A Billionaire Books Ltd Ebook.
Copyright © 2018 by Katie Evergreen
All rights reserved.
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Dear Reader!
Thank you so much for picking up my fourth book! I wanted to write something a bit closer to home, and London is such a wonderfully vibrant city it seemed the perfect place to set My Dashing Billionaire—especially as the billionaire in question is a member of the British Royal Family. It has always been a dream of mine to find my very own Prince Charming, after all!
I loved getting to know Everly and Edward as I was writing their story, and I hope you do too. This tale has a few twists and turns, and I tried to make it as exciting as possible. I am still learning, though, so if you spot any mistakes, please let me know.
And feel free to get in touch about anything! I love to hear from readers. If you just want to stay up to date on the My Billionaire A-Z, then sign up to my newsletter. I’ll be running giveaways, revealing exclusive extracts, searching for beta readers, and even offering you the chance to name the title of some of the books!
Just visit my website to join! See you soon! :-)
katieevergreen.com
To Pepper
My constant furry, purry companion
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Katie Evergreen
Continue Reading…
1
Everly Simpson ducked her head against the rain as she ran toward the gallery. She had only been in London for a fortnight, but she still hadn’t worked out the maps for the underground, and she was battling against the time. She reached the grand flight of red brick steps and jogged up them as best she could in her sparkly silver heels, pushing through the revolving door at the top. Everly shook the rain from her jacket and took a moment to get her breath back. Nobody else in the gallery looked phased by the rain. They looked prepared for every weather eventuality.
And so they should, Everly thought as she smiled to herself. They’re British.
It was midwinter, the beginning of January, and in the last two weeks alone Everly had witnessed rain that made her normally thick, dark-brown, silken hair turn as stiff as a paintbrush, hail hard enough to knock her sideways, strong winds which had almost whipped her portfolio out from her hands, and sun bright enough to burn her already golden skin. It was a far cry from Colby, Kansas, whose weather system was as predictable as its road system.
It’s no wonder the Brits always go on about their weather, Everly chuckled to herself as she tucked her jacket over her arm and headed for the stairs.
“Evening, Arthur.” Everly waved at the old security guard who sat on a stool beside the door to the stairwell.
“Evenin’, Miss.” Arthur smiled, lifting his security cap from his head to reveal a mop of curly, white hair. “Did you get lost again?”
“What can I say?” she replied, throwing the door open and talking over her shoulder as she went. “Your roads make no sense, let alone your underground maps.”
She heard Arthur wheeze a throaty laugh as the door closed behind her. Goodness knows how he would cope if he had to actually do some security work when he got so out of breath from chuckling at a joke. A soft vanilla scent followed her through the door. Everly had only realized it was the smell of tobacco when she’d caught Arthur sneaking out the fire exit and lighting up his pipe a few days ago. He smoked right underneath a no smoking sign, but Everly let it slide as Arthur had been a godsend since she’d first set foot in the building.
At the top of the stairs, Everly pushed through the door and slid into the back of a large room full of people. They were all dressed for the occasion in suits and gowns, and the smell of perfume and aftershave hung heavily in the air, making her eyes water. Luckily, everyone was facing in the other direction, and nobody seemed to notice her late arrival.
There was a general muttering of voices, people talking to each other quietly, their anticipation buzzing around the room. The occasional sweet ting of crystal sang out as champagne glasses were topped up by the waiting staff circling silently and efficiently. Everly welcomed the gentle noise as she took in her surroundings.
The walls of the room were decorated with the most astonishing paintings—oils on canvas showing beautiful scenic views, elegant water colors portraying still-lifes, detailed portraits of all ages and races, thought provoking abstract designs and sculptures.
Everly could see her own artwork over the heads of the crowd, hanging just off-center behind the microphone stand at the head of the room. She felt the nerves sloshing around in her stomach knowing that such a large group of people was studying her work—nearly two-hundred of them, she thought, after a quick glance around. Maybe even more.
Grateful to be hidden at the back, Everly ran her fingers through her long hair and tried to rescue it a little from the frizz that was threatening to claim it. She blotted the rain from her cheeks, her sun kissed skin pink from the biting cold. She’d worn the only dress that she’d brought with her on the long flight over the Atlantic—a dark blue, floor length gown with little plastic jewels dotting the sweetheart neckline. The sapphire gems matched her eyes almost perfectly. Everly’s mom and dad had bought it for her this Christmas, even though they had to eat nothing but grilled cheese for the rest of the month so they could afford to pay for it.
