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©January, 2014: Leanore Elliott
Cover Art & Book Design
By
Wicked Muse Productions
Stranded With A Billionaire came from an idea in a group called Wicked Women Readers & Authors At Facebook.
Our group is mostly authors and readers of Erotic Romance and yes, we are decidedly wicked, and we write naughty stories because we love to entertain and be entertained.
THE BOOKS
Wrong For Ms. Wright
Let It Snow
Snowed In
Rich Girl
Falling
Lucky Break
WRONG FOR MS. WRIGHT
By
Seraphina Donavan
CHAPTER ONE
Georgie Wright felt like a fraud. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence in the presence of her posh and debonair boss. She’d worked for Sam Kirkland for only a few months, but that was long enough to know he was a total enigma. Not just to her, but to everyone.
His affairs with fashion models, always brief and as discreet as the press allowed them to be, were splashed across the tabloids, but when it came to his life, his family, his history—the man was a total mystery.
It still amazed her that he’d hired her to begin with. He had a way of looking at a person as if he could see straight through them, and it always left her unnerved. She expected him to shout “imposter” at any moment.
Oh, sure, she’d earned her degree from the technical college in office administration and she was good at her job. But there was a part of her that still felt like the same chubby little girl in hand me down clothes and dirty shoes. Standing next to him with his chiseled good looks and tailored suits, any woman would feel dowdy.
The only sound inside the luxury car was the low hum of classical music from the stereo. The car, like everything else he owned, was simply the best. The Maybach was classic and almost as spacious as her apartment. Actually, it was more spacious than her apartment, driving home the fact of how she felt totally out of her depth.
In the silence of the car, her discomfort grew. Making conversation with her boss wasn’t exactly something Georgie felt comfortable with. Discreetly checking her phone, she saw that there were no bars whatsoever, so she couldn’t even distract herself by chatting with friends. Biting the bullet, she asked the question which had been bothering her all morning. “What is it that we’re doing here, sir?”
“We’re inspecting the property, Ms. Wright.”
The crisp, cultured tones of his British accent seemed off just a bit. His voice sounded tight. She’d never go so far as to say he was nervous. No one ever played it cooler or closer to the vest than Sam Kirkland, but she could tell how the entire set of circumstances was unsettling to him, as much as anything could be.
Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she was once again struck by how alarmingly attractive he was. With his dark curling hair, perfectly chiseled features and cerulean blue eyes, he often took her breath away and left her utterly senseless.
Not wanting this to be one of those times, Georgie looked ahead. Through the bare tree limbs, she could see a glimpse of a dark and imposing structure. It was a monochrome world—gunmetal sky, gray stone, tree limbs blackened by a harsh winter, and the earth shrouded in a silvery mist. The whole thing seemed like some creepy, bizarro horror movie. “Where’s Darrel Dixon when you need him?”
“Did you say something, Ms. Wright?”
Blushing, embarrassed at having spoken to her fantasy future husband aloud, Georgie shook her head. “Nothing important, sir.”
Her employer gave her another sharp glance, as if to say he wasn’t buying that for a minute, before turning his eyes back to the narrow, rutted lane.
The trees thinned out and the road narrowed even more to a small and alarmingly crumbled stone bridge that crossed a marshy inlet. On the other side of it, stood the house. Large, imposing, derelict and probably haunted. Georgie bit her lip to keep from whimpering. She was a chicken. A big, fat, quivering chicken.
“Is there a problem, Ms. Wright?”
Normally, Georgie never said exactly what was on her mind, but there was nothing normal about her day thus far. “No, sir. No problem at all. Big, abandoned and super creepy houses in the middle of nowhere are just the thing. Really.” Realizing that she’d just put her rather large foot in her mouth, Georgie dared a glance at her boss.
His lips were quirked in amusement, or maybe it was annoyance.
She preferred to think it might be amusement. Not for the first time, it caught her off guard. Oh, she knew he was good looking, but occasionally, she’d forget just how good looking until she dared a glance at him. Then he’d take her breath away and leave her all addlepated and giggling like a twelve year old. The light through the car window shone on his dark curls and made the blue of his eyes gleam silver.
Turning away, Georgie tired to tamp down those errant thoughts. They were more disastrous than the house in front of them.
~~****~~
Sam Kirkland tried to ignore the petrified whimpers and non-sequiturs from his personal assistant. He thought of her as just that, his personal assistant, or at the very least, he tried to. From the moment she’d come to work for him, he hadn’t allowed himself to think about her as Georgie, as female, as lush and curvy and so bloody hot, he wanted to lick every inch of her. No. She was Ms. Wright, and that made her wrong on every level for him.
