Untethered Heart (Heart City Billionaires #1)

1. Caleb

Chapter one

I push away the hand that snakes around my middle.

“No, I’ve been trying to get through to Mr Huxley all week. I’ll take any available time in his schedule.”

Unwanted lips press into the middle of my back.

Ugh, what is she still doing here?

I move further away, stalking into the kitchen to bring the coffee machine to life.

“I’m sorry, Mr Heart,” says the voice through the line, “Mr Huxley is in Royal Harbour for the rest of the month.”

“Come back to bed.” The whisper is unbidden against my ear.

I turn to glare at Sarah. Sienna? Whatever the fuck her name is, she’s overstayed her welcome.

“I’ll fly there if I need to. Please. Does he have any time available?” I’m begging at this point. I promised my brother I would get us an audience with one of the owners of the High Rollers Casino. It doesn’t help that the owner of the Heart City location hates me.

“Please hold, Mr Heart.” The even tone of the assistant on the other end remains calm, unlike my last nerve.

I recoil as more kisses trail a path over my bare back. Fuck. I make it a habit to never bring women back to my place for this reason. If I had just gone back to hers, I would have left after round one and my morning wouldn’t be this clusterfuck of interruptions.

“Thank you for holding, Mr Heart. Mr Huxley has two p.m. available the Friday after next.”

“I’ll take it.” My possessive words latch on with hope.

Whatever is on my schedule can be moved. This is more important.

“I’ve locked that in for you. You should receive email confirmation shortly.”

My shoulders drop, my breath unleashing the tension with it as I whisper my thanks and end the call. Now, to deal with the next issue.

I turn and step back to create distance between myself and Savannah. Sally?

“Last night was great, babe.” I pacify her with a feigned smile, hoping she can’t detect the condescension it’s coated in. “But it’s time for you to leave.”

I turn her around, marching us toward my bedroom to get her dressed and the fuck out of my penthouse.

I was weak last night, too tired to stick to my usual routine of going back to their place.

Or just fucking in the bathroom of wherever we met.

I hate having people in my space. I hate people messing with my routine.

“W-well,” she stutters. “Can I see you later?”

I stalk into my wardrobe. I’m normally in the office by six, and it’s already five past. “No.”

I don’t do repeats. Repeats lead to expectations, and I have nothing to offer anyone, not now, at least. Sure, I have my billions, but my family’s business is my main priority. When I find someone to share that with, it won’t be someone I meet at a bar, looking for a quick fuck.

The one time I tried dating, before I took over my grandfather’s investment company, I was taken for a ride. One that my grandparents had to swoop in and fix. I’ve refused to let anyone get close to me since.

“Seriously?” Sabrina tugs on her dress—if we’re calling it that, it just grazes the tops of her thighs—as the frown sets in on her face.

“Yep.” I finish buttoning my shirt and decide on a black tie. “Made it clear last night I was only interested in a one-time thing.”

I hear an exasperated grunt behind me, then heels digging into my floorboards one by one as Serena stamps her feet into her shoes.

“Thanks for the orgasms then, arsehole.” Oh good, she’s seeing herself out.

I pull a navy vest from its coat hanger, matching the inky blue of my suit trousers, then sit on the ottoman in my oversized dressing room.

I’m lacing up my shoes when I hear the front door slam shut, and it’s like a trigger, signalling my heart to relax.

Heading back into the kitchen, I finish making my hazelnut macchiato and pour it into a travel mug as my phone chimes with a text.

ISABELLE:

Morning, boss. Will you be in soon? I’ve made a breakthrough with the Smoke and Barrel project.

Maybe this day can still redeem itself. Isabelle is one of my best marketing managers and one of my closest friends outside of my siblings. She’s only been working at Heart Assets for about a year, but she’s quickly proved herself as someone I can depend on.

ME:

Meet me in my office in ten.

We're moving into spring, so I opt to walk the short distance from my penthouse to the office. I started working at my grandfather’s investment company as soon as I graduated from high school, learning everything from him, and then later completing my MBA.

You might say the Heart family are celebrities in Australia.

Most people know our names, and even more people would know our reputations, especially in the business world.

From a young age, I was constantly in awe of the way everyone seemed to know my parents and grandparents, no matter where we went.

People would talk to them with such respect and admiration.

I wanted to be just like them. The rest of my siblings had no interest in Heart Assets, or H&H Mining, which my parents and Aunt Henrietta mainly run these days.

When I turned thirty, Grandpa retired and left sixty per cent of the company to me, with the remainder being split between my siblings.

They were free to follow their passions and find their own success.

With the help of our trust funds, of course.

Early mornings in Heart City always bring a calming quiet to my senses.

The multistorey buildings hinder the sun from creeping in completely, painting the sidewalk with a soothing mix of blue and orange.

The smell of leaves and soil that are slightly damp from the cooler night, and the manicured garden boxes that line Callahan Terrace swirl around me like a balm of earthy sweetness. There’s nowhere better.

I make it to my office building with a clear mind, ridding the last of my sour mood over this morning’s bedmate, as I step through the door.

I nod to Desmond, my chief of concierge, as I pass him at his desk.

“Good morning, Mr Heart.”

“Morning, Des. All good this morning?”

