Billionaire Brides: Four sexy cinderella romances

by Clare Connelly

  “What for?”

  “Redevelopment,” he said simply. He was becoming more business like by the moment.

  Emily nodded, but inside, her mind was littered with questions, and hope. “Redevelopment you’ll be needing to oversee?” Inwardly, she winced at the transparency of her request. She wanted so badly for him to say yes. They’d spent two nights together, and had only one more left. It was in the back of her mind, and she needed to know that it wouldn’t be the end.

  Sabato’s smile was kind. It was without hope. It was gentle, but it was also dismissive. “I have a UK project manager. His name is Jonathan Scott. He’ll take over once I’ve secured the site.”

  Emily’s smile felt false on her lips. He had answered her question. The real question. Would she see him again? Did he want to see her again? And the answer had been no. She wouldn’t focus on it then and there. There would be time, when the weekend was over, to deal with the reality of what she’d done. For the moment, she just wanted to exist and enjoy.

  “Well, good luck,” she said, aware it was a lame conclusion to the conversation.

  “Thank you.” He kissed her forehead. If he did more, he suspected he’d pull her into his arms and miss the damn meeting altogether. “I’ll see you soon.”

  She followed him to the front door, and watched him walk down the long corridor. Then, she shut the door to his suite and leaned against it.

  For the first time in days, she was alone.

  Alone with her thoughts and her memories.

  She smiled as she pulled her phone from her handbag and loaded up her facebook. She scanned some friends’ recent photos of a trip to the Greek islands and sighed wistfully. Again, the holiday she’d planned for Andrew’s birthday came to mind, and she felt a small jab of self-pity. Only very small, because it did her no favours to dwell on her situation. She had Andrew, and their apartment, and besides, the art show might lead to new opportunities for her. It was, in and of itself, a great opportunity.

  Exhaustion was a weight in her veins, but she didn’t want to indulge in sleep. She was too wound up. Instead, she moved through the suite, tidying as she went, making the beds up, folding towels, and restoring order. She realised, after twenty minutes of rushing around, that she was distracting herself from thinking about Sabato.

  With an angry sigh, she moved back to the lounge area and lifted her phone up once more. She dialled Ewan’s number by heart.

  “Well, well,” he drawled, his Irish accent thicker than normal. “It’s Cinderella.”

  Her pulse doubled its speed. “What do you mean?”

  “Disappearing into thin air, never to be heard from again.”

  “Oh, right.” So not the rags to riches love affair part then. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine. The bug that had laid everyone down cleared up quickly enough. We coped. I just didn’t know what had happened to you …”

  “No.” Spontaneously, she said, “Are you at work?”

  “Sure am. Am I ever anywhere else?”

  “Can you take a break?”

  She could practically hear his frown. “I finish up in about ten minutes or so. Why?”

  “Come up to the penthouse.”

  “The penthouse? Emme, that’s where Mr Montepulciano is staying.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  After the briefest pause, his voice sounded more or less normal. “Right. Sounds like you’ve got some explaining to do. I’ll see you soon.”

  Emily had washed her uniform the day before. As it was the only outfit she had at her disposal, she pulled it back on and tidied her hair into a ballerina style bun. The doorbell rang only a second after she’d inserted the last pin.

  She wrenched it open, a nervous smile face on her face.

  Ewan stood on the other side, his confusion obvious. “What are you doing here, babes?”

  “It’s a long story. Come in.”

  Ewan stepped into the apartment, but felt as though he’d crossed an invisible barrier. “How the other half lives, huh?” He said conspiratorially, winking at Emily.

  She smiled back, but sadness was in her heart. Sabato Montepulciano was the other half. Not even the other half. He was the other five percent. Sickeningly wealthy. And Ewan was right to segregate Emily from him. They were different, her and Ewan. They were two cogs in the machine that made the other half’s lives easier.

