minutes to get everyone together, and by the time they’re all standing in the conference room, eyes on me, I’m ready to get this show on the road.

  “Hey, guys.” I look out over my team. There’s more than one wary expression in the group, and I get it. I really do. “First things first. I owe you an apology.” A chorus of denials rings out, and I raise both hands in the air to bring it to an end. “I do. I’ve been...going through a hard time recently, but I’m happy to say that I’m on the other side and I’m ready to go back to business as usual.”

  Someone in the back starts clapping, and I can’t help laughing as the applause swells toward the front of the room.

  “Thank you. But I wouldn’t have been able to do it without a few of you setting me straight.” I take a deep breath. “You should also know that over the weekend I came up with some new plans for Gabriel Luxe.”

  The tension grows in the room for one heartbeat, then two, and finally Angelique is the one to break the silence. “Don’t leave us in suspense! God, Isa!”

  “Sorry! Sorry. I was—” I shake my head. “Here’s what I want to do next. I want to expand our presence overseas. New York State isn’t enough for me, and I know it’s not enough for you, either.” Cheers and whoops rise over the group. “And while plans are proceeding nicely on the new storefronts—they should be operational within the next six weeks—I don’t think we’re doing enough online.”

  “Will this mean hiring more staff?” It’s a guy named Dan, calling out from the back.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God!” Everyone laughs.

  “I’m going to need all of you to make Gabriel Luxe bigger and better, but I want to promise you right now that even if things get crazy, it’ll be because the business needs our attention, not because I don’t know when to quit. Are you with me?”

  This time, they clap even harder. When the meeting breaks up, everybody riding the high of a new beginning, Dan is the first to come up to me and ask about raises.

  I laugh. “I’ll look at that first thing,” I tell him. “We’re taking this one step at a time.”

  I’m already one step away from the despair that’s hounded me all this time. One more step. I need one more step...

  44

  Jasper

  If I look at these property details one more time, I’m going to drive myself insane.

  But I can’t put them down.

  The solution is here, right in front of me, but I can’t see it.

  I lean back in my desk chair and rub my eyes. What time is it? I’ve been sitting here since everybody else went home. It can’t have been more than a couple of hours ago, only—shit, the sun is set. It’s as dark outside as it ever gets in New York City, with the ambient light from all the buildings and cars and streetlights glowing in an orange haze above the skyline. I pick up my phone from the desk.

  It’s one a.m.

  I can’t leave here until I figure out what to do.

  The weekend was excruciatingly long, every hour stretching out into three or four. I don’t want to leave the penthouse, but halfway through Saturday afternoon, Dominic Wilder texted me and insisted on a night out.

  You can’t spend forever holed up in your penthouse.

  I’d paused the show I was watching without taking any of it in.

  How the hell do you know what I do with my spare time?

  New York’s not that big a place.

  It’s big enough for you to leave me alone, isn’t it?

  Not a chance. Come out tonight. Vivienne insists.

  I leaned my head back against the armrest of the couch. New York City is only so small if your circle of friends is limited to the people who work in your office and a group of other nosy people with enough money to buy the time to care if one of their own hasn’t been seen in public for a couple of weeks.

  So I went.

  Vivienne’s eyes sparkled when she saw me. “Where’s your lady friend?”

  “I don’t have a lady friend.”

  Her expression fell in disappointment. “I liked her. What happened?”

  I’d clutched at my chest like the pain was too much to bear. “You hardly knew her. And anyway, it wasn’t serious.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “It wasn’t? It looked pretty serious at the restaurant opening.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  “Is it deceiving that you look kind of sickly and pale and you haven’t been out in way too long?”

  “What are you, some kind of surveillance officer?”

  “I notice things.”

  “I notice that I don’t have a drink.”

  “First round’s on me.” Dominic slapped his hand on the table and called for the waiter. “Cheer up, Jasper. It’s not the end of the world, whatever it is.” Then he cocked his head to the side, reconsidering. “Although if it is the end of the world, you should either get her back or move on.”

  Vivienne gave him a smile that crackled with heat, then turned her gaze on me. “Dominic chose door number one.”

  “I’m so happy for you guys.” We all laughed.

  For the rest of the night I tried to keep my head in the conversation, but I couldn’t ignore the deluge of ideas rushing through my brain. None of them seemed like they were worth pursuing. None of them seemed worthy of Isabella, anyway.

  Sunday went by in the same fashion, then Monday.

  By this morning, I’d lost count of the number of coffees and energy drinks I’d poured into my body, trying to use every last moment to figure out what to do.

  Whatever it takes.

  My dad’s words keep ringing in my ears, but could he have been any vaguer? It’s not like he dropped everything and tried to get my mother back. It’s not like she would have come back even if he had. But whatever it takes doesn’t narrow down the options.

  I look through the papers one more time. This situation with the buildings—it’s separate from Isabella. Figuring out what to do with the buildings won’t tell me what to do for her. Am I seriously going to be left with groveling at her doorstep, nothing in hand?

  No. I can’t do that.

  Screw that.

  Two of the buildings Mike brought for my consideration are next to each other, a sidewalk between them, leading back to an alley. The sidewalk is a literal middle ground. If we went forward with those, it would need some landscaping, and we’d have to work with the city on—

  A middle ground.

  The phrase rattles around in my mind, again and again. Middle ground. Middle ground.

  There’s a middle ground between the buildings.

  There’s a middle ground between gutting everything and keeping some of it.

  There’s a middle ground between forcing out all the original tenants and installing new ones who can afford to pay the high prices I’m going to charge.

  But I don’t have to charge those prices for every single unit.

  No.

  In fact, I could reconfigure the units entirely so that the luxury condos are up near the top of the building, with separate access to some of the amenities. I could improve the buildings overall while still leaving space for some of the tenants who don’t want to leave. As they gradually move out, I can convert the spaces into more condos...or even leave a few units in each building separate.

  They wouldn’t be on the luxury lev
el, but...

  It’s going to lose money.

  That’s a truth I can’t deny, and it might be a hard sell to some of the people we’re selling the condos to, but I’m confident I can pull it off. And the PR boost would be incredible. It might even shake loose my reputation for being such a heartless bastard.

  I open the folder with a flutter of papers. We’re not going to keep every building and rent out the space. Some of them, we can still develop the way Pace, Inc. always has—a total renovation from the inside out. But others...

  Others could be different.

  Alongside all of this, a new idea is forming in the back of my mind. Isabella isn’t a real estate developer, and now she’s got an aging building on her hands. Is she really going to leverage Gabriel Luxe’s resources to get a handle on it?

  If I can pull this off, she might not have to.

  And even if it’s not enough to show her how I feel about her, still, after all the terrible things we both said...

  My throat goes tight.

  I’m not going to think about that right now.

  Instead, I pick up the folders, tuck them into my briefcase, and head for the door. I need some sleep. And then I have to get on the phone.

  My heart beats furiously on the way to the car in a silent prayer.

  Please, let this work.

  45

  Isabella

  Angelique sticks her head in the doorway of my office. “You doing okay? Need another cup of coffee?”

  I pretend to shake from the caffeine jitters. “I don’t know. Think I should have one?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m sending one of the interns out.”

  “In that case, yes. I do. The fanciest one money can buy.”

  Angelique laughs on the way back to her desk, and I hear her ordering the drinks over the phone. Then she’s back at the door. “Anything else?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Okay.” She looks down at her watch. “You’ve got a meeting in five with the new website developer, and one in forty-five with the business manager to talk about building your international presence.” Angelique’s eyes are serious when she looks back up at me. “Do you want me to move anything around? Need a break?”