by Jill Snow
Table of 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
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
Billionaire Bodyguard
The Irish Billionaires
Jill Snow
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Copyright © 2018 by Jill Snow
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.
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
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter 1
Emily Williams pulled her hair into a scrunchy, tempted yet again to get it all cut off. It irritated her when it fell over her face as she worked. She read back what she had written and hit delete. It was too strong. She wanted to be opinionated, sure, but not a bully.
“Quit frowning like that or you’ll get wrinkles,” joked Carrie as she set another coffee on Emily’s desk. “What’s up?”
“I can’t think of a good headline for tomorrow’s blog post.”
“Take a break. I’ll have a read.”
Carrie pushed Emily out of the way, turning the screen toward her. Emily watched her friend’s face closely as she read the article. She used Carrie as a barometer. If Carrie reacted to a blog post favorably, the majority of her readers would, too.
“Wow, girl, you aren’t going to make many friends over at Sunny Studios with this.”
“I’m not trying to be friendly. I want them to stop portraying women as sex objects.”
Carrie ignored her and continued reading. Emily wasn’t really surprised. Carrie knew more than most how the latest set of video games and movies portraying women as sex objects got under Emily’s skin. Emily’s idea of a fantastic movie was something like Casablanca. Ingrid Bergman was both beautiful and confident at the same time. That’s what real life should be like and why should video games not follow suit?
“So what do you think?”
“You will certainly get Conor Dunne’s attention. He’s bound to hit the roof over this one.”
“It’s about time. That man is too busy playing around to be worried about the impact of his business. Hasn’t he heard women got the vote—oh, about a hundred years ago.”
“Did I tell you I saw him recently? He was at some premiere Doug took me to. Just your type. Tall, handsome, broody looking.”
Emily burst out laughing. “I do not go for broody looking men.”
Carrie’s raised eyebrow said otherwise, but Emily didn’t bother arguing. She turned her attention back to the article. “So what should I call it?”
Carrie chewed on a pencil and put forward a couple of suggestions, but nothing worked.
“Come on, ladies, it’s time to go. Otherwise you’re going to be late for your own party,” Jason, their coworker, said.
“Oh shoot. I forgot about that,” Emily grumbled.
“How could you forget the biggest fundraiser of the year? There will be loads of Silicon dudes there who are anxious to be separated from the contents of their wallets by a couple of stunners.”
“Jason Storm, don’t you dare talk like that in front of our guests or they will think you work for Sunny Studios,” Carrie teased.
“Maybe I should see if they have an opening?” Jason poked his tongue out at Carrie. “Emily, Gertie said to break a leg. She asked me to video your speech so she can watch with pride.”
Jason was one of their most steadfast employees and a firm favorite with her nana. His ideas for fundraisers were out of this world. It was mainly because of him that the DC Williams Foundation was still running. Emily’s dream of changing the face of video games was proving difficult to achieve. Like it or not, the old adage “sex sells” was true. The sexier and more violent the video game, the more popular it was. She hoped she would impress not only her audience but her nana. If only she could be here in person but she wasn’t a huge fan of crowds and said she’d prefer to watch the video later.
Emily had looked up to Gertie for as long as she could remember and wanted her to see she was making progress. Her nana had marched for women’s rights in the 1960s and had been instrumental in huge advances in how women were treated. Opportunities women took for granted now were due to people like her nana. Emily hoped she would be as successful in changing the face of the gaming industry as her nana had been in securing equal rights back then.
“Emily, you need to change. Can’t have the star of the show looking like something the cat dragged in,” Carrie said.
Emily grunted in response. She stared at the screen, willing the headline to come to her, but the cursor just flickered.
Chapter 2
Conor Dunne stared at his screen as his phone buzzed.
“Yes, Crystal.”
“Conor, your mother is on line one. Again.”
“Crystal, tell her I am away on business.” Conor rubbed the back of his neck, his muscles feeling tighter by the minute.
‘That won’t work. She saw you come int
o the office a few minutes ago. She is waiting for you at the coffee shop across the road.”
