Billionaire's Redemption Read online

  It works most of the time, but I’ve really been dreading the shit storm that is headed my way. This week is my last chance to get away for a few quiet days before we go into a battle that will leave us bloodied and utterly exhausted. God, I hate my job.

  Chapter 3

  Kayla

  Mondays are always busy, but having to explain to everyone why Blake isn’t in makes it a bit overwhelming. Blake is the hub of this firm, which I know is part of the reason he hits the wall every once in awhile. As his executive assistant, I try to take as much off his plate as possible, but unfortunately, most people want to talk to him directly. Even though I’m the one who sets and keeps his schedule, they still need to hear it directly from him.

  By noon, I’m running out of answers, so I give Blake a call to clarify which days he’s planning on being in the office. My call goes immediately to voice mail, which is already full. I picture him out on the fishing boat with his buddy, Paul, reeling in a striped bass, his phone most likely thoughtfully left behind at the beach house. I think back to our youth, when the three of us would spend entire days out on the water. Those were the days, when the biggest challenge was squeezing in a nap before we hit the bonfires and parties in the evening. If Blake had his way, he would’ve started his own fishing charter company where he could spend his days helping clients find the biggest fish they had ever caught. Fishing has always been his obsession. Unfortunately, his entire family sees it as nothing more than a hobby. Blake has often agreed that it’s hard to make a living doing something that you truly love. It’s one of those cruel ironies in life.

  “I’m going to check on Blake,” I tell the receptionist on the way out the door. “I’ll have my phone on if anyone needs anything.”

  I’m not really worried about Blake, but since his phone has been off since he texted me yesterday, I need to bring him up to speed on his schedule. I also have this nervous feeling that he’s planning to skip the court proceedings in the morning. That can’t happen. We have to have these loose ends wrapped up so we aren’t dealing with them when things get busy next week. I decide that it will be best to reassign his court times to the other senior partners, as well as the appointment with Simpson Industries. But first, I need to stop off at my apartment to change clothes and grab a bag. I sigh as I debate whether to spend one hundred dollars on a cab ride out to the Hamptons or five hundred for a seat on one of those chartered helicopters, the service that Blake uses. The cheap-ass in me wins out. The extra two hours will give me a chance to reassign Blake’s commitments for the week and enjoy a glass or two of wine. Blake will be out fishing until at least four, so it’s not like I’m in a rush to get there.

  Two hours, two glasses of wine, fourteen phone calls, and roughly one hundred text messages later, I’m standing on the patio of the Taylor beach house. Everything looks familiar, but it has been updated since the last time I was out here. I set my bag down next to the door before slipping off my shoes and walking out to the white sandy beach. I take a deep breath and take in the view of a clear blue sky merging with the calm blue water. Everything is so peaceful, I can see why Blake would come out here to get away from everything. A half-empty bottle of scotch and a used glass sit next to a beach chair, revealing where Blake spent Sunday evening. I snicker, knowing that he must’ve had a headache upon waking this morning. I can picture him walking into the kitchen in his swim shorts, searching for Advil and a glass of water. There’s no wind and the sun feels warm. I remove my cover up and drape it across the chair before settling back for a little sunshine. After a few seconds of enjoying the warmth, my mind goes back to thoughts of Blake and those swim shorts. Since law school, we always see each other in office attire, which is as formal as it gets. He looks dashing in a black business suit, but I honestly miss seeing those sexy legs and abs of his. That’s all he wore in the summer when we were young, and I spent endless hours frolicking on the beach in my bikini. I glance down the beach toward the rocks that mark the inlet. It was behind those rocks that Blake and I first kissed, the weekend of my sixteenth birthday. At the time, he seemed a little too young for me. I’m only a year and four months older than him, but since his birthday was after the cut-off for school, he was two grades behind me. Besides, we had been best friends for several years so it just felt a little strange. We only made out that once, and I never really gave him a second chance, in spite of all of his follow-up advances. Now, all these years later, I can’t help but wonder what our lives would be like if we had actually gotten together.

  Blake

  After catching our limit, Paul and I return to the marina and he goes to work cleaning our catch. That’s always been our deal. I pay for everything and in return, he cleans the fish. Thirty minutes later, I hop in the Range Rover with six vacuum-packed fillets ready for the freezer. I know Paul was waiting for an invitation to come by tonight for a fish fry, but I just want to spend this time thinking, relaxing, and having a few cocktails. I turn onto the main road and head toward the beach house. It has been the perfect day, but now that strange feeling once again begins to grow in my gut. I take a couple of deep breaths trying to shrug it off, but it actually begins creeping its way into my chest. It occurs to me that I left that bottle of scotch sitting out on the beach last night. Hopefully, it’s still there or I’ll have to make a run to the liquor store.

