She Locked Her Keys In A Rental Car, Never Guessed The Billionaire Who Helped Would Soon Love Her
The Parking Lot Miracle
Olivia Tannon’s forehead hit the driver’s side window with a soft thud. Her breath fogged up the glass as she stared at the keys sitting peacefully on the center console of the rental car, mocking her.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.
She backed away from the locked vehicle like it might suddenly open out of guilt. It was 96 degrees. Her sandals were sticking to the asphalt, and she was already late for the final interview for the production assistant job she’d been chasing for six months.
She looked up and down the coastal parking lot of the Santa Marina Marina, praying for a miracle or at least someone with a coat hanger. Instead, a sleek black Maserati pulled into the space beside her beat-up rental.
The door opened, and out stepped a man in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, black slacks, and aviators that made him look like he’d walked out of a high-budget spy movie. Olivia squinted at him.
“You wouldn’t happen to know how to break into a car, would you?”
He paused mid-step, one brow lifting just slightly behind his sunglasses.
“That’s not usually how people ask for help.”
“My keys are in there,” she said, pointing at the locked car. “I have an interview in 20 minutes and I’m stuck. So unless you’ve got a better idea, I’m open to criminal activity.”
He walked over, glanced inside the car to confirm the situation, then looked back at her.
“You’re lucky. I might actually know a guy.”
“Seriously?” she said, hope lighting her voice.
He nodded.
“Stay here.”
She watched as he pulled out his phone, not texting, just calling someone. Within 10 minutes, a black SUV pulled up. A man stepped out with a lockout kit, nodded at the stranger, and popped open the rental car in 30 seconds flat.
“Are you a magician?” Olivia asked, looking from the open door to the man with the sunglasses.
“Just a guy who hates seeing people sweat in parking lots,” he said, finally taking off his glasses.
And wow, he had the kind of face that made you forget how to blink. He had a strong jaw, perfect stubble, and eyes so blue they looked unreal.
“I owe you,” she said, breathless from more than just the heat.
“Maybe,” he said casually. “What’s your name?”
“Olivia. Olivia Tannon.”
He held out a hand.
“Rowan Maddox.”
She shook it, the contact sending a strange jolt through her she couldn’t explain.
“Thanks again. Seriously, I’ve got to run or I’ll miss my shot.”
“Good luck, Olivia Tannon,” he said. “You’re going to kill it.”
She gave him a grateful smile then took off running toward the marina’s office, heels clacking, heart pounding. The interview was a blur. She’d gotten the job.
She was officially a production assistant on the summer series Coastal Hearts, filming in Santa Marina for the next three months. By the time she got back to her rental, the Maserati was gone.
She tried not to think about the stranger with the blue eyes and calm voice, but her brain had other ideas. She was still thinking about him when she walked into her first day on set and froze.
Rowan Maddox was standing by the director’s tent, talking to the producers like he belonged there. She blinked. No, it couldn’t be. But it was—same jaw, same eyes, same impossible calm.
“Olivia,” the assistant director called, “this is Rowan. He’s the executive producer. You’ll be working closely with his team.”
Rowan turned, and his lips twitched into a slow smile when he saw her.
“Looks like you nailed the interview,” he said.
“You didn’t mention you were this,” she blurted.
He crossed his arms.
“I didn’t mention anything, actually. But I’m glad you’re here.”
For a second, the world tilted. This man—this gorgeous, powerful, impossibly rich man—had helped her in a parking lot without saying a word about who he really was.
“You’re the billionaire who owns this show,” she said, still stunned.
“I’m one of them,” he said. “And for the record, I didn’t know you were interviewing for a job on my set. I just saw a woman who needed help.”
Her cheeks flushed.
“Well, thanks again.”
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
“You still owe me, you know.”
She swallowed.
“What exactly do I owe you?”
His eyes held hers a second too long.
“I’ll let you know.”
