A Second Chance For The Millionaire: Rescued by the Brooding Tycoon / Who Wants To Marry a Millionaire? / The Billionaire's Fair Lady

‘Hello, stranger,’ she said when she could speak through her emotion.

‘I hoped you’d be here,’ he said as she dropped beside him. ‘I got back at three in the morning and came out here so as not to miss you. I dozed off for a while, but I knew someone would wake me. All right, Phantom, cool it, there’s a good fellow.’

‘Did things go as you’d hoped?’ she asked.

‘More or less. I averted disaster—until next time.’

‘You mean we’re safe—here on the island?’

‘You’re safe. This is the last place in the world that I’d give up. Now, I need to ask a huge favour from you, an act of friendship. It’s very important to me.’

‘Then consider it done.’

‘I told you Mary left me for another man, and they were planning marriage. Well, the date has been set, and I’ve been invited.’

‘To your ex-wife’s wedding?’

‘Yes, it took a bit of manoeuvring, but I managed it. I told her we should seem friendly for the sake of the children. They’ll be there so we’ll get some time together and they’ll know their parents are on good terms. You see, I really took your advice.’

‘I advised this?’

‘You said cunning was better than aggression, and it took all my cunning to manipulate myself an invitation. Mary finished by saying she completely agreed with me and she praised me for thinking of it. She even said I must be improving.’ He gave a self-deprecating grin. ‘And I owe it all to you.’

He spread his hands in a gesture of finality, his expression radiating such cheerful triumph that she chuckled and said, ‘You’re telling me that I instructed you in cunning?’

‘There’s cunning and cunning,’ he said. ‘Some kinds I’m better at than others. Manipulating share prices is easy, but—’

‘But a child’s heart is more complicated than a share price,’ she supplied.

‘You see how right I was to listen to you. The best friend and adviser I have.’

‘Stop buttering me up,’ she said severely, ‘and tell me what you want me to do.’

‘Come with me to the wedding, of course. How can I turn up alone when my ex-wife is marrying another guy? I’d look like a prat.’

‘And we can’t have that,’ she said in mock horror. ‘If the markets got to hear—’

‘All right, make fun of me. I wouldn’t put up with it from anyone else, but with you I guess it’s the price of friendship. OK, I’ll pay it.

‘And there’s another thing. I told you about my father and how he likes to control everyone’s life. His latest mad idea is to marry me off to Freya, my stepsister. Either me or one of my brothers, but at the moment it’s my head he’s trying to put on the block.

‘Luckily, Freya’s no more keen than I am. We get on all right, but that’s all. If I can convince my father that it’s not going to happen then he’ll turn his attention to one of the others.’

‘Poor Freya.’

‘That’s what I think. You’ll like her.’

‘But will she be at the wedding? And your father? Isn’t he furious with Mary for leaving you?’

‘Yes, he is. He’s even more furious because she managed to get a decent divorce settlement out of me, but he’ll want to see his grandchildren. They’re Falcons, which means that in his mind they’re his property. He doesn’t have much contact with them because they live in London and he can’t leave Monte Carlo very often.’

‘For tax reasons?’ she hazarded.

‘That’s right. He’s only allowed to be in England for ninety-one days. Any more and he’d be counted as an English resident and liable for English tax. He’s nearly used up his allowance for this year so he has to dash to London for the wedding, and get back very quickly.’

How casually he spoke, she realised. How normal he seemed to consider this. It was a reminder that his life was centred around money, just in case she was in danger of forgetting.

‘And your brothers?’ she asked. ‘Will they be there?’

‘As many as can manage it. They all like Mary, rather more than they like me, actually. And the kids are fascinated by them coming from so many different countries. To them it’s like a circus. So we’re all going to bury our differences, but you won’t send me into the lion’s den alone, will you?’

Harriet regarded him sardonically. ‘You really don’t feel you can face it without me?’

‘Definitely not. I’m shaking in my shoes at the prospect.’

There it was in his eyes, the teasing humour that linked with her own mind in a contact sweeter than she had ever known.

‘In that case, I’ll just have to come along and protect you,’ she sighed. ‘It’s a dreadful responsibility, but I guess I’ll manage.’

