His Control: A Billionaire Romance Read online

  His Control

  A Billionaire Romance

  Ilsa Ames

  Contents

  Newsletter

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Newsletter

  Copyright © 2018 by Ilsa Ames

  Cover by Coverluv

  Photography by Darren Birks Photography

  Model: Darren Birks

  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.

  The names and locations in this book are made up. Any similarity to places or persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

  This book is intended for adults 18+ only.

  Created with Vellum

  Newsletter

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  1

  Ella

  I’d heard the news earlier that day, so I was already in a terrible mood. Walking into the diner, I could immediately hear the buzz that it was generating - in a small town like mine, every ‘event’ was seized upon like this as an excuse to gossip. I heard snatches of conversation as I passed occupied tables.

  - heard he paid well over market value -

  - invented some sort of gizmo and made billions -

  - and now he wants to come back and live here? But -

  I eventually spotted my two friends, Lindsey and Graham, ensconced in a booth toward the back of the restaurant. Lindsey smiled and waved as she noticed me, and despite my foul mood, I couldn’t help but smile back as I made my way over to them. Lindsey’s smile could be prescribed as a cure for depression – it was so open and genuine, lighting up her entire face.

  I reached the booth and sat down heavily, with a sigh. I didn’t mean to be so overtly dramatic, but how would you react if your life’s dream had been snatched away, just like that?

  “I take it you’ve heard the news, then?” Graham said, dryly.

  I feigned ignorance, widening my eyes in mock surprise.

  “News? What news? Everyone in this town is so tight-lipped, how could I have possibly heard any news?”

  Graham rolled his eyes in that over exaggerated way of his.

  “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Ella.”

  He turned to Lindsey and gave her a knowing look.

  “Told you she would be like this.”

  Lindsey frowned at him.

  “Leave her alone, Graham. Poor Ella has been saving up for that old place for years and—”

  I held up a hand, massaging my temples with the fingers of one hand.

  “Can we change the subject? Pretty please? Even better, can we order some booze? A cold beer sounds great right about now.”

  I looked around for the server and saw Lydia, the pretty young waitress, making her way over to us. After ordering our drinks and some food, I sat back and let out another sigh. Lindsey and Graham could obviously sense my mood and chatted amongst themselves as I let my thoughts wander.

  The old Wiltmore mansion...it had been a fixture in the town for well over one hundred years. Built in 1896 by a doctor – hence the name it usually went by in town, ‘The Doctor’s House’ – it was huge and sprawling, built in a Victorian style, but with its own peculiar look. The doctor who’d had it built had been said to be a classic eccentric, and it showed in the unusual and distinctive design of the place. But once the fishing industry here in Ocean Hills had collapsed in the twenties, the doctor and his family had packed up and moved on, leaving the house empty. Over the years it had sat there and rotted and decayed - it still had a sense of its original majesty, but was currently a shadow of its former glory.

  I’d always loved the place; when we were kids, we used to sneak in and explore, despite the warnings we were always given by our parents. All the local kids said it was haunted, that the ghosts of the old doctor’s patients lingered there. I’d never seen a ghost, but I was enchanted by the weird twisting design, by the high ceilings, by the way that it seemed to be a beautiful snapshot into the past, unchanged by a century of upheaval. I remember standing there, in the empty dining hall as a kid, and vowing that one day, when I was all grown up, I would buy it and make it beautiful again.

  I’d never let go of that dream, and in part it had always been what had driven me, in my life and my career.

  Growing up, we’d never had much. My mom and dad were decent people, and had always worked hard, but opportunities were difficult to come by in a place like Ocean Hills. Once a thriving fishing port, when the catches dried up, there was little left for its inhabitants to do. The whole town had been built around fishing, and when the fish moved on, so did most of the people. Those who remained, like my parents, had to scratch and scrape for everything.

  They’d tried their best to hide our circumstances from me when I was a kid, but I’d often overheard gravely whispered conversations late at night, about money, rent, bills. I knew then that I never wanted my kids to have to worry about things like that, and promised myself that I would work hard, make money and be successful, so that my family would never want for anything.

  And, somehow, I’d succeeded. My dad taught me carpentry, letting me work alongside him in his run-down old workshop in the backyard in the evenings after school, and I enrolled in extra classes at a nearby technical college while I was in high school. That had set me up with the practical skills I needed to start my own design and renovation business. Always, in the back of my mind, the endgame was the Wiltmore Mansion. I’d save up, I’d buy it, and then I’d restore it, just as I imagined it would have been back in its glory days. The dream spurred me on; it was what got me out of bed in the mornings, it was what made me strive for excellence in my work, and it was what had led me to run my own business with over a dozen employees, renovating old houses all over the state.

