An Unlikely Bride for the Billionaire (20 page)

She went very still and Dylan held his breath.

‘You want to
marry
me?' she whispered.

Very gently he took his arms from around her and, gripping both her hands, went down on one knee. ‘Beautiful Mia, will you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?'

Tears shone in her eyes. When she nodded, they spilled onto her cheeks.

He rose and she threw her arms around his neck. ‘I can't think of anything I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you, Dylan.'

He laughed for the sheer joy of it, swinging her around. ‘How does November sound? We have a wedding going begging. We might as well use it.'

She eased back. ‘What on earth are you talking about? Carla and Thierry have made up and—'

‘They flew out to Vegas yesterday.'

She gaped. ‘No!'

‘So... November is ours if we want it.'

An enormous smile spread across her face. ‘It's...perfect!'

He glanced at the photo on the wall and then down at her. ‘No, Mia,
you're
perfect.'

She touched his face, her smile radiant. ‘
We're
perfect. Together.'

He couldn't top that, so he kissed her instead.

EPILOGUE

C
ARLA
AND
T
HIERRY
bundled Mia out of the limousine and whisked her straight inside the small marquee that had been set up especially for her benefit—to shield her from the press and allow her a chance to freshen up.

As they'd only driven from her suite at an inner-city hotel with glorious views of the harbour to Plum Pines Reserve—a drive of less than fifteen minutes—she didn't really see what kind of freshening up was required. Unless she was supposed to try and quieten the excited dervishes whirling in her stomach. She had no chance of stilling
those
. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

Perhaps she should try and tame the grin that made her face ache? But she had no hope—nor desire—to do that either.

Carla, stunning in her hot-pink bridesmaid's dress, crouched down to adjust Mia's skirts.

Mia laughed ruefully. ‘I went overboard, didn't I? I look like an oversized meringue.'

‘You look
gorgeous
.' Carla continued to fluff up the skirts. ‘Your dress is
beautiful
.'

The moment Mia had clapped eyes on the confection of raw silk and pearl beading she'd fallen in love with it. Apparently when she had said that she meant to live life to the full rather than hide in the shadows she'd meant it.

She hugged herself. ‘It
is
beautiful.'

‘I can't wait to see Dylan's face when he sees you.'

Today, nobody could mistake Mia for anything other than what she was—the bride, the centre of attention, the belle of the ball marrying her prince.

Those dervishes whirled faster and faster. Her cheeks ached from smiling. She lifted her chin. She wasn't ashamed of her joy. She wanted to share it with everyone.

She turned to find Thierry surveying her with his now familiar unsmiling gaze.

He nodded. ‘You look stunning.'

She wriggled with excitement. ‘I
feel
stunning. I'm so happy I think I could float off into the atmosphere.'

For the briefest of moments Thierry smiled, and it tempered the severe lines of his face. When he smiled, she could see why Carla had fallen for him.

She touched his arm. ‘Thank you for agreeing to give me away.' He hadn't hesitated when she'd asked. He'd agreed immediately.

‘I'm honoured.' One shoulder lifted. ‘I'm starting to think I'd do anything you asked of me.'

From behind him, Carla sent her a wink.

Thierry frowned. ‘You're sure we're okay?'

She rolled her eyes. ‘I swear to God, Thierry, if you apologise to me one more time we're going to fall out.'

He shuffled his feet. ‘It's just... I'm really sorry I misjudged you.'

Given his background, and the hardships his father's choices had forced on his family, Mia couldn't blame him for his reservations where she'd been concerned.

‘As I misjudged myself, I can hardly blame you for doing the same. But it's all in the past now, and that's where it'll remain. It's time to move on.'

That was her new motto and she'd embraced it with gusto.

She reached out to take Carla and Thierry's hands. ‘You're my family now—my sister and brother. I can't tell you how fortunate that makes me feel.'

Carla's eyes filled. Thierry cleared his throat a couple of times.

Mia blinked hard. She would
not
ruin her eye make-up. She wanted to look perfect for Dylan. ‘So that's a yes—we're
very
okay.'