  Pulling up to the beach house, I grab the fish and head inside. I’m thinking I’ll throw a fillet on the grill with some onions, lemon, butter, and veggies. That has always been my favorite meal out here, and besides, it’s fast and simple. I set the largest fillet on the counter and toss the rest into the freezer. Walking over to the patio door, I see a black bag leaning against the glass. That can only belong to one person. I walk back to the wine fridge and pull out the best Pinot Grigio I can find and pop the cork. I pull out a second piece of fish for dinner and grab two wine glasses from above the bar. I was hoping to avoid thinking about work for a little longer, but it’s obviously going to be a working dinner. At least a glass or two of wine will help her take the edge off. I think back to the carefree days of our youth, back when we had nothing to do but spend our days out here having fun. It would be nice to see that version of my old friend again.

  “What a gorgeous afternoon for September,” I comment, startling her a bit as I approach her chair from behind.

  “Oh, my God. I never even heard you drive up,” she replies, sitting up in her chair and grabbing her cover up.

  “Just relax. I brought you a glass of wine.” I extend it to her and give her a smile. “I thought we could just sit out here and enjoy the sunshine before making some dinner.”

  “Thank you,” she replies, giving me a guarded smile and taking the glass. “I see you were hitting the scotch pretty hard last night. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” I step across the adjacent chair and drop into it. I take a long sip of wine before setting the glass on the armrest. “I’m just feeling like I’ve been on a treadmill for so long, and now, things are only going to get worse.”

  “I know,” Kayla replies, reaching over and stroking my forearm. “When I couldn’t reach you by phone, I knew something was really bothering you. So, I went ahead and got Davis to cover your court appearance tomorrow morning and Bill is meeting with Simpson Industries in the afternoon.”

  I instantly felt another stab in my gut. “Dad is going to be furious when he finds out. Bill has been trying to weasel his way into the Simpson file ever since Dad accepted the judgeship. I can’t believe you would give him the meeting.”

  “I’m sorry, but he was the only one who could fit them in on such short notice,” she replies. “I know your dad and Bill have had some turf battles over the last few years, but I think it’s time you let the other senior partners pull their weight. You can’t handle it all.”

  “I know. You’re right.” I take another long sip from the glass. “If I let him handle Simpson, then it will make my October a lot less painful. Dad’s just going
to have to get over it.”

  “I know Oliver Simpson was one of your dad’s first clients, but he has to realize that Oliver is retired and it’s not the same business that it was twenty-five years ago. They need a senior partner and at least two full-time corporate attorneys who can give them the attention they need.” She squeezes my arm before pulling back and leaning back in the chair. “I’m not against having a talk with your dad.”

  I laugh out loud. “Thank you, but no. That’s the last thing I need, you fighting my battles.”

  “What? Your dad loves me. I know I can get him to listen.” She turns back toward me with an intense look in her eyes.

  “Yes, we all love you, but I need to talk to him myself. Otherwise, he’ll give me the lecture about dignity and self-respect.” I take another sip of wine and scan down the beach. “I miss the days when Paul, you, and I would spend the entire day out on the boat.”

  “Me too,” she says with a complete change in her demeanor. “I was thinking earlier about our first kiss behind those rocks.” She points down the beach toward the spot where we spent many lazy days. “Do you remember that?”

  “Yeah, I remember it well.” I feel a flicker of warmth inside me that I haven’t felt in a long, long time. “I had such a crush on you that summer, but you thought I was just a kid. You had your eye on Spenser Christian because he was a senior. You were always into the older boys.” I take in her gorgeous, shapely legs and smile at the beaded leather ankle bracelet that she’s wearing. I’m sort of shocked to see she still wears them. I’ve always found them sexy as hell. In fact, it’s been so long since I’ve seen her in anything other than a pantsuit that I had kind of forgotten about those thick thighs and shapely calves of hers.

  “It was just weird that you were two years behind me, you know?” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I think it would’ve been different if we were in the same grade. Looking back, it was really stupid.”

  “Ahh, so much water under the bridge since that first kiss, and now here we are, twenty years later.” I reach out to clink her glass. “Here’s to the next twenty years. God help us.”

  Kayla

  Sitting here on the beach and talking with him makes me not only wonder what I was thinking back then, but what the hell I’ve been thinking for the twenty years since. There has always been a strict rule about dating employees within the firm, so we have both used that as the reason to never pursue anything. But seriously, I would give up my job in a heartbeat if I knew we had a chance together. Then the reality of it all hits me. I’ve seen the girls that he takes on his weekend retreats. Young, vibrant and beautiful. There is no way that this thirty-six-year-old body can compete with them. Not that I’m out of shape. I lift weights and do yoga and Pilates to keep in shape, but fifteen years of gravity have left me at a distinct disadvantage.

  Blake, on the other hand, looks the same as he did the day he graduated from college. He got those genes from his dad. JD turned sixty-five several months ago and he’s still a lady killer. At least he would be if he were single. He’s one of those guys who just gets more distinguished looking with each passing birthday. I think Blake will be the same way as long as he stops living so hard.

  “Are you happy?” he asks out of the blue, turning in his chair to directly face me.

  Am I happy? Hell no, are the words that immediately flash through my brain. After dating Ron, the CPA who was as much fun as a cardboard cutout, for two years, I finally called it off a few months back. Since then, I’ve basically been celibate. I get up at five to squeeze in a Pilates class before getting ready for work, I work an average ten-hour day, and then I lift weights and do yoga before going home to a “meal prepped” dinner for one. It’s really quite an exhilarating life. “Yeah, things are pretty good,” I reply, lying through my teeth.

