Page 28 of The Bossy Billionaire

“I need you to know…” he continues.

“I don’t. I really don't need to know anything. Just business tips, Huxley,” I say in a rush, feeling uncertain. He is moving us into territory that makes me nervous. The thoughts of him in his tuxedo, the feel of his hand around my waist, his lips on mine…

“I didn’t want to leave. I need you to know I didn’t want to leave you.” The air leaves my lungs, and I swallow hard. I hear him blow out a breath, so I know it was obviously on his mind.

“Ohh,” is all I get out because I had braced myself for rejection and got the opposite. I feel so much relief that I sag back into the chair, the tension I didn’t know I was holding all leaving my body.

“Well, why did you?” I ask the only question that is floating in my mind.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you leave?” My heart thuds. I don’t know why I ask and feel stupid immediately, but I really want to know. When he is quiet for a long time, I wonder if he is still there.

“Huxe?” I ask him, using a nickname for the first time. “Why did you leave me?” I repeat. My heart feels like it is on hold in my chest, waiting for his answer.

“Because I don’t trust myself when I am with you, and I am terrified of what that means,” he says quietly. I sit in shock before I hear him clear his throat. “I need to go. I will run some numbers and give you a budget for the carpet.”

“Okay,” I say, still a little dazed. Did Huxley just admit that he has feelings for me?

“Bye, Luce.” He ends the call, and I am left looking at my phone, wondering where we go from here.

I sit for a while with a million scenarios running through my mind, not really sure what to do. I like Huxley. My feelings for him have grown in the time since I met him. He treats me like a woman, not an invalid. He stands up to everyone around me, including my brothers. He is working late going over my finances when he doesn’t need to. He calls, he makes me dance, he bosses me around. But he is a playboy. He is based in New York. He is my brother’s best friend. I am scared that if I let my heart beat for him he will break it, and I can’t take any more pain. I’ve been through too much.

Knowing I won’t get any answers to my constant questions tonight, I get up from the armchair, my leg now stiff and sore from sitting too long, and I walk across the room to move the empty boxes to the storeroom. But as I do, the lights go out.

“Shit,” I say, feeling my way to the wall so I can flick the lights on and off. Power cuts here are not uncommon. It is an old building, and I have had the electrician out a few times over the years to check things. Looks like the budget for the carpet will need to go into emergency electrical work instead, which sucks.

The wind outside picks up a little, and the drizzle continues to fall against the windows. I have never been scared here in the shop before, but a chill runs down my spine as I feel the dark emptiness of this big place for the first time. I let my hands glide across the walls, making my way to the front door, the soft glow of the outside streetlamps offering little help, but I can barely see a thing. I open the front door and step out onto my small porch to see the electrical box. The door of it is ajar.

“What the…” I say to myself when I notice some wires cut.

As I try to peer closer to get a good look at them in the evening glow, I hear a rush from behind and I get pushed into the wall.

“Ow!” I yell as my head hits the wall, my shoulder colliding with the box, and I fall, my leg not able to hold me up in such a violent push.

“Can’t be too careful around this neighborhood,” a guy growls deep and low, his face covered in a balaclava as he leans right into my face. I can’t see a thing, my eyes scrunched in pain and fear, but I smell him. It is a familiar scent, like coffee and rum, yet one I can’t put my finger on. “Next time you won’t be so lucky,” he seethes before running off, leaving me sitting on my ass on the wet cement on the front doorstep of my shop.

Panting, my eyes search everywhere, looking for help but finding no one and nothing. I start to cry as I pull myself up and push my way back inside the shop, slamming the door shut. I try to lock and deadbolt it, but seeing both locks are now broken, my shaking hands do nothing to help the situation.

“Oh my God…” I whisper as my chin quivers and I start shaking uncontrollably. My cheeks are now wet with tears. Eyes flicking up, I notice my welcome bell is missing. How did that fall off? With no bell, I wouldn’t have heard him when I was in the back of the shop, unpacking the order. I walk backward from the door like it is going to attack me and take a few steps and lean on the coffee counter. With shaking hands, I pull out my cell and find the number I am looking for.

The emergency locksmith. I can’t call my brothers because they would be murderous. I also can’t call Huxley because our phone call ended abruptly, and I am not sure he needs my level of crazy in his life right now.

I take deep breaths to control my nerves as the locksmith answers and can come straightaway. It will be an astronomical fee, but I will figure it out. I slide down the coffee counter and sit on the floor. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I make myself small, tucking into the darkness, waiting. Watching. Even though I survived a fire, this is the first time I have been truly frightened for my life. I have no idea who is trying to scare me. Is it just a random thug? I think back to the footprint that was in the back doorway a few weeks ago. This is the second time my sanctuary has been violated, and I am starting to feel unsafe in my own home. In my own shop. I feel like a sitting duck as I wait here in the darkness, my eyes wide, darting all around. This shop is the only thing I have left of Mom and Dad. I need to protect their legacy.

No matter how scared I am right now, I can’t give up. I will never give up.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - HUXLEY

The first thing I notice is that Lucy is right, the bookstore is now buzzing with people. She has been in the media a little more than usual due to the gala, plus the news of Harrison potentially gearing up for his presidential run is getting hotter. It’s obviously having a positive effect on business for her, which is exactly what we need. The shop is now much busier than when I was here the other times, even though it is close to closing time.

The second thing I notice is the chime of the welcome bell is different, causing me to look up as I enter. It is bigger. Louder. I also noticed new shiny silver locks on the doors. Three of them instead of just the one that was there earlier. The timber doorframe is chipped. I frown, wondering what happened.

Dwyane’s at the coffee machine, wiping it down and packing up, smiling and laughing with patrons who are leaving until he looks up and sees me, his smile soon turning into a scowl. I ignore him and keep walking. There are a few people back near the books. Some look at me as I dawdle past them. A businessman in a suit is somewhat of an oddity among them still, I guess. I flew into Baltimore this morning to personally hand over a check to Harrison for the foundation and get the details on the beach house in St. Barts. I will stay in town tonight as I have a few meetings in the morning, and then I’ll fly back to New York tomorrow afternoon. My Baltimore apartment is now getting more use than it ever has before.

I walk to the kids’ section, thinking I will find Lucy here, but it is quiet. There are a few little ones playing in the corner in the toy section, so I walk over to the large armchair that Lucy usually sits in and see her little library shelf of books nearby.

Spotting Ferdinand, I grab it out, sit on her chair, and flip through it.

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