Billionaires Runaway Bride (A Standalone British Billionaire Romance Novel)

by Claire Adams

  “Wow. I don’t think the orphanage has ever looked so good,” I remarked as we pulled into the parking area.

  I gazed up at the brick building with pride, admiring some of the changes that had been made thanks to my new foundation—the one I was funding with sales from my songs.

  It wasn’t much yet, but I wanted to do what I could, and I wanted the children that stayed there to think of this place as a home, not a jail or a place of purgatory. It had to be, above all, a place in which they could feel safe and wanted. With Owen’s help, I had started to oversee some renovations to the building and land, changes that I was really proud of. Tonight’s fundraiser would hopefully allow me to expand and help other orphanages as well.

  I focused on the spotlight shining brightly on the name of the building as, below it, elegantly clad men and women ambled through the doors, heading through to the gymnasium where the event was being held. Owen and I had gone back and forth on where to hold the event. In the end, we had both finally decided that having it here where the attendees could see where their money was going was the most sensible option.

  We climbed out of the car and made our way up the stairs, then headed down the hallway to the gym, which, in stark contrast to its usual simplicity, had been turned into a formal affair. A pianist was situated on stage, playing some soft music while everyone mingled. I was a little in awe of the big names in attendance, including politicians, musicians, and a few actors. Knowing my boyfriend, he had probably just gone through his Rolodex and casually pulled out names of people he thought might support our cause; he was extremely well-connected.

  “I’m off to mingle!” Grace announced cheerfully as we walked through the door, immediately disappearing into the crowd. I looked at my brother, and we both shook our heads. I had no idea what had gotten into my bestie, but she seemed to be very into the event.

  “Do you see Owen?” I asked Jackson, surveying the attendees for the familiar face that still got my pulse racing every time I laid eyes on it.

  “No, I don’t see him, but I do see food, and lots of it. Delicious, delicious food.”

  I rolled my eyes. If there was one thing my brother could do, it was eat.

  “Come on then, I know what you're after. Let’s get something to eat.”

  I followed the path he made through the crowd over to the buffet. The spread was impressive. Definitely gourmet quality, but as suave and sophisticated as the hors d’oeuvres were, I was pretty sure we would still be hitting up a fast food joint at the end of the night on the way home.

  “This is a pretty sweet layout,” Jackson admitted as we stood around, nibbling on the appetizers. “Owen really pulled this off. I wasn't expecting him to go all out with the catering like this.”

  “Leave it to you to judge an event based on the food,” I joked, my attention wavering as I scanned the crowd for Owen.

  I spotted Talon in the distance, so I excused myself and walked over, tapping him on the shoulder. He spun around, moving with cat-like grace. As soon as he saw me, he grinned cheekily and allowed his eyes to rove up and down my figure for a few moments. I rolled my eyes, making sure he saw the gesture.

  “Nalia, you look hot,” he drawled, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Have I told you how lucky a man my brother is?” he winked.

  I gave him a once over in return. He looked rather dashing in his tux, the way it was molded to his lean frame. “You’re not looking so bad yourself,” I replied warmly. “Thank you so much for coming, Talon. It means a lot to us.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said, patting his pocket. “Hell, I already have my donation all written up. No way I'm not chipping my share in for such an awesome project. You guys really have done a great thing here. Respect.”

  “Well, the orphanage will appreciate it, I can guarantee that. Hey, have you seen your brother around here?”

  Talon laughed. “You mean the nervous wreck I passed earlier? The man is a billionaire—how the hell he can be so nervous about a charity event is beyond me. Sheesh. You'd think he'd never stood up in front of a crowd in his life before. Weird, huh?”

  “I don’t know why he's be so nervous, but I better find him. Talk him down,” I sighed. “Enjoy yourself, and don't party too hard. Yet!”

  “Yet!” he replied with a laugh. “That's the key word, my dear, yet!”

  I walked on, wondering where Owen could be. Finally, I spotted him near the stage. “Hey, sweetheart, why are you hiding out over here?”

  “Hey, babe,” he said, leaning down to kiss me. He looked drop-dead sexy in his white tux, his hair carefully styled and held in place with so much gel that I was sure it wouldn’t move even in a hurricane. “You look good enough to eat. Way tastier than any of the swanky dishes I had the catering company whip up. Kinda making me hungry,” he said with a grin.

  “Later,” I promised as he pulled me to his side, wrapping an arm around my waist. “And speaking of the catering company, wow! I think it’s safe to say that this event is a success already. You did an amazing job, my love. The orphanage is going to benefit greatly from this.”

  “I’m just glad I could help with something that means so much to you,” he told me, his expression tender.

  I melted against him, once again finding it hard to believe how lucky I was. And believe me, it had nothing to do with the money or who Owen was professionally. I loved Owen for Owen and would have loved him for his heart and soul had he been penniless. I was absolutely sure I would love him for the rest of my life.