She sighed, trying not to think about how much she missed her mom and dad. They had been the driving force behind her application for this month-long exchange program to London. The community college she was studying at in Kansas had not been her first choice, but there was no way she or her parents could afford anywhere else. It was a good little college, though, and when this opportunity had presented itself to study abroad, Everly had jumped—with a little push from her parents—at the chance.
Now, standing here in the gallery space that had been her home for the past two weeks, Everly knew that tonight was make or break. Out of all the artists here tonight, only a select few would be asked to stay on in London for the rest of the month to complete the exchange program.
Everly really didn’t want to have to pack up and head home now, she’d feel like she was letting her parents down and she really didn’t want to disappoint them. She had video-called with them before she’d left her dorm room earlier in the evening, and they’d been unable to keep the grins from their faces as Everly had spun a
round in her new dress. Her mom’s eyes had shone with tears. Everly hadn’t told them there was a possibility she’d be flying back the very next day, she’d worry about that when she had to.
For now, the only thing she needed to worry about was not shaking too much when the presentation began.
An impeccably dressed waiter waved a tray of champagne under Everly’s nose. She shook her head at him and he disappeared back into the crowd. There were quite a few artists mingling around the room. Many of them had come from Universities across England, only a handful of the thirty students here were from overseas, like Everly. There had been a welcome party when they’d all arrived, but Everly had felt so jetlagged after the flight that she hadn’t had the energy to join in.
Since then, she had the feeling that they all thought she was rude, so she’d kept herself to herself over the last two weeks, only really chatting to Arthur. The lecturers and artists who had been hired to help had all been amazing, but they were spread thinly between the thirty students who relentlessly vied for their time and energy.
The gallery was attached to London University, a prestigious college based in the heart of the capital city. The application had been in the form of a portfolio, and Everly had been told her work had shone, separating it from most of the other applicants. But when they’d dropped the bombshell that it would only be a two week stay for the majority of the students, Everly had figured she wouldn’t be staying. She’d never been her own cheerleader and now wasn’t the moment she was going to start shaking her pompoms.
Their brief for the first two weeks had been to show the judging panel what the exchange meant to them. They’d all worked their behinds off to come up with a piece of work to exhibit. Those five lucky enough to be chosen would spend the next few weeks being taught by the best in the business, would be exhibited in an exclusive private gallery, and would have the chance to win a place at the university as a fully funded post-graduate student once they had completed their degrees. Everly could only dream of those kinds of opportunities.
The door behind her swung open, bumping her slightly.
“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry,” said a voice from behind it.
Everly shifted herself out of the way, opening the door for the other latecomer, and feeling relieved she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t arrived on time. It was only when he stepped inside the room that Everly felt her knees go weak and her cheeks catch fire. His crooked bowtie made him look adorable. As did the rest of him. He was the most attractive man Everly had ever laid eyes on. From the top of his glossy, chocolate brown hair to the tips of his well shined shoes.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said again, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Has it started yet?”
He nodded toward the front of the gallery, and the microphone still awaiting its speaker.
Everly shook her head, not wanting to open her mouth in case she said something ridiculous. She’d never been very confident around handsome men, and the fact that this one was British and soaking wet didn’t help at all.
“I got stuck in the most horrendous traffic,” the man said, droplets of rain water falling from him like a fountain. “I’m jolly lucky to be here at all.”
He was so British she wished he would keep talking to her and never stop. She loved the accent, and the politeness, and the little words that she didn’t really get. His deep brown eyes twinkled as he unwrapped his tartan scarf from around his neck.
“At least I made it before the speeches started, I’d be mortified to miss those.”
Everly thought he must be one of the artists, although she didn’t recognize his face—and there was absolutely no way she’d forget a face as gorgeous as his.
Clearing her throat, she managed to find her voice.
“I was late, too.”
She cringed at how dull her reply was, but the man didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one. Your accent isn’t local, are you one of the budding young artists?”
Everly nodded, smiling.
“I’m hoping to win a place to stay, but I hear one of the judges is a distant member of the Royal family, so I really don’t think I stand a chance. My art isn’t overly traditional, and if the judges are dusty old boring royals then they really won’t like my work. How about you?”
Before the man could reply, the microphone kicked into life and a voice announced the beginning of the evening’s celebrations. They both swung around to look at the speaker, the chancellor of the university, resplendent in full gown and robes. Everly turned around to wish the handsome stranger good luck, but he had vanished into thin air. Knitting her eyebrows together, Everly turned back to the presentations, clamping her hands tightly together to stop them from shaking.
