Page 3 of Starting Over with Her Billionaire Boss

Kinsley shook it. “Kinsley Pruitt.” As she rested her hand back on the bar, she couldn’t help but cringe internally at the stickiness under her fingers.

“So what brings you here?” Lourdes asked as she fingered through cards in her clutch before selecting a credit card to set on her bill.

“I inherited my grandmother’s home.” Kinsley cleared her throat. “I figured I’d give it a go here.”

“Are you staying long term?”

“That’s the plan,” Kinsley said, hoping her determination would be enough to see the bed-and-breakfast through.

Lourdes lowered her voice. “Not to be too forward, but do you have a job lined up already? If not, I?—”

“Not yet, but it isn’t urgent.” Kinsley forced a smile, hoping Lourdes wouldn’t see through her lie. Although she had a fair bit of funds, Kinsley had doubted how much the renovations would cost until taking in the house today. She was walking a fine line between opening the bed-and-breakfast early before renovations were completed at a slower pace, or hiring a contractor to get things done quickly at a higher expense. Truthfully, she could use the money to hire a contractor and get started.

“Well, if you change your mind, stop by Westerhouse Investments Group. We’re one of the top groups in the country, specializing in real estate. I’m an office manager, and I’m looking for someone reliable to fill a receptionist position.”

Westerhouse Investments Group. The name tugged at something in her memory, though she couldn’t quite place it. Probably nothing; perhaps she’d driven by one of their ‘For Sale’ signs on her way through towns.

“I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t know if I’d be a good fit.” Kinsley admitted. Lourdes’ face looked kind and sincere, like someone who wouldn’t sucker her into a crappy job. But a receptionist position? The thought of sitting behind a desk and answering phones for hours a day wasn’t exactly a thrill.

“It might be worth a shot. It pays well for the position and it’s fairly straightforward. If you change your mind, stop on by once you’re settled in. We’re located on Ninth Avenue by the old cathedral. You can’t miss it. Tallest building in this town.” Lourdes chuckled. “We stick out like a sore thumb, actually.” She fiddled around in her clutch again, pulling out a business card for Kinsley to take.

Kinsley hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of it as she weighed her options. “I’ll consider it.” As she tucked the embossed card stock into her bag, a gust of wind rattled the windows. The first drops of rain splattered against the glass. A storm was coming, but Kinsley felt a spark of determination ignite within her. This town was full of stories, and hers was just beginning.

The sleek officeat Westerhouse Investments Group exemplified a minimalistic approach to quiet luxury. Thepolished dark mahogany desk gleamed under the afternoon sun, the faint smell of leather and coffee hanging in the air. He turned in his chair, eyes darting to the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was the first time he’d been able to take in the view since settling into his office that morning. Gulls were circling lazily over the water, a stark contrast to the tension simmering in Daegan’s chest. His fingers brushed the edge of a portfolio marked with potential acquisitions. The office was cool, the gentle hum of the air conditioning broken only by the indistinct murmur of voices from outside his door.

Thomas had said he’d needed to speak to Daegan immediately, but still he was counting down the minutes until his next phone call. Daegan thrived on the bustle, but there was a restless energy today that he couldn’t quite shake.

A knock on the door drew Daegan’s gaze. Thomas stepped in, a careful expression on his face. Daegan raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to speak.

“Mr. Westerhouse, Rose Vaughn passed away,” Thomas said as he quickly approached Daegan’s desk.

Rose Vaughn.The woman that held the reins to that one stubborn property—the last piece of land that had been eluding him, the final deed he needed to complete his project.

“When?” Daegan's pen stilled between his fingers. A fleeting heaviness settled in his chest before his business mind took over. He knew he shouldn’t let himself get too hopeful; this project had taken as long as it had for good reason. Despite his reservations, his heart rate quickened. Maybe this time would be different.

“It was a few months ago,” Thomas replied. “I just got news of it this morning.”

Daegan twirled the weighty ballpoint pen between his fingers, watching the reflection in the shine of his desk. “I’m notgoing to say I’m happy about a death, because I’m not, but…”Maybe we can get somewhere now.“Is it up for sale?”

“Not quite. From what I can find, her granddaughter inherited it.”

Daegan nodded slowly, feeling that ounce of hope creep up into his system. The cool air conditioning calmed his nerves, reminding him to plan his moves deliberately. Dealing with her granddaughter could be easier. She might be more willing to take a lump sum of money than her nostalgic grandmother. In his experience, younger homeowners seemed to be more eager to sell if the price was right.

Thomas took the silence as a cue to continue. “I know our past letters to Rose didn’t go over well, but I can write a letter to the new homeowner to see if she would be interested in selling.”

“Maybe I should just stop over in a few weeks,” Daegan mused, leaning back in his black leather chair, pen still twirling between his fingers. He glanced out the window to take in the beautiful ocean view. “Everyone has a price. Maybe a fresh start will be more appealing to her than it was to her grandmother. With the right offer, she could move anywhere she wanted. If I flash a big enough offer in front of her eyes, it could very well make her reconsider keeping an old house out of sentimental value.” Daegan knew he could do it. He had charmed his way into more offers than he could count. If it took a little flirting, Daegan was prepared to do whatever it took to move his project forward.

“Good luck. If she’s anything like her grandmother, you’re in for a ride,” Thomas laughed. “But if you can pull it off, then that will be an accepted offer for every house on the block.”

“OnceI pull it off.” Confidence boomed in Daegan’s voice. “Then we can start the next part of the process. We’ll put through all the offers, demolish as soon as the permits clear, and get started on the new construction.”

“Is there anything else I can do to help?”

Daegan paused, tapping the ballpoint pen on his desk. The clicking noise sounded louder than it should. “Send the largest bouquet of flowers that you can find. Mark it from Westerhouse Investments Group with our sympathies to the new homeowner. Get it there as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Mr. Westerhouse.”

Daegan had been working on buying all those homes for far too long, but the last one he needed was finally coming into focus. It was so close that he could taste it like the coffee on his desk. To finally have an accepted offer for that house would mean his hometown revival plan could finally begin. It was more than just business—it was personal. Bringing a luxury resort to a town as special as Trueport would feel like inviting people into his home. Most importantly, it would create desperately needed jobs, and bring in more tourists willing to spend their money among the local small businesses. This was more than just another Westerhouse-owned resort—this was a lifeline for a community on the brink.

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