Georgina Wright was efficient, smart, very good at her job and, at times—odd. She appeared to be having a not quite internal monologue at all times. Still, he didn’t mind that so much. That was a much easier thing to cope with than how tight her sweaters were over the fullness of her breasts, or, god help him—the way her skirts hugged the plump curves of an ass he thought about with an alarming frequency.
His problem, not hers, he reminded himself. Easing the car into park, he opened the door and stepped out, away from the smell of her perfume and the tantalizing perfection of her skin. Focus on the house, Kirkland.
Eyeing the structure, he catalogued it quickly. Decades of neglect left the once glorious manor house a sad and ragged shadow of its former glory. Slate shingles were missing from the roof, shutters hung loosely and a whole forest was growing from the gutter clutched in the moss covered claws of a gargoyle.
Elements of beauty remained. Mullioned glass windows and an intricate frieze above the front door hinted at the once stately beauty, now sadly faded.
“Why exactly are we
inspecting this property, Mr. Kirkland?”
Sam could hear the uncertainty in her voice, and frankly, he felt a bit uncertain himself. The house remained as the key to unlocking his past. He knew that, felt it in his bones, and he’d spent a fortune making sure the house would be his. The auction company made a tidy profit on him. Facing down the decrepit monstrosity, he had to wonder if he hadn’t made a horrible mistake.
“Because I bought it, Ms. Wright. This house once belonged to my family.” He didn’t add that it was a family he’d never met or that the entirety of his childhood had been spent with nannies or in boarding schools. Holidays were spent with whichever friend invited him, or at the school, alone with the caretakers. He had no intention of sharing that particular sob story with anyone. “It was tied up in probate forever, and when it finally went to auction, I purchased it. And before you ask, I wanted you with me to take notes while I do a walkthrough and see what needs to be done first.”
“You bought it sight unseen?”
Yes. He did. “I can afford to be impulsive, Ms. Wright.” His retort was sharper than he’d intended, but there were questions he didn’t want to answer, ones he didn’t even want to contemplate.
He was saved from having to say more by another vehicle, creeping up the rutted drive. It was the representative from the auction company, come to deliver the keys and the last of the paperwork. “Good afternoon, Mr. Kirkland!”
The man could afford to be giddy, Sam reflected. He was making a tidy commission from the sale. A gigantic gift basket appeared from the backseat of the man’s vehicle to be unceremoniously thrust toward Ms. Wright.
She accepted it with a tight smile, and promptly disappeared behind it.
“Just a small gesture of our appreciation,” the representative gushed.
More than likely, a gesture of relief for having taken what they’d thought would be a white elephant off their hands. Sam knew that. Houses like Eastgate were hard to move even in the best market. “Thank you. That’s very kind. Perhaps we should go inside, so my PA can put the basket down and not feel like a sherpa?”
The representative blushed and stammered. “Oh, of course. Here, Miss, let me help you with that!”
“No, I’ve got it. Just point me in the right direction.” Georgie’s cheerful response was in the same tone she used when he informed her they’d be working late or on weekends. He’d learned that the happier she sounded, the more worried he should be. Ms. Wright. Thinking of her as Georgie was dangerous territory.
Rather than see her fall flat on her face, Sam took her elbow, gripping it only with his fingertips, and steered her up the walk. Even that light touch felt excruciating as the softness of her skin registered in his mind, catalogued for future reference in his many fantasies of her.
Reaching the door without incident, he stepped aside to allow the representative to remove the unsightly padlock. It also afforded him some breathing room away from the temptation of his assistant.
The interior of the house seemed even more depressing than the exterior. Sheets draped the vast majority of the furnishings while dust and cobwebs hung from everything.
The weasel-like little man produced a folder and a large ring of keys. “Here’s the inventory list. We’ll need it back as soon as possible, of course, but no later than thirty days from the date of the sale. Just sign the forms where indicated, please.” The man spoke quickly, as if being in the house made him nervous. He kept darting glances around the room.
“Are you looking for something?”
The man blushed and stammered again. “No, sir! No, Mr. Kirkland. Just admiring the woodwork. So very ornate.”
Liar. Sam knew it instantly. Having spent his entire childhood surrounded by adults who didn’t want to or who had been forbidden from telling him the truth, he could smell a lie. He took the contract extended toward him and read the fine print again. It all seemed to be in order, exactly as they’d discussed. “Fine.” Removing the check from his jacket pocket, he passed it to him and signed the contract.
“Thank you, very much.”
After several moments and at least fifty signatures later, the man left, leaving Sam alone in the house with Georgie.
She looked busy wandering aimlessly around the perimeter of the room. Somewhere or other, she’d found a cloth and was dusting items… A habit she had. Ms. Wright, he corrected himself again, never seemed bored. She always stayed busy.
“So we need to hire an appraisal team to come in and check the antiques against the list, but in the meantime, we need to make sure the house is safe for them. Correct?”
