Billion Dollar Mistake: An opposites attract billionaire romance: (The Lincolns Book 1)

Chapter 11

The elevator doors open, revealing one technician and one building maintenance worker. It’s easy to tell who is who when the maintenance guy has a work shirt, pants, and a safety vest with the company logo stitched on it; whereas, the technician is in his safety gear holding tools. They both stand there assessing us.

“Is everything all right?” the technician asks. And I notice his hair is styled neatly with product. The maintenance worker is wearing a hard hat instead.

I clear my throat and then swallow hard. “Yeah,” I say, disregarding the tumultuous emotions within me. Jeremy’s words are still ringing loudly in my ear. I’m not sure I would have turned him down. He’s obviously hot, but he’s also incredibly generous, thoughtful, kind and compelling.

“Okay. Good. I”ve got someone here to check you both over,” he replies.

“Thank you,” I say shakily.

“You”re out and safe now.” The stranger smiles kindly at me. I must be wearing my feelings on my face because he told me what I needed to hear.

A large gentle touch on my back surprises me. Jeremy offers it as a way of giving me comfort again. I don’t know if he knows how much his touch soothes me.

I move my heavy feet across the floor. I do wish we could spend more time together…well, more than just we did. Once we”re outside and in the hall, Jeremy and I are separated and asked numerous questions. I answer the worker on autopilot, my brain still back in the elevator.

“Are you feeling any pain?”

“No,” I reply.

“Are you feeling, okay? You”re quite pale.”

“Yes,” I answer. I can’t hear Jeremy’s voice and I wonder if he left. My eyes flick across to where he was, and I’m relieved he”s getting the same treatment. A smile spreads across my face at his unimpressed expression and stance.

After a couple of minutes, the worker leaves and I awkwardly turn around, wondering if I should say goodbye. I move closer to Jeremy, deciding that I want to have one last conversation with him.

“Thanks for calming me down in the elevator,” I say.

His dark gaze is hard on mine. “Let”s go eat.”

My heart beats faster in my chest at his offer. Eat, as in dinner? As in a date?

“Is that a good idea?” I say, trying to mumble through words getting my brain to work out. “I don’t know…it”s like nine o”clock––”

“Exactly,” he interrupts. “You need to eat.”

His directness makes my stomach flip. I am hungry now that I think about it. And I definitely need to eat. “Yeah.”

“Come on. I”m taking you to dinner.”

My lips part and I stare at him bewildered.

Why does he keep helping me? I work hard to help my family; do I give off a vibe that I want free things?

He senses my hesitation. “Come eat with me, Nova. Please.”

The beg of his please makes my breath momentarily falter.

I am hungry…

“Okay. Let’s go.”

“Good,” he says, with a confident smile playing on his lips as he grabs my hand. His grip is firm and purposeful. We leave the building together.

New York City’s streets are less crowded now, but the pace is slow. The glow of the streetlights cast a warm hue on the sidewalk where locals and tourists leisurely explore.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“I”ve got the perfect place,” he replies easily, his response carrying confidence that leaves me rolling my eyes and chuckling.

“Of course you do. Is there anything you can”t do?”

He rubs along his jaw, looking out onto the street, before back into my eyes. “There is, but I haven”t figured that out yet.” He pauses before continuing in a low and husky voice. “I always get what I want.”

He sure does.

I don”t mind because giving up control and power to somebody else is actually refreshing. I feel like I can finally breathe. Not doing or thinking about everything. The silence is bliss. We walk along the sidewalk, the warm lampposts, the luminescent moon and glittering stars sparkling in the sky. “It”s so pretty out here,” I mumble to myself.

“It certainly is. There is nowhere else like New York City,” he says.

I agree. Some days I still can”t believe that I live here. I’ve never lived anywhere else before, and I wouldn’t now because of my parents. But I couldn’t see myself ever moving permanently. Spending the holidays in another state or country is one thing, but full time living? I couldn’t picture my life anywhere else. New York has the best cuisine, career opportunities and world-class entertainment. I love it here.

We walk another block. I”m tired and getting hungry. I want to sit down and drink some water. The medic gave me a bottle of water, but I feel like I need more.

