by Laura Burton
“Is that why you came to Paris?” William asked, taking a step closer. His body heat radiated to her. Holly swallowed.
“I know who your mom is, now. I didn’t at first. But now I know why you don’t date models.”
William searched her eyes with his brows furrowed and gave her an odd look.
“Do you want to know why I don’t date models?” he asked. “Because they only want to get close to my mom.” He spoke quietly but not quietly enough, as several of the models in the room shot him dark looks.
“Not you though. I love that you don’t take yourself too seriously. You’re happy to be yourself. To be playful. You’re authentic and funny, and warm.” William’s face turned red as he seemed to realize he was rambling. Holly grinned.
“So, you don’t want to be with… Cindy? Wow. Is that her name? All this time I’ve called her ninety-four percent.” William brushed Holly’s hair aside and caressed her cheek lovingly.
“No,” he said softly.
“What about the compatibility score? We’re terrible for each other.”
“Who cares about a stupid score?” William countered. Holly chewed her lip.
“You don’t even know me. I could be a serial killer. Or an alien from Mars. Or someone who likes pineapple on their pizza.” It was Holly’s turn to ramble. William grinned, his eyes twinkling.
“I’ll take my chances… if you’ll have me?”
Holly glanced to the side and noticed the other models had all stopped what they were doing and were now staring at the two of them. Then she grinned and looked back at William. His hands slid around her lower back as she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“So, will you be my girlfriend?” he asked. Holly shushed him and leaned in.
Her lips grazed his and her heart fluttered. He clutched her back and moaned as if he was taking in air for the first time. Holly closed her eyes and fell deeper into the kiss. It was like coming home after a long trip. His nose nuzzled hers and his lips sent tingles all over Holly’s body.
In that moment, she knew everything she needed to know. It didn’t matter whether she was in Paris or New York. As long as she was with William, she was home.
And even though it was early days, she knew they’d end up together, forever. Because despite what any matchmaker might think, he was her perfect match.
And she was never going to let him go.
Epilogue
Emily Stewart was sitting in her office, poring over paperwork, when her assistant walked in.
“This came in the mail.” She held up a wedding invitation. Emily beamed and reached out to take it.
“This is the best part of my job!” she said with a contented sigh. She ripped open the invitation and gasped at the happy couple pictured on the card.
“Well look at that. Holly and William are getting married!” she said, holding it up for her assistant to see.
“You know, these two have seriously forced me to up my matchmaking game. Finding a match isn’t always about compatibility, you know.”
She tapped the picture with her fingernail and hummed to herself in thought. So, the Billionaire Bachelor show was a bust. But she couldn’t allow the ridiculous charade to continue. The producers had wanted to spin a scandalous story, portraying Find My Companion as a dishonest, drama-loving business with no care for anyone’s feelings. The show would have ruined her reputation.
Not on my watch.
“Ms. Stewart, I have a Harold Jackson waiting to see you,” her assistant said.
“Oh. Send him in,” Emily said. She watched her assistant leave the room, deep in thought. After seeing how things worked out for Holly and William, she promised herself that from now on she was going to be more open-minded. Who cares if he’s a billionaire and she’s a single mom working two jobs to pay the bills?
Does is really matter where they’re from? Or their dress size?
No. She was going to try a different approach and look deeper into it. Holly and William, it turned out, were like two peas in a pod. Their biggest common interest: comedy. And because they made each other laugh, nothing else mattered.
The office door opened, and Emily rose to her feet. A tall, handsome man strolled in and gave her a sheepish smile.
“Hello Harold, I’m Emily Stewart. And I’ll be your matchmaker.”
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Harold said as they shook hands. They took their seats and Emily surveyed him carefully. He had dark blonde hair, deep brooding eyes and a sweetness to him that she couldn’t put her finger on.
“So, tell me why you need a matchmaker?” she asked.
Harold’s face turned crimson and he flashed his teeth at her.