Of course, she’d been paying attention. He could always count on her to know exactly what was going on. “Yes. That’s it precisely.” Sam watched her move, watched the shadows and light play over her skin and lush curves. Being alone, isolated with her had been a terrible idea.
CHAPTER TWO
Georgie looked at the basket of gourmet food and wine. “At least, we won’t starve.”
Her employer’s answering half smile left her knees feeling less than steady. Attempting to regain her composure, Georgie walked to the window and peered out between the boards. The sky had grown darker and the first drops of rain were falling. “That’s quite a storm brewing. We should get started. I’ll take the upstairs,” she offered.
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think we should split up. Who knows what condition parts of this house are in?”
“Fine.” It was a ready agreement. The last thing she wanted was to fall through the floor and die of tetanus, if that was even possible in this day and age. “So, you’re looking for structural issues that need to be addressed first? Broken windows, weak floorboards, water damage?”
His heavy sigh was answer enough. “That all seems a good place to start. Lights, electricity, fireplaces...all will need to be checked but I’ll get someone down to do that.”
Georgie pulled her tablet from her purse. “Okay. Lead on and I’ll take notes.”
Entering the library behind him, she almost changed her mind. The stuffed animal heads on the wall were creepy. Of course, she’d grown up in the south where deer heads stuffed and mounted were a staple of every home, but the taxidermist responsible for these animals had been one sick puppy. Each face bore an expression of terror or aggressive rage.
Eyeing the animals with growing horror, Georgie started at the loud thunderclap, followed a heartbeat later by the flash of lightning. “Great. Just f’ing great. Welcome to Hell House, Georgie.”
“Did you say something, Ms. Wright?”
“Just thinking aloud how nice it is to see someone saving a great old house like this.” She really needed to work on that filter, or become a better liar.
From that point forward, it was all business. Sam led her through each room, pointing out issues that needed to be addressed. Using her tablet, she made notes about the types of craftsman that would need to be contacted. Luckily, her addiction to home improvement shows gave her some basic knowledge to work with.
Literally hours later, they’d managed to walk through the entire house, noting every broken window, every loose board and water spot on the ceilings. It seemed like there’d been a hundred of each. Outside, the storm raged, rain slashing against the house and wind howling through the eaves like a banshee.
When they headed toward the grand staircase, in spite of the creep factor, Georgie had to admit the house was beautiful. She still just wanted to be out of it, though. She’d reached her limit with dust and cobwebs.
Near the staircase, something furry darted across the hall. Georgie screamed, grabbing onto her employer’s arm and nearly climbing his back.
“Ms. Wright! What are you doing?”
She shook her head. “I just saw—it darted across the hall...I’m going to say it was a cat. I’ll feel better if I say it was a cat. If it was a rodent that large—” She couldn’t even finish the thought. Rats and mice had always petrified her.
He raised an eyebrow. “Wh
atever it was, it’s probably more frightened of you, than you are of it.”
“I sincerely doubt that.” Georgie shuddered as she moved ahead of him, hurrying down the stairs.
“Grab that monstrous gift basket. We’ll need dinner and I don’t recall anything that looked remotely passable between here and the city,” he suggested.
“Assuming the ‘cat’ hasn’t found the food basket,” she mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“You do quite a bit of that, Ms. Wright.”
Georgie pasted a smile on her face, and just kept walking. If she wanted to keep her job, the filter needed to start working and soon. “It helps me to remember things.” The lie rolled off her tongue easily, too easily.
His expression looked dubious at best.
Within minutes, they were in the car. Georgie felt a little bad about placing her dust covered self on the pristine leather of the seat, but as the seat warmer kicked in, she suppressed her guilt. The rain eased up, but the violence of the storm was evident around them. Tree limbs were lying broken and not a star was visible in the sky, hinting at more rain to come.
Abruptly, the car stopped. Georgie sat up straighter in her seat, to peer through the beam of the headlights, she saw nothing but water.
The road simply ended at the water’s edge and then picked up again on the other side of it. “There was a bridge here. I remember it.”
~~****~~
Sam stared at the water and sighed. “I suspect there still is a bridge, but with the rain and high tide, it’s no longer accessible.”
“Under water—completely?”
Dread filled him. His efforts to find out the truth about his family seemed destined to be a disaster. Every step he took in that direction was met with more obstacles. “So, it would seem...I apologize, Ms Wright. It appears we’ll be spending the night at Eastgate House, along with the ‘cat’.” He watched her shiver and did, in that moment, feel truly guilty. The house barely seemed habitable, and he suspected it was playing host to more than one or two of the furry creatures Ms. Wright didn’t wish to correctly identify.
Stranded With a Billionaire Boxed Set Page 1