The Unwanted Assistant Read online

  The Unwanted Assistant

  A Clean Billionaire Romance

  Evangeline Kelly

  Copyright © 2018 by Evangeline Kelly. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book shall be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author. The Unwanted Assistant is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Scripture quotations are from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. https://www.esv.org/resources/esv-global-study-bible/copyright-page/

  Table of Contents

  Free Book

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Share the love!

  Preview of Collision of Wills

  Free Book

  Sign-up for Evangeline Kelly’s newsletter and get her book, Matchmaker, as a welcome gift. Get started now!

  Prologue

  To: [email protected]

  From: FerrisT@ livinthelifeblogpost.com

  Subject: Time to come clean

  Ivy,

  I’ve been struggling to tell you this for a while now. I think the best way to do it is to just come out with it—so here goes.

  A month ago, Austin was sick with the flu as you probably already know. I stopped by his house with soup to cheer him up, and one thing led to another. We started spending more time together, and I didn’t mean for it to happen, but we both developed feelings for each other.

  He never said anything because he didn’t want to hurt you, but I don’t think it’s fair to keep you in the dark. Plus, I can’t live like this any longer. Austin and I need to move forward in our relationship.

  As much as I hate saying this, it has to be said. Don’t bother fighting for him. He’s already chosen me.

  Tina

  Chapter 1

  Ivy

  Everything happens for a reason. For the last two thousand miles, I contemplated that particular cliché as I drove out of California and headed to the amiable South.

  Those words from a well-meaning friend didn’t comfort me the day my boyfriend of two years broke up with me. Months later . . . nothing had changed. I’d heard these platitudes so many times I could recite them verbatim. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Time heals all wounds. When one door closes another opens.

  Oh, and my personal favorite: You’re better off without him.

  None of the sayings put my mind at ease. Yet driving to a different state, leaving it all behind—that improved my mood. I gripped the steering wheel and breathed out a short prayer.

  Thank you, Lord, for providing this opportunity. For letting me start over.

  When my best friend, Sammie, suggested I transfer to the University of Alabama and room with her in off-campus housing, I jumped at the chance. A new environment, a new school, a new life—that’s what I needed.

  As I drove down the two-lane Alabama highway, lined with tall, vibrant green trees as far as the eye could see—so different from the crowded freeways back home—hope settled within me. It was as though the new atmosphere was slowly bringing me back to life again.

  Everywhere I looked, trees and color and greenery spotted the horizon. Homes were spaced further apart; the woods stretched untamed and magnificent on both sides of the road, and the air smelled clean and fresh. The beauty touched me in a way the hardness of Los Angeles never had. L.A., full of concrete and haze and city noises, beautiful in its own right, was completely different from the South.

  I glanced at my GPS and made a left into the apartment complex that would be my living space for the next year.

  The cross-country drive from L.A. to Tuscaloosa had been long and tedious, but it wasn’t physical exhaustion that had done me in.

  My exhaustion was more of the emotional variety—the heart sick kind of weariness that came from thinking too much about the past and dwelling on what couldn’t be. The kind that settled around my body like a cold morning dew, chilling me to the core.

  Austin had been my first love, but he’d thrown it all away the moment Tina walked into his life. After receiving the email from her, I’d stormed over to his house and demanded an explanation. He’d only shrugged and said, “I’m not into you anymore.” And that was that.

  I parked my car and texted Sammie. I’m here. Her response was instantaneous. Be there in a few seconds.

  My lips formed a small smile as I laid back in the seat of my blue, Ford Sedan and took in the scenery.

  A red-brick apartment building with southern-style balconies and white pillars overlooked a small river, exactly like the picture Sammie emailed when she’d begged me to join her. Serene. Peaceful. Soothing. I wanted to wake up every morning to that view, look out my window and fill my soul with the beauty of God’s creation.

  Loud knocking on my car window startled me, and I jumped in my seat. Sammie laughed and made funny faces at me through the window before I swung the door open. “Girl, you scared me.”

  She bounced up and down on her heels, bright blue eyes wide with excitement. “You made it! Roll Tide!”

  I smirked. “Since when have you been into football?”

  “Since all the cute guys attend all the football games.” She laughed and flew into my arms as I attempted to get out of the car, nearly knocking me over in the process.

  Looking at her familiar face, my eyes watered. I hadn’t seen her since before the break-up and it felt good to be with my friend again, to know she had my back and wanted the best for me. Best friends since the sixth grade, no one knew me better than Sammie.

  Even though I tried to hide it, she must have seen a flicker of sadness in my expression because she squeezed my shoulders. “It’ll be okay, I promise. Before you know it, he’ll be a distant memory.” She grinned. “Wait until you see the guys out here. You’ll forget all about what’s-his-name. They’re handsome and chivalrous, open doors for you, treat you like a lady, and trust me, their slow drawl will send shivers down your spine.” She mock-shuddered like she was in heaven, and I hid a smile. She should’ve been an actress with all her antics.

