Billionaire's Defiant Mistress

by Longton, Heather

  BILLIONAIRE'S

  DEFIANT

  MISTRESS

  BY

  HEATHER LONGTON

  HeatherLongton.LeviathanPublishers.com

  Leviathan Publishers

  Copyright © 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Copyright © 2013

  HeatherLongton.LeviathanPublishers.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Welcome to my second novel – Billionaire's Defiant Mistress. - It was so exciting finishing and publishing the first one that I couldn't wait to get this one out. I had a lot of positive feedback and can only thank everyone for your encouragement.

  I live in North Staffs, UK. Writing can be easy or difficult and each time I sit down I am not sure which it will be, so I grab a coffee, turn up some music and allow my mind to dream along as I hopefully create something worth reading.

  Owner of two pets, Branston the miniature schnauzer and Rebel the cat along with a husband and two not so young children.

  My career began in Social Services followed by some teaching but it was the private sector which gave me the most satisfaction in advertising and promotions.

  Thanks for checking out my web page www.heatherlongton.leviathanpublishers.com. Keep an eye out for any special offers as I intend offering books on kindle for free when they are released. Better still sign up to my mail list and I will let you know each time a new one is released and how you can read it for free. I just ask for a review or similar but thats up to you.

  Please sign up for notifications of forthcoming books at my website:

  HeatherLongton.LeviathanPublishers.com

  Chapter 1

  Something mysterious and dangerous drew her eyes towards him. As Sarah gazed upon him she couldn't help but notice the tantalising effect he had on her. She could feel the blood rushing round her body, her cheeks warming and her heart was pounding so much she thought the whole department store must surely be able to hear it.

  This man is so handsome she thought to herself. Too gorgeous to be real and at her perfume counter. For a brief moment she felt as if she was in a dream and she was dreaming about Christmas. There was a large tree over in the corner, with tinsel and streamers hanging from the ceiling, and her dream man was about to be presented to her as a special Christmas gift. But she snapped out of the daydream; it was Christmas, at least it soon would be and no, this was not a dream.

  But who did she have to compare him to? Sarah had only been out of her Lake District home twice before – and most of the men she knew there wore cheap scent and banged their knees into your legs whilst dancing. For the slow numbers they held and squeezed you like a stuffed pillow, and whilst up close, you could always make out tufts of short cropped hair on their jaw which they had missed when shaving, alongside little red cuts where they had nicked themselves.

  Such was life in the Lake District that Sarah had chosen to come and work temporarily in Manchester for the festive period. She felt she was living the dream having got away from the same old daily routine to something much more exciting in a big city. And it was a dream with people rushing around, fake snow everywhere, fairy lights and the constant air of expectation. She loved this time of year.

  She had found a position on the cosmetics counter and was responsible for promoting the seasonal specials. Perfume, after shave and box sets of various products all designed with the present hunter in mind. It was great that it was Christmas and it was a great job she thought, in spite of her supervisor who seemed determined to make life difficult; and in spite of her having to stand on her feet for ten hours a day, serving snooty customers, as well as over joking students and screaming children on their way to the grotto.

  But today, there was this very different type of customer – he was tall, very muscular and a dark skin which made him look so exotic. His dark overcoat led her eyes up to his face which appeared very proud and dignified, his lips glowed with sensuality – and yet his eyes betrayed a cold determined look of pure steel.

  Sarah's heart began beating faster as if it had moved up a gear. Surely he wasn't interested in anything on her counter. He looked like the kind of man who would have someone else do the shopping for him. She doubted he would fall for her over-rehearsed sales pitch either, but she lost her inhibitions and found herself walking up to him.

  Never before had Sarah been so conscious of someone who was in her presence. He seemed to radiate an aura of authority around him, dominating the space near him as if he owned it. Anybody in his vicinity would have to stop and take a second look.

  Feeling dizzy and wondering what had possessed her to approach him she gasped a deep breath. “Good day sir. Are you looking for anything in particular or is there something I can help you with?”

  Carlos pulled the skin on his forehead together as he frowned in the direction of the interruption only to find himself staring into a pair of deep blue eyes of extraordinary beauty. Women adored him and he was used to their attention; sales girls were no different. He wasn't in the mood for engaging in small talk but he was here to find some Christmas presents for his staff, and the girl, who would sell him the store if she could, was very pretty. So he smiled gently and gave her his attention. “Gift sets?” he questioned with a Mediterranean accent.

  Sarah nodded. He sounded Spanish and he looked Spanish, which added another layer of mystery and intrigue to her interest – but inwardly she was already feeling inadequate.

  She had little experience with the opposite sex but she knew enough to realise this man was way out of her league. His clothes screamed class, his posture and manner were daunting. So daunting she began to feel that she was flapping. Say something for goodness sake.