  I’d been so close. Just a couple more years of saving every spare penny, and I thought I’d be able to afford it. My goal had been so close that I felt I could almost reach out and touch it, this thing I’d been working towards my whole life. But now it had been snatched away at the last moment. But who would buy it? The place was practically falling apart, and would need extensive - and expensive - work.

  “Do you know who bought it?” I suddenly asked, snapping out of my reverie.

  Lindsey and Graham had been mid-conversation, but both stopped and looked at me.

  “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?” Graham said, poking his tongue out at me.

  I poked mine right back at him.

  “Well, now I do. So, have you heard anything?”

  He shrugged.

  “Not really. Gossip, rumors, you know what this town is like. So far I’ve heard everything from an ex-senator to a professional wrestler.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle at that, and it felt good, like releasing some of the bad vibes that I’d been wallowing in all day. It wasn’t really in my nature to let things get me down - I hadn’t gotten this far in my pro
fessional life by letting every little setback rankle.

  “A professional wrestler, huh? Well, that sure would be something.”

  Lindsey was grinning.

  “I heard that it’s a doctor, just like the original owner,” she said in her soft, husky voice. “Some really rich doctor.”

  I frowned at that - it sounded much more plausible than a wrestler, of all things, but why would a rich, successful doctor want to come and practice in a town like Ocean Hills? Nobody here had much money for them to build a thriving practice around, and besides, we already had Doc Barker and his little old office on Main Street. He wasn’t exactly run off his feet most of the time.

  Graham’s eyes lit up at Lindsey’s words though.

  “A sexy, rich doctor, huh? Give me him any day over a roided-out muscle bound wrestler freak.”

  “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself a bit there, Graham? He’s probably old and gray and retired, coming here to live out his remaining days in peace by the ocean.”

  Graham pouted theatrically and considered for a moment.

  “Well, if I can’t have sexy, I’ll still take rich. And gay. And single.”

  I fixed him with a look, and he grinned at me.

  “Hey, a boy can dream, Okay? Leave me alone! It’s hardly as if I’m spoilt for choice around here, is it?”

  I rolled my eyes at him with a smile.

  “Well, at least you’re staying optimistic, dude. Anyway, I thought you had a date with that guy you met on the app the other night?”

  Graham grimaced at the mention.

  “Let us never speak of him again,” he said. “Let’s just say he had some...interesting proclivities.”

  Lindsey and I looked at each other with grins on our faces, and then simultaneously at Graham.

  “Are you really not gonna give us any juicy details, Graham? You’re just gonna leave us hanging? C’mon now, you’re among friends, you can dish the dirt.”

  He held up his hands and waved us away.

  “Begone, harridans! Let’s just say that his idea of fun in the bedroom was not the same as mine.”

  He leaned into the middle of the table, checking first that nobody sitting near us could hear what he was saying.

  “Whips and ball-gags, ladies, whips and ball-gags. I felt like a hog being prepared for slaughter.”

  Lindsey and I were dying with laughter, tears streaming down our faces. We were loud enough that the occupants of nearby tables were turning to look at us with questioning eyes. I struggled to choke down my mirth and regain some semblance of control. Graham’s love life was a source of constant amusement; he seemed to attract every kind of freak and weirdo out there, but he somehow managed to keep a sense of humor about it all.

  He’d been working for me for around five years, starting as an assistant when the company was just me. But as the business had grown, he’d taken on more roles and now he was my PA, my helper, my confidant. I didn’t know where I’d be without him.

  “Hey, Ella, how about you?” This was from Lindsey, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Have you ever, y’know, tried some of the kinky stuff?”

  I felt myself blushing.

  “Well, uh…no comment.”

  Graham squealed in indignation.

  “What about ‘you’re among friends here, you can tell us everything’, huh? You’re gonna laugh at my whips and ball-gags and share nothing of your own?”

  I coughed. “A lady prefers to remain mysterious.”

  He snorted in derision.

  “A lady? Puhh-lease! I’ve heard the way you swear like a drunken sailor when something goes wrong at work.”

  “Anyway,” I said hurriedly, trying to get the attention off of me, “what about you, Linds? Do you like it a bit...wild?”

  Now it was her turn to look embarrassed. Lindsey was usually pretty quiet; some might even call her shy. She was absolutely gorgeous, with emerald green eyes and generous curves that she often (and wrongly, in my opinion) talked about wanting to get rid of. She worked as a nurse at the local hospital, and was currently dressed up in her scrubs, ready to start her night shift. Even in those dull clothes she was stunning.

  She eventually replied, reluctantly.

  “Well, I’ll just say that I have been known to indulge, from time to time.”