  “You like working with me?” he asks, shifting to a more serious look.

  “I love working with you. You know that.” I reach out and place my hand on his. “I can’t imagine what my world would be like without you in it.” Hmm, that came out a little more dramatic than I intended. Now he really looks serious. “Are you happy?”

  “Ha!” He laughs, shaking his head. “When was the last time you saw me happy?”

  “Well, you’ve never really been the giddy type, but you’ve got a pretty sweet life,” I reply, giving him a crossways glare. “You’re loaded, control a multi-billion-dollar firm, and have a steady stream of hotties to sleep with who never ask for anything in return. What more could you want?”

  “Other than the fact that I don’t like being an attorney, I’m getting too old for twenty-two-year-old interns, and I feel like I’ve been running wide open on a treadmill that will never stop until I drop . . .” He glares back at me, obviously looking for a little sympathy. “I know. I should be happy.”

  “I’m not saying it’s easy. I know you work a lot longer hours than me. I honestly couldn’t do it.” I continue to rub my hand along his forearm. “But there are millions of guys out there who would switch places with you in a heartbeat.”

  His phone buzzes and he looks down at the screen in disgust. “This is the main reason I’m not happy.” He turns the screen toward me, revealing a picture of JD. “He left me a twenty-two-minute voicemail message this morning. I’m sure he lectured me the entire way to the federal building, and now he just got off work, so he’s calling to give me another earful.”

  “So that’s why your voicemail was full right away this morning.” I laugh, looking up toward the sun, which is starting to sag in the western sky. “I’m glad I couldn’t get ahold of you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have driven out here. I had forgotten how beautiful it is out here.”

  “It’s awesome. Fuck, now he sent me a text message. He must really be pissed. He never sends text messages.” He sits there for a moment, debating whether to read it. Instead, he clicks the power button and tosses the phone facedown on the table next to him. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow . . . maybe.” He lets out a long breath. “He probably found out that Bill is meeting with Simpson Industries,” he says, shaking his head. “Meanwhile, I’m out here sitting on my ass and drinking wine with my executive assistant.” He tips his glass toward me before finishing it off. “It’s too bad you like your job so much.”

  “Why?” I ask, suddenly confused. “Don’t you like having me work for you?”

  “Actually, I have thought about firing you a few times.” He stands up, grabbing the half-bottle of scotch that had been resting next to the chair and turning to walk toward the house. “Come on. Let’s go make some dinner.”

  Chapter 4

  Blake

  Relaxing on the beach with Kayla has stirred up a whole lot of unresolved feelings from twenty years ago, back when I knew what I wanted in life. Ever since I was ten years old, I wanted to be a fishing guide or an action adventure photographer. Instead, I spend my entire week trapped between my office, conference rooms, and the courthouse, interviewing clients and dealing with an endless blizzard of paperwork. My oldest brother, James the fourth, had a real knack for numbers and lacked the personality that it takes to be an attorney. He’s happy as hell being buried in numbers and spreadsheets all day. I have no clue how he can do what he does either. My other brother, Collin, is a computer geek, obsessed with video games and coding from the time he was old enough to hold a keyboard. He went to work for Google right out of college and was one of their first software engineers, which was obviously a great move. My sister married a real estate developer and became a realtor, and they build and sell condominium complexes in Destin, Florida. In other words, by the time I was a sophomore in high school, it was just Mom, Dad, and me at home. In Dad’s mind, he had no choice but to double down on me. None of my older siblings were going to take over the family business, so he could no longer leave anything to chance.

  My grandfather’s dying wish was for me to one day take over the firm that he had founded. I’ll never forget the day he told me as I stood ther
e in his hospital room, watching him take his final breaths. Dad knew how much I loved him, and looking back, I have to wonder whether that was really my grandfather’s wish or if Dad had just used him to manipulate me. After all, grandfather barely recognized me the last few times I saw him. He knew how much I loved the outdoors and that I was obsessed with fishing and photography. I can’t imagine he would’ve really wanted me to be trapped in an office day after day.

  “What’s going on with you?” Kayla asks, grabbing me from behind and swinging me around toward her as I reach for the patio door.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, not immediately connecting the dots.

  “I thought we were having a nice time reminiscing about the past, and now you admit that you’ve been thinking about firing me?” The fire blazes in those beautiful hazel eyes of hers.

  “Come here. I want to show you something.” I open the door and motion for her go through ahead of me. “There’s some aluminum foil in the pantry. Why don’t you grab it and I’ll be right back?”

  I head up the stairway and down the hall to the back of the house where the servant’s quarters are located. There’s a room back there that was our hangout when we were kids, and it has basically remained unchanged for the past two decades. Coming in here reaffirms the feelings I’m having about the old days, when my life made sense. Back when I could spend the day doing what I loved to do and was madly in love with my best friend, who wouldn’t even consider dating me. I grab an old photo album and tuck it under my arm before heading back down to the kitchen.