“I work in the movie business, and I work with a lot of people who are––”
“Fake?” Emily finished for him. Harold nodded.
“I’m not the most outspoken person in the room. And I’m looking for someone who doesn’t want to be in the limelight. Someone sweet and kind. And I really don’t care about anything else. Can you help me?”
Emily’s smile broadened as she rested her hands on the desk and thought about it.
“Funny you should say that. I think I know the perfect woman. Make yourself available tonight, I’m setting you up on a date.” She lifted her phone, a sense of excitement swirling in her midriff. Harold’s brows shot up.
“Today? You’re going to set me up with the girl of my dreams today?”
“Why not?” Emily said with a shrug. Then she turned to look out of the window and cast her eyes over the city. “After all, it’s a beautiful day to fall in love!”
THE END
Keep reading for Harold and Julie’s story in Who Wants to Love a Billionaire.
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
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
DEDICATION
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Cha
pter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
More from Laura Burton
Who Wants to Love a Billionaire?
The characters and storylines are fictitious, and any resemblance to real-life people and events are purely coincidental. The author retains all of the rights to this work which may not be copied and distributed online or elsewhere without the written permission of the owner of the rights.
All rights reserved by Laura Burton 2019.
First Edition
Edited by R J Creamer
Written in U.S. English
Created with Vellum
Chapter One
The Quiet Seamstress
Julie yelped and sucked on her fingertip. A metallic taste flooded her mouth, and with a moan she jumped to her feet. She sped across the room to the kitchenette, then rummaged one-handed through the drawers.
The phone rang, prompting the cat to screech and bolt out of the room. Probably off to his favorite hiding place underneath the bed.
“Yes, yes, hello,” Julie called out as she accepted the call. Her fingertip throbbed and she hissed against the pain as she sprayed the wound with antiseptic.
“Are you okay?” a worried voice crackled out of the speaker. Julie fastened a Band-aid on her finger and took a breath.
“I’m fine, Emily, just pricked my finger again.”
“Oh, that must mean you’re making another dress.”
Julie collapsed back into a chair at the dining table and made some adjustments to the controls on the sewing machine.
“Hmm,” she said with a needle between her teeth. She finished fastening the last safety pin on the pink chiffon material and positioned it to sew. As she stepped on the pedal the needle bobbed up and down faster than a woodpecker hammering against a tree.
“Listen, I have a new client, and I think you’re really going to like him,” Emily’s voice barked over the sound of the motor. Julie stopped and stared at the phone intently.
“I don’t know…,” she began, unsure.
Emily and Julie attended Oxford University together and had been roommates. When they graduated, Emily ventured out to New York while Julie spent a year in Paris, working for one of Estelle’s fashion lines. After building a rapport with the high-maintenance models, she landed a role in the New York office.
Emily was her best––and only—friend in the city.
“I’m five minutes away from your place. Are you home?”
Julie considered the idea of concocting a lie: She was at an underground party across town, or maybe volunteering at a soup kitchen in the Bronx? But she knew Emily would see right through it. “I can pick up some food? What are you in the mood for?”
Julie thought about it. What mood was she in? The pain in her finger dulled and gave way to the ache in her temples, and the back of her neck was tight. She spent all day hunched over the sewing machine and forgot to eat. Her stomach growled.
“We can order takeout,” she mused aloud, warming to the idea of a visit.
“Great, and I’ll pick up some Cinnabons for dessert.”
Julie rolled her eyes and ended the call. Emily was obsessed with cinnamon rolls. Perhaps they reminded her of home? Or maybe Emily just had a sweet tooth.
She flitted around the apartment in an attempt to tidy up. When the buzzer sounded, she scanned the room quickly before letting Emily in.
“Hey, girl.” A plume of perfume covered Julie and caught in the back of her throat as Emily threw her arms around her.
“What are you doing tonight? I’ve got you a date.”
“That fast? Emily, when I said, ‘I don’t know,’ I didn’t mean, ‘go ahead.’ I’ve got work to do.”