“Just here.” Jeremy speaks, and his voice makes me alert. However, looking around, I frown. It looks like an average building. No lights on. I”m confused.

“Is this place still open?” I ask.

“Yes. I messaged the chef and had it arranged while you were talking to the worker. Our table should be ready.”

I”m just not used to this kind of treatment from a man. It”s normally me. I’m the helper. No one helps me. Yet. He”s helping me. My mind is spinning.

I’m a proud woman who can hold her own and I have for a long time now. But Jeremy insists on breaking down that wall. Throwing his money, lifestyle and accessibility at me. He’s buying me things, taking care of me, can I really welcome his help into my life?

We step into the building and head back near a pair of elevators.

I freeze. He stops and looks at me. “You don”t want to go in.” It’s not a question. He’s stating it.

I look up at him and dip my chin, ashamed of the wash of terror creeping in. His dark eyes narrow with a worried expression.

“We can take the stairs. There’s just a lot of them,” he offers.

I shake my head slowly. “No, it”s fine.”

I don’t feel fine, but I can be brave just like my dad is.

His face hovers just a few inches away from mine. His gaze flicks from my eyes to my lips. I feel the heat of his breath on my skin, the anticipation of a kiss lingering between us. He inches forward, his move deliberate, stopping just short of sealing our lips together. But he doesn’t kiss me.

“I”ve got you. I promise nothing will happen to you while I”m with you,” he reassures me with words I can feel. That cut deeply into my veins.

I know I can do this.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats, his fingers intertwined with mine as he grabs my hand. Reminding me how surprisingly soft but strong his hand is.

Only a couple of calluses, from weights maybe? But otherwise, it”s large and warm, and it encapsulates mine. He’s making me feel wanted and safe, just by simply holding my hand and keeping me close to him.

We step into the elevator as I concentrate on my slow steady breaths.

“Keep breathing. I”ve got you. It”ll only be a short trip up,” he adds softly. His thumb running over my knuckles.

“You”ll be free soon.”

The fear is bubbling back in my throat. “Keep talking to me,” I beg. Panic is definitely hitting hard again.

“What’s your favorite color?”

I frown and turn my head to look at him. “What a silly question.”

“Just do it,” he says with a deep and bossy tone.

I keep looking up at him as I exhale and answer, “Black.”

He stares down at me, an unreadable expression settling on his face. “Do you seriously like black?”

“Yeah, what”s wrong with black?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles.

“What”s your favorite color?”

His eyes hold mine as something passes between us. “Black.”

My heart hammers hard in my chest as I whisper, “No.”

“It is.”

“Are you just saying that? Because it feels a lot like you”re copying me,” I tease, desperate to lighten the mood. The air is getting heavy in here with the electricity bouncing between us in this elevator.

“Do I look like I need to copy a woman to impress her?” he retorts, his response carrying a hint of challenge.

“No. But I just feel like you’re messing with me or telling me what I want to hear.”

To keep me from spiralling out of control again.

“I’m telling you the truth,” he asserts with sincerity in his eyes.

“I trust you,” I admit.

“We are connected in such a strange, unique way that I can”t even understand myself. It”s never happened to me before…” It”s like he”s talking to himself. Yet, it”s out loud.

I don”t really know how to respond, other than, “Me too.”

The elevator doors open, and the relief floods my body. I’m okay now. I try to slip my hand out of his, but he grips me tighter. I look up at him and he shakes his head no, as if to he”s going to continue holding my hand. End of discussion.

Today has been full of emotions and I don”t have much food in my stomach.

The hunger. The highs and lows make me suddenly feel faint.

“Nova, you”re awfully pale. Do you need to sit down?”

“Jeez, thanks for the compliment. But I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

No, I’m not.

He really is good at reading me…

“Yeah, I feel a bit light-headed. I need a glass of water.”

“Let”s go,” he orders darkly, and I”m moving faster on my legs. Clearly, not fast enough for him because in the next minute, my feet are lifted off the floor.

“What are you doing?” I gasp.

“I don”t want you to faint.”

