Ella And The Billionaire's Ball (Once Upon A Billionaire Book 2) Read online

  Hawk wasn’t sure he wanted a chocolate-scented town. He worried it would destroy the cozy, ma and pa kind of feel people got from his boutique candy shops. When customers stumbled across one of his charming stores, they felt like they’d discovered a hidden trove of delicious things that had been packaged and designed just for them.

  He settled onto the cushy, wheeled chair behind his desk and rested his head in his hands.

  What would happen with this expansion endeavor if word about, not one, but two thefts began to spread? Publicity was good if it shed the right light on the company. But negative publicity could alter things so much more, from the safety concerns already swimming among his staff to the smudge this would put on his reputation. The last thing he needed was to start losing employees over this, or for them to feel they and their belongings weren’t safe.

  Never mind the fact that stealing was just wrong.

  The items weren’t that expensive and could all be replaced. But Hawk never thought anyone on his staff would stoop that low, let alone at Christmas. Then again, that was just it, wasn’t it? Money was tight for a lot of people. Whoever it was had probably already sold the stolen items.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this, sir,” Ethan, his head of security, had assured when he’d first apprised Hawk of the situation.

  Trusting Ethan and his staff, Hawk had passed the reassurance on to others, encouraging them to take care by locking up their personal items.

  “See that you don’t leave anything important where someone can get ahold of it,” Hawk’s last companywide email had said. “We’ll keep a close eye on the feed and ensure this doesn’t happen again.”

  Or so he hoped.

  Hawk exhaled a puff of air. Ethan was thorough. They’d get to the bottom of this.

  He’d already contacted the head of Malus Custodial Management, the company they hired out, in an attempt to cover their bases. Stina Malus’s personal correspondence was always cordial and helpful, but where this wasn’t so much an issue of cleaning quality, Hawk had sent her a direct message about it instead of deferring the matter to his assistant. Someone was stealing from him, someone within his own company. Someone with keys and access to areas other employees didn’t have.

  He didn’t need to deal with this now, not when he was already worrying over expanding exponentially, and not when Marketing was fighting his order for Harmony Children’s. Hawk’s candy donation to the local hospital was one of the few things he got excited about this time of year, and Marketing was trying to make their agenda his.

  A notification chimed on his phone. It was almost time for his breakfast date. He’d come in earlier, just to make sure he wouldn’t miss it.

  Tossing his overcoat across his arm, Hawk ambled from his office out into the hall. He stopped by the third floor to address another associate’s concerns about scheduling and didn’t realize he was in the elevator again until a voice called, jolting him back to awareness.

  In a swift motion, Hawk jutted out his hand to stop the door just in time for a timid, brunette woman to enter. Gripping the purse strung over her shoulder, she huddled in the elevator’s opposite corner and stared at the ceiling.

  She was attractive, with wide brown eyes and a small rosebud mouth that had just the right amount of pout. Freckles dusted across her cheeks and nose, which was endearing for some reason. She peered at him through her periphery and then went rigid. Eyes wide, the slightest blush painting her cheeks, she stared at him as though she’d unexpectedly bumped into her favorite celebrity.

  Hawk cleared his throat. He was used to women’s reactions to him, especially in his corporate offices. Usually, he kept to himself, directing them to Clary, his assistant, or allowing whoever else was in the room to take the lead.

  But this was just the two of them. The elevator ride would last only a matter of seconds. Hawk rarely talked to people he was on the elevator with. Why, then, did he want to strike up a conversation with her?

  From her professional red blouse and the dressy shoes with well-fitted jeans, he guessed she was in one of his departments out for coffee like he was. She held a shopping bag in one hand filled with what looked like clothes, and she gripped the strap of a burgundy purse as she stuffed her Ever After Sweet Shoppe employee badge into it. So she did work for him.

  “Hey, there,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

  Her cheeks flushed. She kept peering at him from the corners of her eyes, as though uncertain he was actually there.

  “Thanks, Mr. Danielson. Same to you.”

  He inched in, just a shift, enough for her festive and fiery scent of pomegranates spiked with cinnamon to wash over him. His skin flushed, and something fluttered in his chest. He hadn’t had this reaction to a woman since he’d dated Amelia from Production, and the attraction for her had built over time. This was instant, and that was startling enough.

  Or was it? Had he already met the woman? He would have remembered the flecks of gold in her eyes and the way her mouth curved at the corners.

  “You know who I am?” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t remember meeting you.”

  “Probably because we’ve never met.” She gave him a sweet smile.

  All righty then. At least he wasn’t losing it.

  “I’ve seen your picture once or twice,” she added. Soft traces of red bloomed in her cheeks. That, coupled with the freckles, made her all the more interesting. She cleared her throat and shuffled. Closer to him.

  “I’m afraid you have the advantage over me…” He allowed his words to hang off in hopeful expectation of her name and maybe even her number before they reached the lobby. There wasn’t much time. According to the little lit-up circles indicating each floor, they were nearing it now.

  She tossed her hair, sending tantalizing streaks of pomegranate in his direction, and opened her mouth when the elevator’s lights flickered. Once, twice, too soon, they blacked out completely.

