The Billionaire's Heart (Secret Billionaire's Club Book 1)

by Tracey Pedersen

  The Billionaire’s Heart

  The Secret Billionaire’s Club

  Tracey Pedersen

  Daring Online Adventures

  The Billionaire’s Heart

  Copyright © 2019 Tracey Pedersen

  All Rights Reserved

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying, scanning or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author. This includes transmission by email.

  Reviewers are permitted to quote brief passages for the purpose of reviewing only.

  The Billionaire’s Heart is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized by, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  The entire Secret Billionaire’s Club series is dedicated to my fellow authors. Who knew such a fun, supportive community existed in an industry many consider to be ultra-competitive? For all the romance authors who gave guidance, shared their publishing secrets, let me into their Facebook groups, and laughed at my crappy jokes, these books are for you. To remind you that we really can go further together.

  Contents

  Chapter One - Kendra

  Chapter Two - Sayer

  Chapter Three - Kendra

  Chapter Four - Sayer

  Chapter Five - Kendra

  Chapter Six - Sayer

  Chapter Seven - Kendra

  Chapter Eight - Sayer/Kendra

  Chapter Nine - Kendra

  Chapter Ten - Sayer

  Chapter Eleven - Kendra

  Chapter Twelve - Sayer

  Chapter Thirteen - Kendra

  Chapter Fourteen - Sayer

  Chapter Fifteen - Kendra

  Chapter Sixteen - Sayer

  Chapter Seventeen - Kendra/Sayer

  Chapter Eighteen - Kendra

  The Billionaire’s Luck

  The Steamy Sensations Books

  Also by Tracey Pedersen

  About the Author

  Before you go…

  Chapter One - Kendra

  Sayer Smith is dating again, and I can’t stand it.

  It’s been more than six months since my swoon-worthy boss hooked up with the pop star the newspapers were later thrilled to report broke his heart. He and I both know that wasn’t the case, but journalists love to stretch the truth, especially entertainment reporters who work for your competitor. The relationship would have run its course sooner except for her people stretching it out. I was on the verge of taking the drastic step to leak the truth, except Sayer confided that he wasn’t serious about her and couldn’t care less what was being reported.

  But now, here he is going on dates and making definite plans to settle down. For the thousandth time since I started working for him, I kick myself for shutting down his early advances. At the time I didn’t realize how different the private Sayer was to the public persona. I had no idea how much he enjoyed the simple things in life, side-by-side with the high-flying experiences he took for granted. This man doesn’t employ a chauffeur when he travels, he hires a car. Sayer doesn’t employ security staff, except for big events. He supports several charities and keeps his donations secret.

  I glance at the mangled chew toy in the corner of his office as I place an envelope against his keyboard. If only he’d bought that chocolate puppy earlier, the one he let kiss him on the mouth from the moment it arrived in the office, I’d have fallen into his arms the night he made it clear he was interested in me.

  How could I have known if it was a fling for him, or something more, when we’d barely got to know each other at work?

  I couldn’t.

  So, I knocked him back. As professionally as I could manage, making it clear I’d never be interested in him. I’d almost laughed at the surprised look on his face. There’s a chance I’m the only woman who has ever rejected an advance from the sexy media mogul waiting in a nearby restaurant for a date his mother chose for him.

  And don’t I regret it now?

  Chapter Two - Sayer

  My fingers tapping on the table annoy me, a glance at the time all I need to confirm I’ve only been waiting seven minutes. It feels like longer as I scroll through email on my phone, well aware a woman two tables away keeps glancing at me. Each time she does she leans into her companion and speaks quietly. He laughs and she joins in, the tassels on her red jacket shaking. I wonder if she’s making up a backstory for me, since I’m alone at a table set for two on Valentine’s Day. A man with a rose on the table, on this particular day, must be a loser if his date hasn’t shown.

  I'm anything but a loser.

  Companies I own probably made the jacket she’s wearing. At the very least one of them would have the advertising account for the brand. If it’s high-end, anyway.

  The waitress makes a beeline for my table. I’ve already sent her away twice and this time, at the last minute, she veers to the left to attend to another guest. Her hovering is almost as annoying as the woman and her laughing companion.

  Not as annoying as waiting for a date who I’m convinced won’t show. How I got sucked into this scenario is something I’ll have to give some thought to. It’s not the first time our boys’ club has ventured into crazy-land to amuse ourselves with an outlandish idea.

  My phone buzzes and I smile when I see the name on the screen. I notice a flicker of interest from the female diner as I answer. “Hey, Kendra. What’ve you got for me?”

  “It's not good news, Sayer.”

  “Well, don't hold back. We didn't get to this point by keeping secrets.”

