The Billionaire's Affair: Billionaire Brothers (Tycoon Billionaires Book 2)

by Farrell, Julie

  The Billionaire’s Affair by Julie Farrell

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Fonts used with permission from Microsoft.

  Copyright © 2015 by Julie Farrell

  Billionaire Tycoons, billionaire brothers, billionaire bachelors…

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  Chapter One

  Trying to ignore her thrashing nerves, Sarah rushed in her suit and heels down the corridor to investigate the sound of a woman’s scream. Her heart pounded in her ears. She felt like a cop on a twilight stakeout as she crept towards the room where the shriek had come from, but it was eerily quiet up here now, and this lavish hallway suddenly seemed daunting. Her frantic gaze was drawn to a dirty stain on the pristine carpet and she made a mental note to alert housekeeping. She sighed. Even in the face of potential peril, she never stopped being a hotel manager.

  Sarah halted in front of the sturdy gilded door of the Mayfair Suite. The door was ajar, so she pushed it open and peered into the shadows. The huge suite was outlined by the ornate doorframe, but it was dimly lit, meaning that all Sarah could see were the blurred shapes of the king-size bed, the massive couches, and the antique mahogany cabinet. This room was one of the biggest in the hotel – bigger than Sarah’s apartment – so the woman who’d screamed could be anywhere. She pressed herself to go in. Come on, Sarah, here goes nothing.

  She swept her brown bobbed hair out of her face and tiptoed inside, but she straightaway halted. A man’s voice was whispering in an aggressive tone around the corner, and Sarah wondered whether she should call the police. But what would she tell them? Someone was whispering in their room? No, she needed to resolve this herself.

  With her fear swishing in her stomach, Sarah crept further inside and prepared herself to see something terrible. Even though the lights were off in the room, the deep-orange setting sun was streaming in through the window, casting a spotlight over the whispering man and allowing her to see the scene clearly. She froze. The whispering man had his back to her, but the world jolted like an earthquake as her gaze fell upon the other person in the room. The person she’d least expected to see in a million years.

  Dylan Quinlan…

  Dylan Quinlan – her college sweetheart – was pinned against the wall by a thug who was holding a knife at his throat. Sarah’s mind churned with confusion. Dylan! What the hell was he doing in London? In her hotel? She never thought she’d see him again, let alone find him here… held at knifepoint… Her heart squeezed painfully against her ribcage as she tried to figure out what the hell to do. With a knife at his throat, Dylan looked understandably apprehensive, but he was even more handsome than Sarah remembered. Time had transformed him from a reasonably attractive twenty-year-old into the striking pinnacle of hot masculinity before her. He still had those lovely brown curls, but now his designer stubble and rugged face complemented them perfectly in an exquisite expression of manliness. He’d always had a reputation for being surly. But now he seemed to reflect the very essence of mean and moody. Sarah’s heart fluttered at the sight of him looking so tough, yet so vulnerable.

  The world spiralled beneath her. The only two things in existence now were her pounding heart, and the realisation that her first love was possibly about to breathe his last. She forced herself to get a grip; he needed help.

  Dylan was currently negotiating with the thug, telling him he had the wrong man and denying knowing someone called Natalia. But the assassin didn’t seem to be listening; he was speaking over Dylan with a thick Russian accent. Sarah stared at Dylan as he coolly glanced over the assassin’s shoulder, then his expression recoiled in surprise as he noticed her. His gaze froze and they held eye contact – gazing into each other’s souls as if no time had passed. Had it really been seven years since she’d last lost herself in those big brown eyes?

  But this was no time to reminisce. Dylan broke eye contact and glanced to the side, urgently trying to communicate with her. Sarah looked around for something heavy…

  “Listen,” the thug said in his thick Russian accent. “You tell me who is in bathroom or I break down door and kill them after I kill you.”

  Sarah’s chest tightened as she realised there must be someone else in this room – a woman hiding in the bathroom. That must’ve been who’d screamed. Maybe she was this Russian man’s wife. Dylan, you scoundrel!

