Page 177 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
As I stare out at the city, I can’t help but feel that my relationship to it, the power and wealth it represents, feels different somehow.
I was once determined to conquer it, to surpass my father, to prove to myself through ruthless acquisition that I was better than him. The Executioner. I built an empire, achieved every metric of success he ever valued. And felt… completely and utterly empty.
Then Lucy Hammond walked into my life, armed with stubborn integrity, infuriating optimism, and a belief in something more than just the bottom line. She challenged me. Drove me fucking insane sometimes. Saw through the bullshit. And somehow, cracked open the fortress I’d built around myself.
Now? The empire feels less like a monument to my ambition and more like… a tool. Resources to build something lasting. Something meaningful.
The Executioner is gone. Replaced by… someone else. Someone capable of vulnerability. Someone who understands that true strength isn’t about control, but about connection. Someone who is finally ready, completely ready, for the future he’s holding in his hand, concealed within a small velvet box.
The elevator chimes softly, announcing her arrival. I turn as the doors slide open.
Lucy steps out, smiling, her eyes bright with anticipation.
My breath catches.
Home.
She feels so much like fucking home.
Peace settles over me.
A deep, quiet certainty I’ve never known before.
The past is reconciled. The future is waiting.
And for the first time in my goddamn life, I’m not afraid of it.
There’s just one last thing I need to do...
51
Lucy
Walking into Christopher’s penthouse tonight feels… different. Lighter. Like I can finally breathe properly in this rarefied billionaire air without constantly waiting for the other shoe, or possibly an anvil labeled ‘Corporate Disaster,’ to drop.
Mark Blackwell is neutralized. Morgan Weiss is officially persona non grata (pending legal fireworks, which I will relish). The SPE cleanup is underway, terrifying but manageable now without active sabotage. And Christopher and I… we have a plan.
A chance.
He meets me just inside the entryway, a soft smile playing on his lips. The real kind, the one that makes my insides do ridiculous gymnastics.
He’s ditched the suit jacket and tie, and his sleeves are rolled up so that he looks unfairly relaxed and devastatingly handsome.
“Hi,” I say, feeling suddenly, stupidly shy despite everything.
“Hi, yourself, Ms. CEO,” he murmurs.
“I told you not to call me that—”
He leans down to brush a soft kiss against my lips. Just a brief touch, but it sends sparks straight down to my toes.
As he pulls back, I notice his left hand is tucked slightly behind his back. Holding something?
Ooh, intriguing. What’s Mr. Control hiding?
A playful grin spreads across my face.
“Whatcha got there, Blackwell?” I tease, trying to peek around him. “Secret documents? Plans for world domination?” My mind immediately goes to racier territory.
