Forgiving the Billionaire (A Clean Billionaire Romance Book 2) Read online

  Forgiving the Billionaire

  Anne-Marie Meyer

  Copyright © 2017 by Anne-Marie Meyer

  ISBN-13: 978-1977681614

  ISBN-10: 1977681611

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  To my sister

  You found your own Mr. Blake

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

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  Other Books by Anne-Marie Meyer

  About the Author

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  Forgetting the Billionaire

  Book One of the Clean Billionaire Romance Series

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  1

  HANNAH

  Hannah stood outside of the front door of her childhood home, trying to stay dry. It was pouring rain in North Carolina—something she would have remembered had this not been the first time she’d come home in over seven years.

  She sighed as she pushed a wet curl from her face. Of course she didn’t have an umbrella. In her hasty plan to run away from Samson, she’d forgotten that Christmastime was rainy season. But when a man you’re not ready to marry asks you—you have no choice but to high-tail it out of there.

  Hannah shuffled farther under the stoop. The wreath her mom had picked was insane. It hung on the front door like a giant beacon, screaming to anyone who drove by that the woman who lived here was trying to compensate for something.

  Just knock and get out of the rain, she chanted in her mind.

  She tried to shove the wreath to one side. It wouldn’t budge. She tried to move it to the other side. Still wouldn’t budge. The green foliage had been trapped between the closed door and the frame. Bending down, she knocked on the few inches of door she could locate. Nothing.

  A car honked.

  Heat crept up across her skin. She didn’t want to be here, and now she was fighting with a Christmas decoration to get inside. She whipped around and waved at the taxi driver who had backed out of the driveway.

  The short, balding man pointed to the spot in front of his car door.

  Sighing, Hannah abandoned her luggage, lifted her purse over her head, and raced over to him as water soaked her feet.

  “You can go,” she said before his window was halfway down.

  He smacked his gum between his lips and shook his head. “Sorry, sweetie. Rules state that if I leave you in front of a house, you gotta sign a waiver. You know, in case you die from hypothermia.” He shoved a clipboard toward her.

  “Really?”

  He winked at her. “Can’t have people suing me.”

  “But I’d be dead,” she mumbled as she unclipped the pen from the board, scribbled her name at the bottom, and handed it back.

  “Perfect. Thanks! Here’s my card. Call me if no one answers.” He flung the business card through the window and sped off.

  She squatted down and fished it out before it sank to its watery death. Then she raced back to the stoop. Shaking off the droplets, she tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans.

  This was just great. Pulling her coat tighter against her body, she glanced around. The standard front light was on, but that meant nothing. Ever since Mom and Dad divorced, Mom always kept that light on. She told Hannah it was to ward off intruders. Hannah peered down the street. This was a small town. What would happen here?

  She picked up her purse and opened it. After a few seconds, she pulled out her phone. After turning it on, she scrolled through her contacts until she found Mom.

  “Beep.”

  Ring.

  Hannah sighed. The inside phone was ringing.

  “Beep.”

  Ring.

  Pulling the phone from her face, she groaned. Technically challenged Mom refused to get a cell phone. Hopelessness filled her chest. She was out of options. The taxi driver predicted it. This was how she was going to die. In nowhere North Carolina with a tacky wreath as her only companion. She should have known better than to come home. What was she thinking?

  A thundering noise broke her reverie. Glancing next door, she saw a dark figure race up the driveway, pulling a trash can behind them. The Blake residence. Anger filled her stomach as she turned back to the door. Nope. She would never. Nothing would make her that desperate to go over there again. Not after what Logan did to her.

  She pounded on the door. The sound was muffled by the layers of holiday cheer. Mom had to be here. She had to.

  But there was no answer.

  Lifting her phone up, she punched in her dad’s number.

  “Hannah?”

  She sighed. Salvation. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hey, honey. How was your flight?”

  “Eh, uneventful. Hey, are you home? I’m at Mom’s, and she’s not here.”

  There was silence. “She’s not?”

  “No. I caught an earlier flight, and I’m now standing outside in the rain.”

  “Hannah, sweetie, I would love to help you, but I’m not home right now. Actually, I’m three hours away.”

  Ugh. Hannah’s shoulders dropped. “Seriously?”

  “And, besides, you know how strict your mom is about her time with you.”

  Apparently, it wasn’t that important for her to not show up at the airport and to not be home. Did she not even check her messages now? She said she had the day off. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Go over to the Blakes’ and wait.”

  Hannah shook her head. Nope. “Good idea, Dad. Thanks!”

  “Love you, honey. I’ll see you Christmas Day.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Hannah shoved her phone back into her purse. Typical. Neither of her parents were around, and she was left alone, again.

