Deep Dive: An enemies-to-lovers billionaire romance (Deep Love Series) by Lauren Winter (best fiction books of all time TXT) 📗

“What? We’re already here.” Meghan opens the car door and steps out of the passenger seat. “Let’s just knock.” Quickly, I shut off the engine and follow her.

Before Meghan’s knuckles even reach the door, it opens swiftly and an enormous shadow looms over us. We gasp in fear. Then a porch light flicks on overhead, revealing a man with dark brown hair standing in the doorway. The light from the single porch light bulb casts long shadows over his stern expression, making him seem even more imposing.

I gulp and say meekly, “Hi, I’m here for the furniture.”

“Amelia?” His voice sounds deeper than on the phone. It reverberates with deep timber, reminding me of a dark frozen lake. His brows are high and his eyes are deep-set, giving him a perpetual scowl.

I startle at the sound of my name, but I remember I gave it to him earlier over the phone. “Yes, that’s me.” I gesture toward Meghan. “My friend is here to give me a hand.”

“Hi, I’m Meghan,” she says as she stretches out her hand and stares at the man with obvious curiosity. He ignores her hand and says nothing.

I clear my throat and ask, “Do you still want us to take your furniture?” He doesn’t seem happy that we are here. Maybe he has changed his mind or he has already given everything away.

With his broad shoulders blocking the doorway, he looks like a medieval knight who is fighting off marauders trying to intrude into his castle. He gives Meghan a mistrustful look and turns back toward me. “You can come in, but just you.” He points at me, rather rudely. “You stay here.” He barks at Meghan. She stops in her tracks and scowls at me. I shrug apologetically at my friend. Beggars can’t be choosers. Free is free and I’m not worried about him pulling off something funny with Meghan right here.

Obediently, I follow him into the house. My sneakers squeak on the smooth hardwood floor. The house is small but neatly arranged with lots of windows and open space. Despite the dustiness and disarray, the house feels inviting and lived in. Family pictures and knickknacks are hanging off the walls. As if the family that lives here has just gone on a long vacation. It is an old house, for sure, and it looks like the man is in the middle of a move, like he said. There are boxes and piles of things everywhere. “You’re not going to sell them, are you?” he asks suspiciously, scanning me up and down as if I’m a thief.

I blush. The idea has crossed my mind, but I actually need the furniture for myself. I’m sick of sitting on the floor or the bed while I eat dinner, and we need a couch, too. “No, I’m going to use them. I’m looking for a couch and a dining set if you have them.” Under the pink glow of the frilly living room lamp, his features look softer and way less menacing than earlier. He has dark eyes, a straight nose, and a squared jaw. His shoulders are broad and confident, and he has a steady gaze to match. The man is actually quite good-looking, when he isn’t scowling at you, and dressed in a crisp blue shirt and brown khakis. From my experience in a former life, I can tell his clothes, despite their unassuming character, are expensive. Not just shopping-at-the-mall expensive, but private-yacht-and-country-club-membership expensive. He looks like he has been packing all day. Strands of dark brown hair tousle over his dark eyes and there is a five o’clock shadow on his face. He moves with outright confidence that makes him seem completely out of place among the working-class decor and the suburban clutter strewn about the place.

Leaning back on the dining room table, he nods with approval. “Are you a student?”

Shaking my head, I quietly shuffle my feet. I know that I look young, and Meghan definitely thinks that I dress young. I wish I had the money to go to school so that I can get a better job. There was a time when I could count on family money, an expensive college degree, and an easy life, but that was a lifetime ago. I’ve made my choice.

“Are you new in town?” He cocks a dark brow at me, still trying to figure me out.

I shake my head again. “I’ve lived here for five years now. I live on the east side of town.”

His brows raise with genuine surprise. “Then why don’t you have any furniture already?” he asks.

A perfectly legit question, yet I turn scarlet. I know he isn’t trying to pry, but I can’t bring myself to tell this stranger that we had to sell most of our things to help pay for rent and food. Between Mom’s meager savings and my part-time job, we can barely scrape by as it is. I can’t bring myself to tell someone wearing a five-hundred-dollar shirt that I can barely afford to eat.

I think he notices my awkwardness and presses his lips together. He gives a quick sway of the hand toward the rest of the house. “These things are old but they are in good condition. They belonged to my family, so I want them to go to people who will have a good use for them. Since you’re the first one here, you can take your pick of pretty much anything you want.”

“Really? Anything?” I ask hopefully. He blinks for a second and chuckles. I didn’t expect the ringing sound of his laugh. It is as if spring has melted and cracked the frozen lake. To him, I must seem like an eager child in a candy store. I look around, carefully pacing between the kitchen and the living room. “Can I take this dining room set?” I slip closer to him and run