The Billionaire and the Wild Man

by Lucy Felthouse

  I can’t wait to show her what I’ve done inside, either, but I keep that thought to myself. The surprise must be perfectly timed. There’s no rushing it.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you taking a chance on me, trusting me to do it. It’s been hard work, but I’ve loved every minute.”

  “And that’s precisely why I trusted you. I’ve known from the moment we met you weren’t afraid of hard work. And now look what you’ve achieved.”

  “We’ve achieved,” I correct her, indicating our surroundings. “I wouldn’t exactly have been able to do this without you, would I?”

  “No…” she concedes, “but then I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you, either. I knew this place had potential, but this has way exceeded my expectations. I’m so pleased to see it looking gorgeous again. Even if nobody comes, it’ll have been worth every penny.”

  “Of course they’ll come, you crazy woman. This place is one of a kind in the area. We’ve already had people express an interest in booking conferences here, retreats, that kind of thing. And it’s not like you’re a one-woman-band with no name or reputation, is it? It’s an addition to an already impressive portfolio, and your regular customers will no doubt be eager to check out what you’ve done with your new acquisition. This time next year—”

  “We’ll be millionaires?”

  I give her a playful shove, scolding her for her silly joke. Really, though, I’m pleased we’ve gotten to the stage where we can joke about money. Since I stopped taking it so seriously, it stopped being a wedge between us. “I was going to say we won’t be able to move for guests, actually, smart arse.”

  “Oh, well, that’ll do, I suppose…” She winks at me, then gasps as we round the corner of the building and she gets her first glimpse of the parterre and the maze behind it, resplendent in their green and leafy glory. “Oh, Flynn!”

  I’ve been grinning pretty much constantly since the damn helicopter appeared, but now I’m so happy I think I might burst. And proud. Yes, I’m proud of what I’ve done here. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Carrie’s money, I’m well aware of that and have come to terms with it, but it’s not like she’s giving me the hotel or anything. She gave me a job, and I did it, and did it fucking well. Now she can reap the benefits, and I’ll have to figure out what I’m going to do next. But I’ll sort all that out later, after the surprise.

  We continue our tour of the garden, my head getting more inflated by the second as Carrie heaps praise upon me. She meets the head gardener and his team, winning them over in an instant with her approachability, down-to-earth attitude, and the fact she genuinely cares about them and their work.

  Before long, we pass through a set of French doors and into the dining room. Carrie starts to look around, but I gently lead her away. “I’ve got a tour plan, sweetheart. We’re coming here last.”

  “Last?” She frowns. “I thought the bedroom was last?”

  Desperately tamping down my lustful reaction to her words, I say, “Well, it will be, I hope. After the tour. But the official tour will end in the dining room. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  “All right. I do trust you. Let’s go then, gorgeous. Nice threads, by the way.”

  “Huh?” I’d almost forgotten. For most of the last twelve months I have, as Carrie suspected, been in jeans or combats, and scruffy t-shirts, mucking in with the work force. For more professional times, like meetings and interviews, I’ve been suited and booted. And now, for meeting the boss and showing her around, I’m the epitome of smartness and respectability in a tailored suit. I haven’t had much expenditure while I’ve been working for Carrie—whether in London or Derbyshire, I’ve had a roof over my head and food in my belly—so I’d splashed some of my wages on the suit, especially for today.

  “Oh, yeah,” I say, plucking at my jacket. “You like it? Tia helped me to sort it out. Obviously I didn’t have a bloody clue what I was doing, so she whisked me off to some shop in Mayfair. Next thing I know I’ve got some bloke measuring me up, showing me material and taking my money off me. But I see now it was worth the effort.”

  She sticks out her bottom lip and nods thoughtfully, eyeing me up again. “Oh yes, it was definitely worth it. You look hot. And get you two, putting your heads together. Are you BFFs now, or something?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. Let’s just say we’ve come to an understanding, and she’s been very helpful with things that are out of my comfort zone, or that need a female touch.”

  If she wonders what the things are, she doesn’t let on. “Good. I’m glad you’re getting along. Certainly makes my life much easier. She’s a good PA, and I don’t want to lose her.”

  That conversation ended, we move back onto the here and now, and I talk Carrie through the various areas of the hotel as we explore them. The business facilities, spa, gym, swimming pool, ballroom, and so on, introducing her to the staff as we go. There’s a lot of ground to cover, and by the time we’re done, it’s almost dinnertime. Perfect.

  As I take Carrie’s arm and guide her back towards the dining room, her stomach grumbles.

  I chuckle. “Don’t worry, you’ll be full soon enough. There’s a delicious three-course meal coming our way.”

  Carrie’s eyes widen. “Really? You shouldn’t have put the staff to that trouble—we’re not even open yet. Cooking a meal just for the two of us—”

  I cut her off my putting my fingertips to her lips. “Hey, shush. It’s fine. They wanted to help out—and they are being paid—and it’s a special occasion, isn’t it?”

  “Is it?”

  I roll my eyes as I pull out a chair for her at a table overlooking the gardens. “Yes, of course. My girlfriend meeting my new baby. I think that’s pretty special, don’t you?”

  Her eyes gleam in the dimming light. As if someone read my mind—a disturbing thought indeed—the sconces on the walls and the chandeliers overhead are switched on, bathing the room in enough light to see and eat by, but still retaining an intimate atmosphere.