  “So?” He prompted, staring at Emily. She seemed different. Less approachable. Then she smiled, and she was her usual self.

  “So,” she nodded. “Coffee?”

  “Emily!” He laughed. “What the heck is going on?”

  “We met at that thing the other night. I guess you could say sparks flew …”

  “Woah. Between you and Mister Moneybags?”

  She nodded, her cheeks flushing. “It’s not a big deal,” she fibbed. “I mean, he flies out tomorrow, so it’s just this weekend.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about work.”

  “Hey, I get it. Sparks flew.”

  She bit down on her lip. “I wouldn’t have missed work though, Ewan. He organised that without my knowledge.”

  “He seems like that kind of control freak.”

  The assessment, though true, rankled. “He was trying to be sweet.”

  “Sweet? Montepulciano is many things, babe. Sweet is not one of them.”

  Emily took in a deep breath. “Have you met him?”

  Ewan pulled a face. “Once. And I don’t need to know him better than that. His exploits are well documented. He’s a world-renowned womaniser, and a devotee of the bottom line.”

  Emily shook her head. Though she was tempted to pump Ewan for as much information as possible, she wasn’t sure it was a good idea at all. Everything with Sabato had been so perfect; did she want to ruin it with too much knowledge? She changed the topic, moving her friend onto safer ground. It was a surprisingly pleasant way to distract herself from Sabato’s absence. She really did value Ewan’s friendship, and as they joked and laughed their way through the afternoon, Emily realised dusk was upon them.

  She was about to remark on how late Sabato was when the door pressed inwards and the man himself was framed inside the suite. She and Ewan turned as one.

  Emily’s heart was racing in her chest, and her stomach was in knots at the sight of him. “Hi.”

  His eyes were warm as they took in her appearance. Minus the apron, but very much otherwise as she’d been the first time he’d seen her. Then, he looked at Ewan and his expression shifted.

  “Oh.” Emily cleared her throat. “This is my manager …”

  “Ewan Dougal,” he said, stepping forward with his hand extended. “How do you do, sir?”

  “Fine.” Sabato’s tone was curt, his manner obviously dismissive.

  “That’s my cue,” Ewan winked at Emily. “You’re rostered back on tomorrow afternoon. Will you be okay …?”

  “Of course,” she nodded. No way could she afford to miss any more shifts. “I’ll see you then. Thanks for being so understanding about this weekend.”

  “No problems.” He walked with his usual efficient gait to the door of the suite. “Pleasure to see you again, sir,” he said with a nod, before pulling the door behind him.

  “How did your meeting go?” Emily asked innocently, closing the distance between them.

  Sabato stared down at her. Every single nerve ending in his body was going haywire.

  A million tiny little explosions kept ripping through his conscience. She had been so comfortable with her friend. She would undoubtedly replace Sabato when he went. And fast. He would be gone, and Emily would not be alone for long. Not now that she’d awakened a side of herself she hadn’t even realised she possessed.

  Bitterness crept into his gut. Had it been Ewan on the phone, that first night? Ewan who she’d joked with and spoken to privately? And what did she mean she’d be working the following afternoon? Yes, he was leaving, but he didn’t want Emily to be working as a low
ly housekeeper in one of his hotels.

  “It was fine,” he responded robotically, his eyes scanning her face, taking in every single detail.

  “Did you buy them?”

  He reached into his pocket, confusion rendering him inert. How did she know what he’d bought?

  “The apartments? Did you buy them?”

  The apartments! And not the earrings at all.

  “Sabato? Are you okay?”

  He shook his head to clear the wave of strange thoughts. “Of course. Have you eaten?” Business like, efficient. Emily frowned.

  “I waited for you.”

  “Let us go out.”

  “Out?”

  “Yes. Though I suspect it will make it difficult for me to ravage you while you eat, I would like to take you on a date.”

  “No,” she shook her head slowly. She might have been young and inexperienced but everything she was railed against the idea. “No, thank you,” she amended softly.

