Lightning Strikes the Billionaire

By Roni Denholtz

For years Courtney has been searching for Antonio, the man she loved in a former life. As a researcher and psychic tester for The Lightning Center, the premier center of its kind, Courtney knows there are all kinds of psychic phenomena that exist, and hopes to find Antonio in this life. She believes her ability to see past lives in other people will help her to recognize him.

When she does meet him, he is drawn to her. But past relationships have made Ben wary. He has his own ability, but finds it hard to believe he may be threatened in this life, as Antonio was in the past.

As they grow closer, Courtney knows she loves Ben. When there are threats against him, they must work together to find the culprit who threatens Ben in this life before he meets the same fate as Antonio!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roni Denholtz
• Release date: Oct 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005393731

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Lightning Strikes The Billionaire, © 2022 Roni Paitchel Denholtz

Published by Roni Paitchel Denholtz

Cover and Interior Layout: www.formatting4U.com

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All rights reserved. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author. Please contact the author at [e-mail]. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

For more information on the author and her works, please see www.ronidenholtz.com.

A man’s hand shot out to steady her, and a tingle raced up her arm. The deep, masculine voice beside her sounded familiar. Are you alright?

Fine, thanks, she responded, quickly regaining her balance. She tilted her head to look up at him, and a charged awareness zoomed through her. She felt off-balance again, but not because of her heels.

This sounds like a line but—have we met before? His voice touched off answering vibrations in her.

She met the man’s hazel eyes—and she knew.

Antonio! His name burst through her mind. She couldn’t help staring at his face. The eyes were the same hazel, hair the same brown with reddish highlights that she remembered so vividly from her regression. Antonio!

She was thrown, suddenly, into the past. Music played in the background, and glasses clinked, as people laughed just as they had during that eventful period.

After years of searching for Antonio since her very first regression, he was here!

FOR MY FRIEND

CHRISTINA LYNN WHITED

THANK YOU FOR YOUR FRIENDSHIP

AND ALL YOUR SUPPORT!

PROLOGUE

Are you ready, Courtney? the therapist asked.

Courtney relaxed her body. Maybe the idea to try regression would work, and she could remember something from a past life which would explain her nightmares.

Now, relax, and count backwards as you walk down the staircase you see before you, the therapist instructed. You are walking into the past. When you reach the bottom, you will open the door into a former life. The counselor’s voice wove around Courtney, sounding further and further away.

Courtney purposefully relaxed her muscles as she lay on the couch. She could see the staircase she was walking down. It had stone steps and she proceeded carefully down as she counted. By the time she reached seventy-two, a wooden door stood in front of her, and she opened it.

Sounds of revelry surrounded her. She knew her name was Francesca in this incarnation, and tonight there was a party at her parent’s palazzo. It was the kind of lavish affair she had attended dozens of times. She hesitated a moment and brushed her hands against her velvet gown as she reached the final step down the grand staircase. Masked party-goers stood around, imbibing wine from silver goblets. She could hear stringed instruments playing in the middle of the room as dancers swept by, near enough for her to reach out and touch them.

On some level Courtney recognized that she was not just seeing these images, but was actually living them, as Francesca was immersed in the events unfolding this night in Renaissance Italy.

She quickly scanned the room. The fair hair of her cousin Juliette caught her eye. She recognized Juliette with fondness. She was someone she cared about, and could trust. She knew that Juliette had confided that she would be sneaking off to meet her true love tonight, just as Francesca was planning to sneak away and meet Antonio, her own love.

Francesca glanced around again as she moved forward. Oh no, there was Fernando, the son of a prominent count, the man her parents wanted her to marry. He was not bad looking, but his personality was bland, and her heart belonged to Antonio, who was the son of a minor nobleman. Someone not deemed important or rich enough for Francesca, the daughter of a wealthy duke. But she was defying her parents. She loved Antonio, and they were going to make their plans tonight to run away and elope the following week.

Now she felt herself moving towards a door at the far end of the great hall as music played and goblets clinked together. Once she saw Antonio go through that door, she would wait five minutes, then follow him.

Ah, there was her love! Handsome and dashing as always. Her heart beat faster at the sight of him. His face was sculpted and he looked like a classical statue, until he smiled—then it was as if sunshine lit his face. But now he looked serious. He was actually talking to Giovanni, the man whom Juliette loved. She knew her cousin would be running away with Giovanni next week and Francesca and Antonio were planning to do the exact same thing the very same night, in a daring move no one would anticipate.

Antonio’s eyes met hers now, and he gave a slight nod. Her heartbeat quickened as she stared back at him. He said something to Giovanni, who nodded. Then Antonio moved closer to the door.

Antonio was stopped by his cousin Lorenzo, and they spoke for a minute. Lorenzo waved to a servant who handed them both gleaming goblets.

