The Billionaire and the Runaway (Once Upon a Billionaire Rom-Com Series Book 3)

Chapter 1

Ariana

Once upon a time, I dreamt a prince would rescue me from my overprotective father. But fairy tales aren’t real, are they?

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look pale. My red hair seems more prominent against my alabaster skin than normal.

Groaning, I grab a towel and dry my face before getting dressed. I’m back in my old bedroom in my father’s penthouse. I hate it here. My father’s apartment, if you can call it that, is more like a museum than a home. It’s two stories of white walls and dark floors. Priceless pieces of art offer the only color. I swear his latest girlfriend, Kimberly, is allergic to having blues, reds, greens, or yellows in her home. I secretly daydream of buying cans of paint and randomly painting walls just to see if she’ll have a meltdown.

I’ve only been here for a month since I graduated and I’m already planning my escape. But I need a job first. Sure, I could have gone to work for Dad or one of his friends, but that’s selling out. I want to earn a position. I don’t want to be a nepo baby. I want to feel needed and useful. Not just some wall decoration.

My phone buzzes and I look down to see a text from my best friend, Katia. Katia Polenski is the daughter of a banking executive and the complete opposite of me. Maybe that’s why I love her so much.

Queen of Hearts, Owner of None: Beotch, you have got to come down to the shopping district. The new summer lines are coming in and they are (fire emoji)!

I laugh. One of my few escapes lately has been shopping with Katia when she’s in town.

Me: Don’t you leave tomorrow?

Queen of Hearts, Owner of None: Whatevs. Jessica is already packing my things. Come on. Bring Daddy’s credit card and get your ass down here.

I roll my eyes. This woman is about to set sail on her father’s yacht in the Mediterranean and she’s fixated on summer fashion lines. Typical. I should go out and have fun. Katia is about the only person I have fun with these days. But I’m feeling sorry for myself. While she’s off galivanting in Europe, I’ll be here having bland food at the cream table in the off-white dining room with Kimberly who spends most of her days on her phone scrolling social media, and my father who will likely be yelling at someone to do their fucking job. But I need to find a job and delaying it with a vacation will only make it worse.

Me: I really need to get my résumé to some firms today. I’ll catch up with you when you get back.

Queen of Hearts, Owner of None: Boring. You’re missing out. I’ll text you when I get to Saint Tropez. (kissing emoji)

Me: Have fun! I’ll miss you!

I have a missed video chat with one of my little brothers. I check the time and decide to try him tomorrow. When my parents divorced seventeen years ago, Dad got full custody of me. Mom took off to Paris, remarried two years later, and had my twin half brothers several years after that. Lucas and Samuel are annoying but lovable. I should just go with Katia. I could stop in Paris and see them, although that would mean visiting with Mom and I’m not sure my fragile ego can handle her at the moment. Damn, I really do need to get a job. That would help so many parts of my life. Like, trying to be financially free from my dad, so he can’t use his money as a pawn to make me do what he wants.

I grab my laptop and decide to go work on job applications in the library. I can’t help sliding with my fluffy socks across the hardwood floors as I make my way down the hall. I turn the corner and walk into the library, ready to take my seat at the one big desk in here. But I come to a screeching halt when I find Kimberly sitting there. What in the actual fuck? She’s never in here. Hell, does she even read?

She has on headphones and is staring intently at her computer screen. I study her for a long moment. She’s not ugly, but her plastic surgery history is written on her face like a tattoo. I can tell she’s had a nose job, facelift, fillers, and Botox. I’m sure she was beautiful, but now she just looks like someone fifteen years older than me who’s trying to be my age instead of looking beautiful at her age. Shit, she’s only thirty-seven, she’s technically not even that old. Her hair looks like she just came from the salon. Her long, pink nails make a clickety-clack sound as she types.

She must sense my movement, because she looks up and pauses, her fingers stopping mid-movement. She reaches up and pulls out an earbud.

“Oh, hey,” she says.

“Hi,” I mumble, glancing at her briefly before looking down at my socks and wishing I had put on actual clothes instead of staying in my black yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt. Wait, can one be underdressed in their own home?

“Sorry, I was just looking at spa retreats for next month. Did you need to work?” she asks.

I shrug. “I was going to apply to some jobs,” I say as I shift my weight from one foot to the other. I never really know how to act around Kimberly. She’s not outwardly mean or anything, but I can’t help feeling that she loathes having me in her space.

“Oh? How’s that going?” she asks, her lips trying to form a smile, but the botulism that I’m sure she gets more often than her doctor recommends keeps them from moving more than a fraction of an inch.

“OK, I guess.”

She pats a seat next to her. “Sit down. I can help. I used to work in human resources, remember?” she says with another attempted smile.

I want to say something snarky, like yeah, I remember when you worked for my dad, and then slept with him.

I clear my throat and nod, taking a seat because I’m too shocked at her offer to think clearly. She sits back in the chair and looks me up and down. “What is it that you would love to do? Like, what’s your dream job?” she questions.

Shrugging again, I contemplate what to say. Do I lie? Do I tell her that I want the fancy marketing firm job that everyone assumes I want? Or do I tell her the truth? I want to do marketing and social media in a small town, somewhere far away from here. For reasons I’ll never understand, I decide to tell her the truth. What do I have to lose?