  “Yes, Sir. But these are no ordinary gift sets. Each one is full of the highest quality products you can find in Manchester and each is designed for a specific type of person. This one is for a more mature woman; this would suit a younger man.” She pointed at different boxes as she spoke. Sarah turned her face to look at him, widening her smile in hope he would notice her. It seemed he had a face of ice. “It is Christmas you know.”

  Carlos shrugged. He was no fan of Christmas – but as he looked Sarah in the face he forgot what time of year it was. All the noise and bustle around him seemed to recede as he noticed her exquisite beauty. She was so delightfully pretty. Her skin was glowing and shiny, her hair as smooth as silk. And her body oozed perfection even through the mundane store uniform she had to wear. Though he was jet lagged and tired after last night's European tie over in Russia he still felt his senses heighten.

  “Christmas?” he drawled. “That must be why I can hear a choir of angels serenading my soul – or maybe you have such an effect on all your customers?” He noticed her cheeks flush a deep red colour as he flashed his cheeky grin her way. “Show me what it is you have and maybe you can persuade me to buy from you.”

  Sarah smiled and nodded which she hoped would cover up the pounding of her heart and the way she thought her body must be shaking. She w
aved her hand towards the gift sets and started her sales pitch. “These are for younger adults. In the men’s boxes there will be shaving crème and balm with an energising shower gel and musk after shave. The women’s boxes focus more on skin care and anti-ageing products but all have a good quality perfume alongside the toiletries included. It would depend on who you are buying for.”

  “Which one of these is your favourite?”

  “Me? My...my favourite?” She wasn't used to being asked for her opinion.

  “Yes. You do have a favourite, don't you? Which would you have?”

  She had been thrown off her sales pitch. No one had ever asked her what she thought before. The very act of asking her had made her feel, somehow special. Oh, stop it; she was being such a fool. She looked him in his gleaming eyes and tried to be as honest as she could. “In all honesty, I like this one most of all. The perfume is my favourite and the bath soak included helps me drift into a deeply relaxed state. Also the skin crème is supposed to be very good, though I have never used it myself.”

  “Your skin is so clear and shiny you don't need to put it on your face.” He spoke matter of factly.

  There was a pause as Carlos studied the box with his eyes focused as if it was a bar of precious metal. “Give me six boxes. Can you wrap them for me please?”

  Six! Six, she thought as she began calculating the commission in her head. “Of course sir, do you want the Christmas wrapper or the plain silver paper.”

  “The silver paper is great, thank you.”

  As she wrapped she noticed how her fingers fumbled around as if it was the first time she had wrapped anything – indeed ever used them. They took on a life of their own almost ignoring what she was trying to do. It didn't help her concentration that Carlos asked her question after question as she worked. But she felt obliged to answer each one seeing as she had just made a healthy commission and he was a customer, wasn't he? No, she didn't live in Manchester and yes, her eyes really were that colour. His questioning was so distracting that she was finding it hard to think straight.

  Carlos watched as she tightened the bow of the bright red ribbon and trimmed away the excess lengths. He had noticed now just how beautiful she was and he couldn't walk away without saying something. That long blonde hair, those deep blue eyes and the slim and curvy figure which he was beginning to wish he could hold right there.

  He'd only been in Manchester a few months. Brought in to the local, successful football team at the end of the transfer window and where he expected to finish his career. He had been a successful player in Spain and Italy and had won all the honours a top player could expect to win. Regularly on the sporting pages throughout Europe he had negotiated one last deal which would net him many millions of dollars to add to his already bloated bank account. But success could be draining and he often thought how he was so removed from the basics in life. And he had already had enough of Christmas with its rampant commercialism and in-your-face, excessive celebrations.

  On his mind was a little relaxation with a pleasantly inoffensive female. Not some work hard, play hard type who would invariably begin lectures on feminism the instant he opened a door for her. Nor someone who starts talking wedding bells the minute you take her away for a few days. No, the perfect distraction right now would be calm, unchallenging and very easy on the eye. Someone who could gently massage his soul, bolster his ego and take care of his needs. And this pert young thing in front of him looked ideal. She wouldn't want late night discussions on fatalism and free-will or make demands of breaks in Paris and Dublin. Doubtful she would want to offer advice on where to invest his money or where to buy his next property. All she would bring to him would be a firm bottom and soft, tempting breasts. Perfect.

  “When will you be finished working?” he asked, as he handed over his credit card.

  Sarah struggled to get the words out. “Six o'clock.” She immediately regretted answering so truthfully and hoped that would be the end of the conversation. Her stomach churned as she looked at him.

  “And you already have plans for dinner?”

  Sarah's mind flashed back to the last portion of spaghetti bolognese which she had been eating for the past three evenings. She pictured it in the fridge at the shared apartment, which was her current home. It was a basic living space she shared with an old friend from school who had moved to Manchester to be at the university. Her room was more of a large cupboard than a small bedroom but it was only for a short while, so she was grateful.

