by Laura Burton
Billionaires in New York
Laura Burton
Burton & Burchell Ltd
Matched With a Billionaire
A Billionaires in New York Prequel
The characters and storylines are fictitious, and any resemblance to real-life people and events are purely coincidental. The author retains all of the rights to this work which may not be copied and distributed online or elsewhere without the written permission of the owner of the rights.
All rights reserved by Laura Burton 2020.
Written in U.S. English
Cover Design by Wynter Designs
Edited by Tochi Biko
First Edition
Created with Vellum
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
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
DEDICATION
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
More from Laura Burton
Chapter One
It’s a beautiful day to fall in love––or so the ad said on Holly’s phone. Usually, she deleted spam messages. But something about this one caught her eye.
Emily Stewart at Find My Companion believes that every day is a beautiful day to fall in love. And she is on the lookout for single women who are looking for Mr. Right. A number of extremely handsome bachelors are waiting to find their match, so don’t hesitate! If you are ready to open up your heart and find true love, contact Emily today.
Holly tapped her finger against the side of her phone as she considered it.
“Morning, do you want a green smoothie?”
Holly looked up from her phone to see Josie, her overly happy roommate, skipping into the kitchen. Josie was a morning person. Usually by the time Holly got out of bed, Josie had already gone for a jog, read passages from her bible, showered, and prepared a nutritious breakfast.
“Sure, maybe skip the spirulina this time, though?”
Josie opened her mouth, perhaps to argue, but she closed it again and shook her head.
“Okay.”
Holly looked down at her phone again and clicked on the link in her email.
“So, what are your plans today?” Josie asked as she loaded up the blender. Holly didn’t answer as she checked out the Find My Companion website and whistled.
“Hellooo. Earth to Holly…”
Josie turned on the blender and it emitted an unearthly squeal that sent Holly’s ears ringing. When the noise faded, she looked up at Josie, who stared back with her dark eyes narrowed.
“What?” Holly asked.
Josie huffed with another shake of the head and grabbed two glass tumblers from the cupboard.
“You know what your problem is?” she asked, pouring thick green liquid into the glasses. Holly shrugged.
“I didn’t know I had a problem,” she said blankly. Josie gave her a hard look, then marched around the breakfast bar and handed her the drink.
“You’re never present in a situation. Always buried in your head, meanwhile the world goes on around you.” She took a few gulps and wiped her upper lip. “What are you so engrossed in, anyway?”
Holly clicked off the website and stuffed the phone in her pocket.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. She took a sip of her juice and resisted the urge to make a sour face. Josie had definitely snuck some spirulina in it. “I’ve got a shoot at Estelle’s this afternoon. Not sure when I’ll be done.”
Josie hummed and twirled her dark hair between her fingers.
“One of the servers is sick, can you cover tonight?” Josie asked, her voice was breezy but she didn’t make eye contact. Holly groaned.
“Not again. I’m not a server. Remember last time you got me to cover for one of your friends?”
The two of them shared a look before bursting out in laughter. Holly often joked that modelling worked well for her because she was display-only. As soon as she was tasked with doing something—carrying a tray of food or drinks for example—disaster would follow.
“The look on Martina’s face after you knocked her into the chocolate fountain is my go-to memory when I’m feeling sad.”
Holly’s stomach squirmed. She had tried a new pair of heels that night and wobbled over, twisting her ankle and collapsing on the worst person imaginable—Martina Constance, a fashion designer and close friend of Estelle. The biggest name in the industry.
“They probably have my name blacklisted. I bet they won’t even let me in,” she pointed out. Josie scoffed as she downed the rest of her drink and slammed the tumbler on the coffee table.
“It’s a big party tonight. Some charity mixer thingy with all sorts of rich businessmen. We need all the help we can get.”
Josie batted her eyelashes and pouted. As if this would magically charm Holly. But Holly didn’t need persuading. She could never say no to helping a friend in need. And she figured Josie must have been really desperate if she w
as coming to Holly for help. Especially after the fiasco of last time.
“Fine. I’ll help.” She slumped her shoulders. Josie pumped her fist in the air and squealed.
“I’ll pick up a uniform for you and text you the details.”
Josie turned to leave but stopped in thought and swivelled back to give Holly an evil grin.
“Maybe wear flat shoes this time?”
Chapter Two
“Look to your left, that’s it. Now place your hand on your right hip. Give me a little more pout. Can we get a fan set up over here? Great. Hold it right there.”
Thatcher Soul was one of the top photographers in New York. All the celebrities wanted him for their promotional shoots and his team followed his orders without a word. It was almost like they were scared of him.
But to Holly, he was just Thatcher, the geeky red head from high school who used to get beaten up by the jocks. The kid who told lame jokes and laughed at them.
He was also the kid who stuck by Holly through every humiliating moment of her high school life. And if it wasn't for Thatcher, Holly would not have got her big break in modelling.
“Thank you everyone,” he said with a clap: his signal to his team to pack up. Holly relaxed and stopped sucking in her stomach.
“Hey, did you hear about the mixer tonight?” Thatcher asked Holly, as his team disassembled the lighting.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Are you going?” Holly asked. The idea of having a friendly face at the function lifted her spirits exponentially. Thatcher shrugged.
“Estelle invited me, would be rude not to go,” he said, flashing his veneers. Holly smirked.
“That’s right, I forgot you two were bosom pals,” she joked, giving him a nudge. A flush of color rose to Thatcher’s round cheeks, almost matching the shade of red in his hair.
“Well, do you want to come? I’ll introduce you to Estelle. I hear she’s looking for the next cover girl for the magazine.”
Holly’s breath caught in her chest as she did her best to conceal a squeal. Being the cover girl at Estelle magazine was a career-making opportunity. Something every model in New York dreamed of.
