After I Fall (Immortal Billionaires Book 1) Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  AFTER I FALL

  Immortal Billionaires, Book 1

  Melissa Sercia

  www.melissasercia.com

  All Rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior consent and permission of the publisher.

  Copyright 2020 by Melissa Sercia

  Cover Design by Sarah Paige. All stock photos licensed appropriately.

  Edited by Katie Golding

  Formatted by Champagne Book Design

  For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher at [email protected]

  Digital Edition ISBN: 978-1-7358512-0-4

  Printed in the United States of America

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  To Christopher

  For always catching me when I fall…

  A pretty blonde greeted me with a warm smile. She pulled me into an unexpected embrace. “You must be Raven! Welcome.” Her rose scented hair brushed my cheek. It smelled expensive.

  “Piper, nice to finally meet you in person. Thanks again for renting me a room.” With just one glance into her luxury apartment, I already felt out of place. I was a long way from Maplewood. I had to keep reminding myself that it was a good thing. That small towns and first loves who break your heart were things better left behind.

  New beginnings were like elevators, lifting you up and down. The doors slide open to give you a peek of each floor and close before you can linger too long. And when you did arrive at your destination, when you finally stepped out, the elevator would disappear behind the doors, becoming your past, and leaving you alone on the floor of new beginnings. Change wasn’t always bad, but new didn’t mean good either.

  Piper ushered me in, helping me with my bags. “Where’s the rest of your stuff?”

  “It’s…all I have. You said the room was furnished right?” Piper was from my hometown but everything about her screamed New York City. By the looks of the leather couch and fancy art on the walls, it was obvious she was doing well for herself.

  “Of course. No worries. I’m such a hoarder, I just assume everyone is. Come, let me give you a tour of the place.” Her recovery was flawless. She didn’t even bat an eyelash at my hesitancy.

  The kitchen was small but exquisite with its gas range stove and marble counter tops. I was already picturing all of the meals I could create here. The living room was huge with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city, a leather couch, a glass coffee table covered in travel magazines, and a baby grand piano sat in the corner.

  “Do you play?” I asked.

  Piper shrugged as she chewed on the end of one of her pointy red acrylic nails. “I used to. I don’t really have time for it anymore. How about you? You’re welcome to play anytime you like.”

  I choked back a nervous laugh. “Oh, no. I don’t have a musical bone in my body. My talents are in the kitchen.”

  “Well, when I’m actually home for more than twenty-four hours, you’ll have to make something for me. I don’t even know how to turn on the stove,” she joked.

  Piper led me down a short hall, stopping midway to show me the bathroom, a small but lavish room with thick white towels, colorful soaps, and one of those fancy rain shower heads that I’ve only ever seen in hotels. I couldn’t believe I was going to get to live here.

  At the end of the hall were three bedrooms—Piper’s master suite with its own bathroom, a small office, and finally, what was to be my room. I gasped at the sight of it. It was bigger than my entire apartment in Maplewood. The furnishings were sleek and modern—minimalistic with muted gray tones and sharp lines. The king size bed was fitted with gray sheets and black throw pillows. The mattress sat upon a flat black bed frame with a short headboard that poked out from behind.

  There was a small desk against the wall, a sitting area with what she called a fainting couch, and a vanity table framed by an enormous mirror. More of that fancy abstract art hung on the walls in between the two floor to ceiling windows. The room was so spacious, I could do cartwheels across the hardwood floor.

  “Well, what do you think?” Piper asked.

  “I’m speechless. Are you sure you’re charging me enough? Not that I’m complaining.” I couldn’t really afford to pay more, but I didn’t want her to feel like she was getting cheated either.

  She tossed her silky blond hair over her shoulder, showcasing a tiny black heart tattooed on her collarbone. “Nonsense. Money is not a concern. I’d much rather help out a fellow Maplewood and know my apartment is in trusting hands when I’m gone. I still can’t believe we are only now just meeting for the first time.”

  Maplewood was a small town. Everyone knew everybody. Except for a few of the elite rich girls who chose to pretend the rest of us didn’t exist. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that we had met before, she was just too popular to remember a nobody like me.

  “Well, thank you for letting me stay here.”

  Piper grinned wide, revealing the whitest and straightest teeth I’d ever seen. “I’ll let you get settled in. I’ve got to run to the airport. My flight leaves in three hours. There’s food in the fridge and wine in the cabinet. Please, help yourself to both. I should be back in a few weeks, but I left you an emergency contact list on the kitchen table in case you need anything.”

  It was strange. I had just gotten here and the only person I knew in New York was leaving town. I was already nervous about being out of my comfort zone, now I’d have to get used to being alone more too. “What is it you do exactly?” I realized I didn’t even know what she did for a living.

