Under His Billionaire Roof novel Chapter 10

The interview went well.

Better than well, actually. Jennifer Martinez was sharp and direct, asking questions that made Leighton think. The creative team had loved her portfolio. They'd even asked her to do a mock project on the spot, redesigning their website header.

She'd nailed it.

Jennifer had smiled and said they'd be in touch soon. Very soon.

Leighton floated through the rest of the day on a high she hadn't felt in weeks.

By evening, dark clouds rolled in. The weather forecast had called for storms, but she hadn't paid attention. Now thunder rumbled in the distance, getting closer.

She was in the kitchen making dinner when the first crack of lightning split the sky. The lights flickered.

Then everything went dark.

"Perfect," she muttered.

She pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight. The glow barely cut through the darkness. She made her way toward the living room, using the phone light to avoid running into furniture.

"Leighton?"

Noah's voice came from somewhere to her right.

"Yeah. I'm here."

A beam of light appeared. He had a flashlight, a real one. The kind that actually illuminated things.

"Power's out across the whole neighborhood," he said. "I just checked the security system. It's running on backup, but everything else is dead."

"For how long?"

"Could be hours. The storm's supposed to be bad."

Thunder cracked overhead, making her jump. Rain started pounding against the windows.

"Great," she said sarcastically."

"There are candles in the pantry. Help me find them."

They worked in the beam of his flashlight, gathering candles and matches. He had a lot of candles. Expensive ones in glass jars that probably cost more than her weekly grocery budget used to.

"Why do you have so many candles?" she asked.

"Power goes out here more than you'd think. Big houses, old wiring, storms. It happens."

They spread the candles throughout the living room, lighting them until the space glowed with warm, flickering light. The effect was almost romantic. Intimate in a way the harsh overhead lights never were.

"I was about to make dinner," Leighton said. "But the stove is electric."

"I have a gas grill outside. But in this rain..." He shook his head. "There's cheese and crackers. Wine. We won't starve."

"Sounds good."

He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of red wine, two glasses, a cheese board, and crackers. Set them on the coffee table.

"Fancy," she said.

"It's all I have."

He poured wine into both glasses and handed her one. Their fingers brushed. Just for a second. But the touch sent heat racing up her arm.

She took a sip to hide her reaction. The wine was smooth and rich, probably expensive like everything else in this house.

Thunder rolled overhead. Rain lashed the windows. The candlelight cast dancing shadows across Noah's face as he sat in the chair across from her.

"So," he said. "How did it go?"

"The interview?"

"Yeah."

"Really well, actually. They loved my portfolio. Had me do a design test on the spot."

"And?"

"I think I killed it." She couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Jennifer said they'd be in touch soon. She had this look, like... I don't know. Like she'd already decided."

"Told you." He took a drink of his wine. "You just needed to get out of your own head."

"Maybe."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. The storm raged outside, but in here, surrounded by candlelight, everything felt still. Safe.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Go ahead."

"Why did you really quit? The parties, the women, all of it. Chloe said you just stopped one day. Changed completely."

His jaw tightened. He stared at his wine glass, swirling the liquid.

"You don't have to tell me," she added quickly.

"No, it's fine." He set down his glass. "I woke up one morning in a hotel room. Couldn't remember the name of the woman next to me. Couldn't remember how I'd gotten there. I was supposed to have dinner with my parents that night, and I'd completely forgotten. My mom called, crying, thinking something had happened to me."

Leighton watched him in the candlelight. His expression was hard. Closed off.

"I looked at myself in the mirror that morning and didn't recognize the person looking back. I'd become the kind of man I hated. The kind my father was before he finally grew up." He picked up his wine again. "So I stopped. Quit everything. Started seeing a therapist. Decided to figure out who I actually was without all the noise."

"That must have been hard."

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