Releasing the Billionaire's Passion

Releasing The Billionaire’s Passion

By Elizabeth Lennox

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Epilogue

Excerpt from Her Gentle Capture, second story in The Alfieri Saga

List of Elizabeth Lennox Books

Copyright 2014

ISBN13: 9781940134871

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any duplication of this material, either electronic or any other format, either currently in use or a future invention, is strictly prohibited unless you have the direct consent of the author.

If you download this material in any format, either electronic or other, on a non-sanctioned site, please be warned that you and the website are in violation of copyright infringement. Financial and punitive damages may be pursued in whichever legal venue is appropriate.

“’Mornin’ Uncle Chuck!” Fiona Chandler chimed as she walked into the office and plunked herself down in one of the chairs in front of the large, elegant desk.

Charles sighed, taking off his glasses and laying them on the desk carefully. “I am not your uncle, and please do not refer to me as “Chuck”,” he replied tightly, trying to not grind his teeth as he normally did when this particular woman walked into his office. Especially when she was wearing jeans and a tight top. Not that he had noticed her attire, he told himself as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He picked up a file folder from the side of his desk, trying to calm down. There was just something about Fiona Chandler that…well, she riled him as no one else could and it infuriated him that she could make him lose his temper so easily. If only his eyes weren’t so drawn to the soft curls that danced crazily around her lovely face, and if her beautiful brown eyes would dim just a tiny bit, he would be very appreciative.

He read through the file, or pretended to at least. It was hard to concentrate on anything when Fiona was near. She just had such an overwhelming vitality that it disturbed his normal icy, absolute control.

And why the hell did she insist on calling him Uncle Chuck? They were in no way related! It was almost as if she were neutering him in some way. He was a man, damn it! And she was a beau…

Charles stopped that thought instantly. Fiona Chandler was a client of his bank. Nothing more! Simply a very important client. He needed to keep that thought uppermost in his mind and stop looking at those soft, red lips or contemplating how much he wanted to kiss her until she couldn’t call him Uncle Chuck or anything other than….

He was doing it again! Shaking his head, he flipped the page of the report he was attempting to read.

Fiona crossed her legs and sighed, wishing she could just lean over his desk and kiss him until he looked at her. Really looked at her! She knew very well that Charles Henson was not her uncle. She called him that only to remind herself that Charles Henson the Third was out of her league and he hated everything she stood for. In fact, if it weren’t for her grandfather’s will, she would never have met Charles Henson. That probably would have been a good thing, she thought wistfully as she stared at the tall, almost painfully handsome man. If only he weren’t so stodgy and set in his ways. If only he would loosen that tie just a little and look up, see her as a woman. She sighed with longing. What could one expect from a banker?

Charles Henson the Third was the epitome of an old fashioned banker. He was cool, reserved, supremely aware of his reputation and that of his bank at every moment. He was freakishly good with numbers. She knew from past conversations she’d overheard that Charles had pulled this stodgy old bank out of a really bad slump when he’d taken over from his father. It was now a powerful force in the international banking industry.

But he was also a man! And the phrase tall, dark and handsome was probably created just for Charles. Since he was a man, didn’t he have needs? Didn’t he need the soft touch of a woman? He’d broken up with his girlfriend a long time ago! Of course, the stunningly gorgeous Georgette had probably spoiled Charles. There was no way Fiona’s more modest curves could compete with Georgette Charding’s sultry, Marilyn Monroe type figure.

Fiona shifted in her chair, contemplating a boob job. Yeah, she could most likely get his attention if she had a pair of bodacious double Ds! Maybe then Charles would notice her. Maybe then she could entice him and get him to see her as a woman. And then she could lean over his desk, his eyes would be drawn to her cleavage, and of course she would be wearing a low cut shirt just so that cleavage would be amply visible. She smiled at the idea, liking the possibilities. She could imagine his eyes being irresistibly drawn to her new double Ds….

Fiona sighed, almost slumping into the chair. Her C cup boobs just weren’t up to the task of enticing Charles, now that Georgette had ruined him. Fiona didn’t even like thinking of the two of them together. It made her stomach ache and her temper flare.