  Piper fiddled with one of her diamond earrings, averting her gaze toward the window. “Oh a little bit of everything. It’s pretty boring actually. But I love the traveling. That’s the best part, seeing the world.”

  A twinge of jealousy rippled through me. Other than now, and one summer spent abroad after high school graduation, I hadn’t really been anywhere else. Traveling was expensive and the Maplewood Diner barely paid me enough to cover my bills. If it weren’t for that culinary internship and the winery paying my way there, I wouldn’t have made it to Italy either. There were so many places I still dreamed of visiting. So many types of cuisine I wanted to master around the world.

  “That sounds exciting. Where are you off to this time?”

  Piper shrugged. “Don’t know yet. They’ll tell me when I get to the jet center. Speaking of which, I need to get going. Welcome to New York, Raven.” She winked and sauntered out, leaving me alone in my gigantic room to unpack. Jet ce
nter? Her boss must be loaded if she’s flying on a private jet.

  Thirty minutes later, I heard the wheels of a suitcase rolling across the hardwood floor, and Piper calling out, “Bye Raven! See you in a few weeks.” The door clicked and locked behind her before I could respond.

  After putting all my clothes away, I wandered back into the front room. I found the wine she had been referring to and was impressed with her collection. I picked out a French Bordeaux and sipped it by the window. The sky was the color of orange sherbet and the lights across the city were beginning to flicker on. It took my breath away. I could get used to this.

  I wondered if Piper had anyone to share this view with. It was as picturesque as views could be. Like straight out of a Monet painting. I was suddenly more aware of my loneliness than I usually allowed myself to be. Alex would have loved this view. Just not with me. Not anymore.

  I rubbed my temples as a searing pain took hold above my eyebrows. Another damn migraine. I never used to get stress headaches before. Not until… Ugh don’t go there right now, Raven.

  I rummaged around in the fridge and realized by food, Piper meant cheese and bread. I was too tired to figure out who to order delivery from so I made a cheese sandwich, polished off another glass of wine and got ready for bed. I needed to find a job tomorrow so I couldn’t drink the whole bottle no matter how badly I wanted to.

  My drugstore products seemed even cheaper and more tacky sitting on the counter in Piper’s designer bathroom. I brushed my teeth, scrubbing the red wine stains off, and crawled into bed. The sheets were the softest fabric I’d ever felt against my skin. The pillows lush and comforting. After the long bus ride, and the stress of moving, it didn’t take long for me to drift off to sleep.

  The light blinded me awake and for a second I forgot where I was. I staggered up, cursing at myself for forgetting to close the enormous black-out drapes before I passed out last night. But considering I had also forgotten to set my alarm, it turned out to be a blessing. I dragged my feet out of bed and into the bathroom. My black hair was a tangled mess which meant I’d have to wash it and blow dry it out straight if I wanted to look presentable today.

  Shit! It wasn’t until I peeled back the shower curtain and turned on the hot water that I realized I had forgotten to pack my shampoo. I hesitated and considered checking out Piper’s bathroom for some. She did say to make myself at home. And I would replace what I used.

  I crept into Piper’s master suite like a little kid snooping through their parent’s bedroom. Even though she didn’t say to stay out of her room, I still felt guilty traipsing through her private space. But whatever. I needed to wash my hair so I didn’t look like I just crawled out of a forest.

  Her room was even more luxurious than mine if that was even possible. In the center of the room sat a large four poster bed that looked like something out of a medieval castle. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted wrist restraints, hanging off the headboard. Hmm, kinky Piper.

  I felt my cheeks flush even though no one was in the room to judge me. I jerked my head away and headed straight for her bathroom. I let out a gasp at the sight of it. Next to an enormous jetted jacuzzi tub, was an equally large shower complete with a love seat and two shower heads—one on either side. Who needs two shower heads?

  The minute I thought it, I wanted to take it back. Someone who actually has someone to shower with, of course. I was so naïve sometimes. Alex and I never took showers together. We barely had sex with the lights on. A faint pressure started to press on my brow. Ugh, not again. Just the mere thought of him sent my body into mass anxiety and distress. I needed to get the shampoo and get out of there.

  I spotted a sleek bottle, snatched it up, and sprinted out of there, closing the door behind me so I wouldn’t be tempted to wander back in. After a long hot shower, makeup, and blow out, I put on my best “interview” outfit and gave myself another once over in the mirror. And I wanted to cringe. In a small town, I turned heads, but after seeing Piper and her designer clothes and perfectly manicured nails, I had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case here. Looking at my drab gray pantsuit and white polyester blouse made me want to jump back on that bus and run home to Maplewood. Who was I kidding out here?

  But going back would just prove everyone right. That I couldn’t cut it in the real world. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life winning chili cookoffs and baking pot pies for the county fair. I wanted more for myself. So I needed to suck it up, hit the pavement, and find a job.