I don”t want to make a scene but… “You”re carrying me through a fancy restaurant.” I look around. The mood is ambient, sexy, and dark with warm lights. There are couples everywhere talking over candlelight dinners. I grimace. Are they watching me being carried bridal style by this handsome man like an idiot? I hope not.

Not that Jeremy cares. He holds me without a care in the world.

I want to enjoy this moment, but I can”t because I”m just so in my head.

Seriously. What the hell is he doing?

I’m about to tell him to put me down when I”m lowered to the ground slowly anyway. I’m next to a table and chair that overlooks the city. It”s beautiful.

“Wow, that’s a gorgeous view,” I mutter to myself.

“Can I have a glass of water and some starters?” Jeremy speaks.

“What would you like, sir?”

I didn”t even hear the waiter come over.

“A selection. Nova. Are you allergic to anything?”

I shake my head. “No, but you don”t need to order the whole menu.” I widen my eyes at Jeremy, trying to tell him through my eyes not to be ridiculous.

“The portions are small.”

I gape at him as I take my seat.

His burning gaze is waiting on an answer. “Order for me.”

His lips lift with amusement.

I shake my head as he orders and take my seat. Sitting across from him, I simply enjoy the view. I still feel dizzy, and I”m not sold that it”s just because of the lack of food.

I think it’s him.

I shuffle forward and grab a glass of water and gulp it down. Enjoying the cold refreshing feeling.

“Better,” he says, watching me with approval.

“Yes, much.”

The waiter comes back quickly with some starters, and my mouth waters at the sight.

I grab a piece of bread and dip it in the spinach-artichoke dip. Eating happily now.

He grabs a piece and eats alongside me. “You should feel better soon.”

I nod, unable to respond because my mouth is full. But also, I’m a little lost for words. Jeremy is too much. Other than my dad, I haven’t had a guy in years worry about taking care of me. I know the bubble will burst soon. Both of us are terrified of losing someone we love. It’s not worth falling for someone who will leave you one day.

We should enjoy tonight as friends. I passed my first task at work successfully, and he signed the contract.

Thinking about work, a question for him comes to my mind.

“Do you ever regret the path you chose?” I ask, his dark brows pinch so I add, “Your life path. Like what if you stayed working as a doctor.”

He shrugs off his jacket, and it’s captivating. My own personal show under the dim lights. I can’t drag my eyes away. His strong body fitted with only a snug white shirt. Every vein on his arm outlined and drawing attention.

“Not at all.”

He drapes the jacket on the back of his chair, giving me a second to think.

“How did you know to take that risk?”

I meet his eyes, and he rubs his jaw, looking thoughtful.

“One choice can change everything. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating. But without risks, there’s no change.”

“And do you think it’s changed you?” Curiosity laces my tone.

He leans forward, arms on the table, a subtle pause emphasizing his openness.

“Definitely. I’m more mature than I was, say, three years ago. Why’d you ask?”

“Being here with you is not what I had planned.”

“Do you regret it?” His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“No. It’s scary to go off the path and off expectations, you know?” I admit, the weight of my choices and the unpredictability of the moment hanging in the air.

He nods understandingly. “I do. But vulnerability is where our true strength lies. It’s the courage we share to be imperfect.” He reaches forward, laying his hand on top of mine. The touch is intimate, a silent reassurance clasping my hand, and his gaze softens as he looks into my eyes. “You’re good for me.”

My body tingles with warmth from not just his touch but his words. My eyes drop to his fingers that are mindlessly skimming my hand in a soft pattern.

“You’re good for me too,” I murmur under my breath.

I’m surprised by how much he makes my dad’s cancer journey less lonely.

I look up to find him watching me with his lips parted.

He grabs his drink and his gold and diamond cufflink catches my attention. It makes me giggle.

His brows draw in again. “What?”

“Your cufflinks. Cards. Really?”

He twists his wrists giving both of us a better view. A flair of playing cards, gold with black details.

“Custom made.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “I bet the pens on your desk have Jeremy engraved on them.”

He sucks in a breath, shaking his head. “Close.”

I raise a brow.

“Just Lincoln.”

We laugh and continue eating the starters.

After a couple of minutes, I look back at him and he seems satisfied. I hear this rumble in his chest.

“You got some dip on your lip.”

