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  Title and Copyright Page

  Title: Free Me

  Subtitle: Clean Billionaire Romance

  Author: Nana Poliakoff

  © Copyright 2018 by Nana Poliakoff. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  From the Author:

  Thank you for purchasing this book.

  More Nice Books from this Author!

  Table of Contents

  Title and Copyright Page

  Free Me

  Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Free Me

  Description

  How many times can fate and true love put your life upside down in the span of two weeks? Patrick White is taking his father’s place as the owner of the largest car agency in town. His first brilliant idea is to buy all the mechanic workshops around. But halfway through his plan he comes across a beautiful young woman who is not afraid to turn him down. But Olive Waters might not be able to deny the feelings that the handsome billionaire ignites in her heart. The second they meet, Patrick and Olive start to go through a roller coaster of emotions that leaves them anxiously waiting for what the next day brings. They won’t have a second to rest as love keeps surprising them every time they try to escape. They’ll have to reconsider their own desires and all the things they’re willing to give up for love.

  Chapter 1

  Not a single day goes by without that lingering sensation of relieving the day prior. At least not for Olive Waters, the eldest daughter of James Waters, owner of Waters Mechanic Workshop. The place had gone through its ups and downs, good days and bad days, so much character it had that it seemed like just another family member. A good old uncle, with health issues and economy issues and always complaining about no one visiting him. But even with no clients in, the place was never empty. There was always James, fixing the unfixable in cars that came and went as well as the ones that looked like they had been in that workshop for years. But there was someone else there, Olive. She was the heart of the place. To be fair, she was the beating heart of the workshop, the family and maybe the entire street.

  James had married his wife, Mary, around thirty-five years ago. They had been childhood best friends but lost touch for more than ten years. Once James had reach the top of the family hierarchy and took over the workshop, and Mary had earned her college degree in economy, they ran into each other one fateful Friday. Come Monday and the cute couple got married. Everyone thought it was a senseless decision, they gave them two years tops. But more than thirty and they were still very much giddy teenagers trying to make up for lost time. Their story charmed strangers and their own children, some more than others. But no one loved the story more than Olive. Was she a hopeless romantic? Not at all, actually. She almost listens to the story as if it were a fictional fairy-tale, not buying it for a second even thought she was hearing it from the lips of the protagonists.

  In any way, James and Mary got married and a couple of years later, Olive was born. She brought immense happiness to the couple and after three years they decided they wanted more kids, and more and more. Olive has two sisters, young but married already. And a brother serving in the military. It hadn’t been her intention to be the one to stay home, not really. She blames her siblings. Jane was too beautiful and talented, of course a handsome man ten years her senior would fall head over heels for her, marry and take her to New York to support her on her theater dreams. Then there was Cate. Sweet and unproblematic Cate met her girlfriend Sarah the first day of college and they seemed destined to be a perfect couple until the end of time, in their cozy apartment and their sweet dog named Kevin. And finally her little brother, always courageous, always clever. Andy was a knight in shining armor to the eyes of his sisters.

  For Olive, things were different. Boys avoided her in high school when she’d show up with car oil on her sleeves. Men at college simply ended up too drunk, too high or too hung up on another girl to matter to Olive. She had been blessed with a really alert mind. She was aware of who she was, she was comfortable in her skin and never insecure about her emotions. She was the perfect example of an emotionally strong woman who terrified most men. But there was a trick, a small fluke. The one thing Olive never quite figured out… her greatest dream. All her ambitions, her goals, her plans and dreams… she had no idea what those were. Sure, she loved the workshop, but just because it was part of the family. She couldn’t care less about cars if she were to be honest. All the oil, the metal pieces, the smoke, the noise…

  “Excuse me…”

  It was the voice of an angel, Olive thought. No, no, angels don’t come down from the heavens and go into mechanic workshops. But that sweet voice came from a man who looked pretty much angelic.

  “You were deep in your head a second ago. Looked like you were plotting a crime. Need a partner?”

  Oh no, he’s really pretty, look at that perfect smile, Olive was thinking again, just a second before finally waking up from her daze.

  “Hello, sorry. Good afternoon, sorry. Morning. Hi.” Olive was stumbling through her words as if she had just learned them all, it made her frustrated for an entire second, until the handsome stranger laughed. He seemed so delighted by her sudden mess that she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

  “My name’s Olive Waters. My father is the main mechanic and owner of the place. What can I do for you?”

  And it was a genuine question. That man looked not only like an angel but like an extremely wealthy one. He had the softest looking blond hair, and the sweetest looking light blue eyes. His smile was tender and looked too genuine and happy to be on the face of someone who wore suits on Fridays. Who wore a suit on Fridays? And out of everyone who wore suits on Friday, why would anyone that important show up by himself at a mechanics workshop? Surely he would have people to fix his cars for him by just clapping his hands. Maybe he didn’t fix his cars at all, rich people probably just bought new cars immediately…

  “Hello, Miss Waters, it is a tremendous joy to be in your presence this beautiful morning.” He then took her hand and gave a slight nod of his head. “My name is White, Patrick White. And I’m here to make you the most exciting offer you’ve ever heard.”