  My dream was to become a chef, but with no experience, I’d have to apply as a server first to get my foot in the door. I had waited on plenty of tables back home and my summer in Italy had taught me everything I knew about wine. So I grabbed a stack of my resumes, thin as they were, and made a bee line for the door before I talked myself out of it for real.

  It took me forever to hail a cab until I realized I needed to actually stand in the middle of the street to flag one down. I wasn’t even going to begin to figure out the subway system on my first day in the city. I gave the driver a mid-town Manhattan address—a swanky industrial restaurant that was the first to pop up on my search engine—and held on for dear life as the taxi charged through the city streets like a race car driver. It was a good thing I hadn’t eaten breakfast because it would have likely been coming back up. I fought waves of nausea as he hit the gas, then slammed on the breaks, over and over again like a game of bumper cars.

  It took me a minute to catch my breath and quell the dizziness once I was safely on the sidewalk. The crisp Autumn air did wonders for that. I pulled out one of my resumes and tugged hard on the heavy glass door leading into the restaurant.

  Jazz music pumped through the speakers so loudly, I wondered how any of the diners could even have a conversation. The dining room was minimalistic with monochrome fixtures and black tablecloths. While the svelte model looking hostess was on the phone, eyeing me like I was a criminal, I scanned through the menu. It was all in French. I knew a few words here and there but not enough to understand every ingredient and item listed. That would no doubt be a problem.

  The hostess hung up the phone and gave me a curt smile. “Sorry, we aren’t hiring.” Her gaze rested on the resume in my hand.

  I hadn’t even said a word yet. Did I look that desperate? “Oh. Well, can you please give this to your manager? In case something opens up?”

  She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed that I was still standing there. “I guess.”

  I tried to thank her, but she was already back on the phone. And something told me that the second I turned around my resume would be in the waste bin.

  I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the next one on the list—an Italian bistro a few blocks down. Forgoing the thrill ride of the taxi, and to save money, I chose to pound the pavement instead. My heels were only three inches, but they were cheaply made and by the third block, I could already feel a blister starting to form.

  “Hi, I’m here about the server position.” I exclaimed a little too eagerly.

  This hostess’s smile seemed a bit more genuine, but she couldn’t hide the pity in her eyes as she looked my outfit up and down. “Thanks, hon, I’ll make sure my manager gets your resume.”

  On my way back out, I couldn’t help but notice the long line of gorgeous men and women seated along the banquette, waiting to be interviewed. Back home, if you were polite and eager to work, you’d get hired in a heartbeat. It seemed the expectations here had more to do with looks than anything else. Not that none of those people weren’t qualified, but there wasn’t a plain Jane in the entire bunch.

  The next three restaurants I went into were a repeat of the last. Always a forced smile and a, “Sure, we’ll pass this along to the manager,” even if none of them had any intention of doing so. It’s likely they’d take one look at my short resume and toss it in the trash anyway.

  The thing was, I knew food and wine. My summer abroad opened my eyes and my palate to a brand new world of exciting
tastes and experiences. If someone would just give me a chance… I wouldn’t be able to live here for very long if I didn’t have a job. I may have failed in my relationship, but I refused to fail at this. Plus, my family didn’t think I could cut it in the real world and I was determined to prove them wrong.

  It was almost five o’clock in the evening and my feet were burning, but I still had two places left on my list. I was afraid if I waited until tomorrow, I’d lose my nerve. There was only so much rejection a girl could take.

  The next place was fancy. While every other one I walked into today seemed to copy each other in décor and offerings, this restaurant stood out. It had an old-world vibe to it like something out of a classic Hollywood film. The furnishings were dark and warm with a cherrywood finish. Massive chandeliers, spanning six feet wide, decorated the vaulted ceilings, and the walls were painted a dark chocolate brown.

  This restaurant was exquisite. The music was orchestral and just loud enough without drowning out the buzz of conversation. A warm sensation tickled my belly. There was something special about it. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but despite the obvious display of wealth and luxury, I felt comfortable here.

  “Welcome to Dolce Sale. How can I help you, signorina?” A middle-aged man with gray speckled hair peered over the podium at me.

  I was in awe, still taking in the aromas wafting from the open kitchen—scents of truffle and red wine reducing into a glaze. “Dolce Sale,” I repeated. “It means Sweet Salt. That’s brilliant.”

  The man’s smile widened, and his eyes lit up. “Ah, you speak Italian?”

  I shook my head. “I know a few words here and there.” I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I got his hopes up for nothing.

  “You know the important ones,” he teased. As he leaned forward to get a closer look at me, I noticed a nametag on the lapel of his suit that said Enzo.

  I smiled and handed him my resume. “I’m looking for a job. I know I don’t have a lot of experience but I’m a quick learner and I have a good palate.” I had nothing left to lose today. Might as well go all out.