Get Her Back: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1 - Michelle

  Chapter 2 - Brent

  Chapter 3 - Michelle

  Chapter 4 - Brent

  Chapter 5 - Michelle

  Chapter 6 - Brent

  Chapter 7 - Michelle

  Chapter 8 - Brent

  Chapter 9 - Michelle

  Chapter 10 - Brent

  Chapter 11 - Michelle

  Chapter 12 - Brent

  Chapter 13 - Michelle

  Chapter 14 - Brent

  Chapter 15 - Michelle

  Chapter 16 - Brent

  Chapter 17 - Michelle

  Chapter 18 - Brent

  Chapter 19 - Michelle

  Chapter 20 - Brent

  Chapter 21 - Michelle

  Chapter 22 - Brent

  Chapter 23 - Michelle

  Epilogue

  Thank you for reading!

  Backlist

  About the Author

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1 - Michelle

  Chapter 2 - Brent

  Chapter 3 - Michelle

  Chapter 4 - Brent

  Chapter 5 - Michelle

  Chapter 6 - Brent

  Chapter 7 - Michelle

  Chapter 8 - Brent

  Chapter 9 - Michelle

  Chapter 10 - Brent

  Chapter 11 - Michelle

  Chapter 12 - Brent

  Chapter 13 - Michelle

  Chapter 14 - Brent

  Chapter 15 - Michelle

  Chapter 16 - Brent

  Chapter 17 - Michelle

  Chapter 18 - Brent

  Chapter 19 - Michelle

  Chapter 20 - Brent

  Chapter 21 - Michelle

  Chapter 22 - Brent

  Chapter 23 - Michelle

  Epilogue

  Thank you for reading!

  Backlist

  About the Author

  Get Her Back

  By

  Maxine Storm

  Copyright © 2017 Maxine Storm

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter 1 - Michelle

  I was just glad that I landed. My life had been up in the air the last couple of years, and I didn't know where I was supposed to go or what I was supposed to do. Luckily, I had found a job advertisement for a guest services position for this luxury hotel in Los Angeles called The Capital. Interestingly, it had its own private airport nearby.

  But why was I even here, I wondered. It was hard for me to give a clear answer, even to myself. I just knew that I couldn’t stay in New York City or my home town where I had been more recently. Not after all of what happened there. There were too many painful memories for me to ever go back.

  After I graduated from my sociology program, I went to work in an up and coming digital advertising company, whose CEO seemed to promise clients the world. Whatever he was doing appeared to be working, as MicroLogic was one of Time’s fastest growing companies year after year. I ended up spending lots of time with the CEO, Melvin Small, because I joined the company when we were just a startup, right before business started surging.

  While I liked advertising and marketing, Small was a nervous wreck. He’d come spilling his guts out to me about his decisions, worrying one moment that the business would be ruined, and then gloating the next after ‘realizing’ he had just made one of the most brilliant plays in the history of the Internet, bigger than anything done by Google, Facebook, Apple, and Amazon. We ended up spending time together because of his constant worrying and his need to vent and sort of ended up in a relationship by default.

  I can’t say it was ever a passionate one. I don’t think he knew what that word meant nor did he have any interest in the idea. It never fit the spreadsheet mentality that consumed him and left me as little more than a box that had to be ticked in his sense of what a ‘businessman’ had to accomplish. But I couldn’t come to grips with the thought that I deserved better treatment. He outwardly fit the type of person my mother wanted me get engaged with. That is, someone shallow, plain, and rich. Someone predictable who would take care of me - financially speaking. Emotions and love? They didn't matter, she would say. They'd pass quickly and you'd be left with a man who didn't care for you, anyway. That was her belief. And sadly, I started to believe her, and I began to tell myself the love I had in the past was just an illusion - that I had tricked myself when I was younger and that it was time to move on to the bitter and boring reality that was my current relationship and life.

  Truly, passion was out of the equation and wasn’t up for discussion. I was starting to become numb with life as Small couldn’t survive one day without whining to me about some problem or another he seemed to be having - or rather, creating - at MicroLogic. My unofficial job was putting out fires behind the scenes and getting entire departments to play nice after Small would invariably make some bizarre decision after withdrawing into paranoid speculation about who was plotting against him.

  My closeness to Small, at least what appeared to the rest of the staff, since I would never describe us as close in the real emotional sense of the word, is what started to get me in trouble once people started asking questions about the business. It turns out that the fantastic growth Small had been touting to investors was all an accounting trick. It was one incredible trick, since even I was fooled into thinking things weren't as bad as they were. Before I could do anything, Small left the country with the investor money he still had and left the employees, investors, and me, hanging.

