Lovers in London - 3 Book Box Set: Lovers in London Series, #7

​​​​​Lovers in London Series

Book 1 – Risking Millions

Book 2 – Venture Capital

Book 3 – Worth the Expense

Book 4 – The Price of Luxury

Book 5 – Exclusive Passion

Book 6 – Sparkling Christmas

Book 5 – Exclusive Passion

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Table of Contents

Lovers in London Series

Find Lexy Timms:

Book 1

Risking Millions Blurb

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

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

Book 2

Venture Capital Blurb

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

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

Book 3

Worth The Expense Blurb

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

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

The Price of Luxury  - Book 4

Lovers in London Series

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​Book 1

​​Risking Millions Blurb

LOVE IS NOT SOMETHING you protect. It's something you risk.

Daniel Connor has a problem. A big one.

Even though his company is a billion-dollar success in the hospitality industry, he’s just opened a few new properties in the United States and is failing at every turn. He’s never met a problem he couldn’t solve, but this particular problem is beyond him.

He needs an expert. A fixer.

Enter Eleanor Sawyer, fixer extraordinaire. Though she generally only works in the US, the salary Daniel offers her—and the good looks she sees across their first meeting—are impossible for her to turn down, and she makes the journey to the UK to work with his company on their problems.

But the UK isn’t as easy to navigate as she expected, and when she ends up living on Daniel’s property outside the city—and needing to call him every time something goes wrong—she starts to think there might be more to life in England than just fixing a company’s issues.

This contract was never meant to be anything but professional. The problem is, the longer Daniel and Eleanor work together, the more personal it becomes.

And neither one of them is all that interested in changing it.

​​

CHAPTER 1

​​DANIEL

YOU’RE SAYING, NATHANIEL Evans said slowly, his face completely expressionless, that you didn’t see this coming? And yet you’re the head of the company. Isn’t it your job to see this sort of thing coming?

I felt my face trying very, very hard to crease into an extremely angry scowl, and honestly, I was about five seconds away from giving in to it.

The guy was being a complete prick, and that was putting it nicely. Acting like he owned the fucking company or had more say in what we did than I did. Acting like he had any right to question what I’d been doing with the company’s direction, or was in a position to question a gamble I’d decided to make.

Who the hell did he think he was?

Of course, I knew exactly who he thought he was. I knew he actually was. Our largest investor, and therefore at the top of our board of directors. It might have been my company, and the decisions might have been mine, but his position meant that he did, in fact, have the right to say something.

As much as I fucking hated it. I’d never liked the man. And I was liking him less with every passing moment.

I’m saying, I corrected, forcing my face to stay just as neutral as his, that I already assumed that it would take some time for me to figure out the new market and find the best way to access it. This isn’t a surprise, Nathaniel. It isn’t earth-shattering information. It’s just a bit of a blip. Nothing more.

I turned and stared at the numbers we were talking about, letting my brain take the information in and try to parse through it. The truth was, it was more than a bit of a blip.

I mean, it could have been called a blip. But it was a pretty big one.

The problem was my company, Connor and Co, which specialized in things like resorts and hotels around the world, had decided to branch into some new markets. Namely, the market in the US.

It had seemed like such a straightforward move when one of my consultants first brought it up. The US was the richest country in the world, and it stood to reason that people spent a lot of money when traveling there. That money might as well be spent at a Connor hotel or resort, the consultant had said. That money might as well be coming into the Connor war chest rather than going to Hyatt or Marriott or any of the other large hotel chains.

It had made perfect sense to me. I’d done a bit of research and had signed on the dotted line the next day.

I’d also put my own money up for it. I hadn’t made this a Connor and Co problem. I’d made it a personal pet project. Doing so had taken some of the danger out of it, as far as the company was concerned. We were using the Connor branding but my money, and I’d thought it was the perfect solution.

Until the American market started beating us.

That was what those numbers—and this meeting—were all about. That was why my board had called this meeting and forced me to come.

It was one thing for Connor hotels to go up in a new market and take a little while to get started. It was an entirely different thing for them to go up and then fail miserably for nearly a year.

It was even worse when their failure was draining my bank account pretty rapidly... and damaging the Connor brand.

Why are they failing, Daniel? Nathaniel asked, pressing through my thoughts. What’s going on over there?

I hated that I didn’t have an answer for him. I hated it. I’d started this business with my own two hands when I was right out of university, and I’d never looked back. I’d never questioned myself, because I’d never had any reason to.

I was the guy who always made the right gamble. The guy who always saw the way the market was going to turn before it actually started turning.