  “No thank you?” He repeated, his mood darkening by the minute.

  She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Just briefly, it was a quick, searing contact. “It’s not who we are,” she said firmly. Her smile was resolute.

  She was right. So why did it bother him so much? Her out of hand rejection of the idea rankled. He smothered the feelings with effort. “Very well, we shall share dinner here.”

  Whilst speaking to Ewan, a few things had crystallised for Emily. The first of which was that she needed to keep things on her terms. The second of which was that she ought to leave before he could leave her. Somehow, the mental imagery of watching him walk away was becoming quicksand from which she couldn’t escape. She nodded now, forcing herself to be brave. “Let’s have dinner here.” She bit down on her lip, unable to meet his eyes. “And then I’m going to go home.”

  Sabato’s gut was twisting painfully. “I don’t fly out until mid-morning.”

  “Yes,” she nodded slowly. “You said. But you’ll have commitments, surely? And I also have stuff to do.”

  His expression hardened. “I see.”

  The knowledge that he was disappointed in her filled Emily with doubt. But she stuck to her decision. There was no sense dragging out the inevitable. Another night in his bed, and in his arms, and Emily suspected the die would be well and truly cast. She would love him. If she didn’t already.

  “Was it him? On the phone?”

  “Him? Ewan?” She looked up from the menu she’d been perusing. “On the phone?” When he didn’t answer, she gave him more of her attention. “On which phone?”

  Sabato waved a hand through the air impatiently. “That first night, when we were having dinner.”

  “Oh!” She thought back to her conversation with Andrew and grinned. “No. That was my brother.”

  “Your brother?” Sabato felt the gulf of missing information; it was somewhere in the haze of gratitude and relief. “Tell me about him.”

  Emily passed the menu to him and sat on one of the bar stools. Sabato ignored the menu and instead poured two glasses of red wine.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Are you close?” He pushed a glass towards her.

  Emily nodded. “He was only five when our mum died,” she said quietly, tracing a finger around the rim of her wine glass.

  Sabato stopped moving. He stood, very still on the other side of the kitchen bench. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  Emily nodded jerkily. “Thank you.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “Two years ago. My mum and stepdad.” She sipped her wine, but barely tasted it. “It was a car accident.”

  Sabato closed his eyes for a moment. “They both died?”

  “Yes. Instantly, mercifully.”

  “So you were twenty years old, and then what?”

  She exhaled slowly, as if she could breathe out the grief. “Andrew and I moved to London. I’ve known Ewan for years and he offered me a job. I thought it would be fun.”

  Sabato studied her expression. It was forlorn, and hopeful at the same time. He had noticed her ability to put a brave face on just about anything, and she did so now. “It’s not glamorous or exciting. In fact, it’s hard. Really hard.” She blinked up at him with a look of such angelic goodness that his heart turned over. “But Andrew and I are close. That’s something, right? And he’s okay.” She shook her head, obviously concentrating on only her brother. “I was so worried about him, losing mum and Simon like that. But he’s doing great.”

  “And you?” He pushed, leaning forward so that he could cup her face.

  “Me?” Her big blue eyes locked to his and a knife seemed to rotate sharply in his gut. “I’m great.”

  Why didn’t he believe her? “And what about your grandparents? Do they help?”

  “Milly and Jacob are fantastic,” she enthused quickly. “But they’ve done their parenting, and then some. They raised mum. They raised me. They deserve some time to themselves.”

  He squashed the anger that was directed at these two selfish seniors. “Did they refuse to have him?”

  “Refuse? Good heavens no. I partly think I broke their hearts when I took Andrew away. But they’re not in the best of health. It would have been too much. Andrew is very like his father. Musically gifted, intelligent, funny, but hard work too. He’s seven, but he thinks he’s seventeen.”

  “And so you fell upon your sword.”