  The only secret I keep from Kendra Snow is my desire to make her mine. She’s the best personal assistant I’ve ever had, and I almost ruined it when I asked her out on the three-month anniversary of her starting work for me. I try not to recall the look of distaste on her face as I was swiftly rebuffed, with strict instructions not to ask again. That was three years ago, and I’ve behaved myself around her ever since.

  “Sorry.” I hear a loud thump, followed by her muttering something away from the phone. I’m convinced she’s knocked her plant off her desk. There’s no way that happened, though. Kendra is rarely flustered, or clumsy. She sighs before she continues, which is also unusual. “The numbers aren’t where you want them to be. I’m certain you’ll want to revise your bid when you look them over.”

  “That bad?” I lean back in my chair and finally stare down the woman in the red jacket. Her bravado vanishes and she focusses her attention on her date, reaching out to hold his hand. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “How's your date going?”

  I snort. “So far she's a no-show. In six more minutes, I'm leaving and coming to the office.”

  “Well, why don't you sit tight, and I'll bring the paperwork to you? You can sign it, I'll take it home, and I can lodge it tomorrow when you're on your way to Perth. If your date has arrived by then, I'll only be a thirty second interruption.”

  “Okay. I'll order myself a drink to smooth out the shock of those numbers.” She laughs and I allow myself a second to close my eyes. Her laugh is a sound I can never admit that I love.

  “Better make it a double.”<
br />
  Fifteen minutes later an audible sigh filters through the restaurant when Kendra heads toward my table. By now I have everyone’s attention as the single guy on Valentine’s day, waiting patiently for his date. If I’d chosen a lesser establishment, I have no doubt my photo would be all over social media by now, anonymous strangers sympathizing with me in the comments section. Several times I considered waiting for Kendra outside, but it’s almost become a point of pride for these strangers to see that I’m with someone. That’s something else I’ll have to examine while I’m alone. I don’t care what people think of me—I must be losing my edge.

  Kendra slides into the seat across from me and I hear a tutt to my left. The staring woman from earlier doesn’t hide her gaze this time. No doubt I should have risen to welcome my date.

  Oh, lady, you have no idea. If Kendra were my date, every person in this restaurant would know about it. You’d be staring for a whole different reason.

  “Here you go.” She wastes no time pulling the paperwork from her bag and sliding it toward me.

  I take it from her, but I don’t look down. She’s wearing a white jacket, with a wraparound front, and I caught a glimpse of the short black skirt she has on when she sat down. She’s come straight from the office, but she fits in here, as though she dressed for this occasion. I have an overwhelming desire to pick up the rose and present it to her, just to get a rise out of the other diners, but I’m back to not caring what they think and now that I don’t need to be sociable with a stranger, I’m all business. When I leave here, I’ll spend the rest of the evening in my office, poring over contracts and preparing for the meeting in Perth tomorrow afternoon. Maybe I’ll even squeeze in a quick workout. The last task I need on my to-do list is an apology to Kendra for making her feel awkward in front of a restaurant full of people.

  No matter how much I’d like her to be the reason I came here tonight with that rose, I can’t do that to her.

  Chapter Three - Kendra

  Sayer has an odd expression on his face as I hand him the documents he needs to sign. Any other day he’d have the folder open and be reaching for a pen by now, but instead he checks out my jacket, then stares at me, his eyes dropping to the rose on the table.

  Jesus. He better not be thinking what I think he’s thinking.

  If he picks that thing up and offers it to me I’ll hit him over the head with it. That’s the last outcome he’d want—to draw attention to himself—but after the day I’ve had, it’s the only possible outcome. After acting as his unofficial dating facilitator for three years, I couldn’t stand to be handed someone else’s castoffs, no matter how much it might embarrass him to be rejected in public.

  For a wealthy businessman, Sayer is surprisingly low key in everyday life. I didn’t miss the socialite in the corner checking him out when I arrived, nor did I miss the secret glances going around the restaurant in the moments after I sat down. He’s well-known in business and social circles, and whether he wanted to or not, he has the attention of everyone in this room. That would have happened with or without the abandoned red rose. I have to behave myself, lest a photo of Sawyer appear in the social pages of the newspaper tomorrow. He wouldn’t like that at all.

  Twenty-four-year-old Kendra would have dropped her eyes under his gaze, maybe fidgeted with her fork until he turned his attention to the paperwork. Twenty-seven-year-old Kendra has grown a spine since she started working for Mass Media, so I stare back. I have my own piece of news to deliver along with that folder and I’m not sure how it’s going to be received. Instead of dwelling on it, I concentrate on not blinking, using my last chance to stare at him. To drink him in. To capture an image of him looking at me that I can remember in the coming days and weeks.

  It’s not hard to stare at him. Sayer is endowed with what every woman would describe as movie-star hotness.