“Yes, sir. Just Miss Isabelle and Riley so far.”

I chuckle. “Nothing unusual then. Did your wife enjoy the anniversary date last night?”

Desmond’s eyes crinkle at the corners with his smile. “Yes, thank you for arranging those VIP passes for us. ”

“My pleasure.” I give him a wave as I continue towards the elevators. “Thanks, Des.”

The doors open as soon as I push the call button, and I make my way up to the twelfth floor.

Riley, my assistant, is tapping away at his keyboard.

His jet-black hair is pushed off his face, the long strands twisted together almost like dreadlocks from the constant assault of sea water.

Riley’s a surfer when he’s not organising my calendars down to the millisecond.

“Morning,” he says without looking away from his screen. “I just received the details of your meeting with James Huxley in two weeks. I’m rearranging your Friday meetings. Did you want to fly out Thursday night or Friday morning?”

“With the time difference, we should be able to leave at six a.m. and make it to Royal Harbour around noon.”

“Okay, I’ll organise the jet. Isabelle’s waiting for you.”

This floor consists of only my office and two large meeting rooms. Crossing the foyer, I head toward the open door. Isabelle hovers over her laptop as she sits on one of the couches, glancing up at the projector screen she’s trying to link in with.

“Morning,” I say.

She’s in her usual boho get-up. A stark white top tucked into high-waisted light-wash denim and a floor-length caramel lace cardigan.

Where I prefer a suit, I like to let my staff dress in their personal style, as long as they’re tidy. Isabelle loves long skirts with bold prints, textures from lace to suede, pastel and neutral colours. She’s a loud mish-mash of things, but somehow remains a calming presence.

“Hey, OG.” She smiles, her rogue golden ringlets that always shape her face bounce as she turns her head to me.

OG. The annoying nickname she’s given me.

It might sound cool, but that’s not the way Isabelle intends it.

She means old and grey . For the record, my glasses make me look debonair, not old.

She’s the only one who can get away with calling me that, and it’s simply because Isabelle is sunshine.

Joy and sweetness. Incredibly hardworking and loyal. So, I let it slide.

I place my laptop bag on the shelf behind my desk, fire up my computer and grab my glasses from the top drawer. With my coffee still in hand, I make my way over to the couches to join Iz.

“You already have something for me? We only spoke details yesterday morning,” I say.

Her excited energy is radiating off her as she speaks. “Yes, but I went to a whiskey bar last night, for research, and the biggest spark of inspiration hit me. I was up until three this morning finishing it.”

She claps her hands and directs my focus to where her presentation is starting.

I pop on my glasses and see the logo for what will be my brother’s new whiskey lounge, Smoke and Barrel.

The idea is to set up shop in an old entertainment venue that currently shares property with the High Rollers Casino.

They’re building a new theatre, and there are currently plans to demolish the old one to make way for a parking lot, but not if I can convince them our project is a perfect companion for the casino.

Especially if we can push it out to the other High Rollers Casinos around Australia.

“This is perfect, Iz. You did a great job. Have you sent the files to Gage?” My brother currently runs a dive bar, The Wayside, which does great with the younger crowd. But he wants to attract a different clientele with Smoke and Barrel.

I notice Isabelle chew on her bottom lip, her blue eyes searching the room. “He hasn’t been too receptive to my calls and emails. I don’t want to bother him.” She pauses. “Would you mind sending them to him?”

I nod. My brother is not the most approachable person. He’s gruff and guarded. I understand his reasons. Life has handed a kind man undeserving demons. The piercings and tattoos don’t help to soften his image, either .

“No problem. I’ll send them to him now.” I stand and make my way back over to my desk. “What else have you got on today?”

“Tenley Callahan is coming in. We’re reviewing the plans for the aquarium’s reopening.”

“Is that still on track?”

“Yep, last weekend in January should be the opening, which ties in perfectly before kids go back to school. I want to organise some mermaids to appear.”

I look at her over my glasses. Isabelle is an intelligent young woman, but she’s what most people might call quirky.

“Mermaids?”

“Not real ones, obviously.” She rolls her eyes. “But you can hire entertainers that swim in tanks like real ones.”

“Like real mermaids?”

“Yeah.” She nods with a smile, completely immune to my sarcasm, and starts packing up her stuff. “Anyway, all the files for Gage are on the shared drive.”

“Thanks, Iz.” I push my glasses up my nose, an amused smirk pulling at my lips. “Hey, can you make sure your calendar is clear on Friday in two weeks? I finally got a meeting with the High Rollers, but we’ll need to make the flight over to Royal Harbour.”

I see Isabelle’s steps falter on her way to the door. “You want me to go to Royal Harbour with you?”

“For the initial pitch, yes. You’re Smoke and Barrel’s brand and marketing manager.”

Her hands roll and stutter over each other. “I-I’m not a very good flyer.”

“It’s a private plane, Iz. You’ll be fine.” I try to reassure her. “And if you really need it, we can knock you out with a sleeping pill and put you in the bed cabin.” I smile.

Her lips are tight as they stretch in a grimace, but she nods and heads back to the door.

I send Isabelle’s files to Gage, then review my calendar for the day. I feel at ease here. I know what I’m doing. I’m proud of what I do. Everything’s going according to plan. Just the way I like it.