An Unlikely Bride For The Billionaire

‘Ouch.’ He said it with a good-natured grin. ‘But you’re right. Carla and I have taken up enough of your time for one day. Especially as we’ll be back tomorrow.’

He was coming too? She tried to ignore the way her heart hitched.

‘Mia, do you know what line of work I’m in?’

Even she, who’d spent most of her adult life living under a rock, knew what Dylan Fairweather did for a living. ‘You created and run Fairweather Event Enterprises.’ More widely known as Fairweather Events or FWE. Dylan had made his name bringing some of the world’s most famous, not to mention notorious, rock acts to Australia.

Under his direction, Dylan’s company had produced concerts of such spectacular proportions they’d gone down in rock history. His concerts had become a yardstick for all those following.

FWE had been in charge of last year’s sensationally successful charity benefit held in Madison Square Garden in New York. He was regularly hired by royalty to oversee national anniversary celebrations, and by celebrities for their private birthday parties and gala events. Dylan Fairweather was a name with a capital N.

‘The thing is...’ He shuffled towards her, his expression intent now rather than teasing. ‘I know that Plum Pines has its own events team, but I want to be the person running this particular show.’

Very slowly, she swallowed. ‘By “this particular show”, I take it you’re referring to Carla’s wedding?’

He nodded.

Her heart thumped. Nora would be disappointed.

‘I want to do this for Carla,’ he continued, fully in earnest now. ‘The only thing I can give her that’s of any worth is my time. You have to understand it’s not that I don’t trust the Plum Pines staff, it’s that I want to give my sister something that’ll actually mean something to her—something she can cherish forever.’

Mia almost melted on the spot. To have someone who cared about you so much that they’d go to such lengths... That was—

‘Mia?’

She started. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have the kind of clout to authorise an arrangement like that. But I’ll present your case to Nora and Mr Coulter. Please be assured they’ll do everything they can to accommodate your and Carla’s wishes.’ She bit her lip. ‘They may have some additional questions that they’d like to ask you.’ Questions she lacked the expertise and foresight to ask.

He immediately slid his business card across the table to her. ‘They can contact me at any time.’

She picked it up. It was a simple card on good-quality bond, with embossed lettering in dark blue—a deeper and less interesting shade than his eyes.

He slid another card across the table to her. ‘Would you write down your number for me, Mia?’

She dutifully wrote down the Plum Pines office number, along with Nora’s work number.

He glanced at it and his lips pursed. ‘I was hoping for your number.’

Her hand shook as she reached for her tea. ‘Why?’

‘Because I think you could be an ally. You, I believe, approve of my plan to be Carla’s wedding co-ordinator.’

She hesitated. ‘I think it’s a lovely idea.’ Surely it couldn’t hurt to admit that much? ‘But I think you ought to know that I have very little influence here.’

‘I think you’re selling yourself short.’

‘If you want to speak to me directly, ring the office and ask them to page me.’ She couldn’t believe she’d told him to do that, but she couldn’t find it in herself to regret the offer either.

For a moment she thought he’d press the matter. Instead he stood and held out his hand. ‘Until tomorrow, then, Mia.’

She stood too and shook it, eager to be away from him. ‘Goodbye, Dylan.’

She didn’t tell him that in all likelihood she wouldn’t see him tomorrow. Funny how suddenly the eastern boundary didn’t seem as exciting a prospect as it had earlier in the day.

She’d barely settled down in the meeting room with the office laptop, to type up her copious notes for Nora, when the receptionist tapped on the glass door.

‘Mr Coulter wants to see you, Mia.’

To grill her about how things had gone with the Fairweathers, no doubt. She’d have rather discussed it all with Nora first, but she couldn’t very well refuse to speak to him.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on his door, only entering when he bellowed, ‘Come in.’

She left the door ajar. She didn’t fully trust Gordon Coulter. ‘You wanted to see me?’

‘Yes.’

He didn’t invite her to sit. The smile he sent her chased ice down her spine.

‘It’s my very great pleasure to inform you, Ms Maydew, that you’re fired. Effective immediately.’