  But whoever the woman was, Sarah needed to prevent this homicide from happening in her hotel. But how? Her inner-Britishness wanted to politely request that the assassin put the knife down, but her inner-logic told her that brute force was going to be required…

  Sarah’s gaze landed on an Art Deco lamp that was worth more than some Londoners earned in a month. But right now it was a handy weapon, so she silently bent to unplug it and held it aloft. Dylan started talking loudly to cover the sounds that Sarah made as she crept closer behind the assassin, then she raised her arm and brought the lamp down heavily over the thug’s head. He let out a groan, then collapsed to the soft carpet like a felled tree. Sarah prayed she hadn’t killed him. The tense atmosphere in the room unwound suddenly like a spring, and she caught her breath. Now that she could see the assassin’s face, she realised he was young and boyish, but strong and wiry. And even though he was currently unconscious, Sarah could tell he was cunning – the sort of person who might pull a knife on you at any moment. Which obviously he had. His features were clearly Russian… She’d been correct about the accent.

  Dylan rubbed his neck where the knife had pierced his skin. His expression was supercool as always – despite having just escaped from being skewered alive. But that was typical Dylan. He didn’t smile much… but when he did, his face lit up with a captivating grin – and you knew he meant it. Sarah had loved that smile; it had been Dylan’s way of telling her how much he adored her. But that was a long time ago…

  His gorgeous eyes enveloped her. “Sarah, I never thought we’d be reunited like this! It’s awesome to see you, seriously.”

  “Awesome to see me? Dylan – what the hell is going on?”

  He inspected her. “How long’s it been? Six… seven years? You still look so beautiful.”

  Before Sarah was able to stop him, Dylan stepped forward and slipped his arms around her, pulling her close. She tensed her muscles like a terrified cat, but as he hugged her tight, she relaxed and sank into him, like sliding into a warm bathtub after a very long wintry walk. She rested her head on his shoulder and gave herself to him, as if the last seven years hadn’t happened. She’d forgotten how much she loved being in these arms. He was like the sunshine after the rain. And at this moment – just for a few seconds – she loved him again. Had she ever stopped? She sensed that he cared for her, too, but there was an underlying tension that contradicted his soothing arms. They’d had their chance but now it was too late…

  Sarah pulled away, and his stubble prickled against her face as they parted. She reached out and stroked his cheek, relishing the sandpaper roughness on her fingertips. “I should get back to work…”

  He wrapped his strong fingers around hers. “You look no different to the day you broke my heart.”

  She rankled, hardening herself. “You told me to leave.”

  “It was for your own good, sweetheart.”

/>   Sarah’s heart surged with regret. “If you love someone, set them free.”

  “And I did. I really did.”

  “Set me free?”

  Dylan opened his mouth to reply, but a sound from behind dragged them back to the present. Oh yes – the woman in the bathroom. Sarah turned and saw a glamorous woman rush over in the most impractical shoes and tight dress she’d ever seen. The woman looked terrified, but even in such weird circumstances, Sarah couldn’t help but feel envy at the sight of Dylan’s latest squeeze. She recognised this woman from the covers of the celebrity magazines – Natalia Orlov. She was married to a ruthless young Russian tycoon – Vladimir Orlov – and she was always at his side. They attracted a lot of media attention because they were both stunningly good-looking, and Vladimir was charismatic. Sarah felt plain next to Natalia, with her false eyelashes, blonde hair extensions, and beauty-parlour make-up. She looked as if she was probably in her mid-twenties, just slightly younger than Sarah, but somehow she seemed sophisticated – as if she’d led a privileged life. Sarah was accustomed to mixing with high-calibre people because most of the guests who stayed here were wealthy and powerful – so it wasn’t this woman’s background that stirred Sarah’s envy. It was the thought of Dylan being with her sexually. Apparently – even after seven years – she hadn’t gotten over him…

  Natalia spoke with a warm Russian accent. “Dylan, you killed him?”

  “You were in the bathroom all along?” Sarah asked. “Why the hell didn’t you help?”

