Billionaire's Defiant Mistress
Read Billionaire's Defiant Mistress Online
Authors: Heather Longton
BILLIONAIRE'S
DEFIANT
MISTRESS
BY
HEATHER LONGTON
Leviathan Publishers
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Copyright © 2013
HeatherLongton.LeviathanPublishers.com
Table of Contents
About the Author
Welcome to my second novel –
Billionaire's Defiant Mistress.
- It was so exciting finishing and publishing the first one that I couldn't wait to get this one out. I had a lot of positive feedback and can only thank everyone for your encouragement.
I live in North Staffs, UK. Writing can be easy or difficult and each time I sit down I am not sure which it will be, so I grab a coffee, turn up some music and allow my mind to dream along as I hopefully create something worth reading.
Owner of two pets, Branston the miniature schnauzer and Rebel the cat along with a husband and two not so young children.
My career began in Social Services followed by some teaching but it was the private sector which gave me the most satisfaction in advertising and promotions.
Thanks for checking out my web page www.heatherlongton.leviathanpublishers.com. Keep an eye out for any special offers as I intend offering books on kindle for free when they are released. Better still sign up to my mail list and I will let you know each time a new one is released and how you can read it for free. I just ask for a review or similar but thats up to you.
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HeatherLongton.LeviathanPublishers.com
Something mysterious and dangerous drew her eyes towards him. As Sarah gazed upon him she couldn't help but notice the tantalising effect he had on her. She could feel the blood rushing round her body, her cheeks warming and her heart was pounding so much she thought the whole department store must surely be able to hear it.
This man is so handsome she thought to herself. Too gorgeous to be real and at
her
perfume counter. For a brief moment she felt as if she was in a dream and she was dreaming about Christmas. There was a large tree over in the corner, with tinsel and streamers hanging from the ceiling, and her dream man was about to be presented to her as a special Christmas gift. But she snapped out of the daydream; it was Christmas, at least it soon would be and no, this was not a dream.
But who did she have to compare him to? Sarah had only been out of her Lake District home twice before – and most of the men she knew there wore cheap scent and banged their knees into your legs whilst dancing. For the slow numbers they held and squeezed you like a stuffed pillow, and whilst up close, you could always make out tufts of short cropped hair on their jaw which they had missed when shaving, alongside little red cuts where they had nicked themselves.
Such was life in the Lake District that Sarah had chosen to come and work temporarily in Manchester for the festive period. She felt she was living the dream having got away from the same old daily routine to something much more exciting in a big city. And it was a dream with people rushing around, fake snow everywhere, fairy lights and the constant air of expectation. She loved this time of year.
She had found a position on the cosmetics counter and was responsible for promoting the seasonal specials. Perfume, after shave and box sets of various products all designed with the present hunter in mind. It was great that it was Christmas and it was a great job she thought, in spite of her supervisor who seemed determined to make life difficult; and in spite of her having to stand on her feet for ten hours a day, serving snooty customers, as well as over joking students and screaming children on their way to the grotto.
But today, there was this very different type of customer – he was tall, very muscular and a dark skin which made him look so exotic. His dark overcoat led her eyes up to his face which appeared very proud and dignified, his lips glowed with sensuality – and yet his eyes betrayed a cold determined look of pure steel.
Sarah's heart began beating faster as if it had moved up a gear. Surely he wasn't interested in anything on her counter. He looked like the kind of man who would have someone else do the shopping for him. She doubted he would fall for her over-rehearsed sales pitch either, but she lost her inhibitions and found herself walking up to him.
Never before had Sarah been so conscious of someone who was in her presence. He seemed to radiate an aura of authority around him, dominating the space near him as if he owned it. Anybody in his vicinity would have to stop and take a second look.
Feeling dizzy and wondering what had possessed her to approach him she gasped a deep breath. “Good day sir. Are you looking for anything in particular or is there something I can help you with?”
Carlos pulled the skin on his forehead together as he frowned in the direction of the interruption only to find himself staring into a pair of deep blue eyes of extraordinary beauty. Women adored him and he was used to their attention; sales girls were no different. He wasn't in the mood for engaging in small talk but he was here to find some Christmas presents for his staff, and the girl, who would sell him the store if she could, was very pretty. So he smiled gently and gave her his attention. “Gift sets?” he questioned with a Mediterranean accent.