On impulse, they all hugged—before Carla tut-tutted and said something about crushing Mia's dress.

Mia laughed at her fussing, but a wave of excitement somersaulted through her. ‘Oh, is it time yet? I can't wait—'

The flap of the marquee flew open and Felipe appeared. He clasped his hands beneath his chin when he saw her.

‘Radiant!' he pronounced, before whisking a compact from somewhere and touching a powder puff lightly to her nose. He kissed the air above her cheeks. ‘Perfect!'

He pulled out his camera and snapped a couple of pictures.

She waggled a finger at him. ‘Don't forget—those photos are mine and Dylan's. None are to mysteriously appear in an exhibition.'

‘Cross my heart, darling. Besides, your dishy intended is paying me enough to make it worth my while.' He pouted. ‘Also, he made me sign some awful form full of lawyer-speak.'

Mia laughed.

‘I've been sent to tell you everything is ready.'

‘Oh!' She clasped her hands together.

‘Nervous, darling?'

‘Excited.'

He squeezed her hands. ‘I wouldn't have missed this for the world.'

And then he was gone.

Carla handed her a bouquet of pink and white peonies. ‘Ready?'

A lump lodged in her throat. All she could do was nod.

Thierry held the flap of the marquee open to reveal the red carpet that would lead her to Dylan. Carla set off down the carpet first. Thierry made Mia wait until Carla was halfway down the makeshift aisle before stepping after her.

Mia was vaguely aware of the beautiful music playing, of the murmurs of appreciation from their wedding guests, but her focus was wholly centred on the man standing at the other end.

His blond hair gleamed golden in the sunlight. His broad shoulders and strong thighs were outlined to perfection in his tuxedo. His heart was in his eyes. He didn't try to hide it from anyone, and she wasn't sure she'd ever seen anything more beautiful in her life.

Awe rose up through her...and more happiness than her body could contain. It spilled from her eyes and onto her cheeks.

He took her hand. His throat bobbed with emotion as he swallowed.

‘You're so beautiful you make my eyes water,' she whispered, not caring about her make-up.

He smiled down at her. ‘You're so beautiful you make my heart sing.'

The celebrant cleared her throat. ‘Ready?'

Mia smiled up at Dylan. ‘Yes.'

The service was simple but heartfelt. The reception was the epitome of joy and elegance. Mia felt like a fairytale princess.

After the meal had been eaten, toasts made, the cake cut and the bridal waltz completed, Dylan took her hand and they sneaked outside to stand at the wooden railing overlooking the lily pond. Lights twinkled in the trees, glimmering across the water's surface.

Dylan took her face in his hands and kissed her. A sweet, gentle kiss that promised a lifetime of kisses.

‘Happy?' he murmured, easing back.

‘More than I ever thought possible.' She smiled up at him before glancing back towards the marquee. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you know how to throw a fabulous party?'

‘What can I say? I'm gifted.'

She gurgled back a laugh. ‘Look.' She pointed to Carla and Thierry dancing. ‘They look gorgeous together.'

Dylan snorted. ‘Carla should've had a wedding like this!
Elopement?
' He snorted again.

Mia leaned back against him. ‘You just love any excuse to throw a party.'

‘What's wrong with a party?'

‘Absolutely nothing. I adore parties. I'm especially loving this one.'

She bit her lip then, and glanced up at him again.

‘Are you sorry your Uncle Andrew isn't here?' The man might be a miserable excuse for a human being but he was still Dylan's uncle.

‘Not a bit. I'll be happy if I never clap eyes on him again.'

There hadn't been enough evidence to charge Andrew with assault against Carla, but the scandal hadn't done the older man any favours. Especially since a young intern who worked in his office had made similar allegations against him. He'd been suspended pending an internal inquiry. If found guilty he'd lose his job. His political ambitions would be nothing more than dust.

Mia glanced up into her new husband's face and knew Andrew wouldn't be making trouble for any of them ever again.

Dylan smiled down at her. ‘The day I won your heart was the luckiest day of my life.'

