Page 9 of The Billionaire's Secret Kiss

When Philip’s lawsuit hit and I went from golden boy to villain overnight, the acclaim dried up. It was a valuable lesson. Superficial shit was just that—superficial. It meant nothing.

The only things in my life that mattered were my company and Ella. And right now, I only had one of them.

If I couldn’t talk Vance and Maggie into investing, I’d have nothing.

I'd like to think I’d learned from the past.

Okay, I was at the Four Seasons, and I was in a suite. But it was a junior suite, not the expansive corner suite I might've gotten a year or two ago. I needed the space, especially if I was going to be in town more than a few days. I had work to do, and I wasn't piling on my bed with my laptop. I wasn’t a student anymore.

Yes, I was hoping the hotel and the suite would impress Ella. The thing is, I had money. I had more money than any twenty-five-year-old should. Plenty of money to spend on hotel suites, more than enough to impress my girl. So why didn't I just invest in my company myself?

I had. I hadn't taken a salary in a year and a half. Not since we’d diverted almost all of our programmers from smaller, profitable projects into the one we all knew would be our big payday. It was a risk, and since I was the one with enough in the bank to live on, I stopped taking a salary.

I could've poured my personal bank accounts into Endicott Tech. I would, if it came to that. I'm smart, and even under the cloud of Phillip’s accusations, my reputation meant I could find work. If Endicott Tech went under, I wouldn’t starve. None of my people would. They’re the best.

But I'd promised them success beyond their wildest dreams, and I was going to fucking make good on that promise. Without draining my savings account and selling my house.

I let myself into the suite and kicked my shoes off, dropping my messenger bag on the desk and throwing myself on the couch. I had to get my head in gear.

I'd come to Atlanta for two things—business and Ella. I’d done all I could on the business front, for now. Vance and Maggie would do their thing over the next few days. When they were ready for a second meeting, they’d call. For now, all of my attention was on Ella.

What the fuck was she doing nannying? She liked kids, loved working with them in STEM classes, and got all fired up when she got one of them to fall in love with coding like she had when she was young. But babysitting? That was a massive waste of her time.

Ella was fucking smart as hell. I'd always loved her brain, the way she could fall into music, play her violin like she was bleeding her soul into the strings, and then turn around and take all of that passion and throw it into coding—so logical and precise but in her hands, alive.

All she'd wanted two years ago was to get her master’s at Georgia Tech. Oliver Johnstone had promised her a spot in his project, and she'd wanted that more than anything. More than she'd wanted me. So why wasn't she doing it? What had happened?

I hated that there was no one I could ask.

Ella and I had shared the same friends, and when we'd split, most of them had taken her side, not that they were still in Atlanta. But those who'd remained had made it clear that they were Team Ella all the way. I was the asshole who’d ditched them for the glitter of Silicon Valley.

Then Phillip had accused me of stealing the code I’d used for my first drone project, and the rest of my friends had dropped off the face of the earth. At least as far as I was concerned. That was fine. I didn’t need friends who’d walk away the second life got tough.

But Ella . . . getting the text after I missed her graduation had been painful, but I’d seen it coming. When she’d called me after the news broke on the lawsuit, I should have realized it was my chance to get her back. Instead, I’d wasted it and ended up driving her off for good.

I hadn’t understood how much I needed her.

The thing is, I was still pissed at her. The breakup hadn't been all my fault. Yes, I was obsessed with my company. And yes, I should've paid more attention to my girlfriend. But she never got that I wasn't just doing this for me. I didn't care about the accolades and the attention . . . not until I didn't have Ella anymore.

When we were still together, everything was about us. About our future. Ella's field was never going to be a magnet for big money. She'd probably spend most of her career writing endless grant requests and hoping her projects could get funding. But if I could make my dreams come true, I could fund hers without a second thought.

To her credit, Ella never gave a shit about money. She'd been more excited about the software I’d developed than she had about the check I got when I sold it. And maybe I didn't explain myself as well as I could have, but for fuck's sake, I was twenty-three. She could've had a little patience.

I propped my feet up on the couch cushions and scrubbed the heels of my hands against my eyes. I'd taken the red-eye in, and I was fucking exhausted. My nose hurt from Ella’s well-aimed punch. And I was starving.

I called room service and ordered a burger and a beer. One problem easily solved. I was going to eat, check in on work, and pass out early. Tomorrow, I was going to find out where Ella was living. I needed to get her to talk to me. I refused to believe we were over.

Not after that kiss.

She was mad enough to punch me. Ella didn't have much of a temper. If she’d punched me, she had to be really fucking pissed. But the second my mouth had hit hers, she’d melted.

Having her in my arms again was like coming home.

Ella was my first. Jesus, I was lucky she'd already been in love with me the first time we’d had sex because I’d lasted about thirty seconds. Fucking embarrassing. Fortunately, I’d had enough presence of mind to make sure she got hers first.

I’d been head over heels in love with her, and by the time we finally did the deed, I’d had my hands and mouth all over her luscious body. It could've been a disaster, but with Ella, everything had always been easy.

We’d laughed in bed as much as we did out of it, never afraid to experiment, to learn each other’s bodies. Together, we could do anything, or so I'd always thought. Once we’d figured sex out, it seemed like we fucked nonstop.