  Natalia gazed at Sarah, noticing her for the first time. “Oh…?”

  “Sarah,” Dylan said, “this is Natalia.”

  Natalia raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at Dylan. “You two know each other?”

  Dylan opened his mouth to explain, but the concussed assassin groaned on the carpet.

  Natalia gazed at him. “He’s alive...”

  “Perhaps you’d like to tell me what’s going on?” Sarah said, looking down her nose at Natalia. “I happen to be the general manager of this establishment.”

  “Yes,” Natalia said. “This man is called Mikhail. He works for my husband. If he would’ve seen me here with Dylan, he would’ve killed us both.”

  Mikhail’s body slowly started to flood back to consciousness. Panic rushed into Sarah’s muscles. “Well, he still might see you.”

  Natalia appealed to Sarah with her huge blue eyes. “Help us?”

  “Why should I?”

  Dylan grabbed Sarah’s shoulders and smothered her with his captivating gaze. “Please, Sarah. You’re our last hope.”

  A lightning storm of desire prickled through Sarah’s body at his touch. She willed herself to be strong against him, but she knew what those hands were capable of. Her arousal overrode her rational mind.

  “Get back in the bathroom,” Sarah said to Natalia. And to Dylan, “You owe me big time.”

  Natalia threw her arms around Sarah and hugged her tight. Sarah tensed like an iron rod as the beautiful Russian woman pressed herself against her shocked body. She prised herself out of Natalia’s embrace – this was getting weirder by the minute.

  Natalia ran to the bathroom and shut herself in, just as Mikhail came around. He opened his eyes woozily, then he flinched as if he’d been electrocuted – realising that Dylan and Sarah were gazing down on him. He scrambled to his feet, eyes darting to the left and right. Dylan grabbed the knife to prevent a repeat performance.

  Mikhail gripped his head with both hands. “Ow, you hit me hard!”

  Dylan gestured to Sarah. “This is the person who was in the bathroom, okay? She crept up behind you and hit you with that lamp. And the reason she was hiding in the bathroom is because… she’s my wife.”

  Shock burst out of Sarah in the form of a laugh. “Wha –!”

  Dylan threw his arm around her and pulled her close. “Yes, Sarah – my wife!”

  Mikhail inspected her with doubtful eyes. “She’s hotel manager.”

  Dylan shrugged. “That’s right. We don’t want the staff knowing about our illicit meetings. It’s a game we like to play. That’s why she locked herself in the bathroom. We don’t want her to lose her job. Right, honey?”

  “Well, I…”

  “You’re lying.” Mikhail said.

  Dylan stepped behind Sarah and rested his hands on her shoulders. Lust surged up from her thighs and seeped through her body. God, she’d missed this man. And she’d been so busy working recently that she hadn’t even had time to take care of herself. Her fraught body craved him and what he could offer. He knew precisely what he was doing when he touched her like this. He hadn’t changed…

  Dylan gently massaged her shoulders. “Sarah darling, would you mind showing this thug the scar on your chest please – the one I could only know about if I’d seen you intimately?”

  Sarah drew her fitted suit-jacket around her torso. “Certainly not.”

  He lowered his mouth to her ear; his voice was warm and powerful. “Come on, it’s okay. Relax.”

  Sarah tried to control her thumping heart as Dylan drew her jacket down behind her shoulders. She felt as if she might climax right here on the carpet as he reached around and undid the first three buttons of her shirt. Then, totally in command, he pulled back her shirt, revealing her lacy bra – as well as the scar in question – which she’d acquired when she’d fallen out of a tree as a child growing up in London. Sarah closed her eyes, forcing herself to get a grip on her clashing desire. She felt utterly exposed in body and mind. And somehow she loved it. Damn Dylan Quinlan.

  Dylan tenderly ran his fingers over the scar. “There, you see? How could I know about it if she was nothing more than a hotel manager to me?”

