Page 10 of Billion Dollar Vow (The Lincoln Brothers #4)

Karley

I stand toe-to-toe with Oliver, his piercing blue eyes locked on mine, a crooked grin spreading across his lips. Why does he have to keep showing up here? I know that his mom owns the school, but seriously? He’s popping up everywhere this week like it’s his full-time job.

My gaze drops quickly over his outfit. He’s wearing a tailored navy suit that hugs his frame perfectly, paired with a white shirt and a matching navy tie.

I force myself to look up, avoiding his lips, the same lips that have starred in countless of my dreams, and most humiliating nightmares.

His eyebrow is slightly arched, as if he knows exactly what I was doing.

Where has he been, all dressed up? A meeting. An art auction. A date? The thought twists the fluttering in my stomach into tight, uncomfortable knots.

“Hi, Karley,” he says, voice smooth, with the tiniest smirk playing on his lips.

“Oliver.”

“Are you going to tell me your thoughts on today’s suit?”

It’s the same as the other one… Tight and dangerous.

I cross my arms. “You wearing overly tight clothes is none of my business.”

“It’s not tight; it's tailor-made.”

“You should consider telling your assistant to look for a new tailor,” I mumble, ready to take a step around him to go home.

His hand reaches out in front of me, stopping me from moving. “How was class?” he asks.

My annoyance eases when I notice his eyes soften at the corners.

Today, I got to paint a bird of paradise, something I’ve never tried before, and I’m pleased with how it turned out. I used acrylic paint instead of watercolors, playing with textures and layering. Tomorrow, I get to finish a new large bouquet of peonies, a watercolor piece I’ve been working on.

I step back, putting distance between us. “It was good. Did you see your mom?” I ask, hoping to steer the conversation away from whatever annoying game he’s trying to play.

“What if I came to see you?” He leans in slightly, that smug grin still sitting on his face.

I ignore how my heart stutters and roll my eyes at him. “Funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His expression is suddenly serious, eyes holding mine without a trace of humor.

I shake my head. “Oliver, I’m going home.

I don’t have time for this,” I say, moving around him, but I catch a whiff of his scent, which is fresh, clean, with a hint of something warm like wood.

The scent lingers, making my skin prickle.

The fact that he smells so good only adds to my irritation.

Not just because he won’t quit, but because being near him still does something to me.

No matter how hard I try to shut it down, that pull…

that old, inconvenient spark… refuses to die.

His hand juts out, gently grabbing my arm. A shiver ripples down my spine as he spins me back to face him.

“I’m sorry. It was nice seeing you. I’m heading off too. Do you want me to drive you home?” he offers.

“No, I’ll order a ride, thanks.” I walk away, pushing down a flicker of surprise at his offer.

Oliver drops his hand from my arm, but he matches my pace.

I also need to meet a real estate agent at a house I’m planning to buy.

My brother doesn’t know I’ve been looking at properties outside of Manhattan, which means Oliver definitely can’t come along.

“Right,” he says, but there’s a flash of something that passes his eyes. Disappointment? Embarrassment? His cheeks darken slightly, and for a moment, I almost feel bad.

We step into the elevator, where a few people are already inside.

I make sure to stand on the opposite side so someone has to stand between us.

The electricity crackles even with people in here.

I can almost feel his gaze on me, but I keep my eyes straight ahead, watching for the ground button to light up.

The last thing I need is to get lost in his blue eyes, or worse, get lost in a soft look of his, the one that always messes with my head.

It's a short ride, and as soon as the elevator doors open, I rush out, throwing a casual wave over my shoulder, brushing off any tension between us. “Goodbye, Oliver.” I don’t even bother turning around. I can already feel his eyes on me. I need to focus on me and the house.

“Bye, Karley. I’ll see you soon,” he calls out after me. I can hear the grin in his voice, but I don’t let it distract me. Instead, I clench my jaw and quicken my pace, fighting the unwelcome warmth that threatens to spread through my body.

I get into the rideshare and let out a long breath, checking the address the realtor sent before giving the driver directions.

As I sit staring out the window, I try to push thoughts of Oliver out of my head, but his words ring in my ear.

Despite my irritation, anticipation builds inside me at the idea of seeing him again, which only frustrates me more.

When we finally pull up, I get out, thank the driver, and walk up the driveway, pausing to take in the house.

It’s a classic brownstone, with a red brick facade, black wrought-iron railings, and tall windows with elegant creamy white trim.

There are freshly cut hedges lining the front, and a smaller unit tucked away at the back, almost hidden behind a few neatly trimmed green trees.