So, no one was more confused than me when the first hotels in the US did so badly, and the next phase went even worse.

I had never failed in my life, and though I was somewhat glad that I was failing with my own money rather than the company’s, I had a feeling that particular relief was going to be short-lived.

I turned back toward the board and looked toward my advertising and marketing guy. Joseph, what are we doing with advertising and marketing? How are we getting the word out about these hotels?

I already knew what he was going to say, of course. I’d heard it all before. I’d been through it with a fine-toothed comb and I couldn’t find one single thing wrong with his plans. As he talked, though, I glanced through it again, trying to figure out whether there was something there that I’d been missing. Something I hadn’t seen the first fifteen times I’d gone through it.

But there wasn’t.

I started paying attention just as Joseph repeated that this wasn’t his or his department’s fault and that they were doing everything they were expected to do.

I’d also heard that before.

I called on the heads of the R&D, project sourcing, and social media departments next, and they ran through their plans and how they were all going exactly to plan.

More of the same. More of what I’d already heard.

More of no one taking responsibility or figuring out how the fuck to fix the problem.

I growled under my breath and looked up to see Nathaniel’s eyes on me. I didn’t have to ask to know what he was thinking.

It sounds like no one here knows exactly what’s going wrong, he said quietly. I don’t have to tell you how much this is worrying the board, Daniel. This is doing damage to your brand. Damage to the company itself. And we’re all heavily invested in the company’s success.

I ground my teeth. Like any of them were any more invested than me. It was my company, for fuck’s sake! Did they actually think they were more concerned than I was about this?

If you can’t get it under control, we’re going to recommend that someone else take over the project, he said into the silence that had followed his initial statement.

Excuse me?

What? I snapped. You have no authority over that, Nathaniel.

He shook his head stiffly, his face still completely neutral. We do, actually. As the board, we can recommend someone step in and run the company if we don’t think you’re... up to the task.

Then he twisted his mouth and lifted his brows like he was daring me to tell him anything different.

I clenched my jaw—and my fists—and fought the instincts that were telling me to tackle the asshole to the ground and remind him who was actually the head of this company.

Because when you’re already in trouble with your investors, the last thing you need to do is physically assault them. I’d never done it, myself, but I was pretty sure it would get me in even more trouble.

I was also flying through the contract I had with them in my mind, the picture in my head scanning down through the language and all the fine print. And I was seeing, to my absolute horror, that they did, in fact, have the option to force me out. Not out of the entire company, but out of my position as CEO.

I remembered that line. I’d thought it was really stupid when we first built those contracts, because I’d known for a fact that I would never do anything that wasn’t good for the company.

Then I’d very stupidly listened to a consultant who thought I should try to open up the American market.

The minute I was out of this meeting, I was going to find that consultant and strangle him.

I’m quite up to the task, I told Nathaniel coldly. In fact, I’m already working on a plan to fix the very numbers we’re meeting about. The marketing and advertising and even the R&D are solid. We’ve already seen that. I need something more. And I know exactly how I’m going to get it.

Nathaniel’s expressionless face stayed expressionless, but I saw his eyes flick to someone else in the room for just a split second.

Ah, I thought. So Nathaniel had an accomplice. My own eyes went in that direction and I saw Daniel Janning. Another rich asshole, and one who was completely incapable of thinking for himself. It figured that he was the one taking orders from Nathaniel.

The perfect match. The alpha male and the beta.

Disgusting.

If I haven’t fixed the numbers in six months, I continued. I’ll step aside of my own accord and let someone else run the American market. No questions asked. Until then, though, it’s mine. Need I remind you, Nathaniel, that it was my money that went into this project, not yours? This is a Connor pet project. Not a corporate one. As such, I believe your contract might have... less impact than you think it will.

Yeah, sure, it was a dick measuring contest, no question. But I knew how big I was.

There was no way Nathaniel was going to measure up.

He immediately started withdrawing, knowing, I suspected, that he’d been outmaneuvered.

You didn’t use any company money in this endeavor? he asked.

None, I confirmed. I’m sure you can see how that changes things.

But the company’s reputation—

Is what I’m considering when I say I have a plan to get this back on track, I interrupted.

Nathaniel drew back several more inches. As expected.

He’d always been a bully. And like most bullies, he didn’t like when someone else took control and started pushing him around a little bit. It wasn’t a move I used with him often, but I’d used it often enough to know for a fact that it would work.

Six months, he said. We have an accord.

