The Tycoon’s Fake Fiancée (European Tycoon Book 2)

by Leslie North

  European Tycoon

  The Tycoon’s Pregnant Lover

  The Tycoon’s Fake Fiancée

  The Tycoon’s Convenient Bride

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, FEBRUARY 2020

  Copyright © 2020 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Leslie North is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.

  Cover Design by LJ Mayhem Covers.

  www.relaypub.com

  Blurb

  Reclusive billionaire inventor Gavin Burrows still thinks about Sarah Hanson—the woman he had a brief but memorable fling with three years ago. So he’s shocked when the pretty American woman shows up at his castle door pleading with him to not end his contract with his gardeners, who happen to be Sarah’s aunt and uncle. Sarah is desperate to complete the garden, but Gavin is desperate, too. He’ll do almost anything to get his mother to stop playing matchmaker—even if that means making a deal with Sarah to pose as his fiancée. She gets her garden, he gets his mother off his back. At least with Sarah posing as his fake fiancée, he can avoid all his mother’s marriage prospects. Coming from a large and rambunctious family, all he’s ever really wanted was to be alone to work on his inventions. He certainly won’t let one gorgeous gardener get in his way.

  Sarah would never tell Gavin this, but that summer three years ago? She’d fallen hard for him. As an only child, Sarah has always wanted a large family, so when she learns he considers having a big, loud family akin to having the plague, she now realizes Gavin is definitely not the man for her. Still, she can’t resist the opportunity to restore Gavin’s historic garden to its former glory, so when he offers, she reluctantly agrees to pose as his fiancée and prays she can shield her heart. But even though she knows it’s temporary, she surrenders to their smoldering attraction and falls hard all over again. When Gavin’s parents throw them an engagement party, the guilt over all their lies begins to weigh heavy—as does the realization she’ll once again be left heartbroken.

  As the garden she’s created turns out to be a spectacular achievement, Sarah can only wonder if her love for Gavin will wither or finally bloom into something just as grand…

  Mailing List

  Thank you for reading “The Tycoon’s Fake Fiancée”

  (European Tycoon Book Two)

  Get SIX full-length novellas by USA Today best-selling author Leslie North for FREE! Over 548 pages of best-selling romance with a combined 1640 FIVE STAR REVIEWS!

  Sign-up to her mailing list and get your FREE books:

  www.leslienorthbooks.com/sign-up-for-free-books

  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

  Epilogue

  End of The Tycoon’s Fake Fiancée

  Thank you!

  About Leslie

  Sneak Peek: The Tycoon’s Convenient Bride

  Also by Leslie

  1

  He hadn't forgotten Sarah Hanson since that fateful summer three years ago... the summer his mother had released him on a long-requested hiatus from the company to "invent things." The summer the beautiful American now standing like a transfixed deer before him had first come to England.

  "Gavin?" Two shockingly familiar blue eyes were staring into his own. Their owner's face was round and youthful—almost that of a girl—but her elegantly arched eyebrows, raised now in the same bewilderment that Gavin himself felt, lent a sophisticated expressiveness to her features. "What are you doing here?"

  "Sarah?" Her name was the least of the memories that suddenly resurfaced and threatened to overwhelm. "I could ask you the same."

  His day had gone from the ridiculous to the sublime. An hour earlier, he’d been bemoaning his worse-than-death fate with his two best mates. A castle-warming party. His mother was throwing him a castle-warming party.

  “I know it’s ridiculous, but you’re going,” he muttered under his breath.

  He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Sarah’s eyebrows rose slightly higher. “I beg your pardon?”

  He shook himself to dispel the memory of Max and Tony’s laughter at his expense. “No,” he answered, “sorry, I wasn’t talking to you.”

  She tilted her head, an achingly familiar gesture, and he knew he was only confusing her further...

  “Nothing,” he said. “I mean, being thirty-one and having a pulse is hardly an excuse to throw a party and invite all the hungry wolves to come and feast, is it?”

  “I’m sorry,” she answered, shaking her head at him. “I don’t follow.” A look of concern was blooming on her face. “Gavin? Are you feeling all right? I mean—”

  “No, no—I mean, yes, I’m well,” Gavin said hastily, and faltered again. Sarah’s appearance now hit him like a punch between the eyes. It seemed that every time he was finally granted the freedom to pursue his life's passion, another passion of a kind that equaled complete and utter distraction found him.

  However, in that moment, Sarah Hanson looked as if she didn't know whether to run right into his arms or run for the hills.

  Gavin didn't blame her. He felt the same way. Three years of being haunted by the memory of her... kept awake by fitful sleep and restless dreams... and here she stood like a figment in front of the castle he still had trouble believing was his.

  "I'm living with my aunt and uncle now," Sarah replied, blinking in bewilderment.

