Protected By The Highlander (Medieval Romance)

by Veronica Wilson

  Megan is ambitious and intelligent and wholly unaware of just how lovely she is. She’s determined to do well at her intern job but as soon as he walks into the office to find a mostly-nude and magnificent man looking back at her she knows she’s in trouble and way out of her league.

  With love and ambition and passion swirling all around them can Megan and Dante find a way to break past their fears and ambitions to find the love that they both so desperately want and need?

  This is the first, standalone book in the Four Billionaires, Endless Passion series.

  CHAPTER 1:

  Megan was nervous. Of course she was nervous. Every freshly-graduated MBA in the city was gunning for a position with the corporation she’d gotten an internship with, and if she screwed up one of those others would take it.

  She couldn’t fail now.

  She’d worked so hard to make it not just through college but to graduate at the top of her class. She’d always known she had to succeed on her own. Unlike most of her Ivy League classmates she didn’t have rich parents waiting in the wings to zoom in and scoop her up and out of financial trouble and she couldn’t afford to lose a single dollar of her scholarship money.

  That scholarship money hadn’t been enough to help her with the thing she’d needed outside school: clothes, shoes, and the occasional mushroom-and-onion pizza, so she’d had to take a part-time job as well. She’d gotten lucky and gotten a job in a tea room, which was a fairly low-key job, and the owner had been sympathetic about how many hours that Megan needed to earn the money she needed, and the time off she had needed to go to class and study. It had been a good job but it hardly qualified her for the world of big business. Neither did her jobs in a grocery store, and a pet store, the jobs she had worked prior to going to college.

  She had to make it through this internship. If she did her job well she might get a permanent position. If that wasn’t in the cards a good recommendation from Dante Sterling himself could land her in an enviable position, one that would mean she was far more attractive to the people who were looking to hire people in her field.

  Her field was long-term financial analysis. Joan, her old boss from the tea room swore she was a genius after Megan pointed out where she was hemorrhaging money and where she could save a dozen percentage points in order to boost her profits. Megan had also been the one to point out that the shopping center the tea room was in was hardly romantic and that there was an older historical house in need of renovation on the busy and trendy downtown.

  Joan had been in the market for a new house and when she’d understood the building was mixed-use and she could live upstairs and work downstairs she’d bought in, gotten her contractor brother-in-law to cut her a good deal on a renovation, and upper her profits by sixty percent in the first year. And she gave Megan, who’d been about to leave for that internship, a nice little bonus.

  The bonus had paid for a new wardrobe and the crisp white blouse, perfectly tailored gray slacks and sedate but expensive heels gave her confidence. And that was something she desperately needed.

  She took a long breath and picked up the leather messenger bag. She could do this. The woman in her mirror looked frightened, her oval-shaped face was paler than usual, and her dark brown hair—pulled back into a mass of curls she had done her best to pin neatly was already struggling to escape those pins. The light coat of mascara she’d applied to her thick lashes made her blue eyes look larger than they were.

  She nodded briskly and walked out the door, her bag swinging by her hip and her thoughts centered on what she had to get done that day to impress Dante Sterling.

  CHAPTER 2:

  “Dante?”

  Dante looked up to see Brad lounging in the doorway. As usual he was dressed in an impeccable suit and had every hair in place. Dante knew his own dark suit, while expensive, was creased and rumpled and that a bright red lipstick stain marred the collar.

  He reached into the small closet and pulled out a fresh suit and shirt. “Yeah?”

  Brad came closer, his eyes sweeping over Dante. “Have you slept at all?”

  Dante grinned, his white teeth flashing brightly. “No. Have you?”

  Brad winced, “Not nearly enough.”

  Of course not. If there was anything Dante and Brad had in common it was a love for late nights and a fast life. “I have no clue how you manage to look like you’ve spent the entire night in bed.”

  Brad said, “I did.”

  Dante lifted an eyebrow. Brad’s grin got wider as he said, “I didn’t say I didn’t go to bed. I said I didn’t get enough sleep.”

  Dante roared laughter. “I hear you. At least you made it home to shower. You know I think putting those showers into our offices was probably the best idea we ever had, that and keeping fresh clothes here.”

  “I hope you have toothpaste. You smell like you just drank a barrel of whiskey.”

  “Scotch,” Dante said serenely. “Single malt. Lovely stuff. It does leave a smell though, doesn’t it? Maybe I should switch to gin”

  Brad laughed and said, “People who drink gin are the only people who don’t know other people can smell it. Don’t drag in late. You’re the guy everyone listens to and we have some heavy players in that room today. Our entire new project depends on the approval of those assholes on the City Planning Commission, one of whom is—I swear—a Puritan or something.”

  Dante said, “I’m on it.”

  Brad left and Dante headed into the bathroom to take a quick shower. As he turned on the spray and adjusted it so that it was steaming hot and then stepped in. he grabbed a washcloth and soap and began lathering himself quickly.

  He knew he should not have stayed out all night, drinking and dancing with that hot blonde whose name he’d already forgotten. It had started as just another night with some friends and it had spun out of control.

