Fiction Blu

  The last eligible billionaire

  Last Eligible

  First published by Pippa Midleton 2024

  Copyright © 2024 by Fiction Blu

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 1

  The list

  “Dr. Nathan Hale makes the list of the Most Eligible Bachelors…again.”

  The headline glared back at Dr. Evie Harper as she sat at the corner table of the faculty lounge, her coffee untouched and growing cold. She blinked at the campus newsletter, hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something less absurd.

  Nope. There it was, printed in obnoxious bold font, accompanied by a black-and-white photograph of Dr. Nathan Hale, arms crossed, signature scowl in place. Grumpy. Broody. Immaculately dressed in his usual blazer and tie combo. If there was a single man on this planet who epitomized “grump supreme,” it was Nathan Hale—Princeton graduate, tenured professor of History, and the bane of Evie Harper’s existence.

  For the third year in a row, the university’s in-house magazine had crowned him Most Eligible Professor, a tongue-in-cheek award designed to poke fun at the faculty’s single members. A “lighter touch” for the otherwise dry publication, they said.

  Evie had always thought it was a little ridiculous. But this time? This year? This article was an insult to academic integrity.

  Because she—Dr. Evie Harper, adjunct professor of medieval studies—was on the brink of losing her job. While Dr. Hale got glowing articles and magazine features, she was filling out grant applications, struggling to prove her worth to a department that had made it abundantly clear that tenure was out of her reach.

  “Well, isn’t this just charming,” Evie muttered, tossing the paper onto the table with more force than necessary.

  Across the room, the other faculty members buzzed with amused whispers. The paper had made its rounds, and no one could seem to resist chiming in.

  “I hear Dr. Hale’s planning to refuse the honor. Again.”

  “Such a waste of good press. The man’s handsome, brilliant, and still single. You’d think he’d enjoy the attention.”

  Evie snorted under her breath. Enjoy the attention? Dr. Nathan Hale barely tolerated people, let alone admiration. He taught his courses with precision and delivered lectures as though he were conducting a military operation—clear, concise, no interruptions. Any student who dared ask a “dumb question” received a withering stare that could turn stone to dust.

  The man was all walls and no windows. No one got in.

  Evie reached for her mug, only to find the coffee ice-cold. Perfect. She groaned and stood to refill it, but just as she turned toward the lounge door, she froze.

  Because Nathan Hale himself had just walked in.

  He swept into the room like a storm cloud, tall and imposing, his jaw set in its usual rigid line. The hum of conversation died as he passed, an invisible force of nature demanding silence wherever he went. His dark gray blazer fit perfectly over his shoulders, the faintest hint of stubble lining his jaw. In another life, he could’ve been a model for a high-end men’s catalog. In this life? He was a pain.

  Evie made the mistake of meeting his gaze as he approached the coffee machine. The look he gave her was cool, assessing, and devoid of anything resembling warmth.

  “Dr. Harper,” he said curtly.

  “Nathan,” she replied, matching his tone, though her voice held an edge of sarcasm.

  “You left this.” He dropped the university newsletter on the counter between them, his fingers barely brushing the paper as though touching it offended him.

  Evie’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Ah, yes. Your annual coronation. Congratulations, Most Eligible.”

  Nathan’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation breaking through his mask. “I didn’t ask for this.”

  “Oh, of course not. It’s not like you’ve refused to participate three years in a row or anything.”

  He ignored her jab, reaching past her to fill his own coffee cup. Evie stepped aside, crossing her arms as she watched him. She’d never admit it aloud, but Nathan Hale was fascinating to observe. Everything about him screamed restraint—the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he stood perfectly still as though he were carved from stone.

  “What do you want, Evie?” he asked suddenly, breaking her train of thought.

  She blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re staring. Do you have something to say, or is this just another of your attempts at wit?”

  Evie’s jaw dropped. “Wow. You know, for someone who gets as much praise as you do, you are *impossible* to talk to.”

  “I prefer it that way,” Nathan replied smoothly.

  With that, he turned and walked out of the lounge, leaving Evie fuming at the coffee machine.