‘I knew you wouldn’t fail me. The wedding’s in London in two weeks’ time. It’ll be a civil ceremony held at the Gloriana Hotel, and that’s where the reception will be too, so I’ll book us in there. You’ll be my guest, of course, but we’ll have separate rooms, so don’t worry. Every propriety will be observed.’

Propriety. There was that word again. How often it cropped up in her mind with regard to this man, always implying the opposite.

Don’t go, said a warning voice in her mind. To him this is a matter of friendship, but can you keep it as mere friendship? You don’t even know the answer, and oh, how you wish you did! Stay here, keep yourself safe.

‘I’d love to come,’ she said.

CHAPTER SIX

OVER the next few days Harriet made her preparations, arranging extra hours for her assistant, notifying the lifeboat station that she would be away so that they could arrange a substitute to be on call. Her neighbour would look after Phantom, and she explained her coming absence to him with many caresses. He accepted these politely but seemed far more interested in the box of bones that had been delivered from Giant’s Beacon.

On the last day before their departure Harriet and Darius went for a final swim, frolicking like children, splashing each other, laughing fit to bust.

Harriet knew that at the back of her mind there was an unfamiliar aspect to her happiness. Part of her had been so sure that their friendship was over, but then he’d drawn her back in, seeking her help and her warmth again, and it was like a balm to her spirit. Suddenly all she wanted to do was laugh and dance.

As they raced up the beach she stopped suddenly and looked around.

‘My towel’s vanished. Where—? Phantom.’

In the distance they could see him tearing along the sand, her towel in his jaws, deaf to her cries.

‘He’ll be back in his own good time,’ Darius said.

‘But what do I do in the meantime?’

‘Let me dry you.’ In a moment he’d flung his towel around her, drawing it close in front, and began to rub her down. She shrieked with laughter and tried to wriggle away but he held her a prisoner while his hands moved over her.

‘You wretch,’ she cried, pummelling him. ‘Let me go.’

But it was no use. He had ten times her strength, as she was beginning to understand. And there was something else she understood. She’d been mad to engage in this struggle that drew her near-naked body so close to his. The pleasure that was pervading her now was more than laughter with a dear friend. His flesh against hers, his face close to her own, the meeting of their eyes; she should have avoided these things like the plague. Except that he hadn’t given her the chance.

Caution, she’d promised herself, but where was caution now? And did she really care?

‘Let me go,’ she repeated.

But now his arms had enfolded her completely, allowing no movement.

‘Make me,’ he challenged.

She made a half-hearted attempt to kick him but only ended up with her leg trapped between his.

‘Do you call that making me?’ he demanded.

‘Will you stop this?’

‘Nope.’

It shocked her to realise how disappointed she would have been if his answer had been any different.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she cried.

‘I just thought it was time you learned who was boss around here.’

‘OK, you’re boss. Now let me go.’

‘Only if you pay the ransom.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘This,’ he said, dropping his head.

It wasn’t a major kiss, no big deal, she told herself, trying not to respond to the gentle pressure of his lips. But it was precisely that light touch that was her undoing, making her want to lean forward, demanding that he kiss her more deeply, and more deeply still, threatening her with her own desires. And with that threat came fear.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No.’

‘I wonder if you really mean that.’

She too wondered, but now she gathered all her strength together and said more firmly, ‘No!’

He drew back a little, frowning.

‘You promised this wouldn’t happen,’ she reminded him.

‘I didn’t exactly—’

‘Every propriety observed, you said.’

‘Does that mean I can’t even kiss you?’

‘It means you can’t kiss me now, just when we’re about to embark on this idea of yours, pretending to be together when we aren’t really.’

Slowly he released her and she took the chance to step back.

‘Isn’t this something we have to work out as we go along?’ he asked.

‘You’re a businessman, Darius. I’m sure you know that when exploring new territory it’s wise to have a plan.’

‘And is that your plan?’ he demanded. ‘To turn away from all human desire?’

‘I have to. Can’t you try to understand? I’m not sure that I can ever…I don’t know, I don’t know.’

‘But how long? For the rest of your life? Was he really that perfect?’

She took a step back and her face was distraught. ‘Leave me alone. Just leave me alone.’

