Second Chance with Her Billionaire

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Second Chance with Her Billionaire Page 18

by Therese Beharrie


  He laughed and pulled her into his arms. ‘I know, baby.’ He kissed her head. ‘How about we get some breakfast and then some sleep?’ He paused. ‘Then make our way down to reception to extend our stay here.’

  She pulled back. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Colour curled up his neck, and Summer hid her smile. ‘I thought it might be nice to stay here and get to know one another again. It’s an idea. A terrible one, it seems, but...’ He trailed off. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘I’m waiting for you to tire yourself out,’ she said with a smile. ‘I like the idea, Montgomery. It would be kind of nice to have a little holiday at the beach. If you promise to keep the water to yourself. I’m not having you “accidentally” throw it on my back while I’m suntanning again.’

  He grinned. ‘No promises.’

  ‘Mont—’

  He silenced her with a kiss. And for the first time in for ever, Summer felt like the sun.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘FIVE YEARS LATER, and still as beautiful as ever.’

  ‘Why, thank you,’ Summer said lazily, not bothering to open her eyes. ‘Anything is possible with a balanced diet and exercise regime.’

  ‘You know I wasn’t talking about you.’

  ‘And yet I answered, Montgomery,’ she replied, opening her eyes and pushing herself up on the beach towel she was suntanning on. ‘Probably because I’m tired of you saying how beautiful this place is. We’ve been here for three days. It’s time to get over it.’

  ‘Don’t sound so bitter,’ he told her with a grin. She used the moment to enjoy him standing shirtless in front of her. ‘This is our special place.’

  Before she could respond, he was scooping her into his arms.

  ‘I’m not bitter,’ she continued as if he hadn’t picked her up. ‘I just don’t want you to turn into that person who repeats the same things. By the way, what are you doing?’ she asked calmly.

  ‘What I should have done five years ago.’

  ‘To clarify—that would be to drop me into the ocean?’

  ‘Correct.’

  Accepting her fate with a nod, Summer threaded her fingers behind Wyatt’s neck. She couldn’t even muster up annoyance that Wyatt was threatening to throw her into the ocean. Again. Every time they got near a body of water, Wyatt went through the same routine. Not once had he thrown her in.

  Though this was different, Summer knew. For the first time in five years they’d returned to the lodge where they’d rekindled their relationship. Where Wyatt had threatened to throw her into the ocean that very first time. It was enough to make her nostalgic.

  It wasn’t an emotion she felt regularly; her present was much better than her past. Though she did have a fondness for the last time they’d been on this beach together. They’d recommitted to their relationship. And every day in the last five years, they’d grown stronger.

  They hadn’t rushed into their relationship this time. There had been no jumping past important steps. No spontaneous engagements. She and Wyatt had taken the time to build something beautiful. And they’d succeeded.

  The first thing Wyatt had done when they’d got back to Cape Town was hire an assistant. It had helped him with the pressure at work, which left most of his evenings free. He and Summer spent their free time together as far as was possible, and Summer had no doubt Wyatt had prioritised her. She made sure she did the same for him.

  The slogan for their rekindled relationship was that work was important, but the other was more important. Cheesy, but it worked.

  The time they’d spent together had allowed them a safe space to work through their issues. Summer had learnt to explore her trust issues; Wyatt, his fears. Acknowledging that they had issues had been an incredible step forward. As had being honest with each other. There was communication and laughter. Disagreement and arguments. Make-up kisses and...more.

  They’d forged a different relationship with her family, too. Wyatt had become more realistic in his expectations, which had allowed him to bond with her family. And Summer had allowed herself to be...herself. To be freely herself. There were weekly family dinners; business consultations with the previous and current CEOs of Bishop Enterprises; spa dates and event planning with her mother and sister.

  So much had changed in the last five years. Summer couldn’t imagine her life getting any better.

  The thought stilled something inside her and Summer leaned back, content in Wyatt’s arms.

  ‘You aren’t concerned about this at all, are you?’ Wyatt asked, glancing down.

  ‘Nope,’ she said brightly.

  ‘That takes some of the fun out of it.’

  ‘Why do you think I’m approaching it this way?’

  ‘Calling my bluff?’

  ‘Even if you throw me into this water, my love, I will forgive—’

  The rest of her sentence was engulfed by the water. She could still feel Wyatt’s arms around her, which then dragged her up before she could fully process what had happened.

  ‘What were you saying?’ he asked with a grin, wiping the water from his face.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said through clenched teeth. She pushed her hair out of her own face. ‘Though I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d do it.’

  ‘But you forgive me.’

  She grunted, and he laughed before picking her up again. He stopped and set her down where the waves could only reach their feet.