  In his bemusement, he’d nearly forgotten his original question. "Your aunt and uncle," he echoed, feeling stupid.

  "I-I'm here to see the owner of this estate." Sarah stepped down from the front stoop and snapped a piece of paper at him. Although the stiff way she was holding herself struck him in its very stillness, the paper trembled in her hand. "I'm here to reinstate the gardening contract that was terminated. You wouldn't know who I might—"

  “I terminated the contract." The admission was out of his mouth before he could predict the consequences, if any. "I'm the owner of this estate."

  "You?" Sarah stared at him, then slowly withdrew the piece of paper. "Perhaps you didn’t know that's my aunt and uncle's business."

  "I had no idea." He studied her more intently now in the thickening gloom. "And you really had no idea that I was on the other end of that contract?"

  Sarah shook her head so forcefully that he found himself believing her despite the unlikelihood of this entire situation. "No. They told me their contract was with Howard Talley."

  "I bought the castle from Talley." Gavin found himself distracted, having noticed belatedly that the gathering gloom surrounding them was not simply the descending of the dusk; the sky had darkened considerably faster than it should have, even with the onset of night. A drop of rain splashed on the surface of Sarah
's contract, then another. That was all the warning they had to herald the downpour—it was as if the heavens opened up, then, to spill gray rain on a suddenly colorless reunion. Sarah turned her gaze to the sky, eyes wide and mouth open in evident shock. He remembered her reaction—quite similar, actually—when she’d experienced her first English rain three years ago.

  Gavin whipped off his jacket without thinking and held it over her head. Wordlessly, they hurried to the shelter provided by the castle's entryway. Lowering his makeshift umbrella again when they gained that refuge, Gavin fished through the jacket's pockets for his keys, then admitted them both inside the shadowy foyer.

  Turning back from closing the door, he collided with Sarah. They gazed at one another through the darkness, breathing hard in the aftermath of their stumble through the rain. The three years between them seemed, for a moment, to melt away.

  “I’ll make us a cup of tea.” Gavin turned away before he could act on a stupid impulse. Of course, three years didn’t magically wash away with the rain. Sarah Hanson might as well be a stranger showing up on his doorstep.

  Time to find out exactly what she wanted.

  “I’m not going to reinstate the contract,” Gavin repeated. They had toweled themselves dry and now sat looking at one another across the vast table that held pride of place in the center of the kitchen. He watched Sarah pull her mug of tea closer to herself and stare hard at its steaming surface. If Gavin hadn’t boiled the kettle himself, he might have believed for a moment that the woman was heating it with the power of her gaze alone.

  “Why not?” Sarah glanced up sharply. A professional, to Gavin’s way of thinking, would not have asked such a question in a business setting, and said professional would certainly not have taken the tone Sarah had assumed.

  Gavin shifted uncomfortably. Their shared history was probably as present in her mind as it was in his own… and even if it wasn’t, it certainly served to explain her familiarity now. “Because I dislike gardens and I don’t see the need for one here.”

  Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “You dislike gardens? What even…? Who in the world dislikes gardens?”

  “As I just said, I do,” he replied mildly.

  “Help me to understand.”

  A part of him reflected (with some dry amusement at his own expense) that he didn’t owe Sarah any sort of explanation at all. He had his opinions, his likes and dislikes, the same as anybody else.

  His mouth twisted briefly at a sudden distraction, but he quickly mastered his expression from long practice. Beneath the table, he gripped his knee, feeling a phantom whisper of pain that he wasn’t sure to trust as real. It had been decades since he’d broken his leg, and of course he didn’t experience the same pain anymore. Only the limp. Certainly talk alone of gardens wasn’t enough to trigger some sort of flare-up.

  “Family history,” he offered at last. “I was dragged on a ‘gardens of England’ tour when I was a child. Quite against my will. I’ve never fully recovered.” That much, at least, was true.

  “Are you really telling me that azaleas are traumatizing for you?” Sarah pressed. She leaned across the table over her tea and studied him so intently, it was all he could do not to shrink back out of instinct. He had forgotten about the power of those eyes of hers. “All because of a family trip you were forced to go on?”

  Gavin hated being reduced to this superficial understanding of his position, but given the story he had just told, he couldn’t blame Sarah for the conclusion she’d drawn. “That’s what I’m telling you,” he confirmed.

  “And this never came up when we—” Sarah cut herself off abruptly and blushed. She sat back in her chair, pulled her mug into her lap, and fiddled busily with its looped handle while Gavin waited to see if she had any more to say on the subject. She didn’t.

  “I’ve seen enough gardens to last me a lifetime.” He returned to the subject at hand for both their sakes. Hell, but this was awkward. Over the years, he had entertained innumerable fantasies of a reunion with Sarah, but he had never imagined she would show up on his doorstep as an ambassador for an employee he had effectively fired. “I won’t be reinstating your family’s contract.”