  The car shuddered. Then with a lurch, the elevator stopped altogether. Hawk staggered in her direction. She toppled toward him. He felt her hand on his chest as she gripped his lapel for support.

  “Oh,” she squeaked, pressing into his side. Instinctively, Hawk’s arm went around her, encircling her tiny waist. She pushed against his chest as her scent drifted toward him. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said, bracing himself with a hand on the wall.

  “Totally cliché. I can’t believe I just did that. Please don’t think I just threw myself at you.”

  Though he couldn’t see her in the blackness, he could imagine the adorable shade humiliation had brought to her skin right then.

  He glanced in her direction, wishing he could see her and trying to ignore how good she felt against him. The darkness between them was thick. He may as well be blind.

  “Throw yourself at me anytime.” Ugh. Did he seriously just say that?

  She let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s a dangerous invitation to give to someone you just met. What happened, anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, releasing her as she righted herself. “But I believe we’re stuck.”

  A light appeared from her direction. She held her phone up, using its flashlight to find the intercom button. She pushed it in and waited.

  Hawk’s pulse began to escalate. Elevators were bad enough in the short time it took to get from one floor to another. Having one halt during its descent? Foolish though it was, his temperature rose, and unease began to overtake him. He swallowed.

  Elevator assistance wasn’t responding.

  “Hang on,” he said, pulling his phone out. Fortunately, the service wasn’t completely unreachable. His assistant’s name was at the top of his recent calls list.

  “Clary, yeah, it’s Hawk. The south elevator is stuck.”

  “With you on it?”

  “Yes.” His companion’s gaze was tangible. It thickened his throat and caused him to tug on his collar. Anxiety was starting to kick in. His h
ead felt light, his lungs pumped faster, his heart banged against his sternum. This couldn’t be happening. The last time he’d had a panic attack had been during his flight to Louisiana to meet with suppliers.

  The woman was on her phone, apologizing softly to someone on the other end for needing to postpone. He should probably call Faye and do the same, but he would do what he could to get them out of this mess first.

  “Yes,” Hawk repeated. “A woman and I are both trapped here. Can you please call maintenance and have them on this…immediately?”

  “Will do, sir. Hang tight.”

  The phrase knotted his stomach. He squeezed his eyes closed. “Not helpful advice.”

  “What? I thought it was better than ‘don’t drop.’” He heard the smile in Clary’s tone.

  “Not any better, Clary.”

  She laughed. “Just a joke, sir.”

  Hawk gripped his phone, sank to the floor, and slid to the back of the elevator. His face was hot; his vision blanked out or would have if he could see much beyond the woman’s silhouette, which was illuminated from the light of his screen.

  Claustrophobia settled in swift and fast. He didn’t know much about elevators. Were they just dangling there? He knew it wasn’t likely, but the image of the cables snapping, and plummeting to their sudden and imminent deaths flashed in his mind like an explicit lyric in a song. Unexpected and unwanted.

  “Are you okay?” the woman asked, bringing herself to the floor in front of him.

  Hawk opened his eyes to find her analyzing him with concern. The phone in her hand provided enough light to cast shadows around them. She really was pretty, with tendrils of hair dangling on either side of her face. If only he had a drink of water, something to wet his mouth. A trickle of sweat trailed down his spine.

  “Yes, I—sorry. Closed spaces and I don’t go well together.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, and her compassionate tone said she meant it. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Distract me?” he suggested.

  Light from his phone sprayed a single beam upward, casting shadows to the ceiling. The woman chewed her bottom lip and fiddled with the buckles on her purse. “I get that way with shots sometimes, at the doctor’s office, you know? I have to have someone talk to me to keep me distracted then too.”

  He breathed, inhaling long and slow. It only seemed to make his heart pound faster.

  “How do they distract you?” he asked with effort. “Does it work?”

  “It does if people tell me stories,” she said.

  The walls were closing in. His panic escalated. He grimaced, digging his heels into the elevator floor.

  “Okay, then. Got any good stories?” He attempted to keep his voice level. He needed to stay calm.

  “Stories? No. But I am trying to sew fifty-seven pillowcases before Christmas Eve.”

  Hawk laughed. Her admission was random enough to pull his thoughts from his cranking heartbeat. He managed to open his eyes. “Any particular reason?”

  She placed her phone on the floor beside her bag so its light beamed upward, twined her hair around one shoulder, and crouched in front of him with such a delectable smirk on her face he found himself that much more drawn in.

  “I run a group called Stitches for Sierra,” she said. “We like to do crafty kinds of things for people in need.”

  “There’s plenty of people who fit that category this time of year,” he said, thinking of Faye. Was she already waiting for him in the lobby?

  He glanced at his phone. Still nothing from Clary. What was taking so long? He didn’t want to worry Faye or to cancel on her. He’d give it a few more minutes.

  “Yeah,” the woman said. “One of my neighbors had a daughter who was at Harmony Children’s with leukemia, and it sort of brought my attention there, you know? The kids would love to wake up to something new and different Christmas morning. They go through plenty of white pillowcases from day to day.”