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, I did it for a reason.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ she said, folding her arms over her chest when a blast of wind made her shiver. ‘You were being a jerk.’

  ‘No.’ His voice had thinned. Almost as if he were nervous. ‘I didn’t want you to expect this.’

  ‘I didn’t expect it,’ she said dryly. ‘I thought you were—’

  That was when she saw him kneeling on the ground.

  It took her a long time to find her voice.

  ‘Well,’ she said, barely louder than a whisper. ‘You’re right. I didn’t expect this at all.’

  Now the nerves danced across his face.

  ‘In a good way or bad way?’

  ‘Which way do you want it to be?’ She laughed at his expression. ‘A good way. Of course a good way. As if you didn’t know,’ she scoffed lightly.

  He nodded—still nervous, which made her smile—before taking a box out of his pocket.

  ‘You’ve wet it,’ she said before she could help herself.

  ‘It’s sealed.’

  He opened the box, took a small plastic bag out and reached inside it to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring. It was nothing like the one he’d first got her. That one had been large and ostentatious; part of what he’d thought she’d wanted, he’d told her later. This ring was a simple solitaire design.

  It was perfect.

  ‘So,’ she said after a moment. ‘Are you going to ask me?’

  ‘I’m trying to figure out whether you want me to.’

  ‘The past five years that I’ve stuck around haven’t been enough to convince you?’ she asked gently.

  ‘No, they have,’ he said, his teasing expression sobering. ‘They absolutely have.’ He took a shaky breath. ‘I’ve felt safe with you for every day of these last five years. Every time my mind would expect you to leave. If we had an argument, or a disagreement. Or things went from easy to hard. But you didn’t.’ His eyes shone. ‘And my heart told my mind it was a fool for thinking it.’

  Another breath.

  ‘I waited much too long to ask you this, especially considering I bought the ring a month into our new relationship.’ He smiled. ‘Will you marry me, Summer Bishop?’

  Summer took the ring, slid it onto her hand.

  ‘Does that give you your answer?’

  He laughed and stood, pulling her in for
a kiss. She put every single thing inside her in that kiss. When he leaned back, his eyes told her he knew all the things she wanted to say to him. There was time to say them all out loud later.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, reaching down and taking the plastic bag and ring box from him. ‘In case you need to hear it.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I know.’

  She took the ring off, put it back into the bag. Then she put the bag in the ring box and slipped the box into his pocket.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘It’s called payback, darling.’

  ‘Pay—’

  She didn’t hear the rest. She was too busy tackling him into the ocean.

  * * *

  Look out for the next story in the Billionaires for Heiresses duet

  From Heiress to Mom

  Coming soon!

  If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Therese Beharrie

  Her Festive Flirtation

  Surprise Baby, Second Chance

  Tempted by the Billionaire Next Door

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Prince’s Cinderella by Andrea Bolter.

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  The Prince’s Cinderella

  by Andrea Bolter

  CHAPTER ONE

  “WELCOME TO THE headquarters of the APCF,” Felice Khalif said to Marie as they proceeded down a row of work cubicles. There was a hum in the air, with the people at every desk either on the phone or focused on the computer screens in front of them. At the back of the space, Felice pointed to a small office separated from the central area by a glass wall and door. “Here’s where you’ll be working.”

  The partitioned-off room wasn’t large but Marie had never had a private office before so she had to admit it gave her a buzz. Inside, a sleek glass desk was topped with boxes and stacks of paper files. A telephone bank was off to one side. Four chrome chairs sat around a glass meeting table. One large canvas with an abstract design painted in pastel colors adorned the wall.

  The lone window didn’t look out to the glitzy beachfront Promenade de la Croisette that Cannes on the French Riviera was known for but it did let in plenty of light. Not that it mattered, though. Marie was here to work, not to daydream out the window.

  “When our events manager, Jic Gurov, suddenly quit, Alain at the Toulouse office recommended I bring you in,” Felice continued. “We’ll give it a try temporarily. You’ll have to jump right in. We have so much going on, and I don’t really have anyone to train you.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Marie brushed her bangs away from her eyes. This was a career opportunity she could have never seen coming. A million thanks were due to Alain for recommending her for the job. Not only did he understand about the work in Toulouse that she’d had to leave unfinished, he’d also given her a glowing recommendation.

  “I prepared this much for you.” Felice handed Marie a single piece of paper. “Here are the upcoming events that I can confirm.”

  “Thanks.”

  Felice was right that everything was happening so fast. One minute Marie was assistant to the events coordinator for the APCF, Alliance for Parentless Children of France, at its regional office in Toulouse, and now she was at the headquarters in Cannes with a chance to become the permanent events manager if she did a good job.

