Falling for the Billionaire E-Book

Paige moved to New York after her father lost his business and passed away. Living with her quirky aunt as she attempts to start over wasn’t what she had envisioned for her life, but she’d determined to be successful.

James has a golden finger. As a billionaire, his life is perfect—except that’s not the life he wants. Trouble is, he’s not sure what he’s meant to do.
When James meets Paige, he’s intrigued by her. She seems to have everything figured out.

So he proposes a deal.
Figure out what he enjoys in exchange for help with her bakery.

If only their hearts hadn’t gotten involved. If only their pasts didn’t come back to haunt them.

When everything feels as if it’s crashing down around them, the one thing they feared might be the one thing they needed all along.

PAIGE

Paige shivered as she stepped out of the fall air and into the foyer of the thirty-story high-rise. She wished she could have pulled her coat closer to her body, but the large white box in her hands kept her from doing anything. As she walked across the tiled floor, she blew at the strands of hair that coated her face. Why had she decided to wear it down? 

That’s right. Because she was late. It had taken her forever to get a cab. What would have normally been a ten-minute drive anywhere else, took thirty minutes in New York City. Even though she had moved here over six months ago, she always seemed to forget that tidbit. 

Hopefully, Tippy wouldn’t be disappointed in her. After all, her best friend had gotten her this job. She said it was hard to convince the client to go with a bakery that had only been open for five months. There was no way Paige could blow this. 

She sighed and blew a strand of hair that tickled her lip. It floated up into the air only to land back on her face. She paused at the elevator and pressed the up button with her hip.  

“Miss. Miss, can I help you?” The doorman who had been too preoccupied helping an elegantly dressed woman into a limo had returned and was standing next to her with a pointed expression. 

Paige smiled. “I’m sorry. This is heavy, and I couldn’t wait.” 

The doorman raised his eyebrows. “And where are you taking this heavy load?” He eyed the box.

Paige shifted, balancing it on one arm. As she reached for the note where she’d written the customer’s name, the box tipped. Her hand flew up to grab it, but it was too late. She felt all the perfectly frosted cupcakes slide to one side.

Sweat broke out on her brow, and she cringed. She could only imagine what the frosting looked like now. 

“J-something Calv-Callavaughn?” she attempted. Why couldn’t she remember his name? All Tippy had said was that this guy was loaded. Like, twelve zeros rich. 

The doorman narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “James Callahan?”

Paige nodded. “Yep. That’s the guy.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Grateful for the interruption, Paige stepped inside. 

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you,” she said as she turned and studied the buttons. There was no way she was going to be able to push any of them. Thankfully, the doorman took in her predicament and leaned in. 

“You’re going to floor thirty,” he said as he hit the button and then straightened, allowing the doors to slide closed. 

Paige shot him a smile as he disappeared. Now alone in the elevator, she sighed. When she’d moved here from Cape Vincent, she never realized how cut throat New York bakeries were. Coming from a small town, she was spoiled. It was a different world back home where everyone knew everyone. 

Thankfully, Tippy had thrown her this bone. Right now, she’d take any work. Even if it was for a rich man.

The elevator doors slid open, exposing a small hallway. She stepped out onto the cream-colored carpet. It felt expensive—even underneath her Mary-Janes. 

There was only one door at the end. She made her way toward it. Not sure what to do, she tapped the wood with her shoe. 

Nothing. 

Glancing around, she saw a glowing doorbell. She rested the box against the wall so she could reach out and press it. 

After a few seconds, a man in a tuxedo opened the door. He was older—about fifty. He eyed her and then his gaze fell to the box in her hands. 

“Yes?” he asked. 

Paige swallowed. Just that one word and her confidence was gone. “James Callahan?” 

The man pinched his lips together. “I am Bernard, Mr. Callahan’s butler.” His gaze raced over her once more. “You are?”

“I have a cupcake delivery.” She nodded toward the box. 

