Secret Billionaire on Her Doorstep

by Michelle Douglas

  ‘I... This—’ He shook himself, as if to gather his thoughts.

  She wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt.

  ‘Okay, first things first,’ he said.

  He hauled in a breath and she had a feeling he was mentally counting to ten.

  ‘What do you see as my role in the foundation? Obviously you want a financial investment, but—’

  ‘I don’t want your money, Owen!’ Oops. ‘I mean,’ she amended, ‘the foundation doesn’t want your money. Obviously donations are always welcome, but that’s not what this is about. I want... I mean the foundation wants,’ she corrected herself again, ‘your vision. You’re the person who loved and knew Frances best. We want your knowledge of Frances to help us determine the direction of the foundation—to help us decide what programmes to offer, what strategies to take. There’ll be a board made up of my mother, Mr Dunkley and myself, and we’re hoping you’ll join us.’

  He didn’t say anything and her chest clenched up tight. It was entirely possible he wanted nothing to do with her, regardless of the fact that she now wanted to honour Frances’s memory.

  ‘I understand you might want to take some time to think about it. Mr Dunkley has drawn up some documents that you’ll want to read over before coming to a decision. I’ll call him back in and—’

  ‘Don’t call him back in.’

  She swore her heart stopped—before beating even harder and faster.

  ‘This is so far from what I was expecting it’s making me slow to respond. But it’s unexpected in a good way.’ He reached out to briefly squeeze her hand. ‘A very good way.’

  His words unfroze something small but vital inside her, and she found that she could smile again. ‘What were you expecting?’

  ‘For Mr Dunkley to name the price you wanted for the apartment block.’

  ‘Ah, about that...’

  Owen sat back and waited.

  She moistened her lips. ‘I’m not actually planning on selling the apartment block in its entirety. I want to keep the upstairs apartment—Frances’s apartment—for myself. But that still means the other seven apartments are yours if you want them. The proceeds of the sale, plus the trust fund Frances left me, will be going towards setting up the foundation.’

  He frowned and she winced.

  ‘You hate the idea, don’t you? It’s just, if I don’t have to pay rent then I can afford to continue living in Greenwich Village.’

  The apartment was the only part of Frances’s legacy she was keeping for herself.

  ‘I think it’s a great idea! What concerns me...’ his frown deepened ‘...is how you will support yourself. Callie, you’ll need an income.’

  ‘Besides giving Ellerslie over to the foundation, my mother is investing a generous sum to cover, among other things, my wages.’ She folded her arms. ‘Though we’re currently in discussion about what that wage should be. She thinks it should be commensurate with my university salary, but I don’t need much and—’

  ‘She’s right.’

  Glancing up at the deadly serious note in Owen’s voice, she found herself swallowing at his almost-glare.

  ‘You can’t short-change yourself, Callie. I can already see how much time and effort you’re going to put into those youth programmes—your research skills are going to be well utilised. Additionally, if you were to eventually hire someone else, because demand required it, would you pay them a pittance to do the same work you’d be doing?’

  ‘Of course not. But at the moment this is all a risk. It’s possible we could lose everything—’

  ‘You need to trust your board to have the competence to judge the programmes you propose, as well as your abilities to implement them. You deserve to earn a wage that reflects that.’

  She opened her mouth, but he held up a finger to forestall her.

  ‘Also, I will never lie to you. If I think one of your programmes is too ambitious, or won’t fly, or has issues that need to be ironed out before it can proceed, I’m going to say as much.’ He smiled briefly. ‘I don’t doubt there’ll be days when you feel you’re working very hard for your wage.’

  She couldn’t speak as she allowed his words to sink in. Hope tightened her chest. ‘Does that mean you’re on board?’

  He nodded. ‘I’m honoured to be asked.’

  She smiled then too. ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am.’

  She did what she could not to get lost in his answering smile, tried to force her mind back to matters of business.

  ‘I’m sure you must have a lot of questions, and I’m not actually sure I’m qualified to answer them, so we should probably get Gerry back in here to—’

  ‘You’re the only person who can answer the questions I want to ask at the moment.’

  Her breathing went erratic. ‘Oh...?’

  He stood, but her legs had gone to jelly at the expression in his eyes and she doubted they’d support her if her life depended on it. She remained seated, staring up at him.

  ‘Can I take you out to dinner soon?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m free tonight.’

  The words were out of her mouth before she could think better of them, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t interested in hiding how she felt.

  ‘Perfect.’

  He leaned down, his hands going to the arms of her chair, bracketing her in.

  ‘Can I kiss you?’

  ‘I think I’ll die if you don’t.’

  His lips descended with a speed that made her head reel, but those lips—sure and tantalising, full of hunger and tenderness in equal measure—had her finding the balance she’d been lacking ever since she’d slammed her apartment door in his face twenty-five days ago, and she kissed him back with every ounce of yearning and need in her soul.

  A short while later she found herself in Owen’s lap on Mr Dunkley’s Chesterfield sofa. She lifted her head and sucked in a breath, tried to cool the heat rampaging through her veins.