  France’s largest nonprofit agency supporting orphaned children was a well-known organization with several field offices throughout the country. The agency was able to aid parentless children who were in the foster care system with case management, social services and transitional assistance into adulthood. An orphan herself, Marie had utilized the agency’s help when she was a teenager, and the organization hired her for a job after university.

  “As you know, the most important date on the calendar is our annual fund-raising gala in three weeks. The proceeds from that evening finance all of our operations for the year.”

  “Alain told me.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t think Jic has compiled all of the components for this event. Zander is coming by today to go over it with you in detail.”

  “Who’s Zander?”

  Felice heard her phone’s ping and answered it. “Yes? I’ll call her right back.”

  Marie imagined that as the agency’s executive director, Felice must have many balls to juggle in the air at once. She had a matter-of-fact manner that was very professional. In her cream-colored suit, Felice lifted her eyeglasses from the chain hanging around her neck and put them on to respond to something else on her phone.

  After smoothing the front of her gray trousers to try to straighten out any creases, Marie stood as tall as she could. She subtly reached behind her to tuck her blouse in tighter. At the office in Toulouse she did occasionally meet with important donors and was included in meetings, so she never dressed too informally for work. But if Felice’s high-end suit was any indication, Marie might need to up her look here. After all, this was Cannes, land of the rich and famous.

  At this point, she certainly didn’t have money to go out and buy a new wardrobe, as much fun as that sounded. Taking a mental inventory of the clothes she did have, she figured she could put together a week of decent outfits to get started.

  If she let it, Marie’s mind could start swirling. There hadn’t been any chance for the logistics of this unexpected job switch to be worked out. The agency was able to provide a room for her to stay in for the time being in one of its housing facilities in Cannes. But if the job became permanent, she’d have to find an apartment and give up the room she leased in Toulouse. Cannes would be a much more expensive place to live so she didn’t know what she’d be able to afford. Then again, if she were to get this position permanently, there’d be a substantial salary increase.

  She’d have to keep the uncertainty from getting to her during this trial period. Temporary things didn’t always work out for her. One thing Marie Paquet had known all of her life was impermanence. There might be more of it to accept. Would that ever stop, would there ever be something in her life that she could count on?

  Taking in the slow, measured breaths that her years spent in counseling taught her, she centered herself.

  A young man came into the office and handed Felice a laptop. “Thank you, Clive.”

  Marie followed Felice’s lead in bringing their chairs close together so that they could sit down at the table and huddle in front of the laptop. “This will be for your use. The login you had in Toulouse will work for general access. I’ll give you another password to get into the files we keep confidential because they contain donor information.”

  “Do you know if the syst
em logs the events chronologically, or alphabetically, or in some other order?”

  “Let’s hope it’s chronologically so that you can prioritize.” Felice opened the laptop and clicked through several folders until she found what she was looking for. “Voila.”

  “Great.” Marie was relieved that the files were located. She was going to need all the help she could get.

  “Look at your list and tell me if this corresponds. Of course, the gala in May. The Regional Managers Retreat Weekend in June?”

  Marie reviewed her list. “Yes. The entry says five meals. Two dinners, two breakfasts and one lunch. Continuous snack and beverage service for both days. Transportation to and from the hotel. Multiple media setups. Breakout classrooms. Writing supplies. Goody bags. Then there’s a handwritten note in red to check the hotel.”

  Felice opened another folder. “Donor Appreciation Luncheon in July?”

  “Yes, I have that on the list although there are no specifics except winery picnic.”

  “Goodness, there’s almost nothing in here,” Felice sighed as she opened that file. “You’ll have to look though this yourself and see if there’s anything useful. It looks like Jic recorded his notes from meetings but didn’t highlight any decisions.”

  Marie grabbed a pen and jotted Felice’s instructions onto her printed list.

  “Next, Back-to-School Support Suppers in September.”

  Marie’s fists opened and closed repeatedly. How well she remembered those suppers that the agency hosted to aid kids in foster care who were beginning their new school years. For some, including Marie, the start of the school year was wrought with either dread or apprehension. Dread if the previous year hadn’t gone well but they were returning to the same school. And apprehension if they were starting at a new school.

  Kids could be cruel. But to orphans and other children in foster care, mercilessly so. The unkind ones already knew who the foster kids were, and would find ways to taunt and tease them. They’d yell out meanness to Marie that she was unwanted. That she had no family. That nobody loved her. Like many in her situation, Marie grew a thick outer shell and learned not to cry in front of the bullies. Not that she didn’t shed a million tears in private.

 

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