Page 106 of The Rebel Billionaire

It took a few trips back and forth to the car to unload everything. I had a bad moment after I unpacked my duffel and put the groceries away when I realized that was it. I was moved in, I was alone, and that wasn't going tochange.

Lucas wasn'tcomingback.

I saw him everywhere I looked. Just the thought of getting back to work on stripping paint made me sick to my stomach. Everything about it, the smell, the feel of the heater in my hands, the sound of scraping the wood—all of it reminded me ofLucas.

I had to getoverit.

I was the one who'd messed up. I'd told him, promised him, that our hookup was casual. No big deal. Friends with benefits, except without the friends part. He'd stepped in when I was in trouble, done me a favor. I was the one who crossedtheline.

It didn't matter that I was head over heels in love with him. It didn't matter that every part of me yearned for him, missed him with an ache that went down to mybones.

He wasn't coming back, not to me, and I had to get used to it. I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life pining over a guy who didn'tloveme.

I'd had my heart broken before. I couldhandlethis.

I could talk a good game in my head, but in my heart, I knew this was nothing like breaking up withHarrison.

Then, I'd felt betrayed, angry, and yes, hurt. But not like this. Not like something had been torn away from me, like some essential part of myself was missing, a part I'd never get back. A part that now belonged to Lucas, whether he wanted itornot.

Standing in the middle of my gorgeous new kitchen, I took a deep breath, held it as long as I could, then slowly let it out. I'd cried all over Aiden when I'd shown up at Winters House the day Lucasdumpedme.

Not since. I was done withcrying.

I was Charlotte fucking Winters, and I'd been through worse than some guy fucking me and leaving me. My heart was broken, sure. I'd lived through that before too. I wasn't going to dissolve into some weeping mess of awoman.

Every time my emotions began to get the best of me, I forced myself to stop and take a deep breath. I was moving forward. Ihadto.

I had no job, and now I had noheart.

All I had was this house. And maybe, possibly, if everything worked out right, another one. I'd intended to keep this house. I loved it, loved every inchofit.

Now that Lucas was everywhere, had seeped into the grain of the wood, maybe I'd just sell it when it was done and move into the next one. I knew people who did that, moved from house to house, rehabbing and flipping astheywent.

It was risky. You never knew when you'd run into serious problems the inspection didn't uncover. I'd been incredibly lucky on this job that everything had gone to schedule. Most of the time, between getting subcontractors and delays on materials, that wouldn't bethecase.

Time was money onaflip.

The longer you held onto the house, the narrower the profit margin could get. Definitely a risky lineofwork.

I wanted it anyway. I loved it. Nothing was like the rush of satisfaction at taking something neglected and making it newagain.

I made myself a quick turkey sandwich and ate it standing at the island in the kitchen. It was time to get back to work. My stomach full, I grabbed my headphones and shoved them inmyears.

The paint was stripped off the trim in the living room, the front hall, and most of the dining room. I could finish the dining room, but I didn't feel like stripping paint.Notyet.

Fortunately for me, all of that cleaned trim needed to be sanded. It was another repetitive, endless job that would be well worth the effort when Iwasdone.

A half an hour later, I was reminding myself how good it would look as my arms ached. I'd only made it up three steps of thestaircase.

The detailed carvings on the banister and the spindles were beautiful, but they'd been a pain in the ass to strip and they were just as irritatingtosand.

Music pounded in my ears, a hard rock rhythm that suited my mood. No weepy love songs for me. Not for a while. Maybe not ever again the way I felt. Loud, angry rock? I could so workwiththat.

It was turned up too loud. If I'd had it lower, even just a little, I would've heardsomething.

I would've beenready.

My only warning was a shadow crossing the side of my vision. Then he was there, sinking his hand into my hair and yankingmeback.