  “I see.” Sarah stared hard at the surface of the table, then set her tea on the table undrunk and rose. “Well, then. I guess there’s no more to say.”

  Although Gavin was in complete disagreement, he surprised himself by rising with her. “Sarah…” he began uncertainly.

  She smiled tightly, making a thin line of her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It was nice to see you again, Gavin. But now that the rain has let up, I think I had better go home.”

  And where is home for you, Sarah, if not in the States? At present, you said, you’re living with your aunt and uncle, but for how long might that be? It was on the tip of his tongue to inquire further as he followed her out to the foyer. What had brought her to England this time around? And why had she pressed him so hard about the contract? Surely her aunt and uncle had other clients in the area who would be far more receptive to the idea of paying for useless vegetation.

  Sarah pulled on her shoes as Gavin stood there, about as lively as the empty suit of armor gleaming dully in one corner of the foyer, silently watching her. He was desperate for something to say to keep her here, but he kept coming up empty. This unexpected evening had unfolded so quickly, he was having trouble catching his breath. And certainly, the beauty with the unforgettable blue eyes and tempting figure, doubled over before him, wasn’t helping matters.

  When she spoke again, her tone rang with finality. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.” Again. He heard the word as clearly as if she had voiced it, though of course she hadn’t. Sarah straightened, raised her chin a few degrees too high, and held out her hand. He wanted to seize those fingers; his lips ached ferociously to graze her knuckles, to kiss any part of her, for however long he could sustain the touch.

  But the impulse passed. He forced the issue by taking her hand and giving it an awkward shake. They gazed at one another, unsmiling. Then Sarah turned away. He held the door for her and watched her retreating back as she disappeared down the driveway.

  What the hell? Gavin shook his head in wonder as he made his way to the kitchen once more. What are the odds she would wander back into my life like this?

  Moreover, what am I meant to do about it?

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. Gavin blinked and glanced down. For an utterly illogical moment, he expected it to be Sarah. He fished the device out and thumbed open his text messages.

  Look out. The cryptic warning came from his sister, Geneva. Mum is on the warpath again. I just left dinner with her. Heard she’s already invited three women to your party.

  Seriously? he typed back to her.

  I’m hearing wedding bells whether you want them or not, little brother.

  Unacceptable. Gavin tossed his phone onto the table and reshuffled his dark locks in agitation. His mother had forced him into a more tech empire-friendly haircut recently, not leaving much to disorder anymore. This minor detail of his mother’s continued intervention in his life only frustrated him further.

  Gavin glared out the window. Glared at his kitchen. Glared at the table and at Sarah’s leftover mug of tea, already gone cold.

  He had to find a way out of this. He had to. His life wasn’t his own, had never been his own.

  Except for that time, three years ago. Three blissful months.

  2

  "I don't believe it!" Adrianna's voice crowed from across the figurative pond. "Your scorching-hot Englishman? Really? It's like a movie!"

  Sarah winced and pinned her phone between her ear and shoulder as she busied herself reshuffling contracts that had already been put in order. "Yeah. A horror movie," she replied.

  Her best friend snorted. "I'm sorry. In what way? Unless he's lost his teeth and grown a potbelly in the intervening years? Or is he balding weirdly?"

  "No. He isn't balding weirdly." Gavin Burrows was
handsomer than her wildest rememberings—and she had some pretty wild ones that she could call up on a whim. The solitary inventor had effectively ruined all other lovers for her after their torrid three-month fling some years ago. Who knew a man with such guarded expressions and deep, thoughtful eyes—as likely to be inward-focused as they were to be looking out at you—could be such a passionate and demanding lover in the bedroom?

  Gavin had awoken something in her that summer, and one look at him yesterday had set it stirring to life again. Sarah shook her head, trying to banish her own filthy, traitorous thoughts, and nearly dropped her phone in the process. How could she describe to Adrianna what seeing Gavin had done to her?

  "I don't care who he is or what the two of you had," Adrianna was saying. "Sarah, you're one of the strongest, most determined women I know. Horticulture became sexy the moment you entered the field, for God's sake." Sarah sat up a little straighter at this praise, clumsily scattering some of her papers in the process. At least Adrianna wasn't physically present to see that. "It's my job as your best friend to gas you up. You don't give up, and—billionaire or not—you definitely don't let a man stand in the way of what you want."

  "You're right." Sarah raised her chin, defiant in the solitude of her office-slash-bedroom, and turned to gaze out the rain-streaked window. She could see the castle from here, dark and somehow ominous in the distance. A lush, magnificent garden was exactly what the foreboding edifice needed to recover its enchanting history.