  “Hannah?”

  “Agh!” She whipped around. A woman hidden by an umbrella stood behind her.

  “Ted thought that was you. What’re you doing, honey?”

  “Mrs. Blake?” Hannah peered down to the silver-haired woman who was peeking at her from under the polka dot material.

  “Of course, sweetie. Your mom’s not going to be home for a few more hours. She picked up another shift at the hospital.”

  Hannah pushed her water-drenched hair from her face. “Of course.”

  “You’re welcome to come over and wait.”

  Hannah peered over to the two-story house that had
once been her home away from home. Her stomach knotted. “Are you sure that’s okay? I don’t want to intrude.”

  Mrs. Blake reached down and grabbed one of her bags. “No more questions. Of course, it’s okay. I just pulled out some bread from the oven and can’t eat it all myself.”

  A rumble erupted in Hannah’s stomach. That did sound enticing. The only thing she had eaten all day was a bag of over-priced, stale peanuts.

  She eyed the cream-colored house. Going back there meant facing her past and that was the last thing she wanted to do today.

  Before she could come up with an excuse, Mrs. Blake turned and walked back to her house with Hannah’s bag still clutched in her hand. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder.

  Hannah sighed and tucked her suitcase further under the stoop. She raised her purse over her head and started after her. This encounter was inevitable—might as well get it over with.

  The warmth enveloped Hannah as she stomped her feet on the mat and shut the door. The smell of homemade bread and cinnamon filled her senses. The feeling of Christmastime had a magical effect on her nerves, and she felt the tension that had built up in her muscles disappear.

  “Mrs. Blake, it smells amazing,” she said as she slipped off her coat and hung it in the closet. A perfectly decorated Christmas tree twinkled in the corner of the living room. Christmas decorations were something Mrs. Blake was famous for.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” she called from the kitchen.

  Hannah pulled off her shoes and winced as she realized that her socks were soaked. Thankfully, the piece of luggage Mrs. Blake grabbed was the one with all her underwear and socks. Unzipping the bag, she rifled through it and emerged with a pair of dry socks. Once her toes were warm, she shoved the wet ones into her coat pocket.

  “What’re you doing?”

  Hannah yelped. Standing behind her was a young girl, no older than seven. Her forehead was wrinkled. “What’re you doing?” she repeated.

  Hannah’s cheeks heated, but she forced herself to smile. “My socks were wet.”

  “Huh. Do you normally bring a change of socks everywhere you go? And”—the girl stepped forward and peered into the bag—“underwear?”

  Hannah reached out and pulled it from view. “I’m actually—”

  “Are you coming?” Mrs. Blake appeared in the hall. “Oh, I see you’ve meet Piper.”

  Piper pulled at one of the red curls that hung just below her shoulder. “Grandma, did you know she brings underwe—”

  “Yes, we met.” Hannah stepped in front of the bag and smiled.

  Mrs. Blake nodded. “Well, come into the kitchen. Bread’s been cut.”

  Grateful for a distraction, Hannah entered the kitchen. Mrs. Blake handed her a plate with a piece of bread that was still steaming.

  “Honey’s on the counter.”

  After drizzling her bread, Hannah made her way over to the table and sat. So many memories of sitting with Logan, studying, laughing, watching movies flooded her mind. Frustrated with herself, she began to shove the bread into her mouth in an attempt to stifle her thoughts.

  “Goodness, you were hungry,” Mrs. Blake said as she slid another slice of bread onto Hannah’s plate.

  Hannah smiled and chewed. After Mrs. Blake set two mugs on the table, she sat down next to her.

  “So, you’re home for the holidays,” she said as she sipped at the steaming tea.

  Hannah nodded, lifting her mug to her lips and tipping it. Scalding hot liquid coated her throat, and she winced. Her tongue was raw as she rubbed it against the roof of her mouth. Her eyes watered as she forced a grin toward Mrs. Blake.

  “Sorry, hon. It’s hot. I should’ve warned you.”

  “It’s okay,” Hannah managed out.

  “How long are you going to be here? I have to say, your mom’s so excited to have you home. It’s been what? Seven years?”

  Hannah nodded again.

  “You probably saw the wreath.” Mrs. Blake leaned over. “I helped her pick it out. She wanted this holiday to be special for you.”

  A snort escaped. Hannah’s hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  Mrs. Blake studied her, then reached out and covered Hannah’s hand with hers. “It’s okay. I understand. You guys have a rocky past. You know, there isn’t a day that goes by that your mom doesn’t regret what happened.”