  ‘Owen, we can’t make out on Gerry’s sofa.’

  He sucked in a breath too, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as if trying to gather himself. He glanced at her, started to speak, but broke off whatever it was he’d started to say.

  He grinned at her instead. ‘Marry me.’

  A laugh pressed against the back of her throat. ‘Careful, Owen, you almost sound serious.’

  ‘Because I almost am.’

  She glanced back at him to find he’d sobered. Those intense grey eyes stared at her as if she were a miracle.

  ‘I love you, Callie. These last twenty-five days without you have been hell.’

  He’d been counting the days too?

  ‘I never want to lose you again. I’m sorry about our fight. I’m sorry I overstepped the mark like I did. I panicked, and I know it’s no excuse, but—’

  She pressed her fingers to his mouth to stem the flow of his words. ‘I’m sorry about our fight too. But you were right in what you said to me. I’d become too focussed on how people had done me wrong and on getting my own back. You held up a mirror and I didn’t like what I saw. I didn’t want to be that vengeful person.’

  ‘Both Frances and Dominic injured you and—’

  ‘And both of them are more than that single act. And in Frances’s case she paid so heavily for her mistake and regretted it so much.’ She pulled in a breath. ‘I finally read her letters. She didn’t reveal the identity of my father in them—she respected my mother’s wishes on that—but through those letters I’ve come to know the woman you loved. And I’ve discovered that I like her.’

  His hands cradled her face. ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘And in helping me sort through my own emotions, my mother has been on a similar journey. It’s been good for the both of us.’

  ‘I hardly know what to say.’

  She smiled at him, love welling insid
e her. ‘You’ve said enough for the moment. You need to listen to me for a little while instead.’

  She straightened in his lap until they were eye to eye.

  ‘I’m sorry it took me so long to work things out. Every night I wanted to race downstairs and climb into your bed—I missed you every waking second.’ She grimaced. ‘Every sleeping second too.’

  His arms tightened about her, and it gave her the courage to continue.

  ‘But I knew it wasn’t fair to come to you without a plan. I needed to sort my life out before I did that, and I couldn’t ask anybody else to do it for me. I had to do it on my own.’

  ‘I understand, Callie.’

  ‘I have my work—my vocation—all sorted out now. I’m so excited about the Frances Foundation. And I know where I want to live—and that’s here in the Village. You’re right. I’ve built a community here, even in such a short time. It probably sounds crazy, but this place feels like home.’

  ‘It’s where you belong.’

  ‘And I know who I want to spend my life with—and that’s you, Owen. I love you.’ Her smile widened at the awe and amazement that spread through his eyes. ‘I love you and I want to build a life with you.’

  His lips slammed to hers and he kissed her with a possessive thoroughness that left her giddy and breathless.

  He lifted his head, breathing hard, his eyes dark, but a hint of humour lightened the corners of his mouth. ‘I can’t promise that I’ll never be a jerk again.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’ll love you even when you’re being a jerk.’ She sobered. ‘I know that what you saw when you were a little boy—your father’s violence—has affected you. I know that as a result you try to protect every woman in your circle. It’s an admirable trait.’

  ‘But I take it too far sometimes.’

  ‘Owen, we’re both works in progress. We’ll work on it together.’ He smiled, and a bubble of lightness and fizz built at the centre of her. ‘You need to know that I’m never going to like baseball.’

  ‘You don’t have to like baseball.’

  ‘But you love it more than life itself. You said so.’

  ‘I love you more.’

  She couldn’t wipe the grin from her face, but a thought had her sobering. ‘In terms of money, I’m not ever going to be rich. I’m sorry if that’s not what you think Frances wanted. But in my heart I feel this is the right thing to do. I’m simply taking what she started and building on it.’

  ‘I think what you’re doing is perfect.’

  She released a pent-up breath. ‘So you don’t care that I’m not going to be rich? And you know that I’m not after your money, right?’

  ‘I know you’re not after my money, sweetheart. Besides, you’re already rich in all the ways that matter.’ His hand snaked beneath her hair to cradle her skull. ‘And I’m going to cherish you every single day of your life.’

  ‘You are too, you know—rich in all the ways that matter. I don’t want you ever doubting that.’ She cupped his face. ‘I want you to know that if you were to lose your fortune overnight it wouldn’t make any difference to the way I feel about you.’ She pressed a hand to his heart. ‘It’s the man you are, and your heart, that I love. And I promise you I mean to take very good care of it.’

  ‘I know you will.’ His grin hooked up one corner of his mouth. ‘Does that mean you’ll marry me?’

  She had every intention of marrying him. But she wanted him to be one hundred per cent certain before she gave him an answer.

  She stuck her nose in the air. ‘Do you have a ring?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Ask me again when you have a ring.’

  He immediately set her on her feet. ‘Right, let’s go buy you a ring.’

  Her laugh bubbled up from the very centre of her. ‘I’d rather stay here and make out.’

  She found herself back in his lap on the sofa again.

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘Though Gerry is bound to want his office back soon.’

  ‘Nope, he took the rest of the day off—mumbled something about having to go home and kiss his wife.’