  At that point, Olive’s head was moving at a dangerous speed. First she felt enchanted by his greetings, started to consider that maybe he was royalty from some place far away. Then she had enough time to blush at the touch of their hands and from embarrassment of her silly greeting at him. But then everything in her mind turned into a mess. Because she had seen that name before, just moments ago. Effectively, she looked down at the forgotten newspaper on her desk and saw the small headline “New Billionaire in Town, The White’s Heir.” And she had read the article, oh she really read the article.

  The text talked about the sudden death of Malcolm White, the arrogant, fat, annoying billionaire who constantly made it to the news for scandals and fighting with anyone on his way. He was the owner of a quickly growing car agency, in fact, it had become the largest one just a month ago. Maybe the social and economic pressure, maybe j
ust his uprising blood pressure, but something had made his heart stop before he got a chance at updating his will. He was planning on giving the company to his youngest son, Taylor, a passionate business men with big, ambitious ideas. But he wasn’t quick enough, and the will, at the time of his death, said his company, along with the billionaire status, went right in the hands of his eldest son, Patrick.

  And he was standing right there, in front of Olive and her messy desk, dirtied overalls and suddenly stone cold face.

  “Oh, so you’re the new rich in town. Oh, now it all makes sense. What do you want? Do you think you can come in here, offer a ridiculous amount of money and then leave us in the streets to see if we make it out alive?” The newspaper article mentioned Patrick’s big plans of buying every little mechanics workshop he could get his hands on to transform into a brand new, shiny White’s Vehicles Workshop. “No, sir. This is not a place you can take with a few green pieces of paper. This place is my uncle! Now please, if you don’t have a sad little truck you need to get fixed, leave my workshop.”

  Patrick didn’t even try to conceal his dropped jaw. His past clients had never anticipated his plans. They all heard the deal he offered. They all accepted. Then there comes this girl of wavy, wild bold hair atop her head, angry green eyes, and attractive red lips, and she throws him of his throne in the blink of an eye. Patrick lets out a small, bitter laugh that sounds a lot like a whimper, then admonishes himself for that display of weakness and starts pouting. Until he realized he is, in fact, pouting. Then he simply lets out a grunt moves away and out of the workshop without another word.

  Olive stays unmoving for another minute, her cheeks still blushing, from the anger at the mere idea of selling her precious workshop to a wealthy stranger, and a part from simply the memory of Patrick’s cute smile.

  “Whoa! Did you see those big guys wearing all black and standing outside our place? Sweetheart, did you get me bodyguards?”

  That was Olive’s father speaking after just entering the place. Of course Patrick had his bodyguards waiting outside for him.

  Chapter 2

  Patrick woke up that Saturday still with a headache from the day before. First, he stayed in bed thinking about how he had been dealing with headaches more often now. He finally felt the pressure of his age, his forties now seemed a day away instead of four years. Then he stayed in a little longer, overthinking about his conversation with the girl at the old and worn down mechanics workshop that refused to sell even before he got the offer out. But lastly, he spent a few more minutes in his king sized bed, just daydreaming about that beautiful girl named Olive. She gave him a headache and a continuous smile. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t want more. So the next Monday, he was there, bright an early. He was wearing a different, more expensive suit, and a smaller, smarter smile.

  “Good morning, Miss Waters. May I have a word with you?”

  “I’m sorry, the place is not up for sale and if you don’t have a car that needs fixing, we have nothing to talk about,” Olive said, far more confident that day. She was doing a great job at pretending she didn’t spent the entire weekend daydreaming of scenarios where the beautiful smile belonged to someone else, someone she didn’t despise by just hearing his last name.

  “Well, that’s the thing. I brought my sad, little truck to get it fixed.”

  Patrick spoke with the mischievous smile of a little kid while his bodyguards drove a dusty, old truck into the workshop. Had he bought a dying truck just to talk to her? She felt a spark inside her. Then she remember that he could probably buy an infinite amount of those trucks and that he only wanted to talk about business.

  While her dad worked on the truck, Patrick actually surprised her, bit by bit. He asked her about cars, and she naively admitted she didn’t know a thing, but closed off before he could get any more information. He then seemed genuinely curious as to why she called the workshop her uncle. She sort of stuttered an explanation and his answer left her speechless for a second.

  “I see. You can’t sell family members, can’t you? It’s family…”

  He then drifted off. He looked like a different person. So far Olive had described Patrick as sweet, charming, childish, arrogant, careless, selfish, and more words that she actually imagined, she didn’t knew him at all. Yet she felt conflicted when she saw his eyes flash to a different darker place. Olive felt tempted to ask him what had just happened to him, but she held herself back. She didn’t care about him. She had no right to ask. No matter how badly she wanted to bring the light to those pretty blue eyes. So she said the first thing she thought of.