The room spun. Mia’s chest cramped. She couldn’t lose this job. It was all that she had. Her fingers went cold. She needed this job!

* * *

‘You’re terminating my contract? But...why?’

Dylan stood on the threshold of Gordon Coulter’s office, his head rocking back at the words he heard emerging from the other side of the door.

Gordon Coulter was firing Mia?

‘Your behaviour with Dylan Fairweather today was scandalous and utterly inappropriate. You’re not here to make sexual advances towards our clients. You’re here to perform your duties as efficiently and as capably as possible—a duty that’s obviously beyond you and your bitch-on-heat morals.’

Darkness threatened the edges of Dylan’s vision. Mia hadn’t made one inappropriate advance towards him—not one! His hands curled into fists. A pity the same couldn’t be said for him towards her. He hadn’t been able to resist flirting with her in the café—just a little bit. He hadn’t been able to resist making her laugh again.

This was his fault. How could he have been so careless as to put her in this position?

Gordon continued to wax lyrical on a list of Mia’s imaginary faults and Dylan’s insides coiled up, tight and lethal. Gordon Coulter was a pompous ass!

‘But even if I was prepared to overlook all that,’ Gordon continued, his tone clearly saying that he had no intention of doing so, ‘I refuse to disregard the fact that when you entered the emu enclosure you put the safety of a member of the public at risk.’

No way, buddy!

Dylan backed up two steps and then propelled himself forward with a cheery, ‘Knock-knock!’ before bursting into the office.

Two sets of eyes swung to him. Mia’s face was ashen. Guilt plunged through him like a serrated-edge knife.

You’re nothing but a trust fund baby without substance or significance.

As true as that might be, it meant that he knew how to act entitled and high-handed. He used that to his advantage now, striding into the room as if he owned it and everything inside it.

‘You moved very quickly to bring my proposal to the attention of your superiors, Mia. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.’

He took a seat across from Gordon, making himself completely at home.

‘I hope you realise what a gem you have here, Gordon.’ He pulled Mia down to the seat beside him. How dared Gordon leave her standing like some recalcitrant child deserving of punishment and castigation? ‘Have you finished telling Gordon about my proposal, Mia?’

‘Um...no, not yet.’

She swallowed and he saw how valiantly she hauled her composure back into place. Atta girl!

‘I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance.’

‘Oh, before I forget—’ Dylan turned back to Gordon ‘—my sister and I will be returning tomorrow with Thierry. If he approves our plans, and if you accept my proposal, then we’ll be booking Plum Pines as Carla and Thierry’s wedding venue.’

Dollar signs all but flashed in Gordon’s eyes. ‘That’s splendid news!’

‘Carla has requested that Mia be available for tomorrow’s meeting. I’m sure that won’t be a problem.’

‘Well, I—’

‘Now to my proposal...’ he continued, making it obvious that he took Gordon’s agreement for granted. He saw Mia bite her lip, as if to hold back a laugh. The tightness in his chest eased a fraction.

‘While I understand that Plum Pines has a talented and capable events team, I want to be completely in charge of Carla’s wedding preparations—bringing in my own people, et cetera. I understand this isn’t how Plum Pines normally operates, but if I promise to acquire all the necessary licenses and, as a show of gratitude, donate...say...a hundred thousand dollars to the Plum Pines Nature Fund, I was hoping you might make an exception.’

Gordon’s fleshy mouth dropped open. He hauled it back into place. ‘I’m sure we can find a way to accommodate such a reasonable request from such a generous benefactor.’

Dylan rubbed his hands together. ‘Excellent.’

Gordon Coulter was ridiculously transparent. Rumour had it he was planning to run for mayor next year. A donation as sizable as Dylan’s would be a real feather in his cap. Dylan just hoped the good people of Newcastle were smart enough not to elect such a small-minded bully to office.

He made a note to donate a large sum to Gordon’s opponent’s campaign.

‘If there’s any further way we can assist you, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re here to provide you with the very best service we can.’

‘Well, now that you mention it... Carla would like Mia as her official liaison between FWE and Plum Pines.’