  His eyes are green, like the ocean, and his hair is black and, despite his social status, it’s often in disarray. He usually starts the day well-groomed but as the hours tick by in the office, he runs his hands through it over and over. He pulls it a little on the side when he’s thinking particularly hard and rubs the back when he’s perplexed. Sometimes he hits the gym before work, and on those days his hair doesn’t cooperate. Despite regular four-weekly haircuts that I dutifully arrange, he can’t tame it.

  My fingers twitch now as I recall the times I’ve wanted to reach out and straighten an unruly patch or run my own hands through the wisps that are never allowed to grow enough to graze his collar. Right now, the left side is flattened, and I know how it got like that. He leans to the left when he reads email on his phone, his fingers pushing the hair down until it can’t spring back.

  It’s sad that I know that.

  Really fucking sad.

  His eyes narrow as he stares at me, staring at him, and I remind myself not to blush. After all this time I’ve become an expert at hiding my feelings around my boss. How pathetic to be unmasked at the last minute because I’m discussing the finer points of his hotness with myself, whilst sitting two feet from him. I point at the folder, my eyes not leaving his. “I prepared two copies. One with the original bid and one with what I thought you might drop it to.”

  “Thanks.” He pulls his eyes away, and I swear he makes it look like an effort. He’s probably annoyed, though he’s hiding it. I can’t imagine he’s happy about being stood up. No doubt he had plans with Miss-Pink-Sable-Coat, as the media dubbed her last week. Why he would agree to a date with someone so high-profile has perplexed me ever since I added tonight into his calendar. Even when he’s dated celebrities they’ve always been at the beginning of their career, rather than a big star who’d draw a crowd in the street. I guess his mother decided he needed to up his dating game.

  Not that I’ve obsessed about his choices. I keep tabs because I’m his assistant and it’s my job. That’s what I do—and what I tell myself. I’m glad I didn’t have to buy gifts for any of them. That might have been more than I could manage whilst keeping my pleasant, uninterested disposition.

  I watch as he opens the folder, frowns, then pulls out the contracts. He scans the brief I’ve prepared for him, then produces a pen and signs the second contract. The one with my altered bid.

  Of course.

  I know him so well I can even anticipate the amount he’d want to spend on the purchase of a struggling local newspaper. While the number of zeroes on that page blows my mind, to him it’s just another day in the life of Sayer Smith, king of Mass Media and heir to the ridiculous fortune of Robert Smith, rags to riches billionaire.

  He drops the pen on the table and we both speak at once.

  “Want to join me for dinner—?”

  “There’s something I have to tell you—”

  The courage I’ve spent the day building deserts me within seconds. He asked me to dinner. How the hell can I tell him, now?

  Press on, Kendra. It’s tell him in person or have him find the envelope you left on his desk.

  “I’ve resigned.” I blurt the words out, managing to keep them low enough that the whole restaurant doesn’t hear. At this stage they must be wondering why he’s sitting with me and what non-romantic event is happening here at table number seventeen. Maybe they think that contract was something between us before I can accept the rose and we leave together. The thought tweaks my lips into a grin, and I look up at him in horror, hoping he doesn’t think my smile is because I’m leaving him.

  The look on his face is a mix of fury and disbelief. His nostrils flare and my insides clench. I knew I should have left him to find my letter on Monday. Coming clean in person was a terrible idea, and by the look on his face I’m about to hear how terrible.

  Chapter Four - Sayer

  She’s leaving me? Jesus, fucking Christ, can this evening get any worse?

  I take a moment to think, sucking in a breath through my nose. I compose myself so my words don’t carry to our audience, who for some reason refuse to focus on their dates for th
e night, instead sending all their attention my way.

  Our way.

  “What?” My mind has stopped working and despite the millions of questions pouring through my head, that’s what my lips push out.

  Kendra glances to the side and takes a sip of water. She sighs and pushes the rose away, making an annoyed sound as it brushes against the tablecloth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have surprised you with this. I left my resignation on your desk. You’ll find it on Monday, but I wanted you to know before the weekend.”

  “Why?” My vocabulary has shrunk to one syllable words.

  Get a grip on yourself. She’s your assistant, not your Chief Financial Officer. You can get another one. From a temp agency next week, for God’s sake.

  “I feel like it’s time to move on. I’ve enjoyed my time with Mass Media, but I’m looking for a fresh challenge. I need a change.” Her voice wavers for a moment and then takes on the strength I’ve come to expect from her. “My business degree is close to being wasted if I don’t move to a position where I put it to use.”

  There’s a roaring in my ears. She’s leaving. “You didn’t think to ask if there were other opportunities for you at Mass?”

  Why the fuck didn’t I promote her? Why did I hold her back instead of finding her a more fulfilling role? If I need any more proof that she’s overqualified to be my assistant, it’s sitting inside the folder in front of me. She has a head for business, which she’s shown again, and again. I chose to ignore it, though, hoping to keep her for myself.