Making Her Mine Read online

  Making Her Mine

  Ella Goode

  Contents

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Also by Ella Goode

  Connect with me!

  Drinking coffee every morning at ten. Check.

  Getting hives from too much caffeine. Check.

  Falling in love with a barista. Check.

  Billionaire Miles King has developed an unhealthy addition to coffee at The Daily Drip and even though his doctor tells him to cut out the caffeine, Miles can’t keep away from Eden Brooks. Eden doesn’t seem to notice his devotion, though. Money worries have the loan sharks at her heels and taking a chance on a hot billionaire seems to be the worst kind of idea.

  Will this stop Miles? Nah. She could be serving him arsenic on the regular and he’d still drink it down. A little caffeine allergy, a few bookies, and a distracted cafe owner are no match for a determined billionaire.

  Chapter One

  Miles

  “You’re going to have to stop drinking coffee,” advises my doctor. He hands me a barely legible script for some meds to get rid of the hives. I know the drill. This is the third time in as many months that I’ve gone through this.

  “I’ve had coffee for years and never had hives. Are you sure this is the problem?”

  “According to your log, you get the symptoms after visiting The Daily Drip. You order a single coffee black. The caffeine builds in your system and by the third week, it tips over into the unsafe region triggering your allergic reaction. The positive is that this isn’t a serious condition and it’s easily treatable. The negative is that you should stop drinking caffeine.”

  “I hate tea. That’s like flavored piss,” I grouch. I’m not stopping my daily trips to the coffee shop, but I’ll have to figure out something else to order.

  “Not having drunk piss, I wouldn’t know.” He gets to his feet. “Racquetball this weekend?”

  “After I stop at The Daily Drip.” I shove the script into my pocket and grab my coat.

  “I’m going to have to check out the coffee joint myself since you think so highly of it.”

  Alarmed, I turn away from the door to confront my doc. “I’m thinking of buying the building and demolishing it,” I lie. I can’t have others start trekking to my place—at least not until I have my objective secured. “My visits there are part of a feasibility study to see if the foot and street traffic can sustain my new business plans.”

  The doc frowns. “You’re doing hands-on feasibility studies now? I thought you’d moved past that and are rubber-stamping things from your office in the sky.”

  I had moved past it. Brooks Management Group went through a rocky period about four years ago. It was utter chaos in the office with no clear management because we were doubling our size about every three months. I had quality people quit because we were a mess, but the ship righted, we had a billion dollar IPO, and now I sit, as the doc says, in an office in the sky twiddling my thumbs.

  I am not used to being bored. Trying to get my business off the ground with nothing more than a prayer and a few hundred dollars required years of hustle and working eighteen hours a day. Sitting in my office on the forty-fifth floor of my midtown high-rise, watching my new bonsai sprout leaves and reviewing contracts for new businesses left me bored. Mom said it was time to start a family. My sister kept signing me up for dating apps. My friends roped me into a half dozen double dates before I told everyone that I was going to enter the priesthood.

  I wasn’t even joking. I’d looked into it. Maybe devotion to something other than the dollar would change my slump.

  In the end, I didn’t need a dating app, the lists of eligible women, or the church. I found the cure at The Daily Drip.

  The Daily Drip is a coffee shop and not the citified kind. It has plants hanging from the ceiling. Each table is different and so are the chairs. The menu is written on a white board with hand lettering, usually with a lot of hearts and flowers adorning each item. The wooden countertop is filled with homemade pastries under glass domes. However, as charming as the place is, the thing that keeps me going back is Eden. She’s not the owner of The Daily Drip, according to the corporation papers I pulled. Her dad owns it, but I’ve never seen him in the shop. The only male that I’ve seen working there is a stock boy who I think is her brother. It could be a cousin. I haven’t been able to ferret that detail out yet. Sure, I could hire a private investigator who would report back with everything from how much debt Eden has to where she likes to spend her off hours, but where would be the fun for me in that? I like going to The Daily Drip every day and observing her. I like gathering each piece of evidence and compiling my own picture. I like sitting under the ferns, drinking the coffee I must be allergic to, watching Eden competently move around the small coffee bar mixing drinks, taking money, talking to customers. I basically just like Eden, though. She could be doing anything, and I would want to watch.

  Some guys stream Netflix. My favorite drama unfolds at The Daily Drip. There are first dates, breakups, business deals, backstabbing, and bonding. Overseeing it all is Eden, a raven-haired goddess with a predilection for candy apple red lipstick and glittery barrettes. I’ve ordered a half dozen of the hair things off the internet thinking how pretty they would look against the veil of black silk that hangs around her face. Currently, they’re sitting in the top drawer of my bedroom dresser along with the perfume I think she’d like, a stack of tissue-wrapped lingerie that I would like to see her wear, and a sixty-thousand-dollar oval diamond ring. That should probably be in a safe, but it needs to be in a handy place for when I ask Eden to marry me, which will be any day now. I just have to think of a good opening.

