The Re-Proposal

THE RE-PROPOSAL NIA ARTHURS COPYRIGHT This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental. THE RE-PROPOSAL Copyright © 2023 Nia Arthurs Written by Nia Arthurs Edited by Jalulu Editing Cover Design by GetCovers (V1) ABOUT THIS BOOK Cody Bolton is my ex-fiancé. Yes, Mr. Bachelor of the Year and grumpy CEO of a billion-dollar company once belonged to me—a charity worker who can barely afford rent. Ten years ago, we had the most painful breakup in the history of breakups. I picked up my shattered heart and moved on. Now Cody’s back with those emerald-green eyes and bulging biceps, declaring I’m still his. Not happening. Even if his chiseled jaw, broad chest, and strong hands star in my dreams. Even if he throws his money at my charity and fosters a kid with a heart condition. Even if we end up sharing a bed. Ignore the thickening tension, we’re from totally different worlds. He’s powerful, ruthless in the boardroom and lives in a penthouse suite. I’m quiet, awkward, and live in a crumbling apartment. There are so many reasons we shouldn’t work. But when he slides his fingers down my spine, pulls me possessively closer, and whispers how much he’s missed me, all the reasons why I shouldn’t forgive him start to disappear. Can I let myself accept this growly billionaire’s re-proposal? CONTENTS 1. A Bad Omen 2. Cherry Bombs 3. The Past 4. The Chocolate Prince 5. The Past 6. Amnesia For Tastebuds 7. Trailer Treasures 8. Ice Cream Toss 9. Sexy Tacos 10. Fake It 11. Special Delivery 12. Bloody Cuffs 13. Overnight Miracle 14. The Past 15. Princess Hours 16. The Past 17. Tear Crumbs 18. The Balcony 19. The Past 20. Hospital Runway 21. The Interview 22. Office Break 23. The Heart Reveal 24. The Van Ride 25. The Luckiest Man 26. The Princess Dress GRUMPY ROMANCE GRUMPY ROMANCE CHAPTER ONE Leave A Review Also by Nia Arthurs 1 A BAD OMEN CLARISSA “No one is smiling.” The warning floats to my ear when I wrap my fingers around the door to the boardroom. I pause and look at the intern who’s been shadowing me for the past three weeks. Her intelligent brown eyes are hooded in worry. “They’ll smile when they see the pictures,” I say. “What if they don’t?” “It’ll be fine, Laura.” “We’ve had five rejections this week. This is the last stop. If we lose this one—” “We won’t.” “Look.” She points to the glass window. “Look at their faces. You said—” I squeeze her shoulder. “I said the first rule of a pitch is to read the room. The first rule. Not the only one. It’s our job to turn those frowns into teary eyes and open wallets.” Even as I assure her, I feel unbalanced on my feet. It could be the shoes though. I can’t remember when I bought these stilettos, but I know they were the cheapest on the rack. Even back then, they were nothing special. Now, they’re scuffed, slightly faded, and belong in the trash. Please just hold out for this one meeting. Squaring my shoulders, I saunter confidently into the conference room. There are seven suits around the table. All frowning. Hands clasped like a jury with a guilty verdict. Laura was right. There’s a chill in this room that has nothing to do with the air conditioner humming against the wall. I throw on my brightest grin, hoping it’s not as shaky as it feels. After two years of giving these pitches, you’d think I’d rid myself of the nervous jitters. No such luck. “Good morning, Mr. Winifred.” I nod at the company liaison. He gives me a blank stare, as if we haven’t met intermittently for the past two years to discuss projects for the foundation. I walk past the side table and notice it’s free of pastries. Winifred has a weakness for sugar. He’d take every opportunity to swipe the company card at a donut shop, so why is there no powdered treats in sight? “Everyone doing well?” I glance around the table, hoping to soften at least one person. The best way to win at these company pitches is to get someone on my side. Unfortunately, I’m met with stony silence. Laura sighs loudly. I ignore her and remain upbeat. “It’s a pleasure to work with you again this year.” I set my laptop on the table. “For those who don’t know, your company is one of the biggest contributors to the Do More Project. Together, we’ve helped hundreds of families and touched thousands of…” From the corner of my eye, I see Laura gesturing to me. “… lives. Our mission at the Do More Project is to empower women and we’ve recently purchased a building to host entrepreneurs from the women’s shelter…” “Clarissa,” Laura whispers in my ear, “there’s no wire for the laptop.” “What?” My eyebrows cinch tightly. “I can’t hook the laptop up to the projector.” “Excuse me.” I swing my gaze to Winifred. “We need a connection so we can—” “Don’t bother opening your laptop, Miss Maura.” I blink unsteadily. I don’t need Laura’s whispered warnings or even supernatural writing on the wall to tell me what’s about to happen. Keeping a plastic grin on my face, I joke, “Are you handing us a check without question, Mr. Winifred? We’ll gladly accept.” No one laughs. Winifred glances away as if looking at me is painful. Laura cringes in second-hand embarrassment. The silence stretches. “Like I said, Miss Maura. There won’t be a presentation today.” My mouth feels dry. I pretend I don’t understand. “No problem. We’re open to reschedule.” “Reschedule?” Laura mutters behind me. “They’re the ones who told us to show up at eight and left us waiting outside for two hours.” “Laura,” I hiss. She shuts her mouth but pins an angry stare Winifred’s way. The older man leans forward, folds his hands on top of the table