All Chapters of Mr. Bossy Billioanaire and I: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Justin shrugged. “Maybe, but not right now. I don’t want this to end.”Allena touched his jaw. “I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard you say.”He smiled sexily. “You don’t think I’m romantic, do you?”“Not especially,” she replied, still smiling. “You’re very practical and sensible, which is why you make an excellent office man. But romance isn’t your thing. I can’t imagine you raiding a flower bed to pick a bouquet or reciting a poem, can you?”He frowned mockingly. “Guys actually do that?”“Some,” she replied. “For example, how often did you buy flowers for that woman you dated last year?”He knew she was well aware of the other woman’s name and seemed amused that she didn’t want to say it. “Rachel wasn’t the type of woman who liked flowers.”“What type was she?”He traced a long finger down her cheek. “What difference does it make? She was very focused on her career, which is fine, but she wasn’t interested in making room for family and kids. Which is a big part o

Allena raised her brow at Justin and said, “We’re a situation now?”“I don’t know what we are,” he said flatly. “You left pretty abruptly the other day.”“I didn’t want the kids to see me,” she said frankly, spooning a little sugar into her coffee. “Itwould only confuse them.”“It confused me, too,” he said and met her gaze. “I thought you might have...""Might you have what?” she prompted when his words trailed.He sighed. “Stayed,” he responded. “Talked. Listened. I don’t know... something.”“I didn’t want to overanalyze things,” she said. “I still don’t.”“When we were in bed together, after we made love, I asked you to marry me,” he reminded her.“Again. So, have you considered it?”She sat back in her seat, her eyes bright but glaring at him. “Seriously, this is what you wanted to talk about? And how?” She laughed brittlely. “You really suck at proposing, Justin.”“I was only trying to—”“I know what you’re trying to do,” she said hotly. “You’re trying to solve an equation or fi

In all his life, Justin has never felt more emotionally out of control. Even when Jayne and his mother had died, he’d been able to focus, to put all his energy into raising the kids, to his job, and to help Igor and Leah work through their grief. But this was different.This was pain on a whole new level. It was something for the love of God so different he couldn't fathom.Seeing her at the pizza with the fireman had broken him up inside. She was on a date.Enjoying herself. Talking, laughing. Sharing her life with another man.He called Allena Friday morning, longing to hear her voice and talk, but it went to her voicemail. He texted, and she didn’t respond. It galvanised him into action, and on Friday afternoon he went back to the O’SullIgor hotel, only to discover she’d checked out. Gone. Run off with her fireman.Man, I’m an idiot.Pain set in, lodging in his chest like a knife. And jealousy—the unrelenting kind that made his gut churn and his heart ache behind his ribs.He hurt

Allena grabbed a stiff brush and began grooming Star with long, methodical strokes.Grooming her horse always relaxed her, and she needed to relax big time. If only her brainwould comply and stop thinking about Justin and his thoughtless, hurtful, meaningless, and impossibly inappropriate declaration of love. It was a low act. And if she had any sense, she would forget all about it.Justin didn’t love her. He couldn’t possibly. Once she was done grooming, she went to grab the hay net, deciding she wasn’t in the mood to go riding. The net was empty, as was the drum that usually contained a hay bale. She looked up to the hay loft and sighed, thinking she probably could get one of the ranch hands to throw down a bale. Instead, she left Star tied up in his stall and climbed the wide ladder to the loft. The scent of sweet hay shot up her nose, and she sneezed a couple of times, then grabbed one of the bales by the twine and tossed it down.“Do you need some help?”She looked down and spot

Lea Carloth was placing dust sheets on the furniture in the now deserted northern wing of Brathellae Castle when she heard the sound of a firm footfall on the stairs. Goosebumps peppered her skin like Braille, and a cold draught of air circled her ankles like the ghost of a long-dead cat. No such things as ghosts. No such things as ghosts. Her old childhood chant wasn’t working any better than when she first came to live in the Scottish Highlands castle as a frightened and lonely twelve-year-old orphan. Taken in by her great-aunt, who had worked as a housekeeper for the Borthman family, Lea had been raised in the kitchen and corridors of the castle. In the early days, downstairs had been her only domain, upstairs was out of bounds. And not just because of her limp. Upstairs had been another world—a world in which she did not and could not ever belong. “Is anyone th-there?” Her voice echoed in the silence, her heart thumping so loudly she could hear it booming in her ears. Who would