The Billionaire's Beautiful Intruder (Billionaire Knights Book 3)

“
W
hat
?! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Aghast, Molly stared at her manager. Characteristically, the man was squirming in his seat. Malcolm Brown wasn’t the confrontational type, and when faced with a problem he usually left matters to his assistant. Now, however, there was no assistant to leave matters to, as Molly had walked straight up to him the moment she learned about this new assignment he’d saddled her up with.

“You’re sending me off to Scotland? To some uninhabited island?” she demanded, her temper flaring.

“Technically it’s not really uninhabited,” he countered a little feebly.

“Why wasn’t I informed? And what am I going to do with the patients already in my care? What do I tell them? That some billionaire has decided he’s more important than them?”

Malcolm held up his hands in a soothing gesture. “Now, Molly, you’re taking this far too personally. Just think of it as a temporary assignment—a very interesting addition to your already extremely impressive resume.”

“Flattery won’t help you, Malcolm,” she growled. She’d folded her arms across her chest and tossed her mane of red curls. “I’m simply not doing it. No way am I dropping everything just to go and babysit some entitled rich guy.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes, his flabby face puckering up into an expression of disapproval. “Think of the hospital, Molly. Think of how much publicity this will garner us, not to mention the very welcome donation Knight Enterprises has decided to grant us.”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, and very expressive green eyes they were. “I knew it! This is all about the money, isn’t it? Some billionaire decides to grant you a few pennies and you roll over and say thank you very much, sir!”

“Not just a few pennies,” Malcolm came back, licking his lips nervously.

“How much?” she demanded. “How much is this guy paying you?”

He shrugged. “It really isn’t up to me to—”

“How much, Malcolm?!”

This time Malcolm relented. “Well, erm, give and take a few quid the total sum shall amount to a little over a million sterling.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. A million pounds! No wonder Malcolm had acquiesced so eagerly. Normally none of his staff at the hospital were allowed to take on private patients, Saint-Michael’s having too much need of its qualified staff to afford to lose them for even a short period of time. And now Malcolm had just informed her he was letting these people have access to her services for an indefinite period of time!

Well, she wasn’t doing it, no matter what. Even though she had to admit the hospital could definitely use the money. Public funding was fleeting and becoming more unreliable now that the new government had decided to fleece the proud old NHS system. Furthermore, a burn unit like the one she worked at wasn’t exactly a top priority for the government pundits. For them the kind of treatment Saint Michael’s provided was probably a luxury. For the burn victims, however, they were essential. Not only did they provide them with the kind of postoperative care that was crucial to the healing process, but they had trained psychologists on staff who took care of the patients’ emotional needs as well.

Molly did a bit of both. A burn victim herself, she knew exactly how to deal with people suffering from the kind of extensive scarring exposure to fire could induce, both the medical side of things and the psychological. Furthermore, not everybody was capable of stomaching the kind of extensive burns some of the patients on their unit had suffered without flinching. She could, for they were the same scars she saw every day when she undressed, her body a distant memory from the one she’d once possessed.

She gritted her teeth. And to think Malcolm was going to send her to some island off the coast of Scotland to take care of some entitled billionaire, just because he refused to be treated at a regular hospital. Probably Saint-Michael’s simply wasn’t good enough for the likes of him. He demanded his own private nurse to take care of him. It was simply intolerable.

“Look, Molly,” Malcolm said, “I already agreed to this, so if you’re not up to it, we’re in deep doo-doo, as I really have no one else who can take this particular job. It requires not only wound care but also…” He hesitated, looking away before continuing, “The man ostensibly, at least according to his brothers, has refused all help and has decided that isolating himself is the only way to cope with his issues. He doesn’t want to pose a burden to either his family or his company, which is why he’s retreated to Tyler Island.”

“Well, that settles it, then,” she riposted rather nastily. “The man doesn’t want any help. I don’t want to go. Problem solved!”

“Problem most definitely not solved,” Malcolm countered, eyeing her tiredly. She knew he had a lot on his plate, and she felt truly sorry for causing him so much trouble, but then she had her own concerns, not least of which was her duty toward her patients. It wasn’t fair they should take a backseat to some billionaire on some island.

“Look, all I ask is that you go over there and check him out. If he really is adamant about not wanting to be taken care of, then you simply return and I’ll tell his brothers he’s refused your help. Problem is… They’re very concerned about his state of mind. They’re worried that he might be…”

“Too arrogant for his own good?”

“Suicidal,” he corrected, with a slightly reproachful look.

In spite of herself she felt embarrassed. She didn’t even know this guy and already she’d formed a very negative opinion of him: rich, entitled, and arrogant. Not exactly the kind of patient she was hoping to meet.

“Look, we need this donation, Molly. The money will tide us over nicely until the next budget is approved.”

“Which will probably be a big disappointment,” she muttered. Budgets these days usually involved cuts, and no other department had suffered as many cuts as theirs, in spite of the fact they treated a lot of war heroes who came back from the theater of war broken men, suffering from horrendous injuries.

Molly bit her lip. She was sorely tempted to say no—she knew that Malcolm couldn’t force her to go. All she had to do was tell him so. But then the hospital would lose the very generous donation the Knight brothers had made. She groaned in frustration. “Oh, all right!” she finally relented. “I’ll go!”

His face lit up. “Oh, Molly, that’s splendid! Tomorrow morning the chopper will pick you up from the top of Knight Tower and take you to Tyler Island.”