Darn it. Why couldn’t his mother take no for an answer? He didn’t want her in his life. She had made her choice years ago when she chose the bottle over her child. So what if she claimed to be sober now? He’d lost count of the chances he’d given her. All those times he thought he would have a real mother figure as opposed to a picture. His eyes fell on the picture on his desk. A boy with his parents, everyone smiling. It had been taken a week before his dad died. As far as he was concerned, his mam had died then, too. He tapped his fingers on his desk.
“Conor? What will I say? Can’t you spare five minutes?”
“Crystal, you know what will happen. She will plead her case, I will give in and then in a few months’ time, she will mess everything up again. No. This time I am not going to let her do that. Tell her I’m in meetings all day. All week. All year.”
“Yes, boss.”
Sighing, he put down the phone. Crystal was mad. She only called him boss when she was annoyed with him. But she knew more than most the effect seeing his mam had on him. He was right to ignore her.
He forced his attention back to work. He was addicted to reading the Ugly Truth blog. He wished he knew the woman behind the screen. Emily Williams. He had called her a number of times but never got through to her. Her secretary swore she had passed on his messages, but obviously Ms. Williams had already judged him guilty of horrendous crimes against humanity and refused to return his calls. Pity, as he admired what the D C Williams Foundation was striving to achieve. He’d read the news coverage. The foundation aimed to empower young girls and teenagers to strive for the best they could be. They also wanted to reduce the sexualization of the gaming world, the area in which Ms. Williams held the most expertise.
He’d only started digging into what Sunny Studio was about. His other business interests combined with a recent IRS audit had taken his attention.
He’d bought the gaming company at a rock-bottom price. It was part of Jude Ryan’s recommendation to extend his portfolio outside of movie production. Jude had been his business adviser for years and rarely, if ever, got anything wrong. The man was the best in his field. He’d graduated top of his class at Harvard Law and could name his salary. Conor was lucky Jude was his friend as the man got daily offers from other wealthy businessmen to come work for them. Jude joked that these would-be employers were hoping some of the Midas touch Conor Dunne seemed to have would rub off on them if they were to have his adviser in their employ.
Conor pushed his chair back and went to stand at the window. His penthouse office offered amazing views of the city. He stood staring at the world going on below him, wondering why he was letting Emily Williams under his skin. Was it because she was right? He had never been much of a gamer, so he didn’t pay attention to the products Sunny Studios produced. They were just units to push and make a profit from. But after reading her blog, he wondered if he’d made the right investment. When he’d mentioned his concerns to Jude, his friend had laughed them off.
“Don’t worry ‘bout that woman. She hasn’t a clue what she’s talking about. Sex sells, Conor. You know that, I know that. Everyone knows that.” Jude’s nostrils twitched as he leaned back in his chair.
“She’s complaining about the portrayal of women.”
“Yeah, I saw she wants us to reproduce Casablanca. I mean, who’s even watched that movie, besides my nana?” Jude rubbed his hands together. “Come on. All you need to care about is the bottom line. Sunny Watson didn’t know his numbers. Talk about walking away at the wrong time. This little beauty is going to explode in value. You’ll gain millions.”
“I don’t think getting cancer and not being able to run your business anymore is the same as walking away, Jude.” But he saw his lawyer wasn’t listening. He was chatting about some new deal he thought Conor would be interested in. Then his phone buzzed, interrupting them both.
“Sorry, Conor, but you said to remind you. Dave will pick you up in an hour.”
“Thanks, Crystal. Are you coming with me?” He listened to her laugh at the other end of the phone.
“I’m going home to hot cocoa and my cat. Is there anything else I can do for you, Conor?”
“No, thank you, Crystal. Have a good weekend.”
Conor hung up smiling.
“What are you grinning about?”
“I just got dumped in favor of a cat.”
Jude looked at him uncertainly. “Why would you ask an old woman to be your date?”
“Crystal’s not old. She’s only in her fifties. Besides, I like her. She makes me laugh. All the women you line me up with are only interested in the size of my wallet and what the latest fashion is.”
