The Billionaire Takes a Bride

‘What? Oh, nothing happened.’

‘Nothing? You left the party with the most beautiful woman in the room in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. What went wrong?’

‘Not a thing. I just had an idea, that’s all. I didn’t think it would take more than five minutes to check it out—’

‘And before you noticed, it was morning. You are the absolute limit, Richard.’

‘I’m a total loss as a human being,’ he agreed. ‘But my computer loves me.’

‘A computer won’t keep you warm in your old age.’

‘No, but it’ll pay the electricity company to do the job.’

‘You’ll end up a lonely old bachelor,’ she warned.

‘Read the gossip columns, Wendy,’ he said, rapidly growing bored with this conversation. ‘There are no lonely old millionaires. Bachelor or otherwise.’ Then, ‘The flowers are for my sister. It’s her wedding anniversary.’

‘I’ve already ordered some.’

‘Have you? When?’

‘The moment the invitation arrived. I offered to have a little bet with the girls in the office on the likelihood of you wriggling out of a long weekend of come-and-join-us marital bliss. Your sister, bless her, isn’t subtle. She wants you married and producing cousins for her own offspring while there’s a chance they’ll be in the same generation. But they all know you too well. I had no takers. Not even the new girl in the software lab.’

She was kidding. She had to be kidding…

‘Save the smug gloating for the ladies room, Wendy, and sort out a working lunch for the research and development team in the boardroom for one o’clock. I’ll be there in thirty minutes—’

‘I really think you should send Lilianne flowers too,’ she said, not in the least bothered by his Chairman of the Board act. ‘At the very least.’

Wendy had been with him since he’d started the company and had seen him through the bad times as well as the good. She thought it gave her the right to treat him like a rather bossy nanny. Occasionally, he allowed her to get away with it. But not today.

‘I really don’t have the time for this—’

‘Is the situation salvageable, do you think? What kind of statement do you want to make?’

Who did he think he was kidding? She always got away with it.

‘No statement of any kind.’ But, since he recognised a brick wall when he saw one, and he’d meant it when he had said he hadn’t got time for petty details, he went on, ‘Okay, I’ll concede on the flowers.’ And honesty compelled him to admit that Lilianne had had a point. She did deserve an apology. ‘But they are not to be red roses. Not roses of any hue.’

‘Terribly vulgar, red roses,’ she agreed. ‘And, besides, you’re right. It would be unkind to raise any serious expectations in the lady’s breast. She is, after all, just another passing fancy.’

‘And what the devil is that supposed to mean?’

‘Only that she’s out of the same mould as every girl you’ve ever dated. Only the names—and hair colour—change.’ About to protest, he realised it would be quicker to just let her get on with it. ‘But you’re like all men; you see the pretty wrapping and you’re hooked. Temporarily. Of course, the clever women realise very quickly that they’re always going to be playing second fiddle to your computer and throw you back—’

Okay, that was it. ‘Is this conversation going somewhere?’

She sighed. ‘Obviously not. Leave it with me. I’ll sort out something that will put her in a forgiving mood. Anything else?’

‘No. Yes. Have you ever kept a hamster?’

‘A hamster is not a substitute for a proper relationship,’ she replied sternly. ‘But I suppose it’s a marginal improvement on a computer. Why?’

‘I’m informed there’s one on the loose in my apartment.’

‘Then guard your cables. My kids had one and, I promise you, they can chew through anything.’

‘Oh, great. Better make that an hour while I make sure that at least my study is a hamster free zone.’

He might not be totally convinced about the hamster, but he wasn’t prepared to take any chances.

Miss Iphegenia Lautour might have a ridiculous propensity to blush for a grown woman. He wasn’t, however, about to overlook the possibility that she could have let loose a small furry friend in order to provide herself with a legitimate excuse for searching his apartment.

Why pretend when you could do it for real?

An answer immediately offered itself. Why would she complicate things with livestock?

A real hamster would, sooner or later, be found. Maybe too soon. An imaginary one, on the other hand, would provide her with endless opportunities to return.

Just how clever was she? The image might be pure innocence, but the eyes had glowed with something that had warned him not to take any chances.

He’d be well-advised, he decided, not to take anything for granted, but to assume the worst.

Ginny, too agitated to be able to concentrate, didn’t make it to the Underground station before she abandoned all thoughts of work. Instead, she bought a sandwich and a carton of coffee and retired to a small park where she tossed crumbs to the sparrows, putting off the evil moment when she’d have to call Sophie and let her know that she’d failed.

But eventually she ran out of sandwiches and time.

She dug out her cellphone, keyed in the number. Her call was answered with an alacrity that suggested Sophie had been sitting with the phone in her hand.

‘What happened?’ she demanded without preamble.

There was no soft answer. ‘I’m sorry, Sophie, but his desk was locked. I tried to find a key but when I went upstairs…’ She hesitated. Did she want to entertain Sophie with her encounter with Richard Mallory? Definitely not. ‘I was interrupted.’

‘Interrupted? Who by?’ she demanded.

‘It’s fine, Sophie. No problem.’

‘Oh.’ For a moment Ginny had the feeling that she was disappointed. ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it? You can have another try tomorrow.’

No! ‘Look, why don’t you just own up? Surely Richard Mallory will understand? You can’t be the first person ever to delete a file.’

‘You don’t understand! I should have backed it up! I should have made copies! I should—’

‘Sophie! Pull yourself together!’ Heavens, she’d never been in this kind of state about a job before. She must be really desperate to keep it. ‘It has to be in the system somewhere. Can’t you flutter your eyelashes at one of those clever young men who work for him?’

‘No! This is a serious job and I want to keep it. I can’t admit to messing up. Besides, it’s not that easy. Go poking around in the memory of the mainframe and alarms get triggered off. The man is paranoid about security.’

‘Well, thank you for telling me that,’ Ginny said drily.