She turned in his arms, resting her hands against the warm hard contours of his chest. ‘I'm the real winner, Dylan. You made me believe in love again. You showed me the power it had to do good. Whatever happens in the future, I'll never forget that lesson.' She touched her fingers to his face. ‘I love you. I'm going to spend the rest of my life making you very,
very
happy.'

She wondered if her face reflected as much love as his did. She hoped so.

‘Want to know what would make me happy right now?' he murmured, a wicked light flitting through his eyes. ‘A kiss.'

Laughing, she reached up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, telling him in a language that needed no words how much she loved him.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
FALLING FOR THE SECRET MILLIONAIRE
by Kate Hardy.

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Falling for the Secret Millionaire

by Kate Hardy

CHAPTER ONE

‘A
RE
YOU
ALL
RIGHT
, Miss Thomas?' the lawyer asked.

‘Fine, thank you,' Nicole fibbed. She was still trying to get her head round the news. The grandfather she'd never met—the man who'd thrown her mother out on the street when he'd discovered that she was pregnant with Nicole and the father had no intention of marrying her—had died and left Nicole a cinema in his will.

A run-down cinema, from the sounds of it; the solicitor had told her that the place had been closed for the last five years. But, instead of leaving the place to benefit a charity or someone in the family he was still speaking to, Brian Thomas had left the cinema to her: to the grandchild he'd rejected before she'd even been born.

Why?

Guilt, because he knew he'd behaved badly and should've been much more supportive to his only daughter? But, if he'd wanted to make amends, surely he would've left the cinema to Nicole's mother? Or was this his way to try to drive a wedge between Susan and Nicole?

Nicole shook herself. Clearly she'd been working in banking for too long, to be this cynical about a stranger's motivations.

‘It's actually not that far from where you live,' the solicitor continued. ‘It's in Surrey Quays.'

Suddenly Nicole knew exactly what and where the cinema was. ‘You mean the old Electric Palace on Mortimer Gardens?'

‘You know it?' He looked surprised.

‘I walk past it every day on my way to work,' she said. In the three years she'd been living in Surrey Quays, she'd always thought the old cinema a gorgeous building, and it was a shame that the place was neglected and boarded up. She hadn't had a clue that the cinema had any connection with her at all. Though there was a local history thread in the Surrey Quays forum—the local community website she'd joined when she'd first moved to her flat in Docklands—which included several posts about the Electric Palace's past. Someone had suggested setting up a volunteer group to get the cinema back up and running again, except nobody knew who owned it.

Nicole had the answer to that now. She was the new owner of the Electric Palace. And it was the last thing she'd ever expected.

‘So you know what you're taking on, then,' the solicitor said brightly.

Taking on? She hadn't even decided whether to accept the bequest yet, let alone what she was going to do with it.

‘Or,' the solicitor continued, ‘if you don't want to take it on, there is another option. A local development company has been in touch with us, expressing interest in buying the site, should you wish to sell. It's a fair offer.'

‘I need a little time to think this through before I make any decisions,' Nicole said.

‘Of course, Miss Thomas. That's very sensible.'

Nicole smiled politely, though she itched to remind the solicitor that she was twenty-eight years old, not eight. She wasn't a naive schoolgirl, either: she'd worked her way up from the bottom rung of the ladder to become a manager in an investment bank. Sensible was her default setting. Was it not obvious from her tailored business suit and low-heeled shoes, and in the way she wore her hair pinned back for work?

‘Now, the keys.' He handed her a bunch of ancient-looking keys. ‘We will of course need time to alter the deeds, should you decide to keep it. Otherwise we can handle the conveyancing of the property, should you decide to sell to the developer or to someone else. We'll wait for your instructions.'

‘Thank you,' Nicole said, sliding the keys into her handbag. She still couldn't quite believe she owned the Electric Palace.

‘Thank you for coming in to see us,' the solicitor continued. ‘We'll be in touch with the paperwork.'

She nodded. ‘Thank you. I'll call you if there's anything I'm unsure about when I get it.'