  This isn’t a business merger—which I’m good at—but a people merger, which I sort of suck at. Hence the constant chaos when I was in charge and bringing in deal after deal. People require a certain delicate touch. Bring your biggest sword to battle with me because I’m going to destroy you has been my motto in the past. I don’t think that’s going to work with Eden, and it’s not because she’s small or sells coffee for a living. It’s because people are breakable. My sister is an example of that, and so is my mom. Men have done them wrong. I don’t want to mishandle things with Eden, so I’m taking my time, gathering my intel, and when the time is right, I’ll bring that ring into The Daily Drip and stick it on her finger. I feel like that time is coming soon.

  Chapter Two

  Eden

  I run the numbers again, hoping I'm wrong. How is this even possible? We’re busier than we’ve ever been before. I don’t understand. I have to be missing something.

  “Okay, I think I got it this time.” Ryan sets a cup of coffee down on the desk next to me. I exit out of the screens I had open before he sees anything.

  Ryan stares at me, bouncing on the heels of his feet. I love my brother to death, but he’s the worst at making coffee. He should stick to the baked goods, but it drives him insane how terrible he is at making a cup of coffee. I don’t even want to try it, but I know I will regardless. I mean, how much worse could it be from the last cup that he made me?

  I pick up the coffee, blowing on it. I don’t see any grounds floating in it, so that’s a p
lus. The second the hot liquid hits my tongue I know it’s wrong. I can’t even fake it. Ryan’s smile drops immediately from his face, and he lets out a string of curses that I normally only hear when he’s playing video games late at night.

  “I’ll stick to making the coffee and you stick to the bear claws,” I say with a laugh.

  “This is bullshit.” He drops down in the chair next to my desk.

  “Has the rest of the rush cleared out?”

  He nods, sinking lower into the chair as he checks his phone.

  “Yeah, looks like it. Why don’t you head upstairs and get cleaned up? I need to finish a few more things and then I’ll be home.”

  He perks up at that. “Are you sure, E? I could stay and help if you need me to.”

  I smile at him. I don’t know what I would do without him in my life. Sometimes I can’t believe how grown he is already.

  “Get lost before I change my mind. Order us some Chinese food delivery, and we’ll watch a movie while we eat.”

  “Awesome.” He jumps up from the chair, darting off toward the back stairs that lead up to our place above the coffee shop. I let out a long sigh, grabbing the cup of coffee and tossing it into the trash before I head up front to help Shelly break down for the night.

  “Your Mr. Handsome was here again. You missed it. I think he was looking for you.” Clare wiggles her eyebrows at me. I roll my eyes. She’s being ridiculous.

  “There is no way that man is looking for me.” Mr. Handsome, as we have all started to call him, has been coming in almost every day for months now. Sometimes he even comes in twice a day. He was already here early this morning. Not only is the man sexy as hell, but I’m pretty sure he’s loaded too. He’s confident without being cocky.

  His custom suits and the Rolex on his wrist make it very clear that he has money. I’m actually a little surprised he gets his own coffee. A few times I’ve actually seen him pull up with a driver, but he always comes inside to get his coffee himself. He gets the same thing every single time. Coffee, black.

  “Girl, he is always checking you out. Why else would the man be in here all the time?”

  “Because I make the best coffee in town.” I smirk.

  “Yeah, yeah.” She shakes her head as she closes out her register, counting all of the money before giving it to me. I take it to the back and put it into the safe to take to the bank tomorrow.

  “All done?” I ask when I get back to the front.

  “Think so.” She tosses a rag into the bin.

  “I’ll let you out the front.” I head for the door, unlocking it.

  “See you tomorrow,” Shelly says as she heads toward the subway. I stand there watching her until she disappears down the stairs. Stepping back in, I close the door and flip the lock back. I pause when I see a dark SUV parked across the street.

  I jump, my heart lodging in my throat when my phone rings. “Get it together,” I tell myself before I pull out my phone to answer it.

  “I’m back!” Lucy chirps into the phone. I smile, having missed her. I’m so used to seeing her almost every day. She’s been away on her honeymoon for the last month. “Mr. Handsome still around?”

  “Is that really the first thing you’re going to ask me?” I turn the lights off, heading toward the back.

  “It’s been a month! I was sure he’d make a move by now.” She huffs.

  “You think love is in the air because you’re madly in love.” I set the alarm before heading up the stairs.

  Ryan and I have been living here for the past few years. It made things easier. Our dad’s place sits right outside the city, and I have to be here bright and early. Not that our dad is ever home anyway. I’m the one that’s been raising Ryan since Mom skipped town almost ten years ago. I’m only five years older than him. He’s a good kid. He’ll be graduating this year. It wasn't always easy, but we’ve made it work. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Love is always in the air.” She lets out a dreamy sigh. I shouldn't give her shit about her harping on me about Mr. Handsome. I did the same to her when it came to Wyatt—but in my defense, look at them now.

