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  Reclaimed : A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

  Lost Love Book 4

  Marcella Swann

  © Copyright 2018 by Orléans Publishing. All rights reserved.

  It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental.

  Books by Marcella Swann

  My Dream Job

  Redeemed (Lost Love Book 1)

  Reunited (Lost Love Book 2)

  Rekindled (Lost Love Book 3)

  Hard Drive (Tech Titans Book 1)

  Hardwired (Tech Titans Book 2)

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Kindle Unlimited FREE Books

  Hard Drive (Chapter 1 Sneak Peak of the Tech Titans Series)

  Chapter One

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Her slender fingers trembled as she wrote down the address, then tore the paper off the pad. In a flurry, Samira stuffed it in her bag and hurried out the corner office. The door shut loudly, startling her assistant who looked up.

  “Alex, I’m going out for the rest of the day,” Samira said as she hurried past, barely glancing back. “Reschedule my appointments.”

  “Okay, I’ll take care of it,” Alex replied with a slight frown. “Is everything alright?”

  Samira was already moving down the hall.

  “Yes, just clear the schedule. I’ll be back in the morning,” Samira said as she disappeared into a closing elevator.

  Inside Samira shifted impatiently, the seconds descending seemed like an eternity. Her heart was in her throat and a spike of adrenaline in her chest. The search, the waiting was over and her body snapped into action. Out on the street, she flagged a cab and jumped in. She pulled out the paper from her bag and read the address to the driver. He sensed her urgency and quickly drove off.

  Just thirty minutes before, Samira had sat at her deck, rubbing her thumb against temple and reading the dismal financial report on Exotic Antiques, which had fallen twelve percent. While that was by no means her fault specifically, Foster Acquisitions was her company now. Twelve percent further meant that Exotic Antiques was now only worth a few hundred thousand dollars more than when she picked it up from the bottom of the trading floor and handed it to one of her specialists to groom into something that could pad their accounts for a rainy day.

  Twelve percent meant that Foster Acquisitions would need to dump out of the company soon, or else the shareholders would start to worry. If they didn’t bail on the company and it never recovered, Foster Acquisitions would need to cannibalize the assets and repurpose them into other companies they had their claws in, so that at least some profit could be made. However, that would be stressful, and it would destroy some of the confidence that her shareholders held for her. It was her responsibility to reach the summit with all of the shareholders in tow, to take their investment and turn it into a legend. Profit was not enough; each and every one of Samira’s competitors could turn a profit. Samira’s burden was the promise of Foster Acquisitions: a profit is expected; a portfolio is delivered.

  It was nearing the end of her second fiscal year at the head of Foster Acquisitions, nearly the second year without her father’s hand to guide her, and everything that had looked so promising at the end of last year was turning to rust. Samira opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out a small pill bottle from behind a stack of papers. Turning it over in her hand, Samira wondered when she had started to dull the pain between her ears this way.

  Once the cap was out of the way, Samira poured four aspirin out onto her desk and put the bottle away. She had a glass of water on her desk already; she’d walked across her office to grab it while the experts down in Finance had been explaining the downfall of Exotic Antiques to her. The aspirin went down without issue, and the water was refreshing but made Samira think of simpler days. Everything was spinning out of control; she held a tight grip on a thousand strings each connected to a kite worth millions, threatening to spiral out into the winds. Her father had held this desk like a medieval king — no one had managed to shake him. Even in his old age, his word was final. Samira’s decisions, too, were final but how long would she last before the cracks started to show? How long would she be able to hold onto this ride before she was thrown off? Would she make it to calmer curves and drops or would it be a quick plummet to financial death?

  An email came through with a muted ping, and Samira opened it to find a slew of financial documents. It looked like every other inquiry that came through her desk, waiting for her signature before one of the specialists could move forward with the money making. This one was different because it had been requested by Samira personally, and the company’s name was emboldened at the top of each document: Dowling Holdings.

  Samira felt a rush as she poured over the forms and files. She felt alive, like she used to when she read about potential acquisitions. Over the years, that feeling had faded to a dull pleasure or a mild stress on occasion, but Samira still remembered the days when each inquiry would light a fire in her eyes. However, Dowling Holdings was not just another potential acquisition.

  In fact, according to the documents that Samira read through, Foster Acquisitions could not afford to absorb Dowling Holdings even if it wanted. The company had sprouted from the ground less than five years ago with nothing more than a single office in a communal office building. The first years were a cautious struggle that paid off when Dowling Holdings grew from hundreds of thousands of dollars in assets, to millions of dollars in assets, to where they sat now in the early billions.