‘Good, good.' He gave her another of those avuncular smiles.

As soon as Nicole had left the office, she grabbed her phone from her bag and called her mother—the one person she really needed to talk to about the bequest. But the call went straight through to Susan's voicemail. Then again, at this time of day her mother would be in a meeting or with one of her probationers. Nicole's best friend Jessie, an English teacher, was knee-deep in exam revision sessions with her students, so she wouldn't be free to talk to Nicole about the situation until the end of the day. And Nicole definitely didn't want to discuss this with anyone from work; she knew they'd all tell her to sell the place to the company who wanted to buy it, for the highest price she could get, and to keep the money.

Her head was spinning. Maybe she would sell the cinema—after all, what did she know about running a cinema, let alone one that hadn't been in operation for the last five years and looked as if it needed an awful lot of work doing to it before it could open its doors again? But, if she did sell the Electric Palace, she had no intention of keeping the money. As far as she was concerned, any money from Brian Thomas ought to go to his daughter, not skip a generation. Susan Thomas had spent years struggling as a single mother, working three jobs to pay the rent when Nicole was tiny. If the developer really was offering a fair price, it could give Susan the money to pay off her mortgage, go on a good holiday and buy a new car. Though Nicole knew she'd have to work hard to convince her mother that she deserved the money; plus Susan might be even more loath to accept anything from her father on the grounds that it was way too late.

Or Nicole could refuse the bequest on principle. Brian Thomas had never been part of her life or shown any interest in her. Why should she be interested in his money now?

She sighed. What she really needed right now was some decent caffeine and the space to talk this through with someone. There was only one person other than her mother and Jessie whose advice she trusted. Would he be around? She found the nearest coffee shop, ordered her usual double espresso, then settled down at a quiet table and flicked into the messaging program on her phone. Clarence was probably busy, but then again if she'd caught him on his lunch break he might have time to talk.

In the six months since they'd first met on the Surrey Quays forum, they'd become close and they talked online every day. They'd never actually met in person; and, right from the first time he'd sent her a private message, they'd agreed that they wouldn't share personal details that identified them, so they'd stuck to their forum names of Georgygirl and Clarence. She had no idea what he even looked like—she could have passed him in the street at any time during the three years she'd been living at Surrey Quays. In some ways it was a kind of coded, secret relationship, but at the same time Nicole felt that Clarence knew the real her. Not the corporate ghost who spent way too many hours in the office, or the much-loved daughter and best friend who was always nagged about working too hard, but the
real
Nicole. He knew the one who wondered about the universe and dreamed of the stars. Late at night, she'd told him things she'd never told anyone else, even her mother or Jessie.

Maybe Clarence could help her work out the right thing to do.

She typed a message and mentally crossed her fingers as she sent it.

Hey, Clarence, you around?

* * *

Gabriel Hunter closed his father's office door behind him and walked down the corridor as if he didn't have a care in the world.

What he really wanted to do was to beat his fists against the walls in sheer frustration. When, when,
when
was he going to stop paying for his teenage mistake?

OK, so it had been an awful lot worse than the usual teenage mistakes—he'd crashed his car into a shop front one night on the way home from a party and done a lot of damage. But nobody had been physically hurt and he'd learned his lesson immediately. He'd stopped going round with the crowd who'd thought it would be fun to spike his drink when he was their designated driver. He'd knuckled down to his studies instead of spending most of his time partying, and at the end of his final exams he'd got one of the highest Firsts the university had ever awarded. Since then, he'd proved his worth over and over again in the family business. Time after time he'd bitten his tongue so he didn't get into a row with his father. He'd toed the party line. Done what was expected of him, constantly repented for his sins to atone in his father's eyes.

And his father still didn't trust him. All Gabriel ever saw in his father's eyes was ‘I saved you from yourself'. Was Evan Hunter only capable of seeing his son as the stupid teenager who got in with a bad crowd? Would he ever see Gabriel for who he was now, all these years later? Would he ever respect his son?