  Later that afternoon, Evie sat at her shared desk in the tiny adjunct office, scrolling through job postings she didn’t want to look at. The threat of budget cuts had loomed over the history department for months, and with her non-tenure track status, she was first on the chopping block.

  “Evie, you need a miracle,” she whispered to herself.

  The door creaked open, and Dr. Thomas Gregory, the head of the department, stepped inside. He was a round, affable man with a receding hairline and an unsettling ability to deliver bad news with a smile.

  “Ah, Dr. Harper! Just the person I wanted to see.”

  Evie’s heart sank. She quickly shoved the job listings under a folder. “Dr. Gregory. What can I do for you?”

  He perched himself on the edge of a desk, fingers steepled together. “There’s been some…discussion regarding next year’s departmental budget. And I must admit, your name came up.”

  “Discussion?” Evie repeated, her voice faint.

  “Nothing’s set in stone, of course,” Gregory added quickly. “But the board is scrutinizing grant funding. You know how these things go.”

  Her stomach twisted. “Yes. I know how these things go.”

  “On the bright side,” he continued, as if delivering a gift, “Dr. Hale’s reputation continues to shine light on the department. Perhaps you should consider collaborating with him on something. It might do wonders for your standing.”

  Evie’s blood ran cold. “Collaborate with *Nathan Hale*? Are you joking?”

  “Not at all! He may be difficult, but his approval could help secure your position.”

  Evie managed a tight smile as Gregory excused himself. Once he was gone, she let out a groan and dropped her forehead onto her desk. Collaborating with Nathan Hale sounded about as pleasant as sticking a fork in a toaster.

  But as much as she hated to admit it, Gregory had a point. Nathan had clout. Influence. Whatever project he touched turned into gold—his grants were never denied, his research never dismissed. If anyone could help her save her job, it was him.

  The thought gnawed at her all evening. By the time Evie left campus and arrived home to her tiny, overstuffed apartment, a plan had begun to take shape. A terrible, stupid, reckless plan.

  The next morning, she found him in his office, bent over a pile of books and papers as though the rest of the world didn’t exist.

  Nathan didn’t look up when she knocked. “What?”

  “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

  His head lifted, and he leveled her with that familiar, cold stare. “Dr. Harper. I’m busy.”

  “Well, I’ll make this quick.” Evie stepped inside and shut the door behind her. “I need your help.”

  Nathan blinked, visibly stunned. “Come again?”

  “I need your help,” she repeated. “Look, I know you don’t like me. The feeling is mutual. But if I don’t do something to prove my worth to the department, I’m going to lose my job. And I need your support—just for one project.”

  He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “And why would I help you?”

  “Because,” she said slowly, “I know something you don’t want getting out.”

  Nathan’s brows shot up. “Are you blackmailing me?”

  “Not blackmail,” Evie replied innocently. “Let’s call it mutual cooperation. You get me through this semester, and I’ll help keep that golden reputation of yours intact.”

  His eyes were impenetrable as he observed her for a long time. Finally, he exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fine. But let me make one thing clear: You will regret this arrangement.”

  Evie grinned, though sh e wasn’t sure if it was victory or doom she felt. “Oh, Nathan. I already do.”

  Chapter 2

  The misstep

  Dr. Evie Harper was having what could only be described as a morning from hell.

  It began when she realized she’d forgotten to set her alarm. A glance at her clock told her she had exactly twenty-three minutes to make it to the morning faculty meeting—one she couldn’t afford to miss. With budget cuts threatening her job and the department head breathing down her neck, she needed to stay visible. Important. Essential.

  But instead of exuding cool professionalism, she’d sprinted into the history department, her hair barely wrangled into a bun and her blazer wrinkled beyond repair. She’d skidded into the conference room just as Dr. Thomas Gregory began his opening remarks, earning her a disapproving glance from the man himself.

  “Good of you to join us, Dr. Harper,” Gregory said dryly.

  “I aim to please,” she replied, her voice just a bit too chipper as she sank into the last open seat at the long table.

  And of course, that seat was directly across from him.