My hand wipes at my mouth. He’s watching with a dark, intense stare. It makes me flush.

“Did I get it?”

He shakes his head. “No. Come here.” He leans forward and I mimic his position. My eyes watch his drop to my lips. His own are parted and he’s enthralled with my mouth.

His fingers tilt my chin up, giving him better access. I welcome his touch on my skin. My breath hitches the moment his thumb swipes over my top lip. The brush is rough enough that it drags my lip.

His thumb pauses at the corner of my mouth and I think he’s about to pull back so I lean into his touch begging for more.

He’s still so fascinated with my mouth that my silent plea causes him to follow my request. He drags his thumb over my bottom lip slowly, as if he’s memorizing the feel of it. My eyes don’t leave his face. And if we weren’t in a restaurant, I’d let him kiss me. He drops his hand from my face when his phone pings. Quickly, he retrieves it and types frantically on it.

I’m left panting and craving more of his touch. “Is everything okay?” I breathe.

“Yep.” He grabs his glass and drinks.

His eyes return to mine. A blaze staring back at me.

The way he’s drinking, I can’t help the shiver that runs down my spine.

“I had something to ask you.”

“Hmm. What’s that?” I ask, my voice returning to normal.

“Would you be interested in the boxing weigh-in at Madison Square?”

My mouth opens and closes. I know what he’s insinuating, and it would be a dream. He’s given me so much today that it’s making my head spin. “Those tickets sold out in minutes.”

He grins proudly. “You free at 3?”

I’m taken aback. “You’re serious.”

He nods. “Yes.”

While I truly am grateful for the thoughtful gift, it’s making me uneasy. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t accept that.”

His brows furrow. “Why not?”

I try to get him to understand how I’m not the usual girl who expects a guy to buy me lavish gifts. “You don’t need to pay for my ticket. I can afford it.”

“No, I take you, I pay,” he insists, making it sound simple.

I scratch at my temple, searching for the right words. “Your generosity is touching, but I’m not comfortable receiving multiple expensive gifts without contributing.”

His stern expression softens. “I don’t mean to make you feel that way. Maybe you can buy the merch?”

I smile in response. “Deal.”

It’s not about spending the same. I just don’t want to feel like a transaction or that I can’t afford anything. My new job will bring in more income. It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s certainly an improvement.

He dips his chin as he grabs more food and eats.

“Have you been before?” I ask.

“Surprisingly no.”

That makes my lips part into a wider smile. I love knowing that I’ll be showing him something I love that he hasn’t experienced before.

“You have?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“When?”

“My dad took me. He introduced me to boxing.”

Before he got diagnosed and our lives changed.

“I look forward to it.”

I’m excited for Friday. Not only seeing the weigh-in, but to be able to spend more time with Jeremy. It reminds me of how my mom keeps telling me I need to get out more.

Maybe she was right after all…

The waiter brings more plates of food. Things that I”ve never seen before. Oysters, antipasto, and soups. There’s so much food. The portions are small but presented beautifully. This is money. Money that I don”t have. Will never have. I want more money to be able to buy a house on my own. I’d also like to upgrade my car. I’m grateful that my parents handed it down to me when I was eighteen, but I’m envious of his life, and the freedom money brings.

The waiter comes over and we order our main entrees.

“It’s going to be hard to get home at 11 and go to work tomorrow with very little sleep in me.”

He shrugs, picking up food to eat. “I’m used to it. I live off little sleep.”

“What time do you wake up then?”

“I go to bed around midnight and wake up at 4 a.m. to work out.”

“You”re only getting four hours of sleep.”

He shuffles in his chair, picking up his glass and swirling the liquid around. “I work a lot. It’s why my last relationship didn’t work.”

His drive and passion for work is something I admire.

“Did you do this with her?”

His brows knit together. “Dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure. Not as regularly as she”d like.”

“Monthly?”

“If it was monthly, I’d have worked with that. She wanted it twice a week.”

I couldn’t imagine having this type of dinner twice a week. I’d prefer a low-key dinner at home. A cuddle on the sofa. I drop my gaze from the powerful man across from me. His hand runs through his perfectly styled hair. He messes it up slightly. Would I want a dinner like this with him? Sure. I feel special with his eyes and attention all on me. Who wouldn’t. But not all the time.