  “Half-baked plans,” she said, smiling inwardly as she thought how appropriate that was. Fully baked but needing to be microwaved would not have sounded quite the same even if more accurate.

  “Half-baked?” he queried.

  “I've already arranged to have dinner with my room-mates.”

  “So if I were to ask you out to dinner you could change your plans?”

  “No.” She blurted it out, a little too fast she felt. Surely she should be polite and not so quick to dismiss his offer.

  “Why ever not?”

  She felt herself getting flustered and the churning of the stomach returned. She was so helpless she thought. Even turning him down for dinner made her feel so... so inadequate. “I don't even know you. I can't go for dinner with just anybody who walks into the store.”

  “Then please allow me to introduce myself. That will be one less problem for us to face together.”

  He put out his hand and instinctively Sarah's hand moved the short distance it needed to, for him to gently grasp it. She wasn't new to hand shaking. She had shaken the hands of guests as they left in her mother's B&B. She had shaken hands of opponents at the end of tennis matches and she had shaken hands as she had received awards for her tennis playing – but none of those handshakes had sent a ripple of tingling sensation along her arm.

  His hand seemed so big at the side of hers, and his touch was so intimate. She wondered if he had brushed her palm with his finger? It was brief, or had she imagined it?

  “My name is Carlos Rodriguez,” he spoke softly. “I was born in Madrid but consider myself to be European and now, I live here in Manchester. Is there anything else which you would like to know? I have a nice house in Cheshire and I have no one to eat dinner with this evening. I was planning to do some reading but then I met...” He leaned forward from his waist and peered at her name badge. “...Sarah Daykin and I have been distracted from my plans.”

  Sarah felt distracted too. She hadn't been asked out for a while and she had never been asked out by a man as charming and gorgeous as Carlos. She knew that dinner would be much better than the burger place she visited when she had last been 'taken out' – taken for a ride more like.

  But her instinct was to turn down the invitation. The first moment she had seen him her instinct had said danger. Now her instinct was back again and it was telling her no. A big no. He was not a man for her. Too rich, too handsome, he was just too everything. And how arrogant he was to assume that she would drop everything and rush out to be with him for dinner!

  “It's most decent of you for asking and I am very flattered, but I cannot just let my flat-mates down.” She was making the best excuse she could think of in that instant, though it was partially true.

  Carlos frowned at her as he attempted to take in the fact that he had just been turned down by a shop assistant. How could she say no? Impossible! “Your boyfriend will be waiting at home for you?”

  “No,” she answered calmly as she felt herself getting the upper-hand in the conversation. “There is no boyfriend, but my friends will be expecting me back and I promised to visit the supermarket on the way home.”

  He suspected she was leading him on. Playing hard to get so he would chase her whilst making herself seem more desirable. Or was she a woman who had sufficient self respect to say no? A woman who would not fall into his arms with a few kind words and an offer of dinner. Surely not!

  He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a card. “If you change yo
ur mind, please give me a call. We can have a very nice dinner together.” He offered the card and she reached her hand forward to accept. As her hand touched his she felt the shock of electricity flow up her arm again just as she had earlier. She felt emboldened.

  “You could always come in another day, I may be free then.”

  “You want me to come back and ask you out again?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “I don't think so,” he said with some disbelief. “Adiós, my dear.”

  Sarah watched with some disappointment as he turned and left. She followed his dark coat to the exit as if she were expecting him to turn around and ask her out again. But he didn't. He disappeared from view and Sarah began wondering if she had imagined the whole scene. But then she noticed he had left his six box sets, all wrapped up at the side of the till, and it was too late for her to chase him.

  As she sat on the bus, Sarah admonished herself for her stupidity. She had come to Manchester for some excitement and adventure and it wouldn't get more exciting than having a handsome stranger take you out for dinner. What was she thinking? It's not as if men are beating her door down with offers of dinner. How long would she have to wait before the chance of a date with a gorgeous man would happen again?

  She played with the handle of the large carrier bag which contained the half dozen gift sets Carlos had bought. She should ring him and let him collect them she had decided. But what possessed her to bring them with her? She would ring him tomorrow, she thought; tonight would be with her friends as planned.

  She may have turned down a great dating opportunity but she had shown what a good loyal friend she was – she wasn't one to let others down, she reflected. A view she comforted herself with until she got home to the apartment. There was a note on the table from her friend Gareth – they'd all gone down to the pub and would she care to join them? When she looked in the fridge the last of the bolognese had gone. She pictured Carlos's face, imagining him taunting her as she realised what she had lost for nothing. Should she go to the pub? Or maybe? No, she couldn't. Could she? He had given her his number and said to call. And she had the perfect excuse to call him seeing as she had all of his Christmas presents in her possession. Most of all she wanted to call him – did she really need a second rate excuse?