Emily flicked back her sleek brown hair and raised a hand. She was having none of it. That was Emily. Despite being nearly a foot shorter than Julie, she was the bossy one. And Julie often found it impossible to argue, once Emily had a plan in mind.
Julie glanced over at the half-made dress lying on the table and bit her lip. She had to finish it before the weekend was out, but the stiffness in her neck had her rolling her head side to side with a moan.
Emily placed a Cinnabon bag on the counter and strutted to the table.
“It’s a beautiful day to fall in love, you know.” Her false lashes fluttered, and she grinned at Julie, while resting her hip against the table.
“You don’t still believe in that, do you?” Julie rooted through the Cinnabon bag and pulled out a roll. It was still warm.
Emily squared her shoulders and placed her slender hands on her hips.
“Well, I am a matchmaker. It would be terrible if I didn’t believe it.” Her voice was soft and musical—a stark contrast to Julie’s deep voice.
Julie devoured the cinnamon roll and licked the frosting off her fingertips. Emily has a point, she thought.
“Well, I’ll need your help. I have no idea what to wear, and you need to tell me about this guy. I hate blind dates.”
Emily clapped her hands, her black and silver painted nails sparkled in the setting sunlight as she offered a gleeful smile.
“Oh, don’t you worry, I came prepared.”
Emily left the apartment for a short while and returned with a mountain of shopping bags.
“He’s a high-profile client, and we need you to look the part.”
“You mean, less like a poor seamstress and more like a Hollywood actress?” Julie asked wryly.
“Exactly.” Emily nodded as she pulled out a long maroon gown.
“I’m the woman in the red dress? How cliché.” Julie walked over to inspect it. Boning to the bodice, refined darts from the waist to the bust. The skirt was heavy, perhaps weighted at the hemline. It was exquisite.
“I can’t accept this.” Julie looked up at Emily, who was brimming with pride. She knew she chose well.
“Of course, you can. How many dresses have you made for me over the years? I owe you.”
She ushered Julie out of the room toward the bedroom and instructed her to try it on.
“So, what is he like?” Julie shouted through the closed door as Emily waited on the other side. She fiddled with the fastenings on the back of the gown and unzipped it.
“He’s an introvert, like you,” Emily replied, her voice muffled. Julie undressed out of her sweat pants and shirt—the same clothes she had been wearing since Friday and stepped into the gown.
“Tall? Hair color? Eyes? Hobbies?”
“He’s taller than me.”
“Most people are––”
“Brown hair but sort of golden in the sunshine, dark brooding eyes.”
Julie shrugged the sleeves up to her shoulders.
“Hmm. Keep talking.”
“He’s in the movie business.”
Julie sucked the air in through her teeth with a hiss. She didn’t like dating men like that.
“Don’t you dare judge; he’s a total sweetheart.” Emily pushed open the door and gave Julie a reproachful look. Julie feigned horror and attempted to work the zipper, but her arms wouldn’t bend that way. Emily tutted and walked over to her.
“Let me do it,” she said as she yanked on the material, forcing Julie’s posture to straighten.
“You need to stop hunching like that; it’s bad for your spine.”
Julie turned to look at Emily, who gasped and raised her hands to her mouth.
“You look breathtaking.” Her eyes glistened.
“Emily, don’t you think this is mis-selling?”
Emily chuckled.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not an insurance policy.” She marched out of the room. “Take a shower, and I’ll order us some food,” she called back.
Julie sighed heavily, wondering what Emily had gotten her into. She was going on a date with a rich bachelor who probably dated Academy Award-winning actresses, and maybe even half of New York. But Emily did say he was an introvert and sweet. Perhaps he was the tortured, yet brilliant screen-writer who rubbed shoulders with high-profile people but didn’t feel like he belonged in that world. It’s only one date, Julie thought to herself as she prepared to take a shower. She grinned and stepped into the steam.