The whole place feels like a mix of old charm and cozy warmth, not modern, which is exactly what I’m looking for.

The air smells fresh, with a faint hint of floral.

The porch light casts a warm, welcoming glow, making my heart swell.

This place feels like hope. It’s not just a property for me.

Growing up in foster care, both Declan and I weren’t able to meet up.

So I want to create that space. A safe, welcoming place for foster kids to reunite even if it’s just for an hour.

“Karley?” the realtor calls out, snapping me away from my faraway thoughts.

He looks to be in his fifties, with gray hair and a short frame, wearing black suit pants with a blue shirt open at the collar, no tie. He approaches with a friendly smile.

“Hi, Hugh.”

“Are you ready?” he asks, pointing toward the door.

My lips part into a wide grin, and I have to swallow my excitement. “Yes.”

We walk along the concrete path up to the front door, painted a rich, deep navy with only a few faint marks.

I take a deep breath as he unlocks it and pushes it open, revealing a long hallway.

It has light wooden floors and soft lighting illuminating the walls, which are painted a creamy white.

I take a left into the living room; it’s a large open area with big windows that let plenty of natural light seep through the curtains.

It’s full of potential as I picture the family conversations, laughter, and connections that could happen here.

We make our way to another room on the opposite side of the hallway. The potential of this house is flashing in my mind, lighting me up from within.

Continuing down the hall, we pass a living room, a small den, and finally the open kitchen and dining room. There’s plenty of counter space, cabinets, and a big dining table. I can already see it, families sharing meals, playing board games, or just being together and having conversations.

The backyard is huge, with a swing set, a large, luscious grass area, a shed for more storage, and even a trampoline.

It’s a perfect setup for kids to run around and play.

I’d love to add a couple of little tables for families to enjoy a meal or simply get the chance to talk.

Every part of this house feels right, and when I spot a blue lotus, my eyes fill with tears.

It’s a sign. This place is meant to be mine.

But then we walk to the cabin out the back. This is where I would live.

I step inside, and the tiny home is better than I imagined.

It’s modern with white walls, wood accents, and navy details.

Everything blends so perfectly. There’s a double bed on one side, with storage overhead, a compact kitchen in the middle, and a small dining area that could double as an art workspace.

The other end has a small sofa, facing a TV mounted on the wall.

It’s small, but it’s perfect for just me.

I won’t be here all the time anyway. I’ll be working, studying, or helping run the main house.

Standing in this tiny home, a warm rush floods my veins. This is my dream. I have to make it happen. If I lose this house, it could be months or even years before I find something else this perfect.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

I turn to him, my cheeks aching from smiling so much. “Honestly, it's perfect.”

“The owners heard your story, and they were moved by it. They want to sell it to you. And truthfully, I want that too. But if you don’t commit soon, we’ll have to consider other offers.”

“I’ll buy it,” I rush out, panic rising at the thought of losing this opportunity.

“When?” he presses. “I need to give the owners a deadline.”

“Thirty days, maximum,” I say. I only have fifty-five thousand saved. It’s not enough. I need another fifty thousand for the down payment, and I have no clue how I’ll get the rest within a few weeks.

He nods. “That’ll work.”

As we walk out, my smile drops, the wheels spinning in my head, trying to figure out some options to get fast cash.

But I take one last look at the house, soaking in every detail.

I’ll figure out the money somehow. For now, I just want to hold on to this feeling, this tiny bubble of hope, and not let it pop.

“I’ll keep in touch,” Hugh says as we part ways.

“Thanks for showing me around. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Leaving Hugh behind, I walk slowly to the sidewalk where I call a ride. A light warm breeze sweeps through, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face. I have to find a way to make this place mine. I haven’t smiled this much since the day I found out I was going to be adopted.

The ride home in the rideshare is a blur, my thoughts alternating between ideas to raise money and visions of foster siblings laughing together in that living room. I imagine hanging string lights in the backyard, maybe even hosting holiday gatherings. I need this house to work out.

Once I get back to the city, I’m heading to an empty house. My brother won’t be back until late, so I have the place to myself. The quiet is a glimpse of what’s coming.

Inside, I turn on the TV for background noise, deciding to have breakfast for dinner. As I put bread in the toaster, the doorbell rings, cutting through the quiet.

Who is that? And, more importantly, what do they want? I check through the peephole. My breath catches. Oliver. Still in that infuriating come-fuck-me navy suit.

I hesitate, then open the door just enough to speak through the gap. “He’s not home,” I say flatly, and before he can respond, I try to shut the door in his face. But his hand shoots out, catching it before it closes.

“That’s okay. I’m not here to see Declan. I’m here to see you.”