Antonio paused and downed the contents. Lorenzo said something then clapped Antonio on the shoulder. Antonio handed the goblet to a passing servant then left his cousin and moved through the crowd of people towards the door leading to the gardens, where he and Francesca had trysted many times.

He strode closer to the door—

As she watched, moving a little closer herself, his body went rigid. And then he clutched his throat, crying out.

What was wrong? She hurried as fear constricted her own throat.

Antonio collapsed.

Several people exclaimed and let out shrieks. Francesca’s heart hammered as she rushed to his side. What was happening?

Antonio! she screamed, fighting the throng lifting their drinks and their voices, many of those people unaware of anything peculiar happening.

Several people nearby were surrounding Antonio now. When Francesca reached him, she dropped to her knees. Antonio!

He opened his eyes, and she grabbed his hand, holding fast to it. Antonio! she called again. What is wrong?

He focused on her. Something—wrong—poison— he rasped.

Poison? She began to shriek as she bent over him. Help! Get help! We need a physician!

His eyes fluttered. Francesca. I love you. I will—always love you…

Antonio! Antonio! she cried, as tears fell from her eyes. Her stomach churned with fear. She was cold, shivering. No! This could not be happening! Who would poison the man she loved? She could not lose him—

Courtney, Courtney, come back now. The disembodied female voice sounded alarmed and far away. You must come back.

She felt herself going backwards, as if being sucked away from that time and place by a giant vacuum. Her vision grew dark. Antonio! Don’t leave me!

Open your eyes, Courtney, you’re safe.

She opened her eyes and saw, not her dying lover, but a woman sitting near her. Courtney was laying on a couch, crying. She was back to being Courtney now.

She was on the couch in her therapist’s office.

Oh God! she cried, struggling to sit up.

You’re safe, the woman repeated, concern overtaking her usually calm face. I’m sorry, Courtney. The counselor’s voice shook. Apparently you went back to a terrible day in a previous life. I had hoped you would go back in time to a period which would explain your nightmares, but I didn’t expect this—this much trauma. The counselor sounded unsure and inexperienced.

This must be why I’m having those bad dreams and crying out the name Antonio, Courtney whispered. She looked down at her shaking hands. He was—he was my lover, and I saw him murdered.

CHAPTER I

Courtney headed back to rejoin her coworkers with the drink she’d just obtained. The wedding ceremony of their Lightning Center colleagues, Pamela Costigan and Evan Lassiter, had been beautiful and touching. Now it was time for the party!

Courtney surveyed the crowd around the tables featuring the cocktail hour’s appetizers. She’d been lucky enough to obtain the coveted job as one of the research and testing staff at The Lightning Center when she was interviewed by the owners last year, and she met both Pamela, and Evan. Her ability to recognize past lives alerted her that Pam had been her cousin Juliette, and Evan had been Juliette’s love Giovanni in the past life they’d shared, when they all lived during the Renaissance period in Venice, Italy— the heart of noble and extravagant living.

But she had never met her own love Antonio in this life, and often wondered if she ever would. Today’s wedding only reminded her that she was still searching for her lost soulmate.

A laughing woman suddenly blocked her way. Courtney teetered on her heels, afraid she was going to spill her drink on the woman.

A man’s hand shot out to steady her, and a tingle raced up her arm. The deep, masculine voice beside her sounded familiar. Are you alright?

Fine., thanks, she responded, quickly regaining her balance. She tilted her head to look up at him, and a charged awareness zoomed through her. She felt off-balance again, but not because of her heels.

This sounds like a line but—have we met before? His voice touched off answering vibrations in her.

She met the man’s hazel eyes—and she knew.

Antonio! His name burst through her mind. She couldn’t help staring at his face. The eyes were the same hazel, hair the same brown with reddish highlights that she remembered so vividly from her regression. Antonio!

She was thrown, suddenly, into the past. Music played in the background, and glasses clinked, as people laughed just as they had during that eventful period.

Oh God! After years of searching for Antonio since her very first regression, he was here at this wedding!

She almost gasped his name, but caught herself. You—you look familiar to me, too, she stammered, striving to control the shakiness of her voice.

He studied her openly. I’m Ben Greenfield. He stuck out his hand.

Courtney Wallenberg. She shook his hand, marveling how secure her smaller hand felt in his large one. The man was at least six feet tall, perhaps an inch or two more, and since she was petite, he towered over her. She tilted her head further to look at his broad shoulders, classic features and close-cropped beard. He was handsome as sin and as their hands touched, she felt the sparks in every part of her body.

He continued to study her. We have met before, right?

Not in this life. She swallowed. I—I don’t think so. How do you know the bride and groom?