2
Dusty old boring royals?
Edward pondered those words as he made his way through the crowds to the front of the room. He’d been called a number of things in his time, but never a dusty old boring royal. Not until today, anyway. A royal he very well might be, but he wasn’t exactly old—he was only twenty-nine.
The woman had looked anything less than old and boring herself. Her eyes had sparkled at him from the moment he’d clonked her with the door. The thought made him blush. Not a great first impression, no wonder she had called him names.
That wasn’t it at all, he knew. The girl had no idea who he was, which was a nice change. A lot of the time he was mobbed by people who wanted the chance to tell him how much they loved the Queen, and how great they thought he was. Perhaps this woman didn’t know him because he was only thirty-first in line to the throne, and those numbers didn’t reach as far as the States. Yet she was strangely familiar to him, as though he had seen her in a dream years ago, and was only just remembering her now. It was as though he had an itch he couldn’t quite reach.
Focus, Edward!
He had a job to do here, and with all these people watching him, not to mention his parents, and the press, he couldn’t risk messing it up. Still, he hoped that when he read out the winners of the program, the woman would come and join him at the front of the room. He would love to get to know her better and show her that not all royals were dusty, old, and boring.
He’d taken his time to pick his favorite pieces of art, walking around this room over and over and over. They had closed the gallery for him, allowing him to really spend some time with the wonderful artwork. He had been overwhelmed by the sheer talent he had observed. Of course, there had been a few pieces that made him turn his head in a number of funny positions to work out what he’d been looking at, but mostly he’d been happy with what he’d seen. There had also been a few pieces that had caught him off guard, sending shivers down his spine, and even reducing him to tears. That, Edward had not been expecting at all.
The sapphire-eyed woman had said her piece of work was not traditional. Edward was keeping his fingers crossed that it wasn’t one of the pieces that had made him turn cross-eyed.
He stood back and listened to the chancellor finish up his speech—which was certainly dusty and boring and far too long.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the old man said, his robes swishing. “Can I please introduce the patron of the arts for London University, and the benefactor behind this prestigious exchange, His Royal Highness the Duke of Caudwell, Edward Harrington.”
A rapturous applause filled the room. Edward took a deep breath and swallowed down his nerves before stepping up to the microphone and shaking the chancellor’s hand. Every pair of eyes in the room was focused on him, but Edward’s own eyes darted around, trying to find the woman he’d been speaking to only moments earlier. There was no sign of her. He cleared his throat and began his address.
“Thank you, thank you,” he began, lifting his arms to try to stem the applause. “Welcome, everybody, to the Museum of Arts at London University. Thank you all for joining us here this evening. You all look rather marvelous. The exchange program is in its fifth year, and this year we have opened the ent
rants to students from overseas who show a great deal of promise in their chosen subject. This has been a great learning curve for my team, as we received almost five times the number of applications and had to spend three days and nights going through their portfolios. Next year we will make the closing deadline earlier, so we can at least get some sleep.”
A gentle patter of laughter rippled around the room.
“This program has always had a special place in my heart, as a lover of the arts, and as patron of the arts school here at London University. I love doing my small bit to help the students develop into the artists they deserve to be, with no financial stress. As we all know, it’s a hard market to break in to. Some of the alumni from the program have gone on to show their work world-wide, and this makes me immensely proud. The five winners of this year’s program will be given the same opportunities; a small grant to help them work, some of the best tuition in the country, a chance to exhibit their art worldwide, and for one lucky participant, a fully funded post graduate year here at London University. As you know, tonight we are here to announce the winners of the exchange program. It’s been a very tough decision to make. I, and the other two judges, have taken a long time to whittle the thirty artists down to only five. I wish I could keep all of you here for the remainder of the program, but unfortunately my hands are tied.”
Edward could almost feel the tension in the room. The silence was deafening, smothering him. He pulled at his bowtie to release his airway, hoping that nobody would notice how nervous he looked. Public speaking had never been one of his strengths, which was difficult when his line of work nearly always involved events like this one. Charity balls, galas, fundraising parties. Being a patron of the arts and the director of his own charity meant he was always standing in front of large crowds of people and pretending to enjoy talking to them. He thought he’d be used to it by now, but his palms were still soaked with sweat and his throat was as dry as could be. There was a glass of water on the stand next to the microphone, and Edward took a moment to have a sip.
My Dashing Billionaire: A Clean Billionaire Romance (My Billionaire A-Z Book 4) Page 1