“Tomorrow! But that’s impossible! I can’t leave on a moment’s notice.”

“Afraid so, darling. The weather forecasts for Scotland are distinctly gloomy, and tomorrow morning apparently presents the last safe window to fly out there. If you don’t leave tomorrow you won’t be able to go for another couple of days.”

“Let me guess; our billionaire can’t wait? His needs must come first? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Malcolm grimaced. “Just… think about all the good one million pounds will do for our patients, Molly. Think about their needs.”

“Their needs, huh?” Malcolm had found her weak spot. She always put the needs of her patients first. So she relented, pointing a reluctant finger at her manager. “But you better make sure that my patients are taken care of. My real patients with real needs,” she added unmercifully. “Not the ones who need to be coddled and pampered.”

“Ouch,” muttered Malcolm before she swept from the office.

Tomorrow morning! That meant she didn’t even have time to buy herself some decent clothes to brave the harsh weather conditions she was sure ruled that part of Scotland. She didn’t even have rubber boots or a parka. Oh, Malcolm! Sometimes she wished the man possessed just a little more backbone, and stopped giving in to everyone bombarding him with their demands. Though she had to admit that a million pounds were a great way to sweeten the deal.

T
he next morning
a limo from Knight Enterprises picked her up outside her modest flat in downtown London and took her to Knight Tower, where Knight Enterprises had its UK headquarters. She’d hoped they’d have forgotten all about her but no such luck. The sleek black vehicle was there at nine o’clock on the dot.

As she’d been gabbing around the water cooler the day before she’d discovered that Malcolm had had quite some trouble finding a ‘volunteer’ for his billionaire service. Apparently she’d been the last person he asked, all her colleagues having respectfully declined, citing family obligations.

So much for her being his first choice! Last resort was more like it!

Of course, she had no family to take care of, so no excuse not to go.

Once, she’d had a family, but that had been before some crazed suicide bomber had decided to target the shopping mall they used to frequent.

The blast had killed her mum, dad, little sister and her grandmother. All the family she had, wiped out in a single act of senseless violence.

They’d all gone out there for Molly’s birthday, because she liked the ice cream parlor at the local mall so much. And when she’d been given carte blanche for a venue to celebrate her eighteenth birthday, she’d chosen the exact same spot the terrorist had picked for his cowardly act of terror. They hadn’t been seated five minutes when the dreadful massacre had occurred. Molly had gone to the bathroom to freshen up while her mum and dad went ahead and ordered, and she was just wending her way back through the tables when the blast took out the center section of the mall and the front part of the parlor.

She’d felt so wonderful, smiling and looking forward to the delicious treat this Italian ice cream parlor was so rightly famous for. She could see her family eagerly awaiting the same treat at their table in the small square at the heart of the shopping center, near the ornamental dolphin-shaped fountain. Dozens of people had been milling about, and seated around the fountain, and when Molly hurried to rejoin her family, the blast had knocked her back, the shockwave sending her flying. She hadn’t even seen what happened, as the entire central courtyard had been swallowed up by the blinding flash and furious ball of fire.

When she regained consciousness she was in Saint-Michael’s Hospital, hooked up to all manner of tubes and devices. It appeared she was one of the lucky ones. Almost a hundred people died that day, with hundreds more horrendously wounded. The burn unit was filled to capacity, and it was after having been treated there for several months, being nursed back to health at the capable hands of the medical staff, that she’d come to appreciate what these people did. She’d tumbled into a depression after realizing she was now all alone in the world, her entire family gone, and when she glanced at herself in the mirror for the first time, discovering that her belly and part of her back were now horribly scarred, she’d realized with a sickening sense of finality that she would never have a family—never meet a man who would love her. That she would remain alone for the rest of her life. What man would want a woman like her? What man could love a woman so horrendously disfigured and damaged?

It had been the end of a chapter in her life, and the beginning of a new one, as she’d gone on to nursing school, and had eventually ended up finding a job at the very same hospital and the very same unit that had offered her a new lease on life. The people she’d met during her long stay there and who’d earned her undying gratitude and admiration were now her beloved colleagues, and she was proud to be one of them.

And now this. It was chilly in London today, a thick fog having descended upon the capital. And it was with a sense of foreboding that she climbed into the limo, suddenly experiencing a return of the melancholy that had plagued her for so long. The Saint-Michael’s burn unit had become her home—her colleagues her family—and being away from them for even a week wasn’t a prospect she looked forward to with equanimity. Furthermore, from what Malcolm had told her, this Steven Knight would not be an easy man to please. He wasn’t merely a billionaire, but a war hero as well, who’d returned from his last tour of duty teetering on the edge of death, an ordeal he was still trying to come to terms with. So she had the distinct impression he wouldn’t make for great company.

But that was neither here nor there, of course. She was a nurse meeting a patient, and would put up with his wiles no matter what. It was her job, after all.

They’d arrived at Knight Tower, and the elevator quickly whisked her up to the rooftop, where a small heliport had been installed, the chopper already awaiting her arrival with rotor blades churning the air. Soon she was safely buckled in, and the chopper took off. And as she gazed down at the River Thames, a glistening rope of water snaking through the bustling metropolis, she was so engrossed in the scenery that she soon forgot about her predicament and simply decided to enjoy the once-in-a-lifetime experience of being the private nurse to one of the wealthiest men in England, and being flown by the man’s private helicopter.