The Billionaire's Rekindled Desire

The Billionaire's Rekindled Desire Billionaire Boss Second Chance Romance Olivia Cruise Copyright Copyright © 2023by Olivia Cruise All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents 1. Chapter One 2. Chapter Two 3. Chapter Three 4. Chapter Four 5. Chapter Five 6. Chapter Six 7. Chapter Seven 8. Chapter Eight 9. Chapter Nine 10. Chapter Ten 11. Chapter Eleven 12. Chapter Twelve 13. Chapter Thirteen 14. Chapter Fourteen 15. Chapter Fifteen 16. Chapter Sixteen 17. Chapter Seventeen 18. Chapter Eighteen 19. Chapter Nineteen 20. Chapter Twenty 21. Chapter Twenty-One 22. Chapter Twenty-Two 23. Chapter Twenty-Three 24. Chapter Twenty-Four 25. Chapter Twenty-Five 26. Chapter Twenty-Six 27. Chapter Twenty-Seven 28. Chapter Twenty-Eight 29. Chapter Twenty-Nine 30. Chapter Thirty Also By Chapter One Leah There was nothing I could do to change Mrs. DeWallace’s mind. We’d spent the better part of the last hour squabbling over whether or not the chartreuse wingback chair she had picked would fit with the current color scheme of her living room. “Mrs. DeWallace, you already have several accents of cobalt blue here! If you add that to the room, it’ll draw the eye away from the bright pops of color you already have,” I explained, exasperated that someone with as much money as Mrs. DeWallace would want to furnish their home so garishly. “Oh my dear Leah, don’t you think the chartreuse and cobalt go well together?” the older woman argued back, her bangles jangling on her wrists noisily. “It certainly seems to fit the art nouveau style to me!” “It does,” I admitted, untucking my clipboard from my side, “but the rest of your house is decorated with neutral colors. If you have one room that’s this brightly colored, it’ll completely stand out from the rest of your house.” “I think I like it that way,” my client said with finality, after glancing at the rooms I was pointing to in my notes. “Everyone should have a bit of weirdness to them. And their home décor.” I threw my hands up in the air. “Fine, Mrs. DeWallace, have it your way. You’re the one paying the bills after all.” The older woman nodded crisply with a triumphant smile and I huffed out a dry chuckle. “Just make sure you tell my boss that you’re the one who suggested this color cacophony, not me.” Mrs. DeWallace ran a hand over the soft velveteen of the highly debated wingback chair fondly. “Don’t worry, dear. When people ask me about how this went, I’ll make sure to tell them that you took care of all the utilitarian aspects so I could have all the fun.” She winked mischievously and I sent her a half grin in return, unable to believe that someone who hired an interior designer in the first place wouldn’t listen to their advice. But that was how most of my work went—making suggestions and vision boards and searching tirelessly for the perfect piece only for the client to do all of it themselves. Ultimately, I still got paid, so it didn’t really matter one way or the other, but I was starting to grow tired of watching a beautiful space be ruined by people’s personal taste. And it wasn’t as though the apartment I shared with my best friends was any better— “You cannot let that monstrosity continue to sit in our living room, Kate,” I said pointedly, gesturing to the rack of weights in the corner that was teetering precariously on one full leg and a cinderblock. “Isn’t that why you work at a gym? To have access to this stuff?” Our friend Alexandra giggled from her seat at our dining table as Katie retorted good-naturedly, “I know you think you’re the last person standing between everyone and poor taste, Leah, but I promise you no one who visits cares about the weight set.” “It’s an eyesore!” I shot back, looking hopelessly to my right. “Please tell her that it makes this look like a frat house, Alex!” Katie turned to look at her too and Alex blushed at our stares, meekly shrugging, “I don’t know…it’s kind of nice to be able to exercise here instead of at a gym.” Turning to face me with her hands on her hips and a cocky grin on her face, Katie teased, “That’s two against one, babe.” The way her golden locks caught the light, creating a halo of warmth around her, was a sight to behold, and her eyes glistened with a playful twinkle. As I gazed to my right, my attention was captured by the mesmerizing sight of Alexandra, who stood there with an air of quiet sweetness that was impossible to ignore. Her curves were a work of art, gracefully accentuated by the way her tank top hugged her form. My heart swelled with gratitude as I looked at my two best friends standing by my side. An only child, I had lost my parents at a young age. My grandmother told me that my mom had passed away during childbirth, followed shortly by my dad, who succumbed to a rare cancer, possibly devastated by my mom’s death. So my Nonna had raised me, recently passed away herself, and though I knew I had other relatives out there, my friends had become my chosen family. I opened and closed my mouth several times in search of a reply but found none other than a sigh. “Goddamnit. Alright, whatever. But when I’m living in New York and you come to visit for a month, don’t bring that with you.” Katie swished her hair over her shoulder and in a faux haughty voice that made Alexandra laugh, tutted, “Oh, perish the thought, Leah! I would never dream of ruining your chic penthouse in the clouds!” “You’re pushing it,” I warned, pointing at her and then at our doubled-over friend. “And it isn’t that funny. I’m just