  “I’m not looking for a new boyfriend.”

  She snorted. “Who said anything about a boyfriend? Forget Mr. Right. Try looking for Mr. Right now.”

  I chuckled. Sammie hadn’t changed a bit. Sassy as ever, I knew she’d upped the drama factor in an attempt to cheer me up.

  “Right now,” I said, drawing out the words, “all I want to do is move into my new apartment.”

  A smile spread across her face as she walked backward towards the brick building, beck
oning me forward with a wave. “Come on then. Check it out.”

  I took in a breath as she led the way to our new place. To a new beginning.

  ***

  The next morning, we drove into the parking lot of Landmark Baptist church. Sammie had attended ever since she'd arrived in Tuscaloosa two years ago, and she had nothing but good things to say. I’d wanted to stay in bed, but finding a home church was important to me, and I was done lying around feeling sorry for myself. The time had come to move forward even if I had to force myself to do it.

  Sammie pulled into a parking spot, and I glanced at my A-line lavender sundress that fell to my knees and contrasted with my green eyes. It fit a little snug since I’d gained a few pounds, but it made my plus-sized curves appear slimmer. As we got out of the car, I had an extra bounce to my step—complimentary clothes had a way of doing that for a woman.

  We walked towards the building, Bibles in hand. The church had a quaint southern charm that reminded me of days gone by, with a steeple at the top and the signature Roman pillars I’d begun to notice as a common architectural feature in Alabama. The property had several acres of green lawn with large white oak trees off to one side, as picturesque as a movie set for a historical drama.

  Several people greeted us when we walked inside the sanctuary. Behind the pulpit, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a view of the woods in the distance. Soft morning light fell onto the pews.

  Towards the back of the church, an intricately carved cream banister railing separated second floor balcony seating from the lower level. The balcony was empty, the stairwell entrance blocked with a velvet rope barrier. Too bad. I’d love to sit up there. It reminded me of an old movie I saw once where ladies cooled themselves with lace fans as they listened intently to the preacher.

  A hum of voices filled the church as everyone found their seats. Pastor Thomas Wright stood at the pulpit and asked us to take out our hymnals and turn to page thirty-four. We stood and sang, Great is Thy Faithfulness. A wave of sadness washed over me as I remembered how Austin and I used to share a hymnal. Now, I held my own, and it seemed almost symbolic of my loneliness.

  I forced myself to focus on the here and now and not get trapped in thoughts about the past.

  And then a strange feeling of being observed came over me. With heightened awareness, I scanned the crowd but didn’t see anything unusual. Everyone focused on their own hymnals. I was being paranoid, most likely from days of sleep deprivation after a cross-country move.

  Once we finished singing, Pastor Wright shared church announcements. He had an uncanny resemblance to Reverend Alden from Little House on the Prairie. Since I’d gobbled up every season on DVD with my mom, my mood lifted from the feeling of familiarity. Pastor Wright spoke to the congregation in a down-home manner, as if he cared about each one of us.

  When he finished announcements, he asked us to take a few moments to greet one another. Someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind, and I turned towards a young woman who seemed to be around my age. Her light brown hair fell past her shoulders. Warm, hazel eyes sparkled at me, and with her fresh-faced innocence, she could have been a model for skin moisturizer.

  “Hey,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Skylar. But you can call me Sky. You must be Ivy, the friend Sammie told me about. She said you’d be here this week.”

  I leaned against the pew and reached forward to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you. Sammie mentioned you, too.”

  “I’m originally from Madison, Georgia,” she said with the slightest hint of an accent.

  “Sky and I met last year,” Sammie said.

  They told me how they’d met through mutual friends at a Christian Campus Organization. Skylar had been a freshman searching for a good church and Sammie had suggested Landmark Baptist.

  We made plans to get together in a couple of days, and as we continued to chat, a weighty sensation of being watched came over me again, as if someone stared at me from somewhere within the church, eyeing my every movement.

  My forearms broke out with goosebumps from the sensation, and I glanced up towards the balcony, noticing in the far-left corner near an exit door, a man with broad shoulders, huddled in the shadows wearing a black hoodie. I thought it strange he wore the hood indoors, and it partially obscured his features as if he didn’t want to be seen. Curiosity piqued, I couldn’t look away—just observed him for a few moments.

  From that distance, I struggled to make out his face, but the sweatshirt didn’t hide the bulging muscles underneath. He must have caught me staring because he leaned forward in my direction. The intensity emanating from him sent shock waves all the way down my spine.