Days like today, Gabriel felt as if he couldn't breathe. Maybe it was time to give up trying to change his family's view of him and to walk away. To take a different direction in his career—though, right at that moment, Gabriel didn't have a clue what that would be, either. He'd spent the last seven years since graduation working hard in the family business and making sure he knew every single detail of Hunter Hotels Ltd. He'd tried so hard to do the right thing. The reckless teenager he'd once been was well and truly squashed—which he knew was a good thing, but part of him wondered what would have happened if he hadn't had the crash. Would he have grown out of the recklessness but kept his freedom? Would he have felt as if he was really worth something, not having to pay over and over for past mistakes? Would he be settled down now, maybe with a family of his own?

All the women he'd dated over the last five years saw him as Gabriel-the-hotel-chain-heir, the rich guy who could show them a good time and splash his cash about, and he hated that superficiality. Yet the less superficial, nicer women were wary of him, because his reputation got in the way; everyone knew that Gabriel Hunter was a former wild child and was now a ruthless company man, so he'd never commit emotionally and there was no point in dating him because there wasn't a future in the relationship. And his family all saw him as Gabe-who-made-the-big-mistake.

How ironic that the only person who really saw him for himself was a stranger. Someone whose real name he didn't even know, let alone what she did or what she looked like, because they'd been careful not to exchange those kinds of details. But over the last six months he'd grown close to Georgygirl from the Surrey Quays forum.

Which made it even more ironic that he'd only joined the website because he was following his father's request to keep an eye out for local disgruntled residents who might oppose the new Hunter Hotel they were developing from a run-down former spice warehouse in Surrey Quays, and charm them into seeing things the Hunter way. Gabriel had discovered that he liked the anonymity of an online persona—he could actually meet people and get to know them, the way he couldn't in real life. The people on the forum didn't know he was Gabriel Hunter, so they had no preconceptions and they accepted him for who he was.

He'd found himself posting on a lot of the same topics as someone called Georgygirl. The more he'd read her posts, the more he'd realised that she was on his wavelength. They'd flirted a bit—because an internet forum was a pretty safe place to flirt—and he hadn't been able to resist contacting her in a private message. Then they'd started chatting to each other away from the forum. They'd agreed to stick to the forum rules of not sharing personal details that would identify themselves, so Gabriel had no idea of Georgygirl's real name or her personal situation; but in their late-night private chats he felt that he could talk to her about anything and everything. Be his real self. Just as he was pretty sure that she was her real self with him.

Right now, it was practically lunchtime. Maybe Georgygirl would be around? He hoped so, because talking to her would make him feel human again. Right now he really needed a dose of her teasing sarcasm to jolt him out of his dark mood.

He informed his PA that he was unavailable for the next hour, then headed out to Surrey Quays. He ordered a double espresso in his favourite café, then grabbed his phone and flicked into the direct messaging section of the Surrey Quays forum.

And then he saw the message waiting for him.

Hey, Clarence, you around?

It was timed fifteen minutes ago. Just about when he'd walked out of that meeting and wanted to punch a wall. Hopefully she hadn't given up waiting for him and was still there. He smiled.

Yeah. I'm here,
he typed back.

He sipped his coffee while he waited for her to respond. Just as he thought it was too late and she'd already gone, a message from her popped up on his screen.

Hello, there. How's your day?

I've had better,
he admitted
.
You?

Weird.

Why?

Then he remembered she'd told him that she'd had a letter out of the blue from a solicitor she'd never heard of, asking her to make an appointment because they needed to discuss something with her.

What happened at the solicitor's?

I've been left something in a will.

That's good, isn't it?

Unless it was a really odd bequest, or one with strings.

It's property.

Ah. It was beginning to sound as if there were strings attached. And Gabriel knew without Georgygirl having to tell him that she was upset about it.

Don't tell me—it's a desert island or a ruined castle, but you have to live there for a year all on your own with a massive nest of scary spiders before you can inherit?

Not quite. But thank you for making me laugh.

Meaning that right now she wanted to cry?

What's so bad about it? Is it a total wreck that needs gutting, or it has a roof that eats money?