  There was a flag on the name as well; Dowling Holdings was not the only company with that family name to grow with such success. Nearly three decades before, Dowling Investments had done the same thing. Samira knew that without reading over the document that reported it to her, because her first love had been the son of Dowling Investments. They had been teenagers, interns at their fathers’ companies, and neither of them had expected the feelings to develop into the fierce love that it became. Despite that love, Elliot suddenly disappeared just before his father was arrested for fraud and Samira was sent away to finish her schooling upstate.

  Even though the rumors she had heard could have been wrong, Samira knew that the documents before her could not lie. They had been prepared by the best of the best; the corporate investigators that Foster Acquisitions had were paid top dollar for their work, and it was the most cutthroat department in the company. When the report said that Elliot Dowling was the sole owner of Dowling Holdings and the son of Dowling Investment’s former sole owner, Samira knew that it was her Elliot and that he was back.

  Now, as she sat in the taxi and watched the buildings and streets slide past her, her pulse seemed to increase to the rhythm. After all these years, what would it be like to see him again? She closed her eyes, feeling the breeze pour in from the open window, remembering the feeling of his skin on hers. The thoughts that rushed through her made her heart pound. She tried to take a deep breath, but noticed her hand still clenched the crumpled paper. There was little hope in relaxing when with every minute she was moving closer to him, her enduring obsession.

/>   And this time, there was no way she was going to let go.

  Chapter Two

  The drive back from the airport was a rough one. Traffic was never ending and Elliot was getting bombarded with texts from his lawyer, Emma Augustine. He turned off his phone. She was the last person he wanted to hear from right now. Her advice was mostly about what he did and why he shouldn’t do it. If only she knew what Elliot had done for the sake of rebuilding his wealth before he had hired her. Emma’s job was simple and yet extremely complex; making sure that whatever Elliot did with his money looked perfect on the books. Despite the fact that his company was completely legal, her presence often reminded Elliot of his father’s demise.

  As he looked out at the city from the back of a black SUV, someone else was on his mind. Driving by the park, he remember an afternoon years ago when he met his girlfriend by the pond for lunch. He could still hear her easy laugh as they talked about the turtles sunning themselves and the ridiculous names he thought of for them. He could see her bright smile flash and then feel her soft, full lips on his. He let the memories washed over him, but soon they gave way to an old familiar ache.

  The skyline was still iconic, breathtaking, but as the car weaved through the streets, he noticed more grit and grime than when he was younger. Had it just arrived one day, like him? Or was the soot that blanketed the city just a reflection of his mood?

  The car finally pulled up in front of the renovated building where Dowling Holdings was now headquartered. He got out and waved his driver away, then headed toward Persimmon’s Spirits, the distillery and bar housed in the first two floors of the building. The bar was not an extremely profitable aspect for Persimmon’s Spirits. In fact, it was home to mostly regulars and potential clients for Elliot. Ninety percent of its profit came from deliveries to restaurants, bars and clubs.

  As he approached the entrance, Elliot sensed something was off and stopped in his tracks. All the sluggish fog he had felt during the drive was instantly wiped away with a bolt of adrenaline. The door stood slightly ajar and in the gap he glimpsed two men in ski masks, one holding a baseball bat by the bar and the other with a handgun pointed at the bartender.

  Elliot slipped through the door, calculating he could make it two steps in before they yelled at him to stop. Then he would pull a clip from his pocket and give them ten times the money they would get from robbing the bar.

  But as soon as he began to move, he caught the glimpse of a woman hiding down under the table of a nearby booth. Elliot felt his anger surge and propel him to spring directly behind the man with the gun. From this small distance, he could feel their tension; either this was their first time holding up an establishment or they were just terrible at it.

  At the same moment, the two thugs turned in unison as Elliot grabbed the gun from its owner with one hand and his neck by the other. He tossed the man over his shoulder and sent him tumbling into a pair of tables. Holding the gun, Elliot squared off against the second robber. Now that he was closer, he could see the damage the bat had done to the bar and a few bottles; it was a metal bat and it had left inch-deep dents along the bar where the robber had smashed it down. Elliot looked at the man with the bat. “One chance — walk away.”

  His response was to swing the bat at Elliot’s head. With a quick duck and lunge, Elliot struck the second man in the sternum with an open palm. He felt the wind leave the man’s lungs and Elliot used his momentum to knock him down onto his back. Once Elliot was the last one standing, he put his foot against the chest of the bat-wielding robber and pointed the gun at the other one, who was just now wobbly getting up from where Elliot had tossed him.

  They were nothing, no-ones. It was not worth the effort to further their punishment. Elliot looked at the guy he had pinned with his foot. “Get out. If you come back, you’re leaving in handcuffs or a body bag.”

  The moment he lifted his foot, both would-be robbers moved fast for the door. Elliot turned his back on them and heard it close behind them as he looked at the bartender. “Jack, are you okay?”

