My Real Estate Billionaire Wants a Second Chance

1. Olivia

Olivia

My black cat, Mystic, was an agent of chaos. One second, my coffee was steaming in my hand; the next, it cascaded down my silk blouse like a slow-motion disaster. It was my new salmon-pink blouse, my power blouse.

“You little demon!” I screeched as Mystic darted off the counter, tail high, utterly unbothered.

Great. Just great.

I ripped off the blouse, swapped it for a black turtleneck, and dashed out the door, already twenty minutes behind schedule.

By the time I reached Maven frankly, I don’t care. This project is your ticket to everything you want. Do not let the past get in the way of your future.”

A muscle in my jaw twitched. She wasn’t wrong. But did she have to be so damn right?

Kansas walked behind my chair and nudged me. “Come on. It’ll be fun. You’ll get to boss him around and make him squirm.”

Now, that had merit.

I exhaled. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Nora smiled, obviously satisfied. “Good. You’re meeting Brett this afternoon.”

Of course, I was because fate was an absolute troll.

Kansas grinned. “You sure you don’t wanna change? Maybe wear something... breathtaking? A power move?”

I glanced down at my black turtleneck.

Yeah. No. Brett Collins didn’t deserve sexy.

But he was damn sure going to get a fight.

I met my best friend, Sindy Larkin, at our favorite cafe for lunch. She barely had time to set her coffee down before I launched into my rant.

“I swear, Sindy, of all the projects in the universe, why did it have to be his?” I stabbed my fork into my salad like it had personally offended me. “I mean, I’ve managed to avoid Brett Collins for years. YEARS. Now I have to work with him like it’s some kind of twisted joke.”

Sindy leaned back, smirking. “Sounds like the universe is serving you a hot dish of unfinished business.”

I groaned. “I don’t need unfinished business. I need this project to go flawlessly so I can make partner. Instead, I get a front-row seat to my ex strutting around like the smug real estate king he thinks he is.”

“Pretty hostile, Olivia. It could be worse.” Sindy sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “You could still be pining over him.”

I snorted. “Pining? Please. I am immune to Brett Collins.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Mmm-hmm. Is that why you’re stabbing your lettuce like it’s a voodoo doll?”

I dropped my fork and hissed, “I hate you.”

Sindy grinned. “No, you hate that you still care about his sorry ass,” she corrected quickly.

I crossed my arms. “I do not care. Not even a little.”

“Then why do you look like you just swallowed a lemon every time you say his name?”

I scowled at her. “Because once upon a time, I thought Brett and I were, well, you know.” My gaze dropped as all the memories came crashing in, and the hurt. There was lots of hurt.

Sindy interjected dramatically. “Star-crossed lovers destined to renovate high-end hotels together?”

I wanted to throw something at her, but instead, I snapped, “I thought we were in love, Sindy! I thought we had something real and solid. And then, poof—he ghosted me like a coward. No explanation—just gone.”

Sindy’s expression softened. “I know. He was a jackass to you, plain and simple. But you’re not that girl anymore.”

I exhaled sharply. “Yeah, well, I still get to sit across from him in meetings and pretend like he didn’t wreck me.”

“No, you get to sit across from him and show him what a damn powerhouse you’ve become,” Sindy clarified. “Let him see exactly what he threw away.”

I stared at my mutilated salad. “I should back out.”

Sindy clinked her fork against mine. “No, you should march right in there, own that project, and watch Brett squirm.”

I bit my lip. “And if he doesn’t squirm?”

She shrugged. “Then you’ll just have to make him.”

I sighed. “You make it sound so easy.”

“That’s because it is. Brett’s just a guy. A very rich, very powerful, very stupid guy. You? You’re Olivia Shaw, and you don’t crumble.”

I huffed out a laugh. “I wish I had your confidence.”

Sindy took a sip of her coffee. “Borrow some of mine. But seriously, Liv. This is your shot. Don’t let old baggage ruin it. Brett isn’t worth it.”

“Old baggage?” I scoffed. “Try a whole goddamn matching luggage set. I was crazy about him. I thought he was it, but then he just walked away without a word—just gone.”

Sindy frowned. “I know. I remember. I had to pick up the pieces! It did suck. All break-ups do. But maybe it’s time to retrain your brain. Instead of seeing this as some cruel twist of fate, what if it’s the universe giving you the perfect opportunity to prove you don’t need him?”

I twisted my napkin in my lap. “What if I fail?”

“You won’t,” Sindy said without hesitation. “Because failure isn’t in your DNA. And if you need a pep talk, I’ll be right here. With wine and some petty revenge ideas.”

I smirked. “You always know how to cheer me up.”

“That’s what best friends are for,” she said, raising her glass. “Now, eat your damn salad before it withers under your existential crisis!”

The bitter Chicago wind slapped me in the face as I stepped into the Maven & Moss lobby, adjusting the belt of my emerald-green wool coat. My heels clicked across the marble floor as I walked up to Kansas.

Kansas, Maven & Moss’ head of security—and one of the few people I actually liked—leaned against the reception desk, arms crossed over her athletic frame, sipping from a thermos.

At 5’5”, she wasn’t the tallest presence in the room, but she didn’t need height to command attention.

Her long, red, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, striking against the deep charcoal of her uniform.

She was built like a sexy warrior—athletic yet voluptuous, strong without losing her curves.