  Graham gasped in shock, eyes wide, and batted playfully at her shoulder.

  “Lindsey, Lindsey, Lindsey! I always knew you hid a tiger under that demure exterior! Now why don’t you tell me some of the juicy details…whisper them to me. Ella doesn’t deserve to hear, because she won’t share.”

  The two of them conferred in whispers, Graham occasionally letting out gasps. I grinned at the two of them - they were my best friends, and I could always count on them to make me feel better, no matter what the problem was.

  Graham’s questions about my love life gave me a moment to reflect - it wasn’t that I was unsuccessful, per se, just that I tended to be...choosy. Sure, there had been men, but I liked things to be on my terms. I guess some people might call me a control-freak. I decided how long I wanted to be with them, when I would see them, and they would always have to be scheduled around work. As it turns out, a lot of guys don’t really like that. Or, sometimes, I would just simply get bored and things would fizzle out of their own accord.

  Sex was fun, sex was really good, but I’d yet to meet a guy I could picture myself spending the rest of my life with. A man whom I really connected with. And that was fine, I guess. I was still young, still had plenty of time to figure all that stuff out.

  “Are you still moping about that silly old house?” Graham said.

  “I’m not moping, Graham,” I replied. “And no, I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

  I paused.

  “But I would really like to know who the hell has bought it. And why. And how much they paid.”

  I sighed.

  “I had it all planned out, you know? How I was going to restore it, exactly what it was going to look like once it was done. It was going to be beautiful.”

  Graham must’ve sensed how much the old place meant to me and refrained from any more good-natured jibes. He came and wrapped an arm around me.

  “Aww, don’t worry too much about it, Ella. Maybe the sale will fall through, or whoever has bought it will come and see what a mess the old place is and run away screaming in the other direction.”

  I smiled wanly at him.

  “Yeah, maybe. Hopefully.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Anyway, enough of the pity party. Let’s forget about it for tonight. I wanna hear about Lindsey’s naughty little secrets…”

  We spent the rest of the meal chatting and gossiping and laughing, and I tried my very best to put the house out of my mind. What’s done is done. But I couldn’t completely shake the sadness that came with losing out on my dream.

  2

  Micah

  I hadn’t been back since I left. Not once. Never wanted to, never needed to. Too many bad memories, too many reminders of what I’d lost. And besides, I’d been so busy that I’d simply never had the time.

  So why was I returning now?

  I’d recently sold off the patent to my life’s work. I called it the ‘NeuraVita’ and it was set to revolutionize medicine as we know it. It works by targeting the specific neurons which cause and respond to neurological pain. People with persistent headaches, migraines, psychosomatic pain - they would all see huge improvements to their lives thanks to my invention. There were dozens and dozens of other use cases for the device, but suffice it to say that it was a Big Deal.

  And I invented it. On my own. And now? Now I was richer than sin.

  As I passed the shabby sign, reading Ocean Hills, it didn’t really feel like I was coming home. Not yet. This place hadn’t been home for a long time, and I wasn’t really sure if it would ever be.

  I was born and raised here, and lived here until I was nineteen, but the guy returning that day was so far r
emoved from the sad, gangly kid who had left eleven years previously. I’d worked hard – no, I’d worked my ass off – to reinvent myself, to shape myself into the man I’d always wanted to be.

  And I’d succeeded.

  None of the people I currently worked with had even the slightest clue about my true origins, and I liked it that way. Not because I was ashamed that I’d grown up poor, in some run-down old fishing town. Not even because I thought they’d respect me any less. But because I’d changed. Through hard work and sheer force of will.

  But that doesn’t mean I can forget about what led me down this path. It doesn’t mean I’m not grateful to those people who never gave up on me, who saw the potential I had and helped set me on the way to realizing it.

  I often thought of them – people like my old high school science teacher, Mr. Keene, who had instilled in me a love of experimentation, of discovery. My friends who had always been there for me, through the darkest times of my childhood.

  The thing that had really spurred me into action though, had been an article I’d happened to read recently. Titled California’s Forgotten Towns it detailed the decay and dilapidation of towns like Ocean Hills – towns that had been built around a singular industry, in this case fishing, that had been left behind when that industry dried up. I hadn’t thought about Ocean Hills for years before reading that piece - I’d been so utterly wrapped up in the design and marketing for the NeuraVita. It had taken almost eight years to perfect the device, eight years where it consumed me utterly, leaving no time for anything, or anyone, else.

  But when it was done, it made me a rich man. A very rich man. Richer than I’d ever wanted or needed to be.

  So when I saw that article, and suddenly found myself with more free time than I knew what to do with, I was struck with an epiphany. I would come back to Ocean Hills, set up a private practice, and give back to the town.