  “Come on, let's get things moving. We've got a schedule to stick to, and we don't want to waste anyone's time. A lot of big names have come out to support this, and we don't want to let 'em down,” he reminded me, tugging on my waist.

  I followed him up the steps and onto the stage where the pianist was just finishing up a number. Owen nodded to him, and he stood, exiting the stage as Owen moved to the front of it. As soon as he was in front of the crowd, any trace of nervousness he’d had seemed to vanish. The stage really was a place where he felt truly at home, whether in a small dive bar in front of a dozen people, or on an arena stage in front of a crowd of hundreds of thousands of people.

  “Good evening!” he shouted as if he were at a concert. “And thank you all for coming tonight. This is a very special night because we're all here to honor a cause that is very dear to someone who is very dear to me. My amazing girlfriend, Ms. Nalia Dean.

  “I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge all the selfless work she's done for this orphanage. Your contributions tonight will continue the progress we have been fortunate enough to make from a humble beginning and hopefully, many other orphanages in the future. I promise you that your generous contributions will make this place a safe, wonderful home for these children for many years to come.

  “You're not just building a place, ladies and gentlemen. You're not just stacking bricks and cement on top of one another. No, you're building lives. Beautiful, wonderful lives, full of hope and promise for the future.”

  He then looked over at me, motioning for me to join him. I put on a smile as I nervously stepped up next to him, wondering what on earth he was about to do.

  “As many of you might know, Nalia is a very talented pianist, and we have been working on her album in the studio for a few months now. Would you like to hear a song from her?”

  I blushed as the crowd clapped and whistled. Owen was smiling down at me, nodding in encouragement. He leaned over to whisper some encouraging words in my ear. “Show off, babe.”

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped over to the piano and sat down at the keys. I launched into a new song, surprised when Owen came to stand behind me, the mic in his hand. He began to sing the lyrics. We had practiced a few times before, but his voice still brought tears to my eyes. Maybe because he was singing a song we had created together, and he sang from his heart what we created from the heart.

  The crowd fell silent as I poured myself into the song. And with
the intensity of the music and the performance, coupled with Owen’s sweet voice, my heart was overwhelmed with love for him. His voice trailed off as he finished the lyrics and waited as I finished the last few notes. I simply sat there for a moment, my heart pounding in my ears as silence fell over the entire space.

  Then, abruptly, the place erupted with shouts and cheers louder than I could have ever imagined. Smiling bright, I stood and glanced back, intending to prompt Owen to take a bow with me.

  But he wasn’t where I had expected to see him. Instead, my eyes fell toward the floor where Owen was behind me on bended knee. In his hand, he held a small, black box. The crowd’s applause died to silence, and Owen looked up at me, smiling with tears rimming his eyes.

  “Nalia Dean, no one has ever made me feel the way I do when I am with you, and I don’t ever want to find out what it feels like not to have you by my side. You are the most compassionate, loving person I have ever known, and I am so damn happy to have you in my life. I love you, more than any words could ever express. So, in front of all these witnesses, I’m asking if you will make me the happiest man on the planet. Will you marry me?” He opened the black box, revealing the most exquisite ring I’d ever laid eyes on.

  “Owen,” I whispered as my hand covered my mouth in surprise, tears blurring my eyes. “Yes, yes, yes, I will. A million times, yes.”

  He smiled and slipped the ring on my finger before rising to gather me in his arms, kissing me and holding me tightly against him. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

  “For what?” I asked, pulling back to look at him.

  “For taking a chance on me. For believing in what we could be. We are going to make a beautiful future together.”

  And we did.

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  INVESTIGATED BILLIONAIRE

  By Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams

  PART 1

  Chapter One

  Delilah

  “So what exactly are we supposed to do at one of these things?”

  “Mattie, it’s an art show. We are supposed to look at the art.” I tried not to roll my eyes at my best friend.

  I loved coming to art shows and had been doing it for years as a kind of release. Sometimes, I thought I could have been an amazing artist myself, and other times, I just enjoyed looking at the hard work the artists had put together. It was a way of relaxing for me, and luckily, I’d been able to convince my friend Mattie to tag along this time, even if she didn’t like art all that much.

  “You’ll have to excuse Mattie; she’s not as cultured as the rest of us,” Mattie’s boyfriend, Markus, said as he obnoxiously held his pinky out while sipping on his rum and Coke.

  “Come on, guys; this is a great place for me to recruit people for Dating the Rich. You know we have that huge summer bonus going on right now, and I could really use that extra cash. Plus, these paintings are amazing. Can you even imagine how much time and effort goes into making one of these?”

  “Delilah Hunter, are you using us to help you get more referral bonuses for work?”

  “Yes, Mattie, and you get free alcohol and an evening of class and art. You know you can get the bonus referrals, too, if you would just grab some of the cards when human resources is handing them out.”

  “Barf. I have to talk to people enough on the phone all day. I don’t want to do it outside of work, too.”