  He sighed. He was his own worst enemy most of the time, and he knew it. He’d come up in a rough neighborhood, and by his wits and ambition and he had the world at his fingertips. He had fast cars, fast women, and all the money he would ever need.

  But he always wound up searching past the faces of the women who flocked to him and no matter how long he danced with them or even romanced them he never felt much for any of them. He never felt that strong and palpable connection he wanted to feel so badly.

  He knew he was considered a bad boy by the women he’d left by the wayside, and that while a few of them were bitter most of them had just enjoyed the ride. He had always gone out of his way to let them know he wasn’t looking for anything from them but a few hours or nights of fun and adventure.

  He did want more than that, but it would take one hell of a woman for him to find it, and he knew it.

  He got out of the shower. The steam overfilled the small room and he wrapped a towel around his narrow waist and opened the door then stepped out to let the steam escape and grab his clothes.

  He heard a small, dismayed squeak. His eyes went around the office and widened when he saw her standing there, her leather bag clutched to her chest like she was trying to use it to ward of a vision of evil.

  “My God,” he thought, “She’s looking at me like I’m the devil himself. Did I grow horns or something while I was out last night?”

  He cleared his throat and asked, “What are you doing in here?”

  She lifted the bag higher. Dante, torn between amusement and real irritation, wondered if she was going to cover her entire face with the damn thing. “I’m your new intern,” she squeaked out. “Megan O’Reilly.”

  Megan O’Reilly? New intern. Fuck, he’d completely forgotten. To make matters worse the towel was sliding down his slippery and wet body and her face was so scarlet it looked like it was going to burst into flame at any minute.

  “I see. Um…”

  She turned around. The view from the back was even nicer than the absolutely terrific one she presented from the front. Her ass, tucked neatly into linen slacks that had just the slightest bi
t of wrinkle to them to show their quality, was firm and high and round. Her waist was narrow and her hair practically invited him to bury his hands in it and yank it out of the pins that held it up.

  He grabbed his clothes and backed toward the bathroom. He shut the door, loudly, and stood there for a moment, disconcerted and trying not to laugh.

  Megan O’Reilly was stunning and apparently very shy and he had just managed to shock her out of her wits.

  At least the incident had gone a long way toward making him forget his hangover.

  ***

  Inside the office Megan stood frozen. Her whole body had reacted with a hard and fierce throb when Dante Sterling had walked out of that bathroom with water beading along his magnificent shoulders and powerful abs. The snowy towel wrapped around his lean hips had grabbed her attention and her eyes had dropped to that towel and the crazy thought, “I wonder what’s under there?” had surfaced, making her already crimson cheeks burn even hotter as she had a very sudden and vivid image of exactly what was under there.

  He came back out, dressed and smelling of a spicy but not overwhelming cologne. His hair was freshly combed and his cheeks shaven. He sat down behind his desk and pointed to the chair opposite. “Sit.”

  She did, still holding her bag in a white knuckled grasp. Dante cleared his throat. “I apologize for startling you. I had no idea you would be told to come in. Most of the time interns are directed to my assistant.”

  Megan spoke up. “She was unable to come in today. The woman in HR asked me to tell you. Your assistant tried to call your personal line but couldn’t reach you.”

  He swore under his breath. “Damn. I have a meeting in an hour too.”

  She nodded. “I could go with you if you like. I am an intern so whatever you need done I can do. I don’t mind doing any kind of work. I’m a big believer in knowing all the aspects…”

  “Relax. You already have the position.” The curt words were softened by a slight upward cant of his lush upper lip. She swallowed, hard.

  Dante Sterling was gorgeous, which she hadn’t expected. She hadn’t been interested in how he looked when she researched him. She had been interested in his business practices and his incredible success story—the man ran the entire city if things were to be believed—along with his three partners.

  He said, “Tell me, what do you know about the City Planning Committee?”

  Was this a test? She spoke quickly, reciting the facts. He nodded and said, “Great. Now tell me what you really know about them.”

  She gawked at him. “Um…sir?”

  He leaned forward. “I have seen a lot of people like you come and go Ms. O’Reilly. You’re here to learn so let me give you some of the best advice you will ever get. Don’t just learn the public facts about the people you are trying to have a relationship with. Learn who they are inside and out. Find out what they love and what they hate and go from there. That’s how you win.”

  Was that true? She said, “I see.” Even if it wasn’t he felt like it was. Best not to argue.

  He said, “So you’re my assistant today. I need the files for the project and now. Do you think you can find them and a cup of coffee for us?”

  “Of course.” Megan wasn’t sure if that was supposed to insult her or not. If he had thought to make her angry or to make her huff out because she had an MBA and coffee wasn’t in her resume. Judging by the sardonic smile on his face that was exactly what he expected. “Do you like cream or sugar Mr. Sterling?”

  “Dante.” His voice was silky. “Or Mr. Sterling, if you prefer. Not sir.”

  She said, “Cream or sugar Mr. Sterling?”

  He leaned back. His nearly bottomless brown eyes surveyed her face. An errant lock of his raven hair fell over his high and tanned forehead. He moved, just slightly. A powerful flex of muscle that made heat flush up and down her body. She prayed her nipples weren’t sticking out in hard points that he could see through her blouse and jacket.

