Second Chances: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance (Second Chance Romance Series Book 1) Read online

  “I will see you next Sunday for dinner,” My father said with a slight nod before turning away from me and crooking his arm for my mother to take.

  “Please be careful,” Mother added before placing her hand through her husband’s arm and walking back to their car with the driver standing upright waiting to take them home.

  I waved lightly and turned toward the big building, a huge grin splitting my face. I could do this. I would find a way to follow my own path, and decide what I wanted to do with my life. Finishing the MBA was a dictate of my lease continuing to be paid by my father, so that would remain a necessity for now. Finding something to finally light my soul and bring some passion into this staid existence, was my life’s mission.

  Climbing the three steps to the front of the building, I opened the ornate glass doors. Dalton stood just inside, replacing a light fixture that appeared to be freshly broken.

  “Be careful,” he called out to me, causing me to freeze in place. “Glass on the floor.” He pointed to a spot mere inches from where my feet were planted.

  “Shoes,” I responded with a little wiggle of my feet, and continued around the pile on to the apartment.

  “Hey Princess, if you require me to come turn down your bedding tonight, put a mint on the pillow or anything else to make your stay better. Just let me know,” Dalton said with a sarcastic twinge to his voice.

  I whirled around on my heels. “I’m pretty certain I will never be offering you an invitation into my apartment. For any reason,” I stated, trying to stave off the blush I felt climbing my cheeks.

  He just looked at me with a pucker on his lips. “Want to bet?” he drawled in what I knew was a fake accent. “Unless you chase away critters, unclog your own drains and toilets, or are willing to break a nail checking fire alarms, I’ll be getting that invitation.”

  “Ugh,” I retorted, half grimace and half sigh. “You are insufferable.”

  “Hello pot, kettle here,” he replied.

  “I’m not insufferable.”

  “Just entitled. Thus, the princess moniker,” he volunteered in a cheery voice that was grating at my nerves.

  “Did I do something to make you mad?”

  “Nope, I just don’t necessarily enjoy those that live off Daddy’s money and can still look down their nose at those doing an honest day’s work for honest pay,” he snapped. He moved to within a foot of me, getting into my personal space.

  His proximity and obvious passion for the subject at hand captured my attention, as I swallowed a nervous lump. I liked this mental jousting match and when I would have normally simply turned and vacated the hallway, I found myself continuing to bait him.

  “Daddy got you your job and pays your bills, or did you forget that?” I replied sweetly, as I refused to let him know the impact he had on me.

  “Trust me, my daddy pays me because I’m cheap labor he knows needs this shot at a second chance,” Dalton replied under his breath.

  I stopped the verbal barbs, and cocked my head. It was impossible to figure him out. He obviously had revealed more than he had wished.

  I watched him as he turned, grabbed a broom, and proceeded to sweep the glass on the floor into a dustpan. As I watched his retreating backside I found my libido whispering again about all the nice attributes I continued to catalog about him, and that view was definitely making the list. Dalton appeared to be a mystery with several layers. Obviously, he had been raised in money even older than mine and with family connections that would have allowed him any advantages he sought. His look, though, was street wise, and his job involved menial labor which didn’t compute with his background. Although the location was upscale enough in many regards, Dalton was just the help.

  I always thought that my own tragic story was sad, but glancing back at Dalton as I headed to my apartment, my mind had to concede I had it better than he did. My father was harsh, judgmental, and overly involved in every decision I made. On the other hand, he took care of me, provided the best education, schools, and housing. In the world today, that amounted to a gold mine when so many others had it much worse.

  Turning the key in the lock of my new apartment, I took one longer glance down the hallway. Dalton was dumping the dustpan. He looked up, directly into my eyes. The physical connection crackled across the distance between us. Startled, I flung myself into the apartment, and shut the door a bit more forcefully than was necessary.

  Chapter 3

  Dalton

  I made my way to the apartment after a longer than normal workout the next morning. Brittany had played havoc on my sleep last night, and I was determined to work off the stress seizing my shoulders this morning. After a grueling hour and thirty minutes, I headed to my apartment, noticing that the sun was only now starting to peek over the horizon.

  The moment I turned in the hallway last night had capped a verbal exchange that I had been unable to stop. Once the gauntlet had been thrown down with her first statement, I had picked up the challenge and kept the duel going.

  It was obvious that she was rich, entitled, and everything one of the city’s leading debutants was wont to be, given her education and status. After a briefing by her father yesterday, I knew she was an MBA student, which meant brains along with her hot looks. Her father had also let it slip that this was her first time living away from the parents, and had asked me to keep an eye on her, even offering compensation. I had turned him down flat. Spying on my neighbors was not my bag. Besides, it seemed a bit creepy to be providing that type of information to a friend of my father. What would the old man think of me if I’d agreed? Would he be proud I was doing his old friend a solid? I couldn’t be bothered to find out by carrying through with the request.

  “Eeek!” someone shouted in the shadowy hallway.