  “Come on, it’s not that bad. Look at that painting over there; it has beautiful colors. Don’t you think?”

  It was terribly hard to get Mattie to go to any events that I wanted to go to. She didn’t like running, the theater, or art shows. So, the best we could do was alternate who got to pick the event for the night. I wasn’t thrilled she had dragged Markus along with us, but I didn’t want to go alone, so it would have to do for the evening.

  Art shows were the perfect place to recruit for Dating the Rich and I really did need the bonus. The men and women at art shows like this one were exactly our target clientele. Although I worked in the computer department, not marketing, I had heard about the bonus opportunity and couldn’t turn it down.

  Basically, I just had to hand out cards with a link to our website on it. I had a personal link attached to my name and if they used it to sign up, then I got the bonus. It was an easy way for me to earn a little extra cash while hanging out at an art show I wanted to see anyway.

  “Del, six o’clock,” Mattie said quietly as she nodded toward a man who was coming our way.

  “Wow, he’s cute,” I whispered back.

  “Hey, doll, you want me to buy you a drink, baby?” the man asked in a thick, Brooklyn accent.

  I really had nothing against people with a Brooklyn accent. In fact, I’m fond of people with accents different than mine. The guy was decent looking, for sure. His large biceps bulged out of his dress shirt and his deep, brown eyes were mesmerizing. Unfortunately, calling me baby and asking to buy me a drink at an event that served free alcohol really wasn’t a great way to pick me up.

  On the surface, the cute guy would have been exactly the type of man I liked to date. He was clean cut, dressed well, and obviously took care of himself physically. The exterior package was not everything, though, and I really had learned that over the last year of trying to date. I would much rather date a decent-looking nice guy than a drop-dead-handsome jerk of a guy.

  “Nope. Enjoy your night,” I said as I pulled Mattie with me and fled the scene.

  Markus followed obediently behind us as we went over to the large painting I had pointed out earlier. Standing up close with such a large painting made each detail come to life. From across the room, it had looked like just some paint splattered onto the ten-foot-tall canvas, but here, I could see words and pictures embedded into the paint. In the red, there were words of hate and as I read them, my heart raced and my emotions stung. I quickly moved over to the blue paint with words of kindness and love and felt my heartrate slowing down as I reviewed the rest of the painting.

  The blue in the painting really looked more like waves from an ocean and the red like the sunset, although I wasn’t exactly sure what the artist was trying to portray. Art was one of those things where if you saw something meaningful, then it was a significant painting to you. Another person might not see the same thing and wouldn’t be willing to pay the same price.

  To me, art was just another expression of what was on the inside of someone. Music and theater were some other art forms that really showed the soul of the artists. That was why I loved the arts so much: the emotions and pure feelings that artists, singers, and actors put into their work were incredible to see.

  Sometimes, I’d thought I really wanted to be an artist when I grew up, but then I became a mother and realized I had to have a job that was more responsible.

  “One million dollars!” Mattie exclaimed so loudly that everyone in the room turned to look at us.

  “Shhhhh.”

  “Del, they are seriously selling this painting for one million dollars. How on earth did I not become an artist? If this is how much money they make for putting globs of paint onto a canvas, I seriously need to rethink my profession.”

  “Come on now, this painting took a lot thought and work, look closely,” I said in defense of the artist. Although, I couldn’t imagine anyone would pay that high of a price for artwork, either. It seemed pretty astronomical.

  “You just like it because it looks like something Connor would paint for you at school,” she laughed.

  “I have to agree; it does look
a lot like one of his paintings. Except he doesn’t charge as much for his artwork. I could make a real killing if I started marketing his school artwork. Maybe I should get started on that.”

  “How is Connor doing in kindergarten?” Markus asked.

  “Really good. I like that he doesn’t have to go to daycare all day. The school day is much better because he really loves to be busy, just like his dad. I don’t think he ever sits down.”

  The mention of my late husband quickly had both Mattie and Markus quiet. Anytime I mentioned Spencer, people didn’t know what to say. It was as if I had set off a bomb in the room. First, total silence; then, a quick change of subject so no one had to talk about the dead husband or that fact that I was officially a widow at only twenty-seven years of age.

  “Do you think anyone will buy this?” Mattie asked as she changed the subject to avoid being uncomfortable. “It seems like a lot of money for someone to pay for one painting. I mean, not even a rich person would want to pay this much, right?”

  “I don’t know, probably. There are a lot of really wealthy people here, and art is so subjective. Maybe the painting will mean something to the person who purchases it. You just never know.”

  “It blows my mind that there are people in the world who have an extra million dollars to just buy spattered paintings. I mean, think about it: if they can afford a painting like this, it means they’ve paid for all their bills, all the fun extra stuff, probably have a summer house and tons of extra money. You don’t just spend this kind of money if it’s your last million dollars. The person who buys this is going to be so filthy rich, they literally think this is just a fun purchase. That’s mindboggling to me.”