Sarah nodded. He sounded Spanish and he looked Spanish, which added another layer of mystery and intrigue to her interest – but inwardly she was already feeling inadequate.
She had little experience with the opposite sex but she knew enough to realise this man was way out of her league. His clothes screamed class, his posture and manner were daunting. So daunting she began to feel that she was flapping. Say something for goodness sake.
“Yes, Sir. But these are no ordinary gift sets. Each one is full of the highest quality products you can find in Manchester and each is designed for a specific type of person. This one is for a more mature woman; this would suit a younger man.” She pointed at different boxes as she spoke. Sarah turned her face to look at him, widening her smile in hope he would notice her. It seemed he had a face of ice. “It is Christmas you know.”
Carlos shrugged. He was no fan of Christmas – but as he looked Sarah in the face he forgot what time of year it was. All the noise and bustle around him seemed to recede as he noticed her exquisite beauty. She was so delightfully pretty. Her skin was glowing and shiny, her hair as smooth as silk. And her body oozed perfection even through the mundane store uniform she had to wear. Though he was jet lagged and tired after last night's European tie over in Russia he still felt his senses heighten.
“Christmas?” he drawled. “That must be why I can hear a choir of angels serenading my soul – or maybe you have such an effect on all your customers?” He noticed her cheeks flush a deep red colour as he flashed his cheeky grin her way. “Show me what it is you have and maybe you can persuade me to buy from you.”
Sarah smiled and nodded which she hoped would cover up the pounding of her heart and the way she thought her body must be shaking. She waved her hand towards the gift sets and started her sales pitch. “These are for younger adults. In the men’s boxes there will be shaving crème and balm with an energising shower gel and musk after shave. The women’s boxes focus more on skin care and anti-ageing products but all have a good quality perfume alongside the toiletries included. It would depend on who you are buying for.”
“Which one of these is your favourite?”
“Me? My...my favourite?” She wasn't used to being asked for her opinion.
“Yes. You do have a favourite, don't you? Which would you have?”
She had been thrown off her sales pitch. No one had ever asked her what she thought before. The very act of asking her had made her feel, somehow special. Oh, stop it; she was being such a fool. She looked him in his gleaming eyes and tried to be as honest as she could. “In all honesty, I like this one most of all. The perfume is my favourite and the bath soak included helps me drift into a deeply relaxed state. Also the skin crème is supposed to be very good, though I have never used it myself.”
“Your skin is so clear and shiny you don't need to put it on your face.” He spoke matter of factly.
There was a pause as Carlos studied the box with his eyes focused as if it was a bar of precious metal. “Give me six boxes. Can you wrap them for me please?”
Six! Six, she thought as she began calculating the commission in her head. “Of course sir, do you want the Christmas wrapper or the plain silver paper.”
“The silver paper is great, thank you.”
As she wrapped she noticed how her fingers fumbled around as if it was the first time she had wrapped anything – indeed ever used them. They took on a life of their own almost ignoring what she was trying to do. It didn't help her concentration that Carlos asked her question after question as she worked. But she felt obliged to answer each one seeing as she had just made a healthy commission and he was a customer, wasn't he? No, she didn't live in Manchester and yes, her eyes really were that colour. His questioning was so distracting that she was finding it hard to think straight.
Carlos watched as she tightened the bow of the bright red ribbon and trimmed away the excess lengths
.
He had noticed now just how beautiful she was and he couldn't walk away without saying something. That long blonde hair, those deep blue eyes and the slim and curvy figure which he was beginning to wish he could hold right there.
He'd only been in Manchester a few months. Brought in to the local, successful football team at the end of the transfer window and where he expected to finish his career. He had been a successful player in Spain and Italy and had won all the honours a top player could expect to win. Regularly on the sporting pages throughout Europe he had negotiated one last deal which would net him many millions of dollars to add to his already bloated bank account. But success could be draining and he often thought how he was so removed from the basics in life. And he had already had enough of Christmas with its rampant commercialism and in-your-face, excessive celebrations.