  Dr. Nathan Hale.

  He didn’t look up as she sat down, seemingly engrossed in the notes before him, but Evie could practically feel the disdain radiating off of him. She slouched lower in her chair, the last thing she needed was an argument with Princeton’s finest right here, in front of everyone.

  Dr. Gregory’s voice droned on about departmental initiatives, upcoming reviews, and the “value of collaboration”—a word Evie had grown to hate ever since her ill-conceived agreement with Nathan the day before.

  It was a terrible plan. The worst plan. Blackmailing a man who wielded so much power was like poking a sleeping bear with a very short stick. And now, sitting across from him in the cold light of day, Evie felt her bravado slipping.

  Nathan’s gaze finally flicked up, locking onto her. His eyes—gray and piercing—narrowed slightly. Are you really going to go through with this? his expression seemed to say.

  Evie swallowed hard and looked away, missing the smug twitch of his lips.

  The misstep came when Dr. Gregory cleared his throat, silencing the room.

  “As many of you know,” Gregory said, “we’ve been fortunate to have Dr. Hale secure yet another prestigious grant for the department this semester. His project on ‘Political Discourse in Revolutionary France’ is already attracting academic interest.”

  There was polite applause, though Evie rolled her eyes. Of course Nathan Hale had secured another grant. The man was untouchable.

  “Which leads me to a larger point,” Gregory continued. “Collaboration remains key to strengthening this department. Dr. Hale, as always, sets the standard. If more faculty pursued similar efforts, perhaps we wouldn’t be discussing budget constraints in the first place.”

  Evie’s head snapped up at the implication, her cheeks burning. She knew the comment was directed at her. Nathan Hale—golden boy, grant magnet—was Gregory’s shining example. Meanwhile, she was little more than a cautionary tale.

  Before she could stop herself, she muttered, “Maybe some of us don’t have time to schmooze for grants when we’re juggling four classes and no tenure.”

  The words hung in the air like a slap. A hush fell over the room as every head turned toward her.

  Evie froze, heat crawling up her neck. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. She really hadn’t.

  Dr. Gregory’s smile vanished. “Dr. Harper, would you care to repeat that?”

  “No,” she squeaked.

  But it was too late.

  Nathan Hale looked directly at her, his expression a mix of amusement and irritation. “I believe Dr. Harper was making a point about…what was it? Time management?”

  There was a smattering of uncomfortable laughter, though Evie felt anything but amused. She shot Nathan a glare, but he only raised a brow in challenge.

  “Well,” Gregory said, recovering his tone, “I suggest we keep this professional. Dr. Hale’s success is something we can all learn from.”

  Evie bit her tongue so hard she thought she tasted blood.

  The humiliation lingered as the meeting adjourned. Faculty filed out of the room in twos and threes, some throwing pitying glances Evie’s way. She busied herself gathering her papers, avoiding eye contact.

  “Bold strategy,” came Nathan’s voice from behind her.

  She straightened, turning slowly to face him. “Excuse me?”

  “Antagonizing the department chair. That’s one way to get tenure.”

  Evie gritted her teeth. “You know, for someone who spends most of his time glowering at people, you certainly enjoy watching me suffer.”

  Nathan tilted his head slightly, his gaze cool and calculating. “I don’t enjoy it. I just find it fascinating how someone so desperate to save her job insists on digging herself deeper.”

  “Is this supposed to be helpful?” she snapped.

  “No,” he replied bluntly. “It’s reality. You’re already on thin ice, Dr. Harper. Don’t make it worse.”

  Evie inhaled sharply, her hands tightening around the stack of papers she held. “Thanks for the advice, Most Eligible. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She pushed past him and stormed out of the conference room, ignoring the way her heart pounded in her chest.

  Evie spent the next few hours sulking in her tiny office, replaying the incident over and over in her head. Nathan Hale had humiliated her. No, she had humiliated herself, and he’d been there to witness it.

  But as much as she hated to admit it, Nathan was right—her position was precarious. She couldn’t afford to keep butting heads with Gregory or, worse, with Nathan himself. Like it or not, she needed him.

 

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