  Sarah’s lust caught in her throat. She braced herself for him to bite her neck – just like the old days – but instead he wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her on the side of the head like a parent. She shuddered with arousal. He was dominating, yet tender. Just as he’d always been.

  Mikhail shook his head. “Fine. But you know what, lady? Your husband is screwing Natalia Orlov.”

  Dylan chuckled contemptuously. “That’s not true. I don’t know where this rumour started, but we need to quash it right now. So I suggest you go back to Mr Orlov and tell him he was wrong about me and Natalia, okay? You can tell him you met my wife and that Natalia wasn’t with me. Got it?”

  Mikhail nodded slowly, still not entirely convinced.

  Sarah pulled her shirt back on, then strode towards the bathroom. “If you’re still not sure, why don’t you check in here?” She threw open the bathroom door, and signalled for Natalia to hide behind the shower curtain. Mikhail joined her in the doorway.

  “See, no one else was in here. Just me. Hiding in case the staff found me – exactly as Dylan said.”

  Mikhail started to walk inside, but Sarah stepped in front of him to block his way. “Now I suggest you leave my hotel before I call the police. How do you think Mr Orlov would feel if one of his henchmen got arrested and the papers found out what a criminal he is? Just as they’ve been speculating ever since he took over Fenchurch United Soccer Club?”

  Mikhail turned to Dylan. “Right, I will leave. But if you are suspected of –”

  Dylan’s cool demeanour snapped and he leapt at Mikhail, grabbing him by the shirt and throwing him out into the corridor. “You heard my wife – get out now! Or I’ll toss you out the window before Sarah’s even dialled the first number for the cops.”

  Mikhail brushed himself down, muttered something in Russian, then strode off towards the elevator. Sarah slammed the door behind him and stepped back into the room. She folded her arms across her chest, refusing to allow Dylan into her heart or mind again. “Alright, what’s going on?”

  Natalia strode out of the bathroom. “It’s my fault, Mrs Quinlan. I honestly had no idea Dylan was married.” She turned to Dylan and almost spat at him. “You disgusting cheating dog, how dare you?”

  Sarah’s mind unravelled as she tried
to keep up. She refrained from reminding Natalia that she was allegedly cheating on her husband. Instead, she decided to tell her the truth. “Look, Dylan and I aren’t really –”

  “Ah, yes,” Dylan said. “Natalia, I’m sorry for the confusion. Sarah and I have been on a break…”

  “Yes, rather a lengthy one,” Sarah scoffed.

  “But I still love her,” Dylan said. “That’s why I wanted to meet up with you tonight, Natalia. To break it off. To tell you that I’m sorry. I hope you understand.” He transferred his attention to Sarah and appealed to her with a cool expression. “I hope you’ll take me back. Right, Mrs Quinlan?”

  Sarah spoke through gritted teeth. “Whatever you say.”

  “Thank you.” He gazed deeply into her eyes – connecting with her soul in that gorgeous way of his – then he pulled them both back to reality. “First things first, though. How are we gonna get Natalia out of here? She can’t just walk out. I bet Orlov’s henchmen have got the place surrounded.”

  Sarah shrugged. “Not my problem, Dylan. But I’m sure you’ll think of something. I’ve got a hotel to run. Have a nice life.”

  With the blood sloshing in her ears, Sarah turned to leave, determined to get back to work and away from this madness.

  “Sarah, wait!”

  She halted. Don’t look into his eyes, Sarah, that’s how he gets under your skin… But maybe… beyond this door lay life as usual; hectic, bland, unfulfilling. Maybe she wanted Dylan back in her life. Perhaps an adventure might be nice…

  He came up behind her again and rested a firm hand on her shoulder, causing her to melt into a pool of lust. “Please…” he said, electrifying her with his dazzling touch.

  She turned slowly, feeling the tractor beam of his gorgeous eyes pull her in. She shrugged. “What do you want now?”

  He threw her a half-smile. “Have you got a maid’s uniform we can borrow? I think Natalia should wear it.”

  Sarah’s passion turned to anger and she raised her hand to slap him. “How dare you involve me in your sordid sex games!”