  Just then, the maître d’ appears, wheeling a stand containing a bucket of champagne and two glasses. “Good evening sir, madam.” He gives a little bow, and I bite back a smirk—I’m still not quite used to people treating me this way. It’s even weirder because we’re the only people here. But this is just a one-off. “Would you like me to pour the champagne?”

  “Sure,” I say. “That would be great, thanks, Pierre.”

  He gives a nod, pops the cork, and skillfully pours us a glass of bubbles each, all without spilling a drop.

  Taking them with thanks, Carrie and I clink glasses as Pierre makes himself scarce.

  “He’s not taking our order?” Carrie frowns at his retreating back.

  “Nope. It’s all taken care of. I’ve got it all worked out. All you’ve got to do, gorgeous, is sit there and enjoy yourself. And eat.”

  Giving me a smile that makes my stomach flip and my cock swell—mercifully I now have a tablecloth covering my crotch—she says, “I think I can manage that. Thank you, Flynn. You’ve already put such a lot of effort in here. You didn’t have to do all this, too.”

  I shrug. “It’s the kitchen staff creating the masterpieces. I just brainstormed with Sebastian over the menu. Besides, you’re worth it. Just my way of saying thank you for taking a chance on me. I think,” I pause and look around us, “it’s paid off.”

  We chat for a few minutes more, sipping our drinks, and then the first course arrives. What follows is an hour and a half of pure gastronomic delight. Unfortunately, I can’t enjoy it quite as much as I should, as I’m too busy worrying.

  Sitting back in our seats, pleasantly full, we grin lazily at each other over the table. “That was absolutely spectacular,” Carrie says, rubbing her tummy. “But I think I should probably get out of this skirt soon, before I pop.”

  “I’ll be delighted to assist you out of your skirt, and the rest of your clothes, very, very soon. But there’s just one more thing…�
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  As if by magic, Pierre returns, carrying two silver salvers with lids, which he places down in front of us. “Thanks, Pierre,” I say. “That will be all. Anyone who’s left, tell them they can head on home whenever they’re ready. And if you could make sure everywhere is locked up before you go, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Of course. Thank you. Goodnight, sir, madam. Enjoy.”

  Frowning once again at his retreating back, Carrie then turns her confused expression to me, then the dome in front of her. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, Flynn, but I really couldn’t eat another thing.”

  As casually as possible, I say, “Just have a look. When you see it, you might change your mind.”

  Her response is to reach for the handle of the lid.

  Without meaning to, I hold my breath.

  It comes out in a startled whoosh when the silver dome clatters to the floor.

  “Flynn?” She’s talking to me, but her eyes are firmly fixed on the contents of the salver.

  There, looking tiny yet massively important, sits a platinum ring, with a chunky diamond set in the middle.

  After gawping at it for several more seconds, Carrie manages to tear her gaze away and shifts it on to me. She looks on the verge of tears, but equally she doesn’t look as though she wants to murder me, so I spring out of my chair and take my chances.

  Grabbing the ring, I kneel down beside her chair and take her left hand. “Caroline Rogers, you know I’m not a man that’s particularly good with words, so I don’t have a big elaborate speech planned. I just want to say that I love you, and I’d be insanely, ecstatically happy if you would agree to be my wife. I’ll happily sign a pre-nup,” I add with a cheeky grin. Though I mean it. If that’s what she wants, it’s what I’ll do. It’s not her money I want, after all. It’s nice, I admit, and it makes things easier, but I’d live in a cabin in the woods with Carrie and live off the land if we had no other choice.

  She lets out a snort, then claps a hand over her mouth. Then she takes a playful swipe at my head. “Don’t say things like that! We’re not going to split up!”

  “Carrie,” I say seriously, “not really the part of my talk that I want you to focus on right now.”

  “Huh? Oh!” She giggles again, then, with some effort, straightens her face. “Sorry, Flynn. But you’re the one that had to throw that in there. You distracted me. But yes, of course I’ll bloody marry you!”

  A strangled sound escapes my lips, and I gently but quickly push the ring onto her finger before she changes her mind. I heave a sigh of relief as I see that Tia has gotten the size spot on—the girl’s a bloody lifesaver.

  We both look down at the sparkling jewel, I suspect equally stunned at what’s just happened. Then I peer up at Carrie, trying to reassure myself that she is stunned, not horrified, or regretful at having just agreed to marry a penniless—well, in comparison to her, anyway—ex-con that she met in a frigging field.

  “D-do you like it?” I ask. “Because we can always go together and choose another—”

  “Flynn! I love it. Truly, I do.” She pauses for a moment, and then a huge grin lights up her beautiful face. “And I suspect you’re not the sort of man that would wear an engagement ring, but I do have the perfect engagement present for you.”

  “Y-you do?” How the hell can she have an engagement present for me if she knew nothing about it until just now? Unless Tia let on… I’ll kill her! Lifesaver, my arse.

  “Yes. Your next project. How do you feel about the Shetland Islands? I may have bought a rundown castle…”

  She looks sheepish, and I fall in love with her all over again. “Carrie?”

  “Yes, Flynn?”

  “Can we discuss this later?”

  “Of course, why?”

  Standing, I lean down and sweep her into my arms. “Grab the champers, gorgeous, we’re going upstairs to celebrate. I haven’t seen you for a fucking fortnight. We can talk business later. Much later.” I wink, then kiss her.

  “Yes,” she says, picking up the bottle of champagne in one hand, and the glasses in the other. “Much, much, much later, I hope.”

  “You can bet on that, beautiful. Even if it kills me.”

  The End

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