Parker and I are close friends. We grew up in the same neighborhood so I used to hang out with him and his twin Pamela. How do you know them?

I work for them at The Lightning Center. Her voice still sounded breathless. At last she had found her Antonio! I’m one of the psychic testers and researchers there. If he was a close friend of Parker and Pam he would know all about the center and the work they did there: studying and counseling people who had been struck by lightning and developed psychic abilities. Abilities like her own gift of being able to recognize past lives.

But Ben, apparently, had no memory of the stolen moments they’d spent in each other’s arms. No memories of the death that had cruelly separated them. She took a deep breath, attempting to still her shaking hands and slow her galloping heart.

Ah, Ben said. I’ve visited the Lightning Center often. Perhaps I saw you there.

She doubted it. If she had seen him, she would have recognized him at once. Do you have an ability? she asked.

As a matter of fact, I do, he said. He seemed to realize he still had hold of her, and dropped her hand, leaving her strangely bereft. He added, let’s find a quiet spot. He led her to one side of the room where a bunch of chairs sat.

Once seated in two chairs angled to face each another, he studied her while sipping his drink. What about you? Do you have an ability?

Yes, she said, wondering what his was—and what his reaction to hers would be. She focused on him, narrowing her gaze.

She was right. The knowledge of his past life in Renaissance Italy flowed through her like a river. My ability is the ability to see a least one important past life for individuals.

His expression dimmed. As if a shutter snapped closed. That’s—fascinating. But his words were clipped.

At least he didn’t deny the possibility or put down the idea as a lot of other people would have done. Had done in her experience.

But his tone and expression told her he was hesitant, for some reason.

You don’t believe in past lives? she asked.

He sighed. Knowing the many discoveries The Lightning Center has uncovered in their research, I don’t rule anything out. I had a bad experience with a regression once. Not with the Center, with someone else, he added hastily.

Ah-ha! Perhaps his regression had included his death by poison! That would be enough to make anyone upset. Aloud she said, If a regression is not done carefully, it can leave a person traumatized. That happened to me, once, about ten years ago; with someone who probably didn’t have much experience in how to do them. I didn’t realize that until years later, when Pam carefully regressed me, and she knows how to do it correctly. And the experience was a comfortable one. Pam had brought her back to some happier lives. All without Antonio, though.

The Lightning Center was the premier research facility of its kind. They studied people who had been struck by lightning and developed psychic abilities of all kinds. Started by Parker Costigan and his family, Courtney had been thrilled to obtain a job at the Center after receiving her doctorate in parapsychology.

And what past life do you see in me? Ben challenged, an edge to his voice.

She took a sip of the screwdriver she’d gotten just a few minutes ago. The orange juice spiked with a good vodka went down smoothly. You came from a family of minor nobility in Renaissance Italy—Venice, to be exact. Your family was an old, titled one but not considered particularly wealthy or important. And— she sucked in a breath—it’s likely that we knew each other in that life. That’s why I seem familiar. She decided it would be best not to say anything more. Not yet.

She studied him, waiting to see his reaction.

He stared at her. Really?

CHAPTER II

She brings danger with her. The voice whispered in his ear the moment he sat back, observing Courtney Wallenberg.

The voice was his late grandmother Sadie’s, a voice he’d heard many times since her passing sixteen years ago.

A voice that had often cautioned him in the past.

Ben stared at Courtney now, as he fended off a feeling of being unbalanced.

He and Courtney knew each other in a past life?

And she might be some kind of threat to him now?

That conflicted with the strong connection he was feeling towards this woman. A connection fueled by a rampant attraction to her.

The whole past lives thing would sound ridiculous to many people. The idea that he and Courtney had lived past lives, and known each other long ago. And that Courtney had the ability to sense that.

But not to him, or to anyone associated with the Lightning Center.

Because he had an ability too—clairaudience. The ability to hear those who had passed but were around him, visiting him at times. Plus he had become a secret investor in The Lightning Center, after he’d made his fortune.

Could Courtney be right? Could shared past lives be the reason that she seemed so familiar?

What table are you at? he asked. He’d like to continue this conversation later.

Eight. With some co-workers. What about you?

Six, he answered. With some other friends of Pam’s, and Parker’s. Listen, I want to talk to you more, and dance with you.

I’d like that too. She smiled.

He’d noticed at once that she was beautiful. How could he not? She had wavy dark hair with auburn highlights, and dark eyes. Her blue cocktail dress revealed a slim but curvy figure. Any man would be attracted to her. But his attraction was heightened by his interest in the woman personally. In her ability. And the feeling that they knew each other.

Having an ability himself made it easy to accept wide-ranging talents in others. His friend Parker, the neurologist for and head of the Lightning Center, had mental telepathy; and Ben