  “Why not make them something colorful for Christmas, then, I take it.”

  “Exactly,” she said.

  “Sounds like they’re going to love that.” He thought of the order for candy he’d wanted to have filled, but it only brought another swell of pressure. He closed his eyes, breathing through it.

  “Need another distraction?” she suggested.

  “That one was working pretty good.” He couldn’t bear to open his eyes. The visual reminder of the enclosed space didn’t help. Where was Clary?

  “What are your Christmas traditions?” The woman’s tone implied it was a suggestion and he didn’t have to answer.

  Hawk attempted to thrust the heavier thoughts aside. “My parents usually fly the family out somewhere. Last year, they took all the siblings and grandkids on a Disney cruise.”

  Her voice animated. “Seriously? That sounds amazing. Where are they going this year?”

  “This year they’ve bought everyone a gift instead of a trip. I’m excited to see what it is.”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  He popped a single eye open. She sat closer to him now, cross-legged, and stared at him. His throat closed.

  “It isn’t Christmas yet,” he said.

  She released a soft chuckle. The sound loosened his joints in that satisfying way of knowing he was the reason for her laughter. His shoulders relaxed.

  “Before my mom died, we all got together on Christmas Eve for a big dinner with my grandparents,” she said. “My grandma still invites us over, though my dad and stepfamily don’t come. I have to work on Christmas this year, but I’ll probably do something with my grandma anyway—”

  This was definitely distracting. He opened both eyes to find her fiddling with the buttons on her gray, wool coat.

  “I thought we were closed through the holidays. Which department do you work for?”

  She scooted back, away from him. “I—”

  His phone chirped, interrupting her. Here, he’d been antsy to hear from Clary, and now he cursed the interruption. He answered it. “Hey, Clary. Any news?”

  The freckled woman readjusted to kneel on her knees. She rested her hands on her legs and watched him expectantly. Whether she realized it or not, her knee brushed against his ankle. Hawk was so absorbed by her movements he nearly missed Clary’s reply.

  “They should be fixing it now, sir.”

  Relief stole over him. “That’s great news. Thanks, Clary.”

  He covered the base of his phone to relay the update to his striking, fellow passenger when someone came through on the elevator’s intercom. “Mr. Danielson?”

  He let his head fall back. There wasn’t time to wonder why this associate hadn’t answered the first time they’d paged him.

  “That’s me,” Hawk said, resting a hand on the wall as he returned to his feet.

  “We’re working through this now, sir,” said the male voice. “We should have you out of there in no time.”

  “Thank you,” Hawk said.

  He offered a hand to the woman as the lights flicked on once more. Gripping her purse, she righted herself, brushing a hand against her pants.

  “You sure you don’t want to throw yourself at me again?” he said. “No better time. This ride’s almost over.”

  Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “That’s an intriguing idea, isn’t it?”

  The elevator jolted. His companion let out a squeak of surprise. Hawk was vaguely reminded of the one and only time his family had convinced him to ride the Tower of Terror ride at Disney World during their cruise a few years back. That had been akin to pure torture. The possibility of reliving something similar now didn’t help.

  The elevator’s jarring movement jerked for several more seconds giving Hawk an unpleasant lurch in his stomach, until it steadied again and began to glide down at its usual pace.

  Wiping a palm across her cheek, the woman stood. “What a relief,” she said.

  “Yeah.” He stood beside her. “Looks like we’re bound
to survive this after all.”

  There was that smile again. Soft and sweet and somehow managing to string through his veins and imprint itself in the underside of his ribs.

  “So you never did tell me which department you work for,” he said.

  She stared straight ahead. “Why do you want to know?”

  He shrugged. “If they’re making you work on Christmas, I’d like to have a word with them.” He offered what he hoped was a teasing smirk.

  She lowered her head. “Oh no, that’s not necessary.”

  The elevator dinged, opening to the familiar lobby. The oddest sense of stubbornness clenched inside of him. Though an elevator was usually his least favorite place, especially after getting stuck in this one, he didn’t want to leave. Not until he got this woman’s name and phone number.

  He gestured, swooping a hand toward the open door. The woman exited first. Hawk trotted after, hoping to stall her long enough to finish their conversation, but she scurried at a quicker pace than he anticipated.

  “See you later, Mr. Danielson,” she said over her shoulder.

  “I—yeah. See you,” he said with defeat. She was already out of earshot.

  That had been unexpected. To not only get stuck on a busted elevator but to do so with an extraordinarily kind, gorgeous woman who, amazingly enough, hadn’t given him a hard time for acting like such a nutcase in the enclosed space.

  Anyone else, he was sure, would have written him off as an idiot, but she had helped him. She’d been soothing and distracting. He should have asked her name. Why hadn’t he asked her name?

  “Oh well,” Hawk said, strutting toward the abstract statue in the lobby’s center. It was of a pair of steel bars twining upward to the vaulted ceiling. “I’ll have to see if I can’t find out another way.”

  Her identity wasn’t the only thing hanging him up. Why on earth was her department working on Christmas? He’d have to see which one it was and set things straight, and hopefully, find out the woman’s name in the meantime.

  CHAPTER THREE