The Billionaire She Couldnt Forget

Isabella

I clinked my champagne flute against Megan's, the bubbles fizzing over our shared triumph. After three years of late nights and impossible clients, the promotion to senior designer had finally come through.

"To Isabella Carter, the new queen of Carter & Associates!" Megan shouted over the thumping bass of whatever pop hit was blaring through the pub speakers.

"It's Winston & Associates, you lightweight," I laughed, steadying her as she wobbled in her heels. "I haven't taken over the company... yet."

The Twisted Oak was packed with my colleagues, all several drinks deep into celebrating my success. I'd chosen my emerald wrap dress carefully-sophisticated enough for work but with just enough flair for the after-party. The silky fabric clung to my curves without being obvious, and the lacy black bra and matching thong underneath made me feel confident, even if no one else knew about them.

"Dance floor! Now!" Megan grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the area where several of our coworkers were already making fools of themselves.

I let the rhythm take over, enjoying the freedom of movement after weeks hunched over design plans.

My colleagues formed a circle around me, cheering as I spun and swayed. The promotion energy and three glasses of champagne had me feeling invincible.

I ran my fingers through my hair, letting it cascade down my shoulders as I closed my eyes and surrendered to the music.

"Mind if I cut in?"

A deep voice broke through the thumping bass. I opened my eyes to find Lucas Hamilton standing before me, his six-foot-two frame impeccably dressed in a tailored navy suit that hugged his broad shoulders. My breath caught in my throat. I recognized him instantly – the billionaire whose Malibu mansion I'd redesigned last month.

"Mr. Hamilton," I said, trying to sound professional despite my flushed cheeks. "What brings you to The Twisted Oak? This hardly seems like your scene."

His lips curved into a smile that probably melted most women on the spot. "Business dinner nearby. Heard the music and decided to stop in." His eyes held mine. "Congratulations on your promotion, Ms. Carter."

I raised an eyebrow. "How did you know about that?"

"I make it my business to keep tabs on talented people." He extended his hand. "May I?"

My colleagues had already backed away, creating space for us. I placed my hand in his, feeling a jolt of electricity at his touch.

"Just one dance," I said, more to myself than to him.

Lucas pulled me closer than professional courtesy would dictate, his hand resting firmly on the small of my back. He moved with surprising grace for such a powerful man, guiding me effortlessly across the floor.

"Your design revisions exceeded expectations," he said, his breath warm against my ear. "The eastern wing looks spectacular at sunset."

I laughed. "Are we really discussing work while dancing?"

"Would you prefer I comment on how stunning you look in that dress? Because that might cross professional boundaries."

Heat crawled up my neck. "Professional boundaries are important."

He spun me around and then pulled me back against his chest. "Where's your boyfriend tonight? Shouldn't he be celebrating with you?"

I stiffened slightly. "How do you know I have a boyfriend?"

"The photo on your desk during our meetings. You two looked happy."

"Alex is working late," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"So he left you alone in a pub, looking like this?" Lucas gestured to my dress with his eyes. "Brave man."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means people will approach you." His hand pressed slightly firmer against my back. "Case in point."

I pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. "People like you? I've heard about your reputation."

"Have you now?" His eyebrow arched in amusement.

"The tabloids love documenting your... social activities. A different woman every weekend. The Hamilton Heartbreaker, they call you."