  “Black, thanks. Like my soul.”

  “I’m afraid black coffee isn’t the mark of a black soul. It’s the hallmark of good taste.” Oh God, had she just said that? She had, and she couldn’t believe it either.

  He shifted again. Under the hand-tailored and lightweight Italian wool of his suit and the crisp material of his shirt lean and long muscles moved. Her heart jumped into her throat and stayed there. Her entire lower body heated to the near-melting point.

  Dante said, “Not many people contradict me.”

  “I’m sure.” She was also sure she was about to be told to find her own way out of the building. He said, “The ones who do aren’t usually right either though. You are. Putting cream and sugar in coffee is in plain bad taste. The coffee station’s out in the outer office where my assistant sits. It’s usually on a timer so it should be already made.”

  She walked away quickly. Her whole body was betraying her it seemed because as she went her ass suddenly developed a sway and jiggle it didn’t normally have. Or maybe it did and she had just never been aware of it before. Either way she felt those ripe globes moving below her slacks, moving in a serious little come-hither way. She tried to square her hips and keep them from doing that but of course that just made her feel even more awkward.

  She made it into the outer office, a long and neat rectangle featuring a wide desk that doubled as a reception area, a neat little sofa and chair combination and, right beside that, a full coffee bar with cups and packets of sugar, raw and regular, a small pot of honey, and—in a tiny little fridge below—rich and gourmet cream.

  She poured two cups, black, and then found the files he had indicated. She tucked the files below her arms, grabbed the coffee and headed back into the office. She asked, “Where should I set this?”

  He indicated the corner of his desk. She set the coffee down gingerly. This close she could smell his cologne again and it washed over her, bringing little whiffs of subtle and masculine aromas like leather and wood to her nose.

  She placed the files before him but he said, “No, I want you to look at those.”

  She asked, “Should I take them to the assistant’s…”

  “No, sit down.” He angled his head toward the chair and she sat obediently and then cast about for a place to set her coffee. Dante slid a coaster over and she placed the cup on it and opened the file and began to read quickly.

  When she was finished she looked up to see him drinking his coffee and regarding her. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his lips turned slightly upward. Her chest ached with the longing to reach across that desk and lift that stray lock of black hair away from his forehead.

  Dante Sterling. He was a mystery for the most part. He had made a lot of money really fast, and there were whispers that he had made it by betting at the race tracks and then using his winnings to fund the company he and his three partners had decided to build.

  He was a playboy billionaire who was always in the papers but nobody really seemed to know him. His best friend was one of his partners, an equally amorous and wild man named Brad Draper. If the stories circulating about the two of them were true they had broken hearts all across the world.

  There were plenty of people who knew Dante, certainly, but few who actually knew him well enough to say about him other than the obvious. He was rich, successful, and he loved to play hard and did. He raced cars, horses, and—once—a jet. He liked tall thin blondes with model ambitions and he was a committed bachelor.

  He asked, “You’ve read it all?” She nodded. He said, “Good we have a meeting in three minutes.”

  He stood, his powerful body moving with a power and grace reminiscent of jungle cats. He came around the desk and she stood hurriedly and followed him.

  ***

  The meeting was not going well. The planning commissioners were arguing that the project would hold up traffic and other things and they realized the city would benefit from the increased job market but they also knew that there would be people hired from out-of-state to come i
n, and no they didn’t see the benefit of having those people’s money flowing into the city.

  Megan could see the frustration on the faces of Dante and his partners. She was tired too, the constant proposals and counter-proposals were tedious and frustrating.

  She waited until there was a brief silence and, before she could think about it she said, “Tourism. You haven’t considered that angle sir.”

  The head of the planning committee, an obnoxious little man named Stanley, turned his head toward her. “I beg your pardon?”

  Oh shit. What the fuck did I just do? I should shut up. Oh my God why and I not just shutting up? She wasn’t though. Her mouth had opened and she was talking. “Well, tourism grew by three percent last year. Now historically we don’t have a lot of tourists here and the ones who do come here come for the ball teams, which are notably bad, or the Riverwalk. So we only have a certain demographic of tourists coming into the city.

  “This project incorporates not only greenspace but allows for a large amount of special interest tourism. If you consider,” she kept talking. She didn’t dare look around. She was pretty sure when it was all over she’d be handed her walking papers but she still couldn’t be quiet.

  She finished with, “If you run the numbers you’ll see that this project alone could help grow tourism by at least another three to five percent and, if the city cooperated and aligned its projects with this project, you could actually pull in higher numbers. Tourism pours money into the city on every level. Taxes, hotels, food, and dining, service based businesses, especially those who have some sort of connection to the specialized tourism that the project that is being proposed would bring.”

  Dead silence. Her face flared red hot. Stanley said, “I see. Well that sheds new light on the situation, doesn’t it? How sure are you of those numbers?”

  “Very sure Sir.” She was sure. She’d done a number of calculations when she’d helped her old boss decide whether or not moving the tea room would be a wise move financially.