I always thought of her as the embodiment of quiet power.

Kansas spotted me and smirked, “Back at it, Shaw?”

“Like I ever left.” I shed my coat, flipping my long black hair over my shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

Kansas arched a brow, her gray-green eyes glinting. “Oh, you know. Office drama, holiday weight regret, and some interesting chatter about you.”

I stilled. “Define ‘interesting.’”

She leaned in, lowering her voice. “I overheard Nora talking to Miles Maven. They’re deciding between you and Hayden Klassen for partner.”

My stomach dipped, but I forced a smirk. “Oh, great. Nothing like an internal death match to start the week off.”

Kansas snorted. “Pretty much. But between you and me? Klassen’s good, but you’re a goddamn human storm.”

I exhaled. “Damn right, I am.”

Laughing, we started toward the elevators.

“So, what else is new?” Kansas asked, stepping in beside me.

“Nothing exciting. Sindy’s convinced my cat is possessed, my sister thinks I need therapy, and my ex is still infuriatingly attractive.”

Kansas fake-gasped. “Not Brett Collins. The bane of your existence? The man you totally don’t still want to rip the clothes off of?”

I shot her a look as the elevator doors shut. “I swear to God, Kansas?—”

“What? I’m just saying.” She grinned. “Some people never get over their first real… experience.”

“That was one time. In university. It was a lifetime ago.”

“Uh-huh.” Kansas leaned against the elevator wall, eyes twinkling. “And yet, you still get all flustered when his name comes up.”

I scoffed. “I do not.” My blood pressure raised, which proved her right.

The elevator dinged. I stepped out first, pretending not to notice Kansas’ knowing smirk.

“I gotta go,” I said. “Gotta prove I’m better than Klassen.”

“As if that’s even a question.” Kansas turned to leave but tossed over her shoulder, “Oh, and if Brett walks in here today, try not to drool.”

I flipped her off. She laughed, disappearing around the corner.

When I reached my office, I had one thing on my mind—winning. Miles Maven and Nora wouldn’t pick Klassen over me—no chance in hell.

And Brett? He was just a footnote in my history. A stupid, reckless, magnetic footnote.

I took a deep breath, rolled back my shoulders, and went inside to try and get through the afternoon. I should have known it wasn’t going to be easy.

I slammed the locker shut, yanking my hair into a ponytail as the thud echoed through the nearly empty gym. My body was burnt out from the harder-than-usual workout. If I was going to survive this week without losing my mind, I needed the burn.

I bundled up and went outside, my breath visible in the frigid air. A part of me considered walking home to let the cold numb my thoughts, but my fingers were already stiff, so I waved down a cab instead. I did have a car, but I hated driving in the city.

By the time I got home, Mystic greeted me at the door, weaving between my legs like a tiny, chaotic specter.

“I know, I know,” I sighed, scooping her up and pressing a kiss to her soft black fur. “Long day and lots of reasons to be annoyed. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people who think ‘artistic vision’ means throwing a bunch of tacky crap together and calling it ‘eclectic.’”

Mystic purred, either agreeing or hoping I’d feed her faster. I set her down and moved to the kitchen, rolling up my sleeves.

“Alright, sweetie. Therapy session time. Let’s make something impressive and pretend I’m not dying inside.”

I threw together ingredients, half paying attention to the pan, half ranting.

“Kansas keeps telling me to ‘detach’—like that’s possible.

Like I can just ignore the fact that Brett Collins still exists, breathing my air, and making my job a hundred times harder because I can’t decide if I want to strangle him or?—”

Mystic meowed loudly, cutting me off.

“Exactly,” I sighed, flipping the chicken.

“And the worst part? He knows. That smug bastard knows. I’m sure he’ll be waiting for me to slip or admit that, yeah, okay, he still gets under my skin.

But I won’t. No way. If I want to make partner, I have to be professional. No distractions. Sounds easy, right?”

Mystic pawed at my leg. I glanced down. “What? You think I’m lying to myself?”

Silence. Judging cat silence.

“Oh, screw you,” I moaned, tossing her a piece of chicken.

As it turned out, I was messaging with Sindy when I smelled something burning. I whipped around to see my chicken charring in the pan.

“Shit!” I growled, tossing the phone onto the counter. “You see what I’m dealing with?” I asked Mystic.

Mystic yawned.

“Great. Thanks for the support.”

After dinner, I curled up in bed, Mystic sprawled across my stomach, purring like an overpriced massage chair. The movie played—something mindless—but my head was still back in Nora’s office getting the bad news.

I inhaled deeply. “Professional,” I reminded myself. “No distractions.”

Mystic blinked at me like she wasn’t convinced. Honestly? Neither was I.

I flipped onto my side, absently stroking Mystic’s fur.

My thoughts spiraled. Brett was a problem.

A relentless, inescapable BIG problem wrapped in a tailored suit and a devil-may-care smirk.

And the worst part? I would have to avoid being too close to him.

Because every time he was near, I remembered things I didn’t want to: his touch and that sexy voice.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. “I am so screwed.”

Mystic stretched and burrowed deeper against me. I envied her.

Tomorrow, I’d have to face Brett and act like I couldn’t even remember who he was. And like I hadn’t spent all evening ranting about him to my cat.

I hit play on another movie, willing myself to focus, but it was useless. The real problem wasn’t just Brett.

The other problem was me.

And no amount of denial was going to change that.