Gordon’s face darkened. ‘Mia doesn’t have the necessary training. We can provide you with a far better level of service than that, and—’

‘It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid.’ He spoke calmly. ‘If there’s no Mia there’ll be no Fairweather wedding at Plum Pines—and, sadly, no hundred-thousand-dollar donation.’

It was as simple as that, and Gordon could take it or leave it. If he refused to let Mia act as liaison then Dylan would whisk her away from Plum Pines and find a position for her in his own organisation. He was always on the lookout for good people.

In fact, poaching her was a damn fine plan.

Gordon wouldn’t pass on it, though. Dylan knew his type too well.

‘If you’re happy with Mia’s limited experience...’ he began, in that pompous fashion.

‘Supremely so.’

‘I’ll have to insist that she consult with Nora closely,’ he blustered, in an attempt to save face.

‘Absolutely.’

Gordon swallowed a few times, his jowls quivering. ‘In that case I’ll raise no objections.’

Dylan leant back in his chair. ‘Excellent.’

Mia leaned forward in hers, her dark gaze skewering Gordon to the spot. ‘And our earlier conversation...?’

His mouth opened and closed before he shuffled upright in his seat. ‘In the light of these...new developments, any further action will be suspended—pending your on-the-job performance from here on in.’

Very slowly she leaned back. Dylan silently took in the way her fingers opened and closed around each other. Eventually she nodded. ‘Very well.’

Dylan stood. ‘I understand you’re a busy man, Gordon, so I won’t take up any more of your valuable time. Mia...’ He turned to her and she shot to her feet. ‘I forgot to give you Carla’s mobile number. You’re going to need it. I’m afraid she’ll be leaving you messages day and night.’

‘That won’t be an issue,’ Gordon inserted. ‘Mia understands that here at Plum Pines our clients are our priority. She’ll be at your sister’s beck and call twenty-four-seven.’

Dylan barely restrained himself from reciting the ‘Maximum Ordinary Hours of Employment’ section of the New South Wales Industrial Relations Act. Instead he gestured for Mia to precede him out through the door.

‘Lead me to your trusty notepad.’

He closed the door behind them and Mia didn’t speak until they were safely ensconced in the meeting room.

She swung to him. ‘You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You overheard him trying to fire me so you jumped in and saved my job.’

His chest expanded at the way she looked at him—as if he’d ridden in and saved the day.

She pressed a hand to her chest. ‘I think I just fell a little bit in love with you.’

She was the strangest mix of seriousness and generosity he’d ever come across. And totally adorable to boot.

He leaned towards her, but she took a step backwards.

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was a stupid thing to say. I only meant I was grateful—very grateful—for you coming to my defence like you did.’

‘You’re welcome. Gordon is a pompous ass.’

‘A pompous ass who has the power to terminate my traineeship whenever he sees fit.’

‘He’d need to show good cause in the Industrial Relations Court. Don’t you forget that. In fact—’ he widened his stance ‘—why don’t you forget Gordon and Plum Pines and come and work for me?’

The beginnings of a smile touched her lips. It made his pulse beat that little bit harder.

‘I don’t believe I have enough...exuberance for your line of work, Dylan.’

‘I was wrong about that. You’re perfect.’

‘No, I’m not!’ Her voice came out tart. Too tart.

He frowned. ‘I meant that your work ethic is perfect. Your customer service skills are impeccable.’ That was all he’d meant.

She swallowed before gesturing for him to take a seat. ‘If you want me working so closely with you and Carla then there’s something you need to know about me.’

He sat in the chair at the head of the table. ‘I know all I need to know.’

She fixed him with that compelling gaze of hers, but for the life of him he couldn’t read her expression. She took the chair immediately to his left, gripping her hands together until her knuckles turned white.

‘I’d rather be the one to tell you than for you to hear it from other sources.’

He straightened. What on earth...? ‘I’m listening.’

He watched the compulsive bob of her throat as she swallowed. Her hands gripped each other so tightly he was sure she’d cut off the blood supply to her fingers if she weren’t careful.

‘Ten months ago I was released from jail after serving a three-year prison sentence for committing fraud. I think it’s only fair that you know I’m an ex-convict.’

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