“You’re late,” he said, pushing open the door. 

She stepped into the large foyer. The floor was made of marble. The ceiling was taller than her bakery and above apartment put together. Just ahead of her were huge picture windows where the lights of New York shone against the setting sun.  

“I know. I’m sorry,” she said, turning around to face him.

Bernard shut the door. “Mr. Callahan does not like it when those he hires show up late. It doesn’t look good to have you walking in here when his guests have already arrived.” He nodded toward the crowds of people gathered in clumps around the room. 

A banner hung from the wall with the words: Happy Birthday James. Johnny Cash’s rough voice carried from the speakers. Paige would have never guessed this was a party. It felt more like a wake with how depressed everyone looked even though they wore pressed suits and floor-length dresses. 

“Seems like I disturbed quite the party,” she muttered as she followed after Bernard. 

He cleared his throat as if to indicate that he had heard her, but wouldn’t justify it with a comment. Paige exhaled slowly. No need to get fired from her first catering job here in the city. Even if the idea of serving the rich sent her skin crawling. 

Bernard stopped in front of a swinging door. “Kitchen is in there. I hope you know your way around. We are singing happy birthday in thirty minutes. The cupcakes should be ready by then.” He paused. “Do you think you can handle that?” he asked, giving her a pointed look. 

Paige bit her tongue from saying what was truly on her mind. “Of course,” she said, forcing some pep into her voice.

He shot her one last glance and then turned and left her to stand there alone. 

She grumbled under her breath. She should have known better than to take this job. Rich people were all the same. Always thinking about themselves. 

“Typical rich men,” she said as she shook her head and pushed into the kitchen. As she ran her gaze around the room, she almost dropped the cupcakes. 

The kitchen was huge. Large granite countertops sat on top of pure white cupboards that ran across every wall. A large island sat in the center. She let out her breath as she stepped onto the tiled floors. 

“Holy cow,” she whispered as she passed by the stainless steel double door refrigerator. “This is a kitchen.”

Just as she passed the fridge, a man in a tux appeared from beside it. She screamed and the box in her hands tipped. Frantic, she scrambled to save it. 

“Whoa,” the man said as he reached out and grabbed it from her. 

He turned and set the box down on the counter. When the cupcakes were finally safe, Paige allowed herself to swallow. Her heart was pounding. Partly because he’d just scared the crap out of her. The other part was because one of the most handsome man she had ever seen currently had his hand outstretched and his fingers were inches from her skin. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, stooping down to meet her gaze. His dark eyes and half-smile were sending her senses haywire. 

“Yes,” she whispered. Then she cleared her throat. Why did she whisper? Was she afraid that she might scare off this perfect specimen of a man? “Yes.” She tried again, hoping that sounded more confident.

His smile widened, this time, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. She raised her gaze to meet his. She really needed to stop staring at his body parts. 

He patted her shoulder. “Sorry for scaring you,” he said as he dropped his hand and made his way over to the island. He sat down on one of the bar stools that was pulled up next to it. 

She tried not to stare at him as she moved to the sink. “So, you work for Tippy?” Man, why did she sound like an idiot? 

He glanced over at her. He was tapping his fingers on the counter. As if he needed something to do. His hand moved to a container on the counter where he reached in and began filling the hors d'oeuvre tray next to him with baguette slices topped with bruschetta. He smiled at her. 

“Where is she?” Paige asked as she pulled her strawberry-blonde hair up into a ponytail and then washed her hands. After they were clean, she made her way over to the box and opened it. She winced. Half of the cupcakes had mashed frosting. The other half seemed fine. Glancing around, her mind raced. She needed to come up with a solution and fast. 

“She said she had to run back to grab another box,” he said.

Paige laughed. “Typical Tippy. She’d forget her head if it wasn’t attached to her.” 

The man smiled again. “How many casualties?” he asked, nodding toward the box. 