  I whirled around, heart racing, face hot. After sufficient time passed, I tapped Sammy on the arm. “The guy in the balcony—who is he?”

  A few seconds later, she glanced behind, then brought her mouth to my ear. “I heard the janitor sits up there sometimes. He keeps his supplies upstairs and likes to clean-up after the service. That’s probably him.”

  “Seems kind of weird he sits up there by himself, don’t you think? Why doesn’t anyone else sit there?”

  She considered for a moment. “I’m not sure. Always assumed it was because they want us to fill up the seats on the bottom floor first.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Even so, it’s strange he’s up there alone.”

  She shrugged, and I dropped the subject. I didn’t let myself turn around or look at him again, but as Pastor Wright began his message on God working all things together for good from Romans 8:28, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the guy in the balcony still watched me.

  After the sermon concluded, the pastor called up a man named, Doug James, who asked for prayer because he’d lost his job. We bowed our heads as Pastor Wright prayed for God to provide a suitable job for him. I empathized with the man. It was hard not knowing where your next paycheck would come from. My stomach dipped, reminding me that tomorrow I had to start my own job search. Mom and Dad were struggling financially, and I’d have to pull my own weight. Finding a good job was priority number one on my list of things to do.

  Once Pastor Wright dismissed the congregation, voices filled the air as everyone filed out of pews and greeted those around them. I snuck a peek at the balcony, but the man near the exit door had disappeared.

  Chapter 2

  Sawyer

  Playing board games in the library with Hayden Jeffries was about as exciting as life got these days. Or any other day for that matter.

  I eyed the chessmen for a moment before moving my rook into place. “Checkmate.”

  “No.” Hayden sat up straighter and shook his head. “I can get out of this.”

  He touched each of his pieces and muttered to himself as he tried to find a way out of my trap. Eventually realizing he was out of moves, he raked a hand through his white-gray hair and laid down his king. “I’ve always hated playing chess with you. I’m much better at checkers.”

  I chuckled and moved all the pieces to their starting points. “Best two out of three?”

  “No,” he sighed, “I should go home soon. Sarah’s waiting up for me.”

  The grin fell from my face. Not that I wanted to spend all night playing chess, but the minuscule thrill of victory was about the only excitement I had these days. Even though I was the owner of a hotel empire, with enough money at my fingertips to do whatever I wanted, I rarely ventured out of the house.

  Hayden was a longtime friend of the family—the closest thing I had to an uncle since family didn’t exist for me anymore. I’d put him in charge as CEO of my company, giving him full reign.

  “Yeah.” My voice was thick. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

  I finished righting the chess board, carried it over to the hearth and ran my hand over the warm, smooth surface. The library was one of my favorite rooms in the house. Floor to ceiling cherry wood bookshelves lined every inch of wall space, leaving only the river rock fireplace a
nd the picture window I kept shuttered at all times.

  There were enough books to last a lifetime—a good thing since I’d barricaded myself to the house. I picked up the book I’d been reading before he’d arrived and turned back to him.

  He shifted, his eyes tired and drooping. “Sawyer, before I go, there’s a matter we need to discuss.”

  He stood, looking stiff in his expensive, charcoal gray suit from Ermenegildo Zegna’s collection. The suit was on point. I’d bought it for him as a thank you for his hard work. But the tie? I hated that boring thing, loathed it actually. It had become a running joke between us.

  I walked back to my chair and sat down. Yawning, I stretched my arms above my head. “What’s on your mind?”

  He cleared his throat and waited for me to make eye contact. The tightness of his jaw made my stomach twist. Whatever he planned on discussing had him wound up tight. I straightened, giving him my full attention. “By the look on your face, this must be serious.”

  He leaned his arms against the plush, high-back green chair that had cost a fortune, and stared at me with eyes full of sympathy.

  Oh no, here we go again. Another lecture.

  “It’s been five years, Sawyer. The accident traumatized you and turned your life upside down, but it’s time to move on. You’re crippling yourself by staying in this house all day. You keep the curtains drawn, and you don’t interact with anyone . . .”

  A muscle in my jaw tightened, and I lifted my chin. “Don’t know what you mean. Life is good. Nothing needs to change.”

  I attempted a smile to lighten the mood, but it seemed contrived. Nothing fooled him.

  He laughed cynically, and that got my attention because if anyone spouted glass-half-full platitudes, it was him. He had to be under stress, probably because he gave everything his all, at work and at home.

  Closing his eyes, he appeared weary and tired and very run-down. When he opened them, he said, “No, things are not good. I’m concerned about you. You don’t spend time with anyone but me, and I’m the only one who checks on you. I’m worried the longer you go on like this, the more closed-off you’ll become. It’s time for you to get back into society. Interact with people. Make friends. Join a club. Anything.”