Then she remembered her promise to Josie and her heart sank.
“Can’t. I’m helping the caterers.”
Thatcher gave her a frank look.
“And?” he said, wagging his brows like two red, wriggling caterpillars. “Who cares if you’re one of the servers? You’ll be there and that’s perfect. I’ll come find you and introduce you to Estelle.”
Holly gawped at him. The thought of being dressed as a server during her first meeting with Estelle sent her stomach into knots. And what if Estelle remembered Holly from the event that ended in disaster? She shook her head and waved her hands dramatically to cement her answer.
“No, I’m okay. Not this time.”
She resolved that one day the stars would align, and she’d be at a mixer wearing a devastatingly gorgeous cocktail dress and dazzling the whole room. Then, Estelle would beg Thatcher to be introduced. A small smile crept across Holly’s face at the thought.
“Disappointing. Don’t you think it’s about time you do something to put yourself out there?”
Holly glanced at the material draped over her shoulder and pinned at the back to resemble some sort of dress and looked pointedly at Thatcher.
“What do you think this is?” she asked, holding up her hands. Thatcher shook his head.
“Ah, but this here is your comfort zone. You’re with me. My team. Nobody is going to reject you.”
“Hey,” Holly interjected. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Thatcher avoided her gaze and puffed out his cheeks.
“Nothing, nothing.” He waved a hand and fiddled with the dials on his camera.
“No, tell me. What do you mean about rejection?” Holly nudged him and Thatcher huffed. Finally, he looked at her.
“I know I promised I’d never bring it up. But… prom night.”
Holly’s cheeks burned and her throat clammed up. He needn’t say anymore.
Fifteen years had passed since prom night, but the memory was branded on her mind. Holly could easily recall every tiny detail of the night. From the mermaid sequin dress that scratched her arms. To the smell of the fog machine up on the stage. Just thinking about it, she could feel the music thumping against her eardrums and the vibrations underfoot.
It should have been a dream night. Arlo Brown, the most popular boy in school, was her date. And against all odds, she was voted prom queen.
When it was announced, she couldn’t even believe it. Arlo swished his chocolate brown hair, flashed her a grin and stuck his arm out for her. Holly picked up her dress and glided across the dancefloor feeling like a million dollars. There was a hush and a sea of wide eyes as they made their way to the stage.
After Mrs. Bell placed the crown on her head and turned to pick up a bunch of red roses, Arlo grabbed the microphone and pointed unceremoniously at Holly.
“Here’s to the prom queen,” he shouted. The whole room erupted into laughter. Confused, Holly waved. Doing her best impression of a winner of a beauty pageant.
“Look at her. She thinks she’s really prom queen,” someone shouted. More laughter.
Holly looked at Arlo who had his phone out, facing her.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her stomach in knots.
“You think I’d really want to take you to prom? I got everyone to vote for you so I could take you up here and show you what a loser you really are! Smile for the camera, baby. This is going in the yearbook.”
Holly tried to make a run for it, but her heel got caught in the hem of her dress and she went hurtling down the stage steps and landed face first on the floor.
“Loser! Loser! Loser!”
Holly closed her eyes and shuddered as the chant echoed in her head.
“Why are you bringing this up?” she said in a deathly whisper. Thatcher touched her arm; Holly opened her eyes to see the apologetic look on his face.
“Holly, you know I love you. I’ll always have your back. But one of these days you’ve got to fly the nest. I can’t always work with you. What are you going to do then?”
The warmth in his voice settled Holly’s nerves and she sighed.
“Live in a cardboard box on the side of the street?” she offered with a crooked smile.
“I’d hate to see you end up sad and alone,” Thatcher said. Holly chuckled.
“I won’t. We’ve got that pact, remember? If neither of us find love by the time we’re thirty-five, we’ll get married.”
Suddenly, Holly realized that was just a couple of years away. The sickly feeling returned.
“About that. I’m moving to Paris,” Thatcher said frankly.
Holly’s mouth flew open as she blinked at him, unable to speak. Thatcher had become a permanent fixture in her life. After high school, they went to the same college. Then Thatcher’s rich uncle got him working for a couple of agencies, and Thatcher was able to bring Holly along to his gigs. The two of them had been working together ever since.
“Let me do this for you, before I go,” Thatcher said, taking her hand. Holly bit back the tears.
“I’ll be fine. It’s getting late and I need to get ready for tonight.” She pulled her hand back and cradled it to her chest. “See you tonight.”
Thatcher’s sympathetic stare followed Holly as she walked away.
Chapter Three
“So, Thatcher’s moving to Paris? For how long? Surely, he’s coming back. Right?” Josie fired questions at Holly so fast, Holly didn’t have time to answer. They hurried along the sterile corridor and Holly tried to imagine the acid rising to her throat as they entered the busy kitchen.
A crowd of servers milled around wearing identical black uniforms.
“Estelle wants the drinks flowing. I do not want to see any of you walking around with empty trays. Don’t forget; keep smiling, do not talk to anyone and keep moving. Questions?�
� The caterer didn’t wait for any before he barked at them to take a tray and go. The servers lined up, taking turns to grab a tray and leave the kitchen. Meanwhile a whole crowd of chefs dashed around making the entrées.
“We’ll talk about it afterwards,” Holly said to Josie as they stepped up to grab their tray.
“Hey you two. Cut it out. I’m not paying you to gossip.”
Holly carried her tray of drinks and followed Josie out of the kitchen. Each step felt like it would be her last as she put every ounce of focus into keeping the drinks from spilling. How she was supposed to smile and look composed, was anyone’s guess.
A string quartet performed on stage as the entire hall was flooded with people dressed in designer clothes.
