Taming the Carefree Billionaire - Marie Higgins Page 0,2

the forty-eight hours of partying? And really, why would he? He didn’t like watching historical shows.

When he focused back on the stranger, the bizarre man was still wearing those different clothes. This must be a joke. “Who are you and what are you doing in my home?” He glanced around him, wondering if one of his other household staff was nearby. But the few that worked for him usually didn’t stay up waiting for him to come home.

“Pardon me sir, but my name is Percy Mills.”

“Why are you here?” Thomas snapped. “Are you filling in for one of my workers?”

“Uh, no sir.” He twisted his chubby hands against his thick waist.

“Then why are you here?”

“You see, Mr. Powers,” he stepped closer, “I was sent from...” pausing, he glanced upwards, “a higher elevation.”

Thomas arched an eyebrow. “Alaska?”

“Uh, no... not quite. You see, sir, I was sent from... Heaven.”

Thomas sure wasn’t hearing correctly – due to lack of sleep, he guessed. Closing his eyes, he shook his head, trying to clear the fog out of his tired thoughts. “Yes, because that makes so much more sense than coming from Alaska.”

The man grinned, displaying two crooked bottom teeth. “Indeed. That does have more logic.”

“Who sent you?” Thomas snapped, wishing the man would just tell him so he could go to his room and sleep.

“Well, you see,” Percy stepped closer, “the man who actually sent me is named Luke – you know, like the apostle in the Bible?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know the Bible. I’ve read it.”

Percy’s eyes widened. “You have? I would have never guessed.”

Thomas fisted his hands. Who was this man to judge, anyway? And why was he still here?

“Anyway,” Percy continued, “Luke is considered the head of the department. He sent me here to help you get back on the right road.”

Road? Thomas glanced around him. He was inside his house, so why did this man think Thomas was on the wrong road? Unless...

Inwardly, he groaned. He was dreaming. That was it. That would explain the historic-looking man and his strange language and the odd things he was telling Thomas.

He held up a hand, stopping the small man. “Right now, the only road I want to be on is the one leading to my bedroom, so if you’ll please just go back to wherever you came from and let me sleep.”

Thomas turned and climbed a few more stairs, but the man’s buckled shoes clicked on the tiles as he hurried toward the stairs.

“But Mr. Powers, I cannot go back. I’ve been sent to help you and I won’t return until I’ve completed my mission. Then, and only then, will I get my wings.”

Thomas rubbed his throbbing head. “Oh, I see. You’re a pilot. Well, you might as well look elsewhere because I’m not hiring. I have my own pilot, thank you.”

The man chuckled. “No, sir. I’m not a pilot.”

Thomas looked over his shoulder at the man and sighed. How was he going to get rid of him? “Then what are you? A stewardess?”

“No, Mr. Powers. I’m... your guardian angel.”

TWO

When Thomas opened his eyes, he was not quite sure what day it was. After being awake for so long, who knows how long he really slept. There was a water bottle on his nightstand so he must have gotten up sometime during his sleep to hydrate himself. Thankfully, he was alert enough to think that his body needed water.

Stretching, he yawned and reached for his cell phone. The brightly blinking white light drew his attention to the unread messages.

7:00 a.m. Dad: Thomas, where are you?

7:15 a.m. Dad: Thomas! Board meeting at 8:00.

7:45 a.m. Dad: I thought you’d be here by now.

8:15 a.m. Tasha (Dad’s secretary): Thomas, Mr. Powers requires you at this meeting. Conference call at 9:00 as well.

8:30 a.m. Cole: Dude, sorry about your loss. Don’t hate me, k?

Thomas pressed delete on all the messages. Loss? Yes, he lost a lot of money with one roll. Apparently, it had been Angie who’d had all the luck, not him. Perhaps it was his own fault for letting his focus wander to the other lady.

He glanced at the day and time on the phone. Monday, 8:50 am. He had slept through Sunday and his growling stomach told him that it had been ignored. Perhaps his hunger was why he’d had so many weird dreams.

In one dream, it wasn’t Angie who was blowing on his dice, it was the pretty camera lady, and her mesmerizing eyes had him under her spell. In