  After all that, I returned to my hometown in Upstate New York. My mother had passed away years ago, and she was the only tie I had there. Still, in my head, I'd hear her ghost berating me for blowing it with Small. No matter what I said, it was my fault, just like it was my fault that I spent so much time on my high school boyfriend, Brent - the one guy I had felt a spark for that I didn't think was even possible. But staying at home was doing me no good. I had no motivation and was held back by all the memories in the places I'd encounter. Everything would remind me of better times, and it just made me think of how drab things had become in my life. So one day I took a chance and applied to The Capital, thinking I'd be able to get a fresh start. Room and board would be covered, and I'd be living in the sunshine near the beach, so I figured it would be a good opportunity to gather my bearings and create a new beginning. I wanted to create my own marketing agency, since I did enjoy the work at MicroLogic - when Small wasn't making it too ridiculous and stressful. But I'd rather do that type of work on my own, with my own ideas, so I wanted to take a break from the office setting. I'd be able to make some contacts on the West Coast and meet some interesting people at the hotel. I did an online video interview with a nice lady named Marsha who gave me the offer and I bought my tickets soon after.

  But as I landed in LA, I wondered if it was all a mistake. I saw all the glitzy people around me with designer handbags and dresses - the closest I could get to wearing that kind of stuff was saving them on my Pinterest account and flipping through the pictures online. All around me were people that looked like stars, went to fancy little shops with uncomfortable wiry seats that served artisanal coffee, where they gossiped about who just had plastic surgery and who just bagged some other a-list celeb. I felt it as soon as I landed, and if I could, I'd run back to the plane. But to head back where? I couldn't answer it.

  Luckily, before I did something I'd regret, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  "Michelle?" said the voice.

  I turned around and saw the same lady who had interviewed me
for the position.

  "Hi Marsha," I said, shaking her hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

  Marsha's smile made me immediately feel at ease. She had short brown hair and weathered skin, and was wearing a green sweater and black dress pants. She had a motherly warmth of personality I could already sense as our hands were clasped together. She guided me to the car with the company driver she had set up. I felt my apprehension melt away as we walked together through the sunlight streaming through the wide windows on our way out.

  We sat together in the back seat. Normally there'd be an awkward silence when I met someone knew, but Marsha was so friendly and personable that I forgot all the nerves that were building up since my trip began. Marsha was the CEO's assistant and I wondered why she had been sent all the way here to personally welcome me.

  "The CEO likes to build a strong team," Marsha said, as the car led us to The Capital. "Trust is a huge thing for him. He wants people who work for him to feel like they're a valued member of the company. Actually, it's more than that. They're family. And so this is just me picking up a member of our family from the airport, to make them feel at home right from the beginning. Because that's how you get the best from people."

  I nodded my head. Normally, from anyone else, in any other context, this whole 'family' business would creep me out. It would be a bit too cult-like for me. I wondered about the CEO who would could create such a welcoming environment, if it were true. You really had to be an exceptional personality and business person to be able to do that. All I experienced in my work life were horror stories. But in my rush to apply for the company and get to LA, I didn't really do my research on him, though the generosity of character that was conveyed certainly seemed true from the way Marsha spoke. I got the sense she was an honest person who was devoted to the CEO and the company for a good reason, and not a crazed fanatic who lost herself in the process. After the chaos that was MicroLogic, a working environment like this would be a relief.

  Finally we arrived at the hotel and my jaw dropped. It was a place I could only dream of staying at. There were stone sculptures in the style of Ancient Greek art on the immaculately maintained lawn, surrounded by vibrant flowers that were almost like mini neon lights. As we walked up the finely crafted stairs and on to the marble floor of the lobby, I marveled at the classical design that used modern sleek materials as volumes of sunlight easily lit the entire building.

  "Wow," I said out loud, "it's amazing."

  "It was all the CEO's idea," Marsha said, smiling. Her head turned and she pointed to her left. "There he is now."

  He was turned away and talking to someone but I could only see his powerful build, long legs, and short brown hair. The woman he was talking to laughed and he shook her hand, and then he started walking towards us. His gait conveyed power and relaxation as his arms swung freely. I could make the outlines of sharp features on his face that would have gotten anyone's attention. And then, as he was standing in front of us, my heart stopped. It wasn't just because he was the most handsome guy I've seen with sharp cheekbones that cut could out the stone sculptures in front of The Capital, and a natural tan with light stubble as he fit perfectly in his suit.

  "Michelle," Marsha said, "this is Brent Stevenson, the CEO."

  Brent Stevenson.

  I had tried to forget that name for so long, and I never could.

  "Michelle," Brent said quizzically, "Michelle Lajoie? From Birch Park High School?"

  I couldn't move my hand to shake his.

  It was really him.

  Brent Stevenson, my first boyfriend in high school, the only guy who I thought I had ever loved. The only guy who made the word passion have any meaning to me. The guy who I thought I'd never get over.

  The guy who broke my heart.

  Brent Stevenson was the CEO.

  Chapter 2 - Brent

  A wave of emotions and memories hit me unlike any I've ever felt and I could barely keep myself standing. I wanted to put my arm out and brace myself against the wall but there was no way I could do something like that right now, right in front of Michelle and Marsha and the rest of the staff. I'd have been more prepared for an earthquake hitting California again than seeing Michelle like this.