She began pulling the cupcakes out. “About half.” Then she leaned it. “Don’t tell the butler. He’d have me kicked from the building faster than a sinking soufflé.”

A strange look passed over the man’s face, but then disappeared so fast that she wondered if she had really seen something. 

“Ah, he’s not that bad,” the man said as he continued filling the trays.

Paige snorted. Obviously, he did not see the pretentious attitude that seeped from the butler that was no doubt as a result of the man who employed him. “Yeah. Well, who can blame the guy? He probably gets lots of flack from his boss. I mean, come on, who has birthday parties as an adult?” She looked up and smiled at him. 

He had a sour expression. “Well, sometimes, parties get thrown without the permission of the person they are intended for.”

Paige rifled around in a few drawers before she located a knife. Then she began to smooth out the mangled frosting. “Well, anyone who lives a life like this, doesn’t understand what it’s like to be a working stiff. I’m sure he even has his maid iron his underwear.”

The man coughed. She glanced over at him. His face had turned red as he studied the counter. A feeling of guilt washed over her. Truth was, she didn’t know the billionaire. He could be nice. But experience had taught her that the chances of that were slim to none. If you had money, you were rude. Period. 

But, from the downturned lips of the guy in front of her, he felt different. “I’m sorry,” she said, giving him a smile. “Sometimes I talk before I think.” She waved toward her forehead. 

He studied her. His frown slowly morphed into a smile. “It’s okay,” he said as he closed the container that had held the hors d’oeuvres. “Some rich people can be jerks . . . and some poor people can be judgmental.”

Paige’s cheeks heated as a twinge of guilt settled beneath her ribs. Man, being late had put her in a mood. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” She gave him a small smile. “I didn’t catch your name,” Paige said, smoothing out the frosting on another cupcake. 

“Probably because I didn’t give it to you.” He stood up from the counter and grabbed the now full tray. “It was nice talking to you, cupcake lady.”

She studied him as he walked over to the door and pushed through it. “I—um—” she called after him, but the door shut before she could form a coherent sentence. 

Now alone, she studied the counter. What a strange experience. She was going to have to ask Tippy about him when she got here. Any waiter would feel the same as she did when it came to helping the rich. Maybe he got paid better than her. She scoffed. Not likely.

As she finished up the last few cupcakes, Tippy burst through the kitchen door with her cheeks flushed and her bright-blue hair pulled up into a messy bun. She had on a white chef’s coat and was carrying five containers stacked on top of each other. 

“I understand, Bernard!” she called over her shoulder as the door swung closed. 

“Hey, Tip,” Paige said, setting the cupcake down to help her unload. 

“Paige! You’re here.” Once Tippy’s hands were free, she reached out and pulled Paige into a hug. After two pecks on each cheek, she pulled away. “I’m so happy you made it. How long have you been here?” she asked as she began rushing around the kitchen. 

“About twenty minutes ago. I had some issues getting the cupcakes here so I had to make some adjustments.” She waved to the tray in front of her. They weren’t her best work, but she had been able to salvage them. 

“They look amazing, P,” Tippy said as she laid a few trays next to each other on the counter. 

Paige stared at them. “I hope they’ll work for the birthday boy.”

Tippy stopped and gave Paige a goofy smile. “Have you seen him yet?” Her eyebrows went up. “He’s hot.”

Paige rolled her eyes. Tippy’s only qualification for a hot man was two legs. “Really, Tip? Remember Steward?” He was the sixty-year-old patent attorney that Tippy had tried to set her up with. 

Tippy raised her hands. “Hey, he was perfect for you.”

Paige shook her head. “The only thing we had in common were our birthdays—minus the fact that his was thirty-four-years before mine.”

“You’re too picky,” Tippy said as she began filling the trays with the food she’d brought. 

“And you’re not picky enough.” Paige hated that Tippy was always trying to set her up. Right now, a man was the last thing Paige needed. She was here to start her business. To do right by what her father had given her when he passed away. A man would stand in the way of all of that. 