“Thank you for meeting me and I appreciate your promptness,” he said with a dry tone of voice, glancing at the crystal clock behind her just to reinforce the fact that she was fifteen minutes late for their meeting.

She grinned and watched as his eyes hardened at her disrespect. At least it was a reaction, she told herself. That proved that she wasn’t as completely invisible as she felt whenever she discussed anything with him. “No problem. What’s up? Why are we meeting outside of our normal monthly meetings?” Fiona had a love/hate relationship with those meetings. She knew that when she met with Charles, her heart got all excited, her body started trembling, and silly thoughts entered her mind. Thoughts like getting a boob job! The problem was very basic. She was in love with Charles Henson the Third.

And it wasn’t just a silly infatuation masquerading as love. Nope. Unfortunately for her stubborn, stupid and silly heart, she was truly and one hundred percent in love with the man. She thought he was brilliant, loved talking to him, and knew he had the patience of a saint because he was more than willing to answer any and all of her questions. Some questions she just made up so she could spend more time with him. He also had a dry sense of humor that never failed to make her laugh. His observations about life and the world were spot on from her point of view, and she found him endlessly fascinating.

Unfortunately, she knew he considered her a duty. An obligation to her dead grandfather who had left Charles as the executor of his will. Charles didn’t see her as a woman, as someone he could seriously think of in relationship terms. He saw her as an assignment – a monthly box to check off, and a tedious one at that. Fiona was the woman he had to lecture every month about her spending habits and job prospects. Having to explain financial matters to her always seemed to make him rub the bridge of his nose, a sure sign of his irritation.

Fiona had tried desperately hard to figure out all these banking issues so he would take her seriously. She’d actually taken some math classes, nothing complicated, just some basic math classes that she’d hoped would help her remember all of the high school math she’d tried so hard to forget after passing the class. And every few months, she’d make a valiant effort to stop overspending so he didn’t have to lecture her about balancing her checkbook. Unfortunately, she failed. Miserably! Some months, she’d done a fairly good job and only spent a few pennies over her balance. But other months, she’d forgotten and had blown through her cash. Those were the worst months. She’d had to endure many questions and long lectures about the extensive list of items she’d purchased, about how she needed to subtract those amount from her balance every time she spent anything.

During every one of those lectures, she sat in this chair in front of his desk while her mind created elaborate fantasies. Of course, Charles was the star participant! And oh goodness, the things that she had him do! Those lectures actually turned out some of her best stuff!

She sighed as she watched him, her eyes taking in his strong jaw, his black hair and long, black lashes. She knew that they hid golden eyes that changed to amber whenever she said something to irritate him. Which was often, she thought with increasing panic. The man just didn’t get her. She was sure that, to Charles, she was like a tiny splinter – near the surface enough to see and irritate, but deep enough that it drove a person nuts trying to get it out.

Fiona represented everything Charles was not. He was organized and meticulous, brilliant at math and all things having to do with numbers. She suspected that he didn’t really have a heart. Inside that muscular chest, beneath those layers of perfectly tailored wool, was a calculator instead of a vulnerable organ to pump blood.

But oh, when he looked at her with those golden eyes, her insides just melted.

If only he could see her as a woman instead of a gnat he needed to swat. Well, perhaps that was too harsh of a statement. He probably didn’t see her as a gnat. She was more of a bumblebee that buzzed around him, irritating him until he had to leave the vicinity.

Fiona, on the other hand, saw Charles Henson the Third as the hottest thing on two legs.

Well, when he wasn’t looking down that very good looking nose at her from his too-tall height, that is. Yes, a man that brilliant should be short, she thought. And fat. Fiona tilted her head, considering the man’s broad shoulders and long legs as he paced in front of her. Yep, a man with Charles’ brilliance should be short, fat and squirrely. He needed to give the rest of the men in the world a chance. But alas, Charles was about three inches over six feet with the lithe body of a swimmer or a long distance runner. And he was so charming! At least, she thought so when he wasn’t lecturing her on her spending habits or trying to get her to invest her inheritance in various stocks and bonds or mutual funds.