  It had been so long since I had seen her. High school? I was basically just a boy back then. And yet I felt the same intense longing for her just seeing her in front of me in the hotel as I had when we were going out years ago. It was like I was pushed out of a plane without a parachute, wondering what the hell I had just gotten into - an unfamiliar yet exhilarating rush that I didn't think existed.

  Michelle. What the hell were you doing here, walking into my life again like this?

  I had to calm myself. This wasn't the time to go all out and make passionate love to her, pinning her against the wall, feeling those soft breasts that were basically begging to be caressed out of her blouse. My mind was already racing to the things I wanted to do with her. Very unprofessional. Very emotional. Very not-me for the years I've been working on my business.

  Michelle and I were high school sweethearts. We'd spend day after day together just lying in each others' arms. But I had to get out of my hometown fast after graduating. And maybe it wasn't the best thing I've ever done. Memory after memory hit me - her scent while making out near the beach, putting sunscreen on her back after we spent the whole day just walking around the forest, riding our bikes down to the lake, taking turns chasing each other. That was all gone now. It stormed through my mind and I had to compose myself.

  "Brent?" Marsha said, noticing I was staring off in the distance without saying anything.

  "Yes," I said, clearing my throat. "Hello Michelle. It's been a long time." I shook her outstretched hand and felt heat stir in my crotch once I felt the familiar delicate softness of her hand. And luckily on her other hand there was no ring.

  She looked as beautiful as I remembered. Her light brown hair that ran in waves down to her shoulders and a button nose that would wiggle when she laughed. Full lips that I had kissed and dreamt of many nights. And while of average height, her curves that could have me follow her off a clip just for the chance to run my hands down them.

  I was staring.

  "Is everything alright?" Michelle said.

  "I was just thinking we should catch up later," I said, fixing my tie.

  "For sure," Michelle said. "You'll have to explain how all this happened." She gestured to the wide open spaces of the Capital.

  "Oh, it's nothing too crazy," I said. "Just a bit of scraping and saving."

  "Mhmm," Michelle intoned sarcastically, while looking around. "I can definitely tell."

  I winked and touched the outside of her shoulder.

  "Marsha will show you your room and explain your job duties," I said. "She's been my trusted assistant for many years now. You're in good hands."

  I actually wished Michelle was in my hands.

  Michelle nodded and Marsha smiled.

  "OK, dear," Marsha said to Michelle. "Let's get going."

  Michelle and Marsha walked off, and I struggled not to stare at the swaying hips of Michelle. It was like she walked out of a dream and back into my life.

  But as much Michelle's beauty was unforgettable, it was her personality that had me hooked. It was the crowning jewel of who she was and exemplified the connection I had with her which I had never shared with anyone after.

  As the two walked away, I remembered the time Michelle and I had gone to the traveling carnival that came through our town.

  "I want that one," she had pointed to one of the giant stuffed bears hanging at the back of the wall of the ball-throwing game. She saw another giant stuffed tiger and pointed at it as well. "Don't forget that one."

  I had promised to take her to the carnival, even though it wasn't my thing. I had done it for her, just like I had played the rigged games I wasn't having any luck with.

  "Michelle," I had said, "these games are rigged."

  "Poor young lady," the game
attendant said. "Your man doesn't want to win the prizes for you."

  The attendant's words had set me off. That day had been hot as hell, with annoying brats whizzing around on the scooters they had won. I didn't want to be there, but I had endured it, for Michelle, and then this attendant was mouthing me off in front of my girlfriend?

  "Give me the ball," I had commanded to the attendant.

  "It's twenty-five cents," he had said, surly.

  I had dug out the change in my pocket and slammed it in his hand.

  I had taken the baseball and wound up like I was playing in the major leagues. I had had no luck that day, playing rigged game after rigged game, but my dissatisfaction with the carnival and my need to make Michelle happy had reached a boiling point.

  I had whipped the ball like I was a machine and heard it whistling through the wind, as it landed with an ear-splitting crash on to the target. The attendant had jumped back out of fear as one of the pins flew up towards his face from the impact.

  "That one," I had said, pointing to the first bear Michelle wanted, while I still scoped out the next target.

  I had given the attendant quarter after quarter, and nailed every target, shattering the pieces, until his supervisor begged me to stop. By the time I had finished, Michelle and I had a whole zoo of giant stuffed animals we struggled to lug out of the grounds.

  "What did you need all of these for?" I had asked Michelle, wondering where we were carrying all these stuffed animals.

  We had reached the entrance of the carnival, and Michelle pointed to a small group of children.

  "For these boys and girls," she had said.

  The group of kids swarmed Michelle and I and joyfully raised up the toys.

  "I told you I'd bring them," Michelle said.

  "Thanks, Michelle!" the kids had cried out.

  "Who were those kids?" I had asked Michelle, as we started walking back home.

  "They were some kids I had been tutoring," Michelle said, "from one of the elementary schools. They couldn't even afford the admission fee. I wanted to help give them something nice. Thank you, Brent." She had kissed me softly on the lips and I smelt her spring perfume of wildflowers.