Billion Dollar Chance - Linnea May Page 0,1

to each other from the very first moment, but started to fight that pull after we hooked up.

Maybe that was our mistake. Maybe we never should have lied to ourselves. Maybe we should have left it at that one drunken night.

Maybe.

He was never my boyfriend and I never wanted to be his girlfriend—but that didn’t stop us from intertwining like vines as we grew throughout our last year of college.

And then we just…

I’m startled by the sound of my own voice as I release an anguished groan at the memory. I can still feel it, the same sting, the same piercing agony. Every time the memory resurfaces, I’m overwhelmed with the same pain I felt all those years ago. Leaving Gabe behind was the hardest and most excruciating thing I ever had to do.

But it was the right decision.

Wasn’t it?

No, Ella, don’t go there.

I try to dissipate my nagging doubts with a fierce shake of the head before I make my way to the entrance. Whatever happened back then should not be on my mind today. He should not be on my mind today!

I can’t let him ruin this for me. I won’t let him hold me back.

I didn’t allow it back then, and I certainly won’t allow it today.

Chapter 2

Gabe

I hate waiting. Always have, always will. It’s beneath me, and I have every reason to say that. People are willing to pay a lot of money for my time, because it’s of high value to them.

I am of high value.

Therefore, I always make sure that everyone else has to wait for me—even if that means resorting to somewhat absurd behavior. It’s less than ten minutes until I have to advise the World Resources Institute on their climate plan for DC. But instead of sitting in the meeting room like a forgotten dog, I linger alone in my private office, absentmindedly playing with a paper crane on my mahogany desk. Old-fashioned, ridiculously heavy, mighty in size, and with a price tag beyond reason, this desk is the perfect representation of my position in this world.

It stands out. Just like me.

Because, let’s be honest, I shouldn’t even be here. I don’t need to be here. I don’t need this job, I have no reason to spend my valuable time in this stuffy government building, surrounded by people who are either idealistic and naive or cunning and power hungry. I don’t need this shit. I could be out in the Hamptons, surrounded by my own little harem, each girl prettier than the next, indulging in exquisite champagne while lounging next to the pool of my lavish summer home.

I could do that, all day every day.

But I’m here, sitting in my unimposing office, waiting for a meeting that promises to be nothing but another time sink. And while I know what brought me here in the first place (my insatiable need for power and recognition, that much I’m willing to admit), I’m beginning to question the point of all of this. Yes, it’s nice to see how much weight my words seem to carry—but do I really need their approval as much as I used to? Is this really why I’m still here, why I’m still giving my time to a seemingly worthy cause?

Or is it because of her?

I haven’t spoken to Ella in years, but her credulous ambitions may have rubbed off on me more than I like to admit. I wonder what she’d say if she knew what I’m up to these days? She would probably be bothered by my lack of true dedication and accuse me of playing an unwarranted power game. And she wouldn’t be wrong. Hell, I didn’t even look at today’s schedule or the many, many notes my assistant clipped to the folder on my desk. I never even opened it, because I know everything I need to know. You can call that arrogance; I call it efficiency.

I can’t suppress an annoyed moan as I glance at my newest Jaeger LeCoultre watch for the umpteenth time. Four minutes until the meeting begins, and probably around two minutes before my assistant will pop her face through the door and tell me that it’s time to go, while batting her heavily darkened eyelashes nervously. Therese has been working here for a while, but she hasn’t seemed to get over her obvious crush on me, even though she’s my senior by some years. I can only hope for her sake that she finds a boyfriend soon.

A message pops up on