Arrogant Heir: A Slow Burn Enemies to Lovers Romance (The Rochesters)

ARROGANT HEIR AN ENEMIES TO LOVERS ROMANCE THE ROCHESTERS RACHEL HENKE RED BALLOON PRESS Copyright © 2023 by Rachel Henke All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This one is for everyone who believes in happy endings. CONTENTS 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 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Epilogue Want More Damian & Jamie? (Bonus Chapter) Read Sebastian & Nathalie’s Story Also By Rachel Henke About Rachel Acknowledgments CHAPTER 1 Jamie I cast a final sweeping glance around the surfaces of my flat, taking in the messy piles of moving boxes sealed with packing tape. Home sweet home. I usually love this place. It’s my haven and holds so many happy memories. But not today. Today, I must get out of London and as far away from Simon as I can. My breath snags in my chest as his familiar face looms in my mind. Tears fill my eyes before I can hold them back and get a grip on my emotions. After what seemed like non-stop crying for days, I promised myself there’d be no more tears. ‘Breathe, Jamie. Breathe. It’s all okay,’ I whisper. I shake my head as if to clear it of the ominous, dark thoughts. Looking around one last time, my over-stuffed bag slung over my shoulder, a deep melancholy grips me and the tears flood into my eyes again despite my resolve. What happened to my perfect life? Simon blew it all to smithereens with one sentence, that’s what. I still can’t get my head around how he could do it. I was flicking through Beautiful Brides, picturing our upcoming wedding day, when he called to tell me it was off. Just like that. He didn’t even have the balls to tell me in person. For what seems like the millionth time, I question how I didn’t see it coming. I thought we were happy. Well, I was happy, anyway… I thought he was too. It makes me doubt everything we shared and who I am. How could I have got it so wrong? I was supposed to be his wife next month. Sighing, I bend down to retrieve my suitcase from where it lies on the floor in the small hallway. Turning the lights off, I close the door with a loud click, then double lock it and check it again for good measure. I won’t be back for three months. At least, not if the Rochester job runs to plan. Thank goodness I didn’t give up my beloved flat near Clapham Common and move in with Simon before the wedding like he wanted. I would now be heartbroken and homeless. As I haul my case down the stairs, an image of Damian Rochester, the notorious heir to Rochesters & Co, one of the most prestigious chains of department stores and hotels, flashes through my mind. I thank my lucky stars I’ll be working with the original founder—old Mr Rochester—not with his first-born grandson. I doubt I could survive three months in close proximity with an arrogant playboy in my current fragile state. A ghostwriter’s job is to get into the author’s head. I shudder at the thought of getting into Damian Rochester’s head. He was all over the papers a few years back and it didn’t make pretty reading for any self-respecting female. How stunning women line up to go out with someone like him, I’ll never know. Well, actually, that’s a lie. I do know. He’s a Greek-God-like specimen of a man whose sculpted body and exquisite face are enough to make anyone weep. And he’s a billionaire. Let’s not forget that… Not that I blame anyone for being shallow. Simon makes huge money as an investment banker in the city, so who am I to judge? He’s not from a billionaire family, but he’s a multi-millionaire, and has got the attitude to go with it. I like to make my own money, but that’s no reason to marry someone broke, is it? My mother made that mistake, and I swore I’d never depend financially on a man like she did. I load up my adorable red Mini and peer upwards at the cream-coloured bay windows of my flat, adorned with knots of curling lilac wisteria. For a second, a wave of nostalgia washes over me. I love being at home in my cosy flat. What if I hate being at Greystone Manor out in the sticks? I hadn’t thought of that! I shake my head. No. No. This is good, I remind myself. The Rochester assignment is the opportunity of a lifetime and if it goes well, it will set me up as an in-demand ghostwriter for the rich and famous, who can name her price and work only with high-net-worth clients. A few tiresome ones slipped through my rigorous vetting process recently, so I decided to work with an agency for a while and see if the quality improves. I only registered with them a few weeks ago, but the day after Simon hit me with his lame cold-feet wedding news, they called to offer me a lucrative gig. They’d had a guy lined up, but apparently, he pulled out at the last minute because of ill-health. I need the money and the pull to get away from London seduced me instantly, so it was a straightforward decision.