He sighed. ‘Yes, all right. I’m sorry, Harriet. I should have known better. You have to pick your own time. I can’t pick it for you. I shouldn’t have—it’s just that I’ve wanted to do that for some time and…well, I guess you don’t want to know that.’

‘I’d rather not,’ she agreed.

‘Just try to forgive me, please.’

‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she said calmly. ‘It didn’t happen. Now, I think it’s time we went and started to get ready. We have a long day tomorrow.’

Harriet left him without a backward glance, followed by Phantom, dragging her towel.

After a moment Darius walked after them, cursing himself for clumsiness.

The trip to London was like nothing Harriet had ever known before. Darius had chartered a helicopter that collected them from the lawn and swept them up and over the channel. Looking down, she drew in her breath.

‘Herringdean looks so different, and the sea—nothing is the way I know it below.’

‘Yes, they’re different worlds,’ he agreed, looking down with her. ‘And it can be hard to know which one is the place you belong.’

‘I suppose it wouldn’t be possible to belong in the world up here,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘You could never stay up that long.’

‘True. Sooner or later you have to come down to earth,’ he said in a voice that had a touch of regret.

In London, they landed at an airport where a car was waiting, ready to sweep them into the West End, the place of theatres, expensive shops and even more expensive hotels.

The sight of the Gloriana Hotel rearing up eight floors startled Harriet. She’d guessed that it would be luxurious, but the reality took her by surprise. Again, she wondered if she’d been wise to come here, but it was too late. The chauffeur was carrying their bags to the door. Darius had drawn her arm through his and for his sake she must steel herself. He’d asked this as an act of friendship—and from now on she had only one function; to do him credit so that he could hold up his head.

It needed all her resolution when she saw the inside of the hotel with its marble floor and columns. As Darius had promised, they had separate accommodation but they were next door to each other. When he’d left her alone she studied her surroundings. The bedroom was the largest she had ever seen, and the bathroom was an elegant dream of white porcelain and silver taps. She knew she should have been in heaven, but such luxury intimidated her even more.

Ah, well, she thought resolutely. Best dress forward!

But unpacking was a dismal experience. Suddenly none of her dresses seemed ‘best’ as it would be understood in the Gloriana.

Then she recalled seeing a gown shop in the reception area. A moment to check that she’d brought her credit cards and she was out of the door, hurrying to the elevator.

The shop exceeded her wildest expectations. The clothes were glorious. So, too, were the prices but she decided to worry about that later. Anything was better than looking like a little brown mouse in the kind of elegant company that Darius regarded as normal.

Two dresses held her undecided for a while, but at last—

‘I’ll take this one,’ she said.

‘And the other one,’ said Darius’s voice behind her. ‘They both suit you.’

She whirled to face him. ‘How did you—?’

‘When I found your room empty I asked the desk and they told me you were here. You should have brought me with you so we could make the decision together. Mind you, I like your choices.’ To the assistant he said, ‘We’ll take both of these, please.’

‘No,’ she muttered urgently. ‘I can’t afford them both.’

‘You?’ He regarded her with quizzically raised eyebrows. ‘What has this got to do with you?’

‘Evidently, nothing,’ she said.

‘I invited you here to do me a favour. I don’t expect you to buy your own clothes as well.’ Light dawned.

‘When you say clothes you mean props, don’t you? I’m playing a part and the director chooses the costumes?’

‘Got it in one.’

‘Next thing, you’ll be telling me I’m tax deductible.’

‘Now there’s a thought! Come on, let’s get to work. What have you chosen for the wedding?’

‘I thought that one,’ she said, indicating her first choice.

‘No, something a little more formal.’ He turned away to murmur to the assistant, and another flow of gowns was produced.

‘Try that on,’ Darius said, pointing to a matching dress and jacket.

Turning this way and that before the mirror, she saw it looked stunning on her. As Darius said, it was only right that he should pay the expenses, and when would she get the chance to dress like this again? She fought temptation for the briefest moment before yielding happily. It would take more stern virtue than she could manage to reject this.

While the dress was being packed up Darius said, ‘Now, about jewellery.’ As if anticipating her protest, he hurried on, ‘I’m afraid this will only be hired. Take a look at these.’