  “Yes, but what about her?” The bartender nodded at the women hiding in the booth.

  Elliot put down the gun and walked over to help her up. He reached for her hand as she stood and looked up. Suddenly, he felt a bolt of electricity shoot through his body.

  “Samira? Is that you?” She was shaking, and he immediately took her in his arms.

  “Elliot, thank God!” Samira answered and held him tight.

  They clung onto each other, feeling each other’s body pressed close. This was not the reunion he had dreamed of, but holding her now, the world suddenly stopped.

  “Are you alright?” he asked gently, pulling back to take a better look and make sure she hadn’t been hurt.

  “Yes, just a little shaken,” she replied, and attempted a smile. “How are you?”

  “Much better now,” he answered, and returned the smile but could tell the experience had been a shock to her, so he pulled out a chair and helped her sit. “How about a drink? It’s on the house.”

  “Okay,” she said, still trying to compose herself.

  “Jack, we need the usual, two cokes with lime, pronto!” he ordered. Jack grinned and made a bit of a fuss getting the drinks for them. Now Samira was really smiling, too. Elliot could tell she was touched that he remembered her favorite soda.

  He had a minute to take her in. Classically beautiful, her dark wide eyes beamed and her brown hair framed her tanned face perfectly. She had the same smile today that she wore the last time Elliot had seen her; it was inviting and intoxicating, the kind that passed contagiously to all around her. When they had been teenagers, it was the adventurous look in her eyes that had raptured Elliot’s attention on so many occasions. The years had not taken away her smile or that look in her eyes, but Elliot couldn’t help notice how she had changed.

  They had first met at a charity function for her father’s company, Foster Acquisitions, when they were both interns working underneath the heads of their respective companies, getting a real feel of what it meant to be a part of a multibillion-dollar company. Back then Samira had been bookishly attractive; she wore business attire, but the glasses and her youthful smile made her look more like a librarian’s assistant. Just like Elliot, she had always been in shape, because they rarely had time for anything other than working, studying and planning their next day. Now, she had blossomed so that her suit had filled out to make her look completely ravishing. The glasses were gone, but her hair was still pulled up into a loose bun.

  “You’re here,” he said, sitting down across from her. “I’m still processing this.”

  Elliot slowly began to realize that, despite the adrenaline flooding his system, nothing had truly changed since he had walked away years ago. He had to fight not to reminisce of the days they spent together, whether it was at the park, the lake or hiking the trails while the world waited back in the city. She was still the perfect girl, and now woman, that every man dreamed of, and he knew that she had no business slumming it with the likes of him. Samira’s eyes started to glow in the same way they used to when she looked at him. She could see deep into his soul, all of his feelings, and right now he wondered if she knew the truth.

  “I almost gave up hope trying to find you,” she said. “It’s been years since you disappeared. I was beginning to think I would never see you again. Then the name Dowling Holdings came across my desk and I heard you’d returned. Why didn’t you reach out to me?”

  “I thought about it, but there’s things…”

  “I know.” Samira nodded. Her smile faded slightly, but she suppressed the frustration that Elliot knew she must’ve been feeling. “I had my investigators do a complete work up on Dowling Holdings. The only thing they can’t tell me is why you left. Was it because of what your father did?”

  Elliot shook his head, he was certain there were things no one could know, and truthfully said, “My father’s actions might have held something over me at one point, but th
at doesn’t shadow my decisions anymore.”

  Samira looked confused, then sad for a split second. “Was it me? Did you not reach out because of something that I did?”

  Elliot once again shook his head. “God no, Sam, you’re amazing!”

  He watched something click in her head, and even though he had never told her what happened that night, she figured it out.

  “It was my dad then,” she said. “He never approved of us; even if he never told me, I knew that he hated the thought of us together. Did he threaten you? Forbid you from seeing me?”

  Elliot could not look at her. Samira’s face flushed with anger as she continued, “Two and a half billion dollars in profit last year from a holding company that you built yourself. If you can’t see how impressive that is, I would be shocked! That was your hard work and determination! If my dad was even alive, he would not have a leg to stand on to keep us apart.”

  “Sam, I wanted everything to be just right, or at least, cleaned up…”

  Samira stood up. “No, Elliot. I don’t believe you. Everything you’ve gone through, everything you’ve built, doesn’t matter. You’ve let him stand between us for all these years. He was my father, and no matter what he said, I was never afraid of him or let him run my life. You could have everything you want now, but instead you just keep trying to prove yourself to a dead man.”

  Samira got up, clearly upset, and headed for the door.

  Every part of him wanted to run after her, and take her into his arms again, but where would they go from here? He saw now how crazy it was to bring her back into his dark world again. The mess on the floor was evidence of that. His heart sunk as she walked out.