Chapter 5 - A BILLIONAIRE WHO REFUSED TO BUY ME
Roman returned to the bakery on Monday.
This time, he bought a blueberry muffin.
I placed it on a plate.
Then slid Nolan's photograph across the counter.
Roman looked at it.
His expression changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“Nolan.”
He read the signatures.
Then sat down without being invited.
For a moment, he looked almost tired.
“Edward Blackwell was my father.”
“I gathered.”
“He died seventeen years ago.”
“Was he involved with my mother's trust?”
Roman looked up.
“Yes.”
I crossed my arms.
“Then tell me what you know.”
He studied me.
For the first time, there was no amusement in his expression.
“Your mother helped my father keep his construction company alive after a dishonest lender tried to force a default.”
“And?”
“In exchange, he helped renovate the properties associated with her trust.”
“Why does Nolan have an agreement bearing both their signatures?”
Roman took a breath.
“Because your mother wanted the businesses on this block protected from developers who would evict everyone the moment the land became profitable.”
I looked toward the window.
The florist was unloading fresh tulips.
Across the street, Mr. Patel was opening his bookstore.
Everything looked ordinary.
Yet suddenly the street seemed balanced on something fragile.
“What did the agreement do?” I asked.
“It created certain development restrictions and obligations. Whether all of them remain enforceable is for your attorney to determine.”
I studied him.
“Why do you know so much?”
Roman looked down.
“Because my father made me read it.”
He was quiet for several seconds.
Then continued.
“I was twenty-four when your mother helped him. My father had spent decades building a company. When the bank threatened to take everything, he stopped sleeping.”
Roman smiled sadly.
“Your mother found mistakes in the lender's records. She introduced him to an attorney. She didn't ask for money.”
I felt my throat tighten.
That sounded like Mom.
She used to give bread to people who couldn't pay.
She kept a notebook of neighbors who needed help finding work.
She believed businesses belonged to neighborhoods as much as their owners.
“She never told me,” I whispered.
Roman looked at me.
“Perhaps she didn't think kindness needed an announcement.”
I stared at him.
Something warm and painful moved through my chest.
For the first time since the engagement dinner, I wanted to cry for a reason that had nothing to do with Nolan.
Roman placed a folder on the counter.
I didn't touch it immediately.
“What's that?”
“Publicly available property information and a letter from my attorney explaining our company's interest in the area.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Your company's interest?”
“Blackwell Development has been approached about buying several nearby properties. I declined the proposal involving your block.”
“Why?”
“Because the offer relied on representations I couldn't verify.”
I studied him.
“Are you telling me you won't buy the bakery?”
“I won't pursue it without a legitimate process and the consent of the people whose rights are affected.”
I folded my arms.
“That's a careful answer.”
“It's the only honest one I can give.”
I looked at him.
“Would you buy it if I asked?”
Roman considered the question.
“Possibly. But I'd tell you to obtain an independent valuation first.”
I almost smiled.
“You aren't very good at being a ruthless billionaire.”
“Don't tell anyone.”
Then he made me an offer.
Not money.
Not a mansion.
Not protection.
Information.
“My legal team has been reviewing a series of unusual acquisitions involving Pierce Capital,” he said. “Some concern your neighborhood. If your attorney wants the relevant public records, we can provide them.”
I hesitated.
“What's the catch?”
“There isn't one.”
“Nobody gives information away for nothing.”
Roman's expression softened.
“Your mother did.”
That silenced me.
I looked down at the folder.
Then back at him.
“Roman, I don't want to owe you anything.”
“You won't.”
“And I don't want you fighting Nolan for me.”
“I don't intend to.”
“And I definitely don't need a rich man deciding how to run my bakery.”
One corner of his mouth lifted.
“I was about to tell you the croissants are excellent, but the espresso machine sounds like a dying motorcycle.”
I laughed.
“It's vintage.”
“It's fighting for its life.”
“Then buy another coffee and help pay for its retirement.”
He smiled.
“Gladly.”
When Roman left, he didn't ask for my number.
Didn't invite me to dinner.
Didn't suggest that my broken engagement made me available.
He simply bought another cinnamon roll to take away.
And at the door, he turned.
“Harper?”
“Yes?”
“You don't need to be grateful to me for doing something decent.”
I watched him.
For two years, Nolan had made every favor feel like an investment I would eventually need to repay.
Roman didn't.
That difference frightened me.
Because I was beginning to like him.
And I had no intention of allowing another powerful man to become the center of my life.
That night, Avery called.
Her voice shook.
“Harper, Nolan's attorney contacted me.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“He wants me to withdraw the complaint I made about his property records.”
“Can he force you?”
“No. But he says if I don't cooperate, certain allegations about my conduct at Pierce Capital may become public.”
I closed my eyes.
Then Avery whispered, “There's something else.”
“What?”
“Someone broke into my storage unit.”
My pulse jumped.
“Did they take anything?”
“Yes.”
“The records?”
“Not all of them.”
May you like
She swallowed.
“Harper, they took the original audio recording of Nolan threatening me.”