  “Well, keep it out of my air. I don’t have time for love.”

  “But you have time for me tomorrow?” she asks.

  “Is Wyatt going to let you up for air long enough to come see me?” I tease her as I enter the house. Ryan is sitting on the sofa playing his Xbox already. I mouth to him I’m going to take a quick shower.

  “I suppose,” I hear Wyatt say in the background.

  “Bring pictures. I want to hear every detail about your vacation so I can live vicariously through you.” God knows traveling isn’t anywhere in my near future. I’ve never even been on a plane, let alone seen a real beach.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Laters,” I say before ending the call. I eye my bed, wanting to fall into it, but I know Ryan is waiting for me. So I do what I always do when it comes to him. I paste a smile on my face, knowing love will never be in the air for me.

  Chapter Three

  Miles

  “Let me get this straight,” pants Dean during a break between racquetball sets. “Your caffeine levels are so high from drinking coffee every morning that you’re breaking out in hives, but rather than stop drinking coffee, you’re going to overdose on antihistamines.”

  “I don’t know about the overdosing part, but the rest is spot-on.” I drive the rubber ball into the wall a few times and wait for Dean to catch his breath. The man is getting out of shape. I jog in place to stay warmed up.

  “And this is all over a woman? That can’t be right. I know you have a line a mile deep waiting to get into your jock strap.”

  “Sounds uncomfortable for me and them, and no, I don’t have a line. I don’t want a line. I’ve got my woman picked out.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “Nah. I don’t think so. You’ve got a bad attitude toward women.” I frown at the smaller man. Has he always been this shitty toward the opposite sex? I don’t spend a lot of time with him. My regular racquetball partner, Mark, tore his ACL three weeks ago, and he’s laid up for like a year now. I’m cycling through randoms at the gym and haven’t found one that’s clicked yet. I mentally cross Dean off the list.

  “Fuck, really?” Dean straightens. Wearing an incredulous expression, he plants his hands on his hips and rants, “You’re calling me out because I made an off-color joke about how in demand you are? You should be thanking me. It was a fucking compliment. You’re what’s wrong with the world now. Men like us should be proud we have dicks. Instead, we have to slink around with our hands over our crotches and bow and scrape before all these cu—”

  I bang the ball an inch from his head. He stops abruptly.

  “I wouldn’t say it if I were you.” I walk over to the bench, grab my towel and water bottle, and head for the exit.

  “Hey. We’re in the middle of a match. You can’t leave! I’m going to report you to management! I’m going to—”

  I don’t hear the rest of his diatribe because I do, indeed, leave. On my way out, I tell Karla that I insulted Dean and that he’s crying about it.

  “Men are so fragile.” She shakes her head and writes something down. “Do you want me to revoke his membership?”

  “Nah. He’ll demand I get kicked out, and when you refuse, he’ll throw another tantrum and leave by himself. Then he will threaten to sue us for not refunding his membership fee, so send the funds to his account in advance. That might spur his departure faster. He’ll find that offensive.” We share a grin. “I’m off. Don’t work too hard.”

  “I’ll try not to, but the owner is kind of an ogre.”

  “Lies. I heard he’s a prince. Best guy ever. Walks on water.”

  Karla rolls her eyes. “How does Violet put up with you?”

  “What are you saying? I’m the best brother in the world. Also, the best owner in the world.”

  “And then he skipped out on the rest of th
e match after accusing me of being a woman hater!” Dean’s voice echoes down the hall.

  “Good luck,” I tell Karla and escape out the door. I call my sister as I’m driving home. “What can I pick up for dinner?”

  “Chef made burrito bowls so nothing. Actually, can you bring me scones from The Daily Drip? I’ve been craving them.”

  “You should come with me sometime and have them in the café when they’re steaming hot. The cream practically melts on your tongue.”

  A prolonged silence greets my suggestion. I swallow a sigh. “Or I can swing by The Daily Drip and bring some scones home with me.” I try one last time to get my agoraphobic sister out of the house. “I bet my wife to be is working. You could meet her.”

  “You can bring her home with the scones.” Violet hangs up, and I make a detour to The Daily Drip to lick my wounds by admiring Eden.

  “Twice in one day,” mentions the kid. “That’s new.” His nametag says Ryan.

  “My sister wants scones. You know how sisters are. If you don’t do what they say, it’s endless nagging.”

  “Yeah, I hear you.”

  “You older or younger?” I ask, just trying to confirm that we’re talking about Eden here.

  “Younger. You?”

  “Older but only by five minutes. Violet’s my twin.”

  “Oh, damn, but that’s kind of cool.”

  “My mom said it was a nightmare,” I confide. He starts to dump coffee into the drip contraption. “Shouldn’t you put a filter in there?” I ask.