  “So, you drive a rusty, old truck now, huh?”

  “What? You expected me to move around in a fancy limo surrounded by two big cars full of bigger bodyguards? What kind of billionaire do you think I am?”

  And there it was again. The smile that light up the entire country. The glint in those eyes that were superior to the brightest of stars. Olive smiled and despite herself, let out a tiny giggle. It didn’t hurt to have him there, she thought. If she was so sure about not selling the workshop, then his company couldn’t cause any harm, did it? He must have noticed the shift in her face the second she remembered his real intentions, or what she thought they were. Because a second later he spoke again, in the softest tone she had heard out of him so far. He leaned his face slightly closer to her, his expression softened and on his soft-looking lips there was a trace of only the tiniest of smiles.

  “Then, Miss Olive Waters, I must bring a rusty, old truck to you every day until you allow me the great pleasure of enjoying your company outside of this place.”

  Chapter 3

  Oh did Patrick kept his promise. Every day that week, without fail, he showed up to the Waters’ workshop with a different damaged truck, a different suit, a different joke for Olive. Olive would think about this moment every night before falling asleep. She would often feel bother by Patrick, wasting his money in used trucks just to get to talk to her for a few minutes. But then she considered that those trucks were probably really cheap, not only for a billionaire. He could’ve swarmed her with flowers or any other kind of expensive gift. But no, Patrick wasn’t like that. She asked for a sad, little truck and he gave her five, one every day of the week.

  She would consider the fact that he really was just trying to buy the place, steal it, and just snatch it out of her hands. But he could’ve sent a lawyer, anyone clearly more experienced with negotiations. He could ask to speak to her father, the real owner of the place. He could have mentioned the sale of the place at all, but he didn’t. That part left Olive clueless. Every time she would repeat “the place is not up for sell,” Patrick would look confused for a second, and the he would adorably blink repeatedly as if he was waking up from a dream. She found it endearing, and she also found herself blushing every time, unable to push away the thought that she was part of that dream the handsome man would lose himself in.

  Olive obviously discussed the situation with her parents. But not as much as she had planned to, for once she started talking, it seemed that she couldn’t stop talking about Patrick and everything about him, nothing about the deal. So she mostly kept to herself. She would revisit her entire day at night, making a lengthy pause at the moments spent in the company of Patrick. Come the next morning, she probably wouldn’t admit that she fell asleep with a happy smile on her face.

  Tuesday, for example, Patrick’s suit was blue and his dusty truck wouldn’t start. He talked to Olive about the cars he saw on the way there, mocked her about her lack of knowledge and let her believe “The Red Penguin” was a real car. Until both of them burst out laughing. On Wednesday, Patrick wore a gray suit that fitted him perfectly. So unlike the dying, old truck that barely moved behind him. That day, as much as Olive tried not to, she was the one to make conversation. Her family had been too busy the entire day and someone just had to hear what had happened to her that morning.

  Turns out that Olive had ran into a tiny, baby
bird, helpless on the street. She had taken him inside, read countless of articles online giving her instructions on what to do, and now had the innocent creature resting on a comfortable pile of old t-shirts on a corner of her office. To her delight, Patrick was ecstatic about the story. She still felt incredibly distrustful of his intentions. But come on, no one could fake being that excited about seeing a little bird. Patrick really was a little kid trapped in a suit filled with hundred dollar bills, Olive thought. He was smiling, talking to the bird, laughing to him and suggesting silly names for the little animal.

  At the end of their time together, Patrick said goodbye to Patrick Junior the Bird and Olive, and then he went back to his awaiting limo. He watched as one of his bodyguards took the rejuvenated truck somewhere else and then a voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “Dude, you’re done for.” It was his brother, who had been waiting in the car the entire time. “You’re a kiss on the cheek away from dropping everything to work for that girl instead of buying the place.”

  They were headed for a meeting after that. Patrick needed his brother there with him, as guidance, as support, as someone who actually knew what he was doing. Luckily for everyone, Taylor had not taken it personally when the entire company went straight to the hands of his older brother. They all knew that it wasn’t meant to be, that everything would crash and burn if Taylor let Patrick to his own devices, and that sooner, rather than later, Patrick would end up drowning in the pressure and letting Taylor be the face of the company. It would be just paperwork, basically, because Taylor was already making more decisions than his brother.

  However, Taylor not only knew about business, he also knew his brother batter than anyone else. He had noticed the insistence with this particular workshop. He heard about his gentle, well thought-out approach and he arrived to the only conclusion possible. Patrick was going crazy for a girl, and there was no one in this world that could stop him.