“Well, I doubt you would find one flaw in Mr. Callahan. He’s the whole package. Money. Looks. Personality.” Tippy stopped to fan herself with a nearby napkin. 

Paige shook her head. Getting tangled up with a billionaire was not what she wanted to do. Ever. A waiter—that was another story. His smile flashed into her mind. “What about the new guy you have working for you?” 

“What new guy?” Tippy asked as she returned to filling the trays. 

“The one that was in here earlier. Said he worked for you.”

Tippy stared at her. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t hired anyone.”

Now it was Paige’s turn to stare. “No. There was a guy in here earlier who was filling trays with the baguette and bruschetta.”

Tippy’s gaze raced around the kitchen. “Someone was in here touching my food?”

Before Paige could say anything more, the kitchen door swung open and Bernard appeared and approached her. 

“Are you ready?” he asked. He had an exasperated expression on his face. 

Paige nodded as she bent down and slid the tray onto her shoulder. As she followed after Bernard, she tried to shake the confusion she felt. Who was that guy in the kitchen then? And why did he say he worked for Tippy? 

As Bernard led her into the living room, she located the waiter. He was standing at the far end of the room, underneath the happy birthday sign. When his gaze met hers, he smiled. 

Paige studied him. If he didn’t work for Tippy, who did he work for? She’d have to wait until she could get him alone to ask. 

Bernard motioned toward the table. Paige dipped down and placed the cupcake tray down. When she stood, mystery guy had appeared next to them. 

“Those look amazing,” he said as he nodded to the cupcakes. His voice was smooth—almost playful.

“Mr. Callahan,” Bernard said as he nodded to the mysterious guy. “This is Ms. Williams.”

Paige stopped. What? Did Bernard just say, Mr. Callahan? Heat flushed her body as she met Mr. Callahan’s gaze. He was the billionaire? Realization slammed into her. Why had she been such an idiot in the kitchen? She swallowed. What was she supposed to say?

Mr. Callahan’s smile widened. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Williams. You can call me James.”

Bernard harrumphed from behind her. 

“I—um . . .” Paige studied him. “I thought you worked for Tippy.” Mentally, she slapped herself. That was the best she could come up with?

He leaned over and nodded to a passing party-goer. “You asked, but I never confirmed it.”

Heat raced to her cheeks as she replayed their conversation in her mind. As much as she wanted to prove him wrong—he was right. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” Paige asked. For some reason, she felt betrayed. Which was ridiculous because they had only just met. 

James shrugged. “You seemed pretty convinced you knew everything about me.”

Paige swallowed. That was true. But had she known, she never would have said the things she did. “But—”

“Miss . . .” He raised his eyebrows as if that was a question. 

“Paige.” Was it wrong that she felt disappointed that he had already forgotten her name?

“Paige, don’t worry about it. I won’t tell anyone how you feel about the rich.” He shot her his half-smile and then turned his attention over to an older woman that was walking toward them. She had blonde hair that was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck and wore a pressed navy suit. 

Her jaw was set as she eyed Paige. “Ready, James?” she asked, glancing over at him. 

“Yes, Mother.” James gave Paige one last smile and then turned to the guests that had congregated around him. 

Paige faded into the crowd as they started singing Happy Birthday. Not wanting to stand around looking like an idiot, she grabbed her coat, waved good-bye to Tippy, and headed out into the hall.

Once she was in the elevator, she leaned against the wall. Red hot embarrassment raced through her. How could she have made such a fool of herself? Her father always told her she needed to think more before she spoke. Today was proof of that.

But if a certain billionaire had just been honest about who he was, she never would have said the things she did. Her stomach twisted. Her father didn’t raise her to be rude. What was the matter with her? 

As the elevator doors slid open, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least she would never see James Callahan again. That thought did make her feel a tad bit better.