If they hadn’t been on hire she knew she couldn’t have accepted the gold, silver and diamonds that were displayed before her. As it was, she was able to make her choice with a clear conscience.

Before they returned to their rooms Darius led her to the back of the hotel, where a huge ballroom was being decorated.

‘This is where they’ll hold the party tonight,’ he said. ‘And tomorrow night the wedding reception will be here.’

More size. This place had been created to hold a thousand. So why was she on edge? she wondered. She was at ease with the much greater size of the ocean. But that was natural, not created artificially to be impressive and profitable. She could never be at ease in an environment like this.

But she smiled, said the right things and tried to look as if she belonged here.

‘I’ve got to go and make phone calls,’ Darius said as they reached her room. ‘I’ll have something delivered for you to eat, then why don’t you put your feet up until your attendants get here?’

‘Attendants?’

‘Hairstyle, make-up. Just leave it to them. You don’t need to worry about a thing.’

In other words, she thought, let them array her in her stage costume and make her up for the performance.

‘All right,’ she said good-humouredly. ‘I promise not to interfere with my own appearance.’

‘That’s my girl! Bye.’

He dropped the briefest kiss on her cheek and was gone, leaving Harriet alone and thoughtful. A mirror on the wall of the corridor showed her a neat, efficient young woman, pleasant but not dynamic.

Still, I’ve never had much chance to be dynamic, she thought. And who knows—?

Her reflection challenged her, sending the message, Don’t kid yourself.

But why not? she thought. If I want to kid myself, that’s my business. Hey, I forgot to ask him—

Approaching his door, she raised her hand to knock, then stopped as she heard Darius’s voice.

‘Mary? So you’ve arrived at last. Are the kids with you?—Fine, I’m on my way.’

Harriet heard the phone being replaced, and moved fast. By the time Darius emerged, the corridor was empty.

Lying on the bed, she tried to rest as Darius had advised, but her mind was too full of questions. What was happening now between him and his ex-wife, between him and his children? Would the wedding be dramatically called off at the last minute because of a reconciliation?

And why should she care? She’d had her chance and turned it down.

The chance wouldn’t come again. She must force herself to remember that.

But after only half an hour she heard him return, walking quickly along the corridor until he entered his room and slammed the door like a man who was really annoyed.

After that she dozed until there was a knock at her door.

Even though Darius had told her about the attendants, what happened next was a shock. They simply took her over, allowing no room for argument, and proceeded to turn her into someone else. She yielded chiefly out of curiosity. She was fascinated to discover her new self.

If she’d been fanciful—which she prided herself on never being—she might have thought of Cinderella. The fairy godmother, or godmothers since there were two of them, waved their wands and the skivvy was transformed into a princess.

Or at least a passable imitation of one, she thought. How well she could carry it off was yet to be seen.

When she was alone again she surveyed herself in the mirror, wondering who was this glamorous creature with the elegant swept-up hair, wearing the dark red glittering cocktail dress. She had always regarded herself as a tad too thin, but only a woman with her shape could have dared to wear this tight-fitting gown that left no doubt about her tiny waist and long legs, while revealing her bosom as slightly fuller than she had imagined.

A princess, she thought. Princess Harry? Not sure about that.

Even she, self-critical though she was, could see how the expert make-up emphasised the size of her blue eyes, which seemed to have acquired a new sparkle, and the width of her shapely mouth.

From nowhere came the memory of her husband, whose work in tourism had often taken him away on trips.

‘I could get jealous of all those expensively dressed women you meet,’ she’d teased him once.

‘Forget it,’ he’d told her. ‘You don’t need that fancy stuff. You’re better as you are.’

‘A country bumpkin?’ she’d chuckled.

‘My country bumpkin,’ he’d insisted, silencing her in the traditional way, making her so happy that she’d believed him and wasn’t jealous. Only to discover at last that she should have been.

And if he’d ever seen her looking like this? Would anything have been different?

Suddenly she wanted very badly to find Darius, see the expression in his eyes when he first glimpsed her. Then she would know—

Know what?

If she only knew that, she would know everything. And it was time to find out.