Hmmm….she wondered what he would look like in a bathing suit. She imagined his chest covered with muscles and an abdomen rippling with more of them. And his legs were so long, she suspected that he really did run. Fiona had no idea what his butt might look like because she’d never seen the man without a suit jacket on. Which was really a crime, she thought. The man was built! He should show it off a bit. He should advertise!

Shaking her head, she pushed those silly thoughts out of her mind. The idea of Charles Henson the Third showing off a tight butt was almost humorous. Or it would be if she weren’t so interested!

“Are you even listening to me?” Charles asked, interrupting a very nice fantasy about Charles in a bathing suit. Or out of one, actually.

She looked up into his golden eyes, realizing that they were now a dark amber color. That meant trouble! “Of course!” she exclaimed, sitting up straighter in the leather chair and looking at his chin. She needed to get this interview over with before she started panting at the idea of running her fingers over his….

Stop! Fiona blinked and actually shook her head this time. Her fantasies were really getting out of control lately!

All he had to do was look at her and she was mush. What would it be like if he actually kissed her? She thought about his lips, those firm, always disapproving lips descending towards her. Fiona could teach him how to kiss, she thought. She could teach him a whole lot of stuff, actually. He probably wasn’t a good kisser because he was too busy reviewing tedious things like spreadsheets, but she could teach him. Goodness, the things she’d like to teach him…

“Fiona? You aren’t listening, are you?” Charles snapped.

Fiona jerked up straighter in her chair. “Yes. Of course,” she lied. “Go on.”

Charles sat back in his high, leather chair, looking at the woman. Her brown eyes and her curly brown hair were distracting. Couldn’t she contain that hair? He knew of several very good stylists who could…

What the hell was she wearing on her feet? Red cowboy boots? Good grief.

Shaking his head, he leaned forward again, his finger running down the report. “As I was saying, your checking account is severely overdrawn. I took the liberty of transferring funds…”

Fiona heard that! Those were fighting words! She snapped to attention quickly with that declaration. “You did not!” she gasped, sitting up straight and glaring at him. “Tell me you didn’t transfer my grandfather’s money into my checking account!”

Charles looked up, startled by her vehemence. He pulled his wire rimmed glasses off and looked at her carefully. The normally flighty, fun-loving Fiona was practically bristling with anger. “I believe that is what your grandfather would have wanted,” he explained. He actually hadn’t transferred the money from her grandfather’s account. He’d covered her overdrawn checks himself. He still wasn’t sure why he’d done that, but he’d been watching her account ever since their first meeting after her grandfather’s funeral. Whenever he saw that things were getting low, he just…fixed it.

It wasn’t like she spent enormous amounts of money. The woman was actually fairly frugal and generally lived within her means. She just seemed to pay no attention to timing – when money was going out and when it was coming in – which got her into trouble.

“Why do you have such a problem with using your grandfather’s money?” he asked carefully. And why should he even care? He should be treating Fiona as if she were just another client. So why did he take such a personal interest in her account? He had clients who transferred billions of dollars in and out of this bank on a regular basis. He himself had about a dozen accounts, each with billions of dollars or yen or different currencies that he shifted rapidly when exchange rates would make it profitable. And yet, every day, he checked Fiona’s tiny checking account with a few thousand dollars in it. He made sure that she had money to cover the rent and groceries, that she was being careful.

Fiona Chandler was a mystery. He couldn’t figure her out, nor could he figure out why he took such special care of her.

“I just…” she stumbled, not sure how to explain to someone so calm and in control as Charles how she felt about her inheritance. An inheritance that she refused to touch under any circumstances. Her grandfather had been the most distrusting, disapproving, horrible man she’d ever met. He’d given her that money in order to control her, to teach her responsibility and make her “live her life properly, as a well-brought up lady should” in his words.

Well, she wasn’t going to give in to that man’s extortion. He might be dead, but she was still her own person. He’d lived his life on a rigid schedule, never veering away from his plans by even a minute. Fiona had been his only living relative by the time he’d passed away, and they’d fought with each other about everything! How she should live, what she should wear, what university she should attend, the classes she should take. The man had tried hard to control her with money and his disapproving tone. And Fiona had fought him every step of the way.