Jude threw his eyes up to heaven. “No wonder you’re still single. I keep telling you. You need a pretty piece on your arm. That’s expected. You’re never going to find a good-looking girl with brains. It just doesn’t happen. Face facts, Conor.”
Conor didn’t reply. Jude was on his second wife, who was more plastic than Barbie. Sandra, an actress by trade although nobody admitted to seeing any of her movies, was a true empty-headed socialite who thought New York was the capital of the US. She wasn’t in love with Jude, everyone knew that—including Jude. But she was in love with the lifestyle he provided and would do just about anything to keep that secure. Conor shuddered. He’d rather be single than have a Sandra in his life.
“Jude, you need to go. I have to get ready. I’ll talk to you Monday.’
“I thought I was going to this fundraiser with you.”
Conor raised his eyebrows. Jude had to be joking. Him going to this fundraiser would be like a priest attending a Playboy party.
“What? I can be serious and sensitive. I know how to handle women. Deep down, they know what they really want.” Jude grinned, but it was the expression in his eyes that turned Conor’s stomach. Was he joking? Conor hoped so.
“No, Jude, sit this one out.”
Jude opened his mouth to argue, but closed it quickly at a look from Conor. They may have known each other for years but at the end of the day, Conor signed the paychecks.
“Guess I’ll just have to go to Fannie’s, then.”
Conor laughed with genuine amusement. “Only you could portray going to the most exclusive club in town as akin to making your way into an execution chamber.”
“It’s torture. Knowing you will have Frosty Emily charmed before the night’s over. I want to be there when the ice maiden melts.”
“Shut up, Jude, and go. I want to get changed.”
Chapter 3
Emily stood at the door, greeting their guests. She had goose bumps on her arms. Thankfully, the lace sleeves on her dress covered most of the evidence. She glanced at the pale green gown she was wearing. She hadn’t been too sure about the color but Carrie said it made her eyes bluer. Carrie was all about highlighting their assets.
Nana had called to remind her to stand tall and be proud of what she stood for. Her head swam with all the new introductions, as names were never her strong point. When she was younger her dad had told her to associate a person with an animal in order to remember their name, but the introductions were coming too fast to make use of that trick. Carrie, on the other hand, seemed to know everyone. Her friend had always been like that, the more confident of the two. Everyone who was anyone was here tonight. The hall looked like something out of a 1940s movie, with drapes arranged on each wall transforming it into a ballroom. The crystal lights above were designed to look like candles, their light being more flattering than the usual neon tubes they covered.
Emily was just about to go rehearse her speech one final time when he walked in. He exchanged a couple of words with someone who pointed in her direction. She wanted to leave but her feet stuck to the ground. He looked like he had just walked off the set of an aftershave ad. Those cheekbones, that chin, his eyes.
“Finally, we meet. The elusive Ms. Williams.”<
br />
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I know you,” she stammered as her heart beat faster. He had taken her hand in his, making her feel tiny. Not an easy feat considering she towered above many men, being six foot in heels.
“Good evening, Mr. Dunne. I’m rather surprised to see you here.” Carrie’s frigid tone sliced through Emily, quickly bringing her to her senses. Mr. Dunne? She couldn’t mean Conor Dunne, the new owner of Sunny Studios. Emily looked from her friend to the man before her, snatching her hand away as her stomach roiled. This man.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
The man almost bowed as he greeted Carrie, but his eyes only flickered to her face before returning to gaze at Emily. She forced her smile to stay in place and balled her hands by her side. She wanted to scream at him. Ask him how dare he show his face at her foundation. What was he doing here? Obviously, he had some kind of hidden agenda.
“I did not turn up uninvited. My name is on the guest list.”
Horrified, Emily wondered who had invited him. It was too easy a statement to verify, so she knew he couldn’t be lying. Well, she would fire whomever it was.
“Now that you are here, why don’t you come in and have an education?” she said sweetly.
His eyebrows rose, but instead of looking angry he looked amused. “I would love an education, so long as you are the instructor, Ms. Williams.”
His lilting Irish accent made him sound like Colin Farrell. Come to think of it, he looked like him, too, with his raven black hair and dark blue eyes.