  I followed the noise to Brittany’s apartment door. A moment before I could raise my hand and knock, she flung the door open and ran head long into me, shaking and screaming.

  Bracing her with both hands on either of her arms, I came to the full realization a brief second later that she was naked save a towel around her body. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head, and soaking wet. She had obviously been taking a shower when a crisis erupted worthy of her choosing to run naked through the building.

  Biting down on my lip, I tried not to smile at her disheveled state, as I took advantage of the momentary lapse in her judgement to check out her barely covered assets. The woman had curves in all the right places, creamy skin, and a chest that could make a blind man sit up and take notice. As my little head took an interest in her body, my mind tried to register what the issue was that had gotten her so riled up.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, unsuccessfully trying to keep the smile from my face.

  “There is a bird,” she huffed, pointing at the apartment, “in my shower.”

  “A bird?” I questioned incredulously. That was a first in my time as the apartment manager.

  “Yes, I left the window ajar to get some air in there. The little side one next to the vanity. And I’m in – you know, taking a shower,” she said, and trailed off. A light pink blush came over her body, revealing how uncomfortable she truly was in this moment.

  “Yeah, it’s the city,” I said brusquely. “Windows aren’t really meant to be opened.” I pointed to her open door. “May I?”

  “Of course. What am I going to do to get a bird under control?” she asked snidely, tightening the towel around her body as that chilly façade of hers slipped into place.

  “So, does this mean”—I stepped inside and starting trying to locate the errant bird in question—“that you in fact invited me into your apartment?”

  She huffed behind me in answer.

  With a genuine smile, I headed toward the bathroom scene of the crime. The smell permeating the air was heavenly. I had forgotten how good women smelled when taking a shower.

  Lavender. Brittany favored the light, fragrant scent of lavender. As I slowly opened the door so as not to startle t
he critter trapped within, the bird in question escaped over my head to the living area. As much as I had been prepared for the winged creature’s attack, I still found myself ducking and shielding my head.

  She giggled. “Oh, did the poor little bird scare the big bad handyman?”

  I bit back a curse. “Seriously, do you want my help or not?”

  She looked at me with crazy eyes. “Of course, it’s loose in my home. What if it has rabies? Or bites me? Or worse?”

  I stopped and laughed out loud. “What could be worse? Oh, and FYI birds don’t have teeth, so it could only peck you to death.”

  “Whatever. Just catch it,” she said raising her arms toward the ceiling where the tiny creature had sought safety from the crazy humans hunting him.

  “How do you expect me to get him up on the vaulted ceiling fan?” I asked, hands on my hip, as I considered all the options silently.

  “You can’t leave him there.” She turned horrified eyes my direction, as if I had just asked for her firstborn.

  “I might have an idea, but first you need to put on some clothes,” I said, nodding at the towel.

  She glanced down as if she had completely forgotten her undressed state, and scuttled off to the bedroom. I waited for her to return, taking the lapse to gaze around the apartment. She had moved in less than forty-eight hours ago and the place was already set up with big luxurious sofa, matching loveseat, gorgeous wood accent tables, and an ornate television stand. Boxes lay around, waiting to be unpacked, covering the glass contemporary table in the dining area and much of the open floor space. The woman had great taste, and her apartment looked more like a home than mine did, and I’d been living in mine for several years.

  A movement to the right drew my attention. Brittany re-entered the room wearing a pretty pink top and perfectly respectable khaki shorts. I found himself wanting to demand she return to the room and come back in the towel, but her worried gaze already moved skyward to the bird. Her apprehension stopped the teasing before it came from my lips.

  “Okay, I’m going to open this window,” I said, leaning over to release the living room window. “Do you have a broom?”

  “Sure,” she said moving over to the pantry area and coming back with a broom still in the packaging.

  Removing the cellophane, I moved to the middle of the room.

  “We are going to have to work in unison,” I said moving toward the light switch on the far wall. “I will turn the fan on very low, and you stand by the window and as soon as the bird flies out, slam it down.”

  “You aren’t going to hurt the defenseless little thing, are you?” she questioned.

  “Seriously, do you want a bird-free shower?”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I’ll push the window down,” she finally conceded.

  I nodded to her, and flipped the switch. The rattle of wings was followed by some loud grunts and me running around the room, broom overhead like a crazy fool. Brittany at one point full-on laughed so hard she had to clutch her abdomen. Finally, a few minutes later I had the critter firmly on a path out the window. As soon as it flew outside, she closed the window, turned around, and hugged me tight.

  I stood with my arms out, absorbing the shock of the unexpected affection. I could not recall the last time someone had hugged me, and all I wanted to do was wrap my limbs around her and inhale her lavender scent. Instead, I remained stock still and allowed her to back up on her own time as I cleared my throat nervously. We stood close, staring at each other, as my heart thudded a painful beat in my chest. Brittany was finally the one that lowered her gaze, and she nervously backed away from me.

  “Anything else I can do for you this fine morning?” I asked, masking nervousness with light humor.