  “I don’t see it that way,” she denied defensively. “I would give anything to have my mum back, but raising Andrew is a constant source of pleasure.”

  Sabato stroked her cheek slowly. “It is an irony that you were encouraged to avoid sexual relationships so that you wouldn’t be saddled with an unwanted child – only to end up acting as a surrogate mother.”

  He was right. Emily had never seen it that way. She shifted uncomfortably; his perception was, at times, unnerving. “What shall we eat?”

  “Change of topic?” He said quietly, moving his thumb to her mouth. He stroked it gently and then pressed his lips to hers.

  He ordered a selection of foods, but his mind was ticking over with this new information. “Where do you live?”

  “The Elephant.”

  He frowned. “And Castle?”

  “No. The Elephant and the Frog. Of course The Elephant and Castle.”

  “And it’s just the two of you?”

  She nodded. “I found a small flat through a friend. It’s only got one bedroom but it’s right around from a Tesco, so it’s super convenient.”

  “You share a room with your brother?”

  Her cheeks flamed pink. “No. He has the bedroom.”

  “And where do you sleep?”

  “The sofa bed.” She reached over and forked a piece of his broccoli. “It’s not so bad.”

  Sabato wanted to fix it. He wanted to fix everything. But that wouldn’t be fair. He was only a temporary part of her life. The knowledge made him frown. “I have something for you.”

  Emily raised her brows curiously. “You do?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled the box out. He was glad now that he’d gone for the one-carat earrings rather than the two. He suspected she would have been mortified if she knew what they’d cost, and so he slid them across the table with a casual air. “Just a little something to remember this weekend by.”

  Like she needed anything for that. Every second was burned into her brain, and always would be. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said quietly. Her fingers toyed with the box without opening it.

  “Please,” he nodded towards it.

  Emily lifted the lid, her eyes focussed on Sabato. She looked down, after several moments and gasped at the beautiful jewellery. “These aren’t … diamonds are they?”

  He dipped his head forward in silent agreement.

  “Oh, Sabato, it’s too much.” She pushed the box back towards him. “I can’t accept them.”

  “Of course you can.”

 
“No.” She smiled brightly, but tears were in her eyes. “It might be normal for you to be so generous with gifts but something like these have no place in my life.” At his look of contradiction, she shook her head and continued more emphatically. “I’m a housekeeper, Sab. I can’t wear these.” She put her hand over his. “It was sweet of you…”

  “Take them. Sell them. I don’t care.”

  Pain was lashing through her. “I don’t need earrings to help me remember this weekend. Trust me.”

  He stared down at the diamonds, a small frown marring his handsome face. “I chose them because I thought you would like them.”

  She shrugged. “It’s too much. You might have all the money in the world, but you don’t need to spend it on me.”

  “And if I want to?”

  “You’d be wrong.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s not what we are,” she repeated, scanning his face earnestly. Was she hoping he’d disagree with her? That he’d beg her to see him again? Of course she was. But Sabato did not.

  He clicked the lid shut on the velvet box and slipped it back into his suit pocket. “As you wish,” he said finally, as though it barely mattered.

  For the first time, they ate dinner at opposite sides of the table, talking instead of touching, listening instead of longing. Emily couldn’t believe how relaxed she felt, despite the certainty that they were in their last few hours together.

  They discussed everything, from politics to theatre and movies then construction. Simon and Rosamund had married five years before their deaths, and he had been a keen intellect. He’d encouraged Emily to read the broadsheet newspapers from cover to cover every day, and to form her own opinions in response to current events. Sabato was interested in everything she had to say, and he managed to focus on her words, not just her distracting mouth. It was as though the penny was finally dropping; she was leaving. He had squandered there time. Meetings be damned! Why had he thought he had to be anywhere than by her side?

  “Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay the night?” He asked, at the end of the drawn out dinner.

  Emily stood, her fingers shaking a little. “I think it would make it harder.” Her smile quivered in her face.