A few moments later, she was knocking on Darius’s door. As soon as he opened it he grew still. Then he nodded slowly.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes.’

‘Will I do?’

‘You cheeky little devil; I’ve already given you the answer to that.’

He drew her into the room and stood back to look at her, then made a twirling movement with his hand. She turned slowly, giving him time to appreciate every detail, then back again, displaying herself to full advantage. After all, she reasoned, he was entitled to know that his money had been well spent.

‘As long as I do you credit.’

‘I’ll be the envy of every man there.’

And that, she thought, was what he chiefly cared about, apart from his children. She was there to be useful, and it would be wise to remember that. But it was hard when the excitement was growing in her.

Darius put his hands on her shoulders, holding her just a few inches away, his eyes fixed on her face.

‘Beautiful,’ he said. ‘Just as I hoped. Just as I imagined. Just as—’

‘Am I interrupting anything?’ said a voice from the doorway.

Darius beamed at the young man standing there. ‘Marcel!’ he exclaimed.

Next moment, he was embracing the newcomer, thumping him on the back and being thumped in return.

Marcel, Harriet thought. The half brother from Paris.

‘I’m sorry to come in without knocking,’ he said, ‘but the door was open.’

His eyes fell on Harriet, and the pleasurable shock in them was very satisfying.

‘You’ve been keeping this lady a big secret,’ he said, speaking with the barest trace of a French accent. ‘And I understand why. If she were mine I would also hide her away from the world. Introduce me. I insist.’

‘This is Harriet,’ Darius replied, moving beside her.

‘Harriet,’ Marcel echoed. ‘Harriet. It is a beautiful name.’

She couldn’t resist saying cheekily, ‘Actually, my friends call me Harry.’

‘Harry?’ He seemed aghast, muttering something in French that might have been a curse. ‘That is a monstrosity, to give a man’s name to such a beautiful lady. And this fellow allows them to treat you like this? You should be rid of him at once.’

‘Cut it out!’ Darius said, grinning, which seemed to amuse Marcel even more.

‘Just thought I’d get in the mood now the circus has come to town,’ he said.

‘Circus is right,’ Darius agreed. ‘I’ve warned Harriet.’

‘Harriet? You mean you don’t call her Harry? But of course, you’re not a friend; you are—’ He made a vague but significant gesture.

‘Hey,’ she said and he turned his merry gaze on her. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions,’ she told him impishly.

‘Ah, yes, I see. How wise.’

‘Can we drop this?’ Darius asked.

‘Certainly. So, Harriet, Darius has warned you, and you know we’re a load of oddities.’

‘I’ll bet you’re no odder than me,’ she riposted.

‘I’ll take you up on that. Promise me a dance tonight.’

‘She declines,’ Darius said firmly.

‘Oh, do I?’

‘Definitely.’

Marcel chuckled and murmured in Harriet’s ear, ‘We’ll meet again later.’

‘Are any of the others here?’ Darius asked.

‘Jackson. Travis isn’t coming. He can’t leave America—some television series he’s working on. Leonid tried to get here but an urgent meeting came up at the last minute. And our honourable father arrived an hour ago, but I expect you already know that.’

‘No, he hasn’t been in touch. I’m in his black books at the moment. Anyone with him?’

‘Janine and Freya.’

Harriet’s teasing impulse got the better of her again and made her say, ‘Ah, yes, she’s the one you’re supposed to be marrying, isn’t she?’

‘You can stop that kind of talk,’ Darius said, while Marcel grinned.

‘A lady with a sense of humour,’ he said. ‘That’s what I like. Believe me, you’re going to need it. I said before that it was a circus, and Papa is the ringmaster. He cracks the whip and we jump through hoops—or at least we pretend to.’

‘Yes,’ Darius growled.

‘I gather you’re not playing his game,’ Marcel said, his eyes on Harriet again.

‘Right, and so I’ve told him. Let’s hope he believes me.’

‘You realise that means he’ll set his sights on Jackson or me next,’ Marcel complained. ‘Luckily, Freya finds me irritating.’

Darius grinned. ‘I can’t think why.’

‘Neither can I. Right, I’ll be off. I’ll see you at the reception.’