I lick my lips as I look at him.

“She never cared about my lack of sleep,” he murmurs. “Probably because she got to benefit from the money I earned.” His fingers rubbing against the bottom of the glass.

“I care. That’s so unhealthy.”

He stares blankly at me. He leans back in his chair with a slight twist in his lips and a raised brow. ‘Really?”

“Yes, really,” I reply. “You should be getting eight hours minimum.”

He chuckles. “I”ve never had eight hours of sleep. Ever.”

“Oh, you”re missing out. Sleep is my favorite thing to do on the weekend.”

He picks up his glass and takes a drink then lowers it as he speaks. “I”ll have to take your word for it.”

“Hey,” I say. “That”s our first difference.”

He chuckles again. “You make me laugh, Nova.”

My cheeks tickle. And I think I”m blushing.

We eat in silence for a little bit before we order another glass of wine each. I let him choose because the menu was too long, and there was an abundance of wine brands I’ve never heard of. When it arrives, I take a healthy sip. It’s delicious.

The entrees arrive and we eat. Afterwards, I feel relaxed. With a full stomach, from the abundance of food, water, and alcohol. And if it was the weekend, I could see myself sleeping for 10 hours, but tomorrow I have to work.

When we leave the restaurant, he follows me back to the parking lot. As we get closer, I worry he’ll see my beat-up car.

“Where did you park?” I ask, trying to think of a way to get him away from it.

“I didn’t. I have a driver,” he admits.

This is why he doesn’t need to see my car. Not only can I not afford a phone, but my car is also in need of replacing. It’s a gold 2005 Honda Civic with rust and a missing fuel cap.

“I’m just over there.” I wave in the general direction of my car and a few others. “I’ll be fine, call your driver.”

“He’s here, but I’ll walk you to your car.”

The tone in his voice already lets me know I don’t have a choice, so with a sigh, I force my legs to move toward it.

Pausing beside it, he wears an unimpressed expression, but before he speaks, I remember the phone.

I hold out the bag toward him. “Thanks again for the kind offer but I want to earn the things I have. I’ve never had things handed to me.”

“No,” he says. “Take it or leave it here on the floor. Either way I’m not taking it back.”

I’m trying to find another reason not to accept it, but I’ve got nothing. I sigh, grabbing the phone. “Well, let me get that photo of you.”

“I don”t do photos.”

Yet, I still try to snap one, but he’s quick to put his hand up again.

I pretend to scrunch up my face and be angry, but I can”t. My mouth is moving into a smile and he gives me a wry one back.

“I”m gonna get one,” I say, as I keep clicking the button, snapping lots of pictures.

“Is that a challenge?”

I shrug. “Whatever you want to call it.”

“Fine. But you didn’t say just of me,” he says, encircling an arm around my waist, while his hand rests on my stomach.

“Can you take it?” I breathe. My hands are too shaky from his close proximity to snap a picture right now.

He slides the phone out of my hand and lifts it up. He leans into my neck and my breath catches in my lungs at his sudden nearness.

His nose tickles behind my ear and his breath warms my neck. He snaps a picture and pulls his face away then lowers the phone.

Slipping his body away from me.

“Here you go,” he murmurs, handing back my phone. His voice carries a subtle tremor that hints at how our closeness unsettles him, adding to the already palpable tension. I take it and check the photo. It”s a hot picture, but his face is out of it again. Only his side profile. It’s a damn good one. Especially when even in the photo he looks like he wants to devour me.

I don’t have it in me to argue. I need to breathe the night air. And hear the city sounds to calm me down. I open the car door, taking one last look at him. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nova. Message me when you get home,” he replies with his hands now firmly inside his suit pockets. His stance wide and his eyes still watching me.

He’s not going to move until I leave. He’s worried about my safety. No one other than my family and friends have worried about my safety. Hell, even my friends wouldn’t send a text until the next day. So for him to care this much, it rattles me.

I drive slowly out of the parking lot and watch him in my rear view mirror until he’s out of sight. I may not physically see him now, but he’s still firmly implanted in my mind.