  ‘Aw...he’s a romantic at heart.’

  ‘So it appears.’

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘The answer is yes, Owen. I have every intention of marrying you. But this has happened so fast and I want you to be sure.’

  He traced a finger across her cheek, his eyes filling with warmth and jubilation. ‘I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. But I can see why you might think this has been a whirlwind affair. If it’ll help set your mind at rest, you can choose the date of our wedding. I won’t pressure you, Callie. I want you to be happy.’

  ‘Hmm...’ She pretended to think about it. ‘I’ve always fancied being a spring bride. Do you have a spare slot in your diary next week?’

  He laughed. ‘For you, I’ll find one.’ And then he kissed her.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Michelle Douglas

  Singapore Fling with the Millionaire

  Redemption of the Maverick Millionaire

  The Maid, the Millionaire and the Baby

  Miss Prim’s Greek Island Fling

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Rescued by the Guarded Tycoon by Rosanna Battigelli.

  WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM

  Be swept away by glamorous and heartfelt love stories.

  Emotion and intimacy simmer in international locales—experience the rush of falling in love!

  4 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!

  Rescued by the Guarded Tycoon

  by Rosanna Battigelli

  CHAPTER ONE

  RONNIE’S EYES WERE blinking as fast as the wipers on her car. The fast-falling snow, mingled with the freezing rain pinging against the windshield, was making it hard to focus on the road. Her stomach muscles tightened as she gripped the steering wheel.

  She should have checked the weather before heading into town, she berated herself, biting her lip. She had been unpacking boxes from her move to Parry Sound, and oblivious to anything but her task at hand, she had decided to give herself a break and venture out. Her intention had been to treat herself to some books downtown, pick up a pizza and to go back to the cottage at Winter’s Haven, where she would spend the rest of the evening relaxing.

  It had been snowing when she had started out, but nothing that had caused her to worry. Snow was a given in these parts, sometimes even starting in October. After purchasing the latest Giller Prize–winning novel at Parry Sound Books, Ronnie had continued down the street into Bearly Used Books, a sprawling store with a bear as its mascot. She had floated contentedly in and out of the themed rooms, taking her sweet time searching for a new treasure.

  After happily selecting three books—two for herself and one for her son, Andy—Ronnie had proceeded to the front counter. She had vaguely noticed that the number of customers had dwindled, and as she had paid for the books, Melissa, the store owner, had announced that she would be closing shortly because of the freezing rain.

  Ronnie had hurried out to her car, her vision blurred by the sleet and gusts of wind. The noticeable drop in temperature would make the ride back to Winter’s Haven downright dangerous if the wheels hit black ice on the winding road. She would have to slow right down and pray that other drivers would do the same.

  Inside her car, Ronnie wiped her face with some tissues and turned on the ignition. As the car warmed up, she dashed outside to brush the snow off the windshield and windows. She realized how futile it was, though; she would just have to start driving and keep her wipers going, and hope she could make it back before dark, when the roads would be even more treacherous.

  Ronnie breathed a pent-up sigh as she left the downtown, a blur of traffic li
ghts, slick streets and glistening vehicles reflecting the illuminated storefronts. There was no way she’d be able to stop at Maurizio’s Pizzeria, she thought, wistfully conjuring up the authentic Sicilian pizzas that her cousin Casson had ordered when she had first arrived a week ago. Her mouth watered at the memory of the spinach and ricotta pizza that she had anticipated enjoying this evening, and then she started as her car swerved as it caught on a patch of ice.

  Righting the vehicle, her heart in her mouth, Ronnie slowed down even further.

  Concentrate, just concentrate, she kept telling herself, her mouth dry. Her eyes felt itchy from the strain of trying to focus on the road, but she didn’t want to lift her hand from the steering wheel to rub them.

  Thank goodness her son wasn’t with her right now. She would have been twice as terrified if Andy had been in the car with her. Squinting, Ronnie could understand how a person could become totally mesmerized by the hypnotic swish of the wipers as the snow and ice pellets lashed at the windshield.

  A sudden beam from a vehicle’s headlights jolted her and she shot a glance in her rearview mirror. An enormous black truck with a massive chrome grille seemed to be approaching fairly quickly. Ronnie frowned. Perhaps the driver wasn’t particularly concerned with the road conditions because he or she had studded tires. But even so, he—she was willing to bet the driver was male—should have some consideration for people driving a much smaller vehicle. Especially in this brutal weather...

  Ronnie considered putting on her hazard lights and slowly driving off to the shoulder to let the truck go by. She didn’t want or need the pressure of driving with an impatient driver behind her. It would be unnerving, to say the least, especially if he decided to pass her. And from the looks of it, he was aiming to do just that.

  She would be proactive, she decided. She pressed the hazard lights on, and then veered toward the shoulder. And then it felt like the steering wheel jerked from her grasp and the car was moving of its own volition. It was spinning, she realized numbly. Black ice! Losing all sense of balance and control with the kaleidoscope that was flashing in her eyes, Ronnie closed her eyes and braced herself for the inevitable impact.