Page 3 of Off Limits Billionaire

Shit.I didn’t want to think about it like that, which is why I'd ghosted him in the first place. It didn’t make any sense to think about what could be when there would never be another opportunity.

The sound of the bell chiming above the door made my heart swell with excitement. I found myself hoping it was Marcus again. Instead, I stared into the enraged eyes of my older brother, Paul.

“What the hell was that asshole doing here?” he sneered. Paul and Marcus had their own personal rivalry on top of our family feud.

“He offered me a job.”

“Well, you’re not taking it.”

2

MARCUS

Paul Pierce matched my height and build damn near inch for inch as he strolled down the block with a smile on his face ... until he spotted me.

“What the hell are you doing here, Adler?” He bristled once he stepped in front of me.

As much as I typically enjoyed our competitive nature, I didn’t have the time. There was also a part of me that didn’t want to piss him off to the point Anabella wouldn’t take the job. I wanted those beautiful blue eyes of hers mesmerizing me at every turn, but if I was being honest, there truly wasn’t anyone else I trusted with the process. She was an overachiever like her brothers, and I was certain that she’d do the job just to show me she was worth the tripling of her rate.

I wasn’t inept when it came to business. Her expertise came cheap compared to other "experts" who wanted to overcharge me simply because they researched my name and decided I could afford it.

Still, I couldn't quite help myself from provoking Paul. It was second nature. “Your sister and I just had a long conversation about spending some time together. I’ll see ya around, Pierce.”

I got into my car before he could draw me into a debate over my spending time in his family’s shop. Anabella Pierce was the best mistake I'd ever made. Golden blonde hair cascaded down her back, reminding me of moments from the night where those strands had slipped between my fingers before I pulled her head back to kiss that slender neck.

The memory often replayed vividly in my mind. Our bodies molded together like they’d always been paired to match. The smooth wetness of her mouth, her pussy, every inch of her seductive frame belonged to me that night. In the morning, she was gone.

I couldn't deny the pit I held in my stomach that she’d ghosted me. I wanted her to say, ‘Damn the family feud!’

Instead, I was met with absolute disdain. She couldn't stand me, but I’d caught her blushing a few times. That could have been irritability, but I’m going to go with the idea that she felt flattered by me flirting and understanding the value of her expertise.

At 28 years old, six years younger than myself, Anabella Pierce had solidified herself as one of the foremost experts in the world, and I was there when the industry recognized it. Her brother, Paul, had taken her along to an auction I had an interest in.

She'd appraised a piece and spotted a fake within a private collection that saved the owner a lawsuit and the buyer a ton of money. That was nearly three years ago and she’d been on my radar ever since. Of course, on top of her accomplishment, her stunning gray gown and flawless beauty certainly made the night stand out.

However, our families never saw eye to eye. A feud between our great great grandparents carried itself from one generation to the next, and the money seemed to multiply so long as we were at odds. Still, a part of me wished we could have another go at that night.

One drunken moment of intense sexual bliss had marred me and raised my expectations to such an extent that I hadn’t slept with anyone else. No one measured up to Anabella Pierce. When she wasn’t giving me shit about being me, she enthralled me with her knowledge of clocks and the world of antiques overall. She was a historian at heart with an appreciation for the finer antiquities.

When I pulled into the underground parking garage of Adler Realty, I had every intention of heading straight up to the office. However, a tow truck in front of management level parking spaces told me not to dash out of the parking lot.

Cameron Adler, my younger brother, stood in front of a filthy pickup truck while the tow truck driver tried to reason with him. He was quick to temper and the sharpest dressed accountant I ever saw. His hazel eyes burned with fire as he argued with the driver. I approached the men and recognized the truck immediately.

“Hey Marcus.” Cam gave me a stunted greeting as he returned his attention to the tow truck driver. “For the last time. Get this piece of shit out of my spot.”

“Cam,” I tried to interject.

“Sir, I’m telling you that as much as I would like to, there’s a permit on that truck that allows it to park in this garage. You’re gonna get me sued.”

“Cam, you know this is Lucky’s truck.”

“Is it?” he remarked indignantly. “How do we know he didn’t just stick his permit on one of his workers’—”

I stopped him. “Cam. It doesn’t matter. Let it go. Take my spot.”

“That’s not the point!” he fumed, and even at 32 years old, he looked ready to throw a tantrum. “I don’t want your space. I want mine!”

“I’m going to go.” The tow truck driver tossed a thumb over his shoulder before heading back to his own vehicle to leave the lot.

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