  “I think that covers it,” she said, moving toward the door as if trying to get me out of her apartment without another thought.

  My mind was on fire and I wanted to turn to her and make some excuse to stay longer. But when I swiveled to bid her good-bye, her stoic, haughty mask was firmly back in place.

  “Let me know if you need anything else as you finish the move-in checklist,” I said lightly and then entered the hall.

  Without another word from her, the door was closed behind me, and I heard the deadbolt slide into place. Any of the tension I had thought was present a minute ago slid off me with the cold reality of just how different our lives were. She might have the same pedigree I had started life with, but mine had taken a sharp detour somewhere along the way. I would always live on the fringes of polite society now, and she would eventually marry even further into the upper echelon. Shaking my head, I allowed the thoughts to fade, as I headed once again toward my apartment.

  I went to put the key in the lock and a movement outside the building caught my attention. Glancing down the hall to ensure no one was around, and especially that Brittany was safely detained behind the door of her apartment, I stood a moment longer than necessary without moving. I wanted to go inside the apartment, start my day and pretend I didn’t see the man standing against the car outside. Unfortunately, the payment for such obtuse behavior was not something I could risk bringing into the building. The price for that consideration was my cooperation whenever and wherever it was demanded.

  Resignation heavily hung around my neck as I flung open the front door and headed out toward the man. Every bright thought I had about a future free of my godawful past evaporated. This right here was why something with Brittany would never even be a possibility. Why, even if My father and mother were willing, I could never go home again. And why above everything else, the day would come when my two worlds would collide in a spectacular way, the outcome of which I was held captive by daily.

  “Tommy,” I said, trying to keep the trepidation out of my voice. Fear was not an emotion I was to show if I intended to stay alive while dealing with the likes of Tommy O’Denill.

  “Here,” Tommy said, holding out an envelope. “We have a situation that needs your help.”

  “I told you guys last time, we have to keep this away from the building.”

  “I tried calling yesterday and you didn’t pick up.”

  I remembered seeing the number on caller ID, and sliding across the screen without answering. I’d had a flash of insanity hoping that Tommy wouldn’t show up here.

  “Boss was going to send Tribado, but I volunteered so you need to thank your lucky stars.”

  Tribado would not have been as respectful of his distance or demands—of that I was certain.

  “I appreciate it,” I mumbled, looking at the contents of the envelope. I wanted to scream at the universe or hit something to make the nervous tension subside. I didn’t want any part of this latest endeavor, but I had no way out. Stuffing the contents into the envelope, I asked, “My role is the usual?”

  Tommy nodded.

  “I’ll be ready.”

  With that, Tommy re-entered his car, and with a few engine revs he headed down the street. I was grimacing the entire time I watched the car roll down the street making such a scene so early in the morning. I felt certain I would need to apologize to the neighbors. I hit the envelope against my leg in frustration. Next time, I would pick up the phone.

  I headed for the apartment complex, and for the second time that morning attempted to make it back to the apartment for a shower.

  Chapter 4

  Brittany

  I finished up the last of my online work, and glancing over at the gorgeous painting I had found at the open-air festival that weekend, decided it was time for a much-deserved break. I picked up the vibrant oil painting and turned it to the light to allow the colors to play off each other. Looking over the open clean walls of the apartment, I decided that the space over the fireplace would be spectacular way to showcase the piece.

  I found a few hooks I had purchased at the same festival this weekend. Then I grabbed a chair from the dining room table to start in on my mini project. Unpacking the apartment myself had been a first for
me, and was a “frivolous activity” in my father’s opinion. He had wanted to hire someone to come in to unpack and decorate for me, but where was the fun in that? Beige and neutrals ruled my parents’ house and thus would have been the instructed palette for anyone they hired. I preferred another direction.

  My passion for art had oddly enough been sparked by my father and mother early in life. They attended gallery openings and such to raise money for a variety of the philanthropic endeavors they oversaw. It always appeared to me those efforts were just a publicity stunt on their behalf; they didn’t even believe in half the missions of said charities. The events had ignited my soul, though, and Talia had encouraged me with her own bohemian tastes. Unfortunately, unlike my sister, I had never gained enough momentum or belief in myself to stand my ground and demand art school over a business or medical education.

  As I finished hanging the painting and stood back to admire it, I again thought of Talia. How much fun we would have had sharing an apartment, going to art shows in the city, and exploring new adventures. I would probably have dared to even attend a non-society party or two as her escort. Instead, I hadn’t done a wild thing in my life outside of My father’s control since the moment Talia had left us.

  Swiping at the errant tear that traversed my cheek, I turned away from the painting when my phone announced a text message’s arrival. Setting the hammer on the accent table behind the couch, I dug in my purse for the phone.

  When I saw the message, I had the most unladylike desire to fling the phone out of the window.

  I know you have a big test this week. Please study your hardest!

  “Really?” I asked no one in particular. “Not even a how was your week, do you like the apartment? Nothing.”