“I’d love to work somewhere…small. I want to be hands-on,” I start. She cocks her head to one side. “I guess…working in a small town, helping a small business would be my dream job,” I add, my voice getting lower with each word that manages to escape from my lips. What am I doing?

Her eyes widen just a little, but other than that, she maintains her composure.

“OK. Well, let’s see,” she says, turning back to her computer. Those pink nails begin typing, and after a minute, she smiles, like almost a real smile this time.

“How about this? There’s a farm in Storyview Falls that’s looking for a marketing, social media manager…” She pauses to read more before continuing. “Local farm that currently sells produce through a farmstand and has several contracts with local restaurants and grocery stores is looking to expand…” She trails off and looks at me. “I mean, maybe not a farm.” I press my lips together because everything about that sounds like it’s straight from one of those made-for-television movies. You know the ones. Big-city girl comes to help country farmer and wins his heart in the process. I shake my head at the ridiculous thought because a) maybe the farmer is a woman and I’m being sexist, and b) farms probably are not at all like those films that Katia and I absolutely adore.

“I mean…there are a few positions at some smaller marketing firms in the suburbs,” she adds as she points at her screen. “I’ll just send these to you. You take a look,” she adds.

“Uh, right. Thanks,” I mutter as I fidget with my laptop.

She glances at the expensive watch Dad bought her for her birthday last month. “Oh, my, is that the time? I really should go. I have a Pilates class in an hour.” She stands and heads toward the door, pausing at the threshold. She turns her head back toward me. “For what it’s worth, I think a small town would suit you.”

And then she walks through the doorway, leaving me staring at her backside in total shock. What just happened?

Shrugging, I open my laptop and find Kimberly’s email. I click on the first link which goes straight to a website for Windsor Family Farm. Geez, their website is lacking. I scroll through some photos of the town and property. Wow, OK, maybe this is more like the movies than I anticipated.

My fingers itch to send my résumé. What harm could it possibly do?

I pull out my phone and call Katia.

“I thought you were bailing on me?” she answers.

“Am I crazy to apply as a social media marketing manager for a farm in a small town?” I ask as I twirl a piece of curly hair around my finger, a nervous habit that I’ve never been able to break.

“I’m sorry, what? Am I experiencing a real-time glitch in the universe? Wait. Is this a prank call?” she asks.

“Katia! Focus! I’m being serious,” I groan.

“What? Hold on, I’m video-calling,” she says and a second later I see her face on my phone screen.

I flip my camera to show her the Windsor Family Farm’s website.

“Holy shit! Is that place for real?” she asks.

“Right? It totally looks like a movie set,” I add.

“For real. Wait, scroll back. And stop twirling your hair,” she demands.

“Where?” I ask, releasing the lock of hair as I start scrolling up on the photos.

“There. Stop,” she commands, and I stare at the screen. It’s a photo of a man, and I dare say, he’s hot as fuck.

“What’s that say below it?” she asks.

I squint and read, “Eric Windsor, current owner and operator of Windsor Family Farm.” My eyes widen. Can I work for someone that attractive? How will I focus? I groan.

“Oh. My. God. You have to apply! That guy is fucking hot! Also, you would legit be living our romantic small-town made-for-television-movie dreams! Do it! Do it for me!” Katia yells and then squeals with excitement. I decide not to mention that I think Dad has a house in this small town. Of course, he has houses in a dozen small towns and cities around the world. I don’t even know if he ever goes here. I have a faint recollection of going here a long time ago, but I’m not sure if the memory is real or just made up out of my deep desire to have a normal relationship with Dad. When I was younger and on school breaks, Dad would just bring me along with him for everything. I was mostly with nannies. And then during the school year, I was away at various boarding schools. I suppose it was a lonely childhood. I always wanted to be in one place and make real friends, not just friends who only wanted to be around me because my dad was the James Titan.

I glare at her as I switch the camera back to my face. “This is real-life shit, Katia. Not a movie.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know that, Ari Party Pooper. But come on, when else in your life will you have a chance like this?”

She makes a valid point. “See, even you know the answer is never,” she points out.

I hate that she’s right.

“My dad would never allow it,” I say. My father is a control freak. He’s had my life plotted out for me since, well, birth. I try to think of a way that I could make this work.

“Girl, you gotta go. Go for me! At least try. Send in your application and then show up in person. What’s the worst that can happen? Where’s this place?” she asks.

“Storyview Falls,” I state.

“So that’s like only an hour away,” she says after a minute, during which time I am sure she just used her map app to find it. “I’m texting you Daddy’s credit card. Just rent a car, turn off your phone, buy a burner phone, and then drive your ass over there. Text your dad first though and say that you decided to join me on the yacht and the satellite is down, so you won’t be in touch for a few days.” I hear something in the hallway. I walk over to the door and look around, but I don’t see anyone. I walk back over and sit down as Katia keeps talking.

As she lays out this plan, it seems rational. I could do that. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with some farmer. This is real life and shit like that doesn’t happen, ever.