  Tears stung her eyes as Hannah glanced down at the oak table in front of her. Her throat tightened. She knew these memories were going to come up, and she thought she was prepared for it. What a joke.

  The back door slammed, followed by a deep voice. “Ma?”

  Hannah’s heart sank.

  “Logan, we’re in here.”

  Hannah pulled her hand from Mrs. Blake and glanced around, wishing she could disappear. Or crawl under the table. Would they notice that?

  “We?” he called from the mudroom.

  Her heart pounded from the familiar cadence of his voice.

  “Hannah Bell’s here.”

  Silence.

  “She’s visiting her mom, but her mom wasn’t there, so I invited her over.”

  More silence.

  “You still there?” Mrs. Blake called.

  Logan’s six-foot frame filled the doorway. Hannah felt the gaze of his pale blue eyes fall on her as he entered. “Yeah, of course I’m here, Ma.” He shot Mrs. Blake an annoyed look, then ran his hand through his dark brown hair, causing water droplets to fly through the air. “Hey, Hannah. Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

  The lump in her throat had grown three times since he entered. She wanted to say something, but feared the sound her voice would make, so she nodded.

  Mrs. Blake glanced at Hannah and then back to Logan. “Well, this is nice. I haven’t seen you two together since, what? Prom?”

  “Ma!” Logan whipped around and glared at her.

  Hannah stood, slamming her knee against the bottom of the table. She winced, but held it together. “I should go.”

  Mrs. Blake sat there with her mouth open. “Was it something I said?”

  “Ma, will you drop it?” Logan walked farther into the room.

  Hannah wanted to run. For the first time in her life she was grateful that she had spent so many years doing track. She was sure she could outrun the both of them. Well, at least Mrs. Blake and her insistent need to relive painful memories. “Thank you for the food and the shelter, but I should be going.” She turned and headed toward the front door. It felt as if the walls were closing in on her.

  “Hannah, where will you go?” Mrs. Blake called after her.

  “Hannah!” Logan was two steps behind her.

  “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll just go to town and get the keys from my mom. I’m so stupid. Why didn’t I think of that before?” She grabbed her purse and blinked, willing the tears to retreat.

  “Listen, I’ll go. You stay.” Logan was inches from her.

  “No. Don’t be ridiculous. This is your house. I’ll go.” She reached out and grabbed for her suitcase. Underwear and socks tumbled to the ground. Heat raged on her cheeks as she cursed fate’s sense of humor. “I’m sorry,” she stammered as she knelt down and started to shove her personal items back into the bag.

  “Let me help.” Logan was next to her, picking up her bras and handing them over.

  Mortified, Hannah kept her gaze on the task at hand. “Thanks,” she said, grabbing them from his outstretched hand. Inside, she was willing herself back to her apartment in Ohio. Away from this place. Away from these memories.

  Making sure the suitcase was shut this time, Hannah grabbed the handles and stood. Logan was still next to her. She could feel his stare. She reached for the door handle and turned it.

  “It’s good to see you,” Logan said. His voice was low, and his breath smelled of mint.

  She nodded, not meeting his gaze, then slipped out into the pouring rain. As the water ran down her face, she let her tears flow. At least out here, no one would notice.r />
  2

  LOGAN

  Logan stood by the front door, staring at it. His stomach was in knots as he tried to analyze what had just happened. Hannah was here. In his parent’s house. And she’d talked to him. That was more then he’d ever gotten her to do since prom.

  “You okay, honey?” his mom asked from behind him.

  He nodded. But deep down, it was a lie.

  A warm hand rested on his arm. He glanced over to see the furrowed brow of his mom. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. It was just strange, you know?”

  She smiled. “I’m happy it happened. It’s about time you kids started talking again. You were always so close. It’s time she learned the truth.” She dropped her hand and started to make her way back to the kitchen. “Coming?”

  Logan took one last look at the door and turned. Just as he passed the stairs, he noticed a piece of lacy black fabric. He reached down and picked it up. His cheeks burned. It was Hannah’s underwear.

  “I have some…” his mom started to say as she appeared in the kitchen door frame. Her mouth hung open as she eyed him.

  Suddenly, he became very aware of how visible the underwear was. He glanced over at her. “I—this—It’s Hannah’s,” he stammered as he crumpled up the underwear and shoved it into his front pocket.

  His mom’s eyebrows rose.

  “I should bring it back to her.”

  She nodded. “But first, tell me how the meeting went.”

  Logan glanced at the door, and then back to his mom. He contemplated racing to it, but stopped himself. His mom was only going to keep asking. Besides, if he were honest with himself, he felt like he needed a moment to compose his emotions before he saw Hannah again.