He got up and walked out, his fingers twitching at his sides in agitation, and the rest of the board followed him. I watched, feeling like I’d won the battle, and congratulating myself on that...

But also knowing that the war was still ahead of me. I didn’t actually have a plan for how to win it, and the stakes had just gotten a whole lot higher. I hated not knowing how to fix this on my own, but I was savvy enough to realize that I’d come up against a problem I couldn’t solve by myself.

I was going to need help. And I didn’t have the first clue where I was going to find it.

I slid from the board room into my office, my mind already charging forward on that particular problem, and sat down at my desk, my hands hovering over my keyboard.

Where do you find someone to come into your company and help you solve a problem that’s going to end up killing an entire market? I asked myself. Where do you find someone to come in and save the day?

Without gloating too much about it, I added. Without doing too much to piss me off or rub in the idea that I hadn’t been able to fix it myself. Someone who could do the job, and do it quietly, without infringing on my time or space or control of the company.

I needed a fixer. Did they even have such things in the corporate world?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

How to hire a corporate fixer, I typed into the search bar on my browser. Then I amended the line. How to hire a female corporate fixer.

There was no way this was going to work. I was going to have to go to my assistant, Bella, and that was going to mean admitting to yet another person that this was a problem I couldn’t handle on my own.

The idea made me even angrier.

I hit ‘return’ on the search, already knowing it wasn’t going to give me anything... and was surprised when page after page of websites featuring corporate fixers appeared on my screen.

A grin stretched my lips. Terrific.

Maybe I’d be able to fix this on my own, after all.

I clicked the first option and started going through what, exactly, a corporate fixer did, and how much it was going to cost me.

​​

CHAPTER 2

​​ELEANOR

I STRETCHED IN WHAT I thought must be a luxurious manner—though who really knew what that meant?—and grinned to myself.

Sleeping in. Knowing that there was coffee brewing in the kitchen, courtesy of that fancy coffeemaker I’d bought that allowed me to program the machine to make coffee at specific times. Knowing, further, that there were fresh bagels right downstairs at the bakery, waiting for me, and that I could go down and get them in my pajamas if I wanted to, then come back up and eat them at my leisure.

Damn, it had been too long since I’d felt this sort of pleasure and relaxation.

I worked too hard and too much, and I knew it. I spent too much time solving other people’s problems rather than my own and certainly more time handling things for other people than allowing myself to lay in bed late on a Tuesday morning and just... breathe.

I took a deep breath at that thought, and grinned even more broadly.

Then I registered that I was not only hungry, but also... well, getting sort of bored with laying around. There was, after all, so much to do. I had an indeterminate amount of time to do whatever I wanted before my next project started, and I wasn’t going to get that done laying around and staring at the ceiling.

I shuffled to the kitchen for my first cup of coffee, my mind already on what I meant to do with my day. Coffee first. Shower, then bagels, and yeah, I know what I said about being able to go down to get said bagels in my pajamas, but that was really just bragging about not having to go to work afterward.

In reality, I would never go outside in my pajamas. And I definitely wouldn’t do it without having had a shower first.

I mean, a girl has to have some pride.

I stirred my preferred additives into my coffee—chocolate powder, brown sugar, and the creamy, high-fat version of oat milk—and took that first heavenly sip, closing my eyes in deep appreciation. Then I walked to the picture window in my living room and stared out over the skyline.

Yet another thing I almost never got to do.

I had a fucking amazing view and a pretty damn good apartment, thanks in large part to having lucked into it when I first got to the city. I never would have been able to afford this place, either, except that part of that luck had been finding an apartment that included rent control.

Beyond me, Manhattan was stretched out in all its early dawn glory. Not yet crowded or dirty or loud or overwhelming, but still relatively peaceful and somehow clean, even in the middle of the city. I loved this time of day. Something about it—the crisp air, the momentary silence, the scent of blooming trees rising above the pollution of the city—reminded me of my hometown in Virginia.

Not a lot. But a little bit.

I’d been here for nearly ten years, now. More, if you counted my time in college. And I still had moments when I longed for my hometown and the greenery of it so strongly that it was like a physical ache.

But I’d never go home. Home hadn’t been big enough for me, and never mind the lack of opportunities there. I’d been born and raised in a small town, and that meant that the career opportunities had included things like librarian, waitress, and owner of the local bookstore.

No. Thank you.

I’d wanted bigger things right from the start, and I’d come to the city for that. And I’d found it, too. Fixer for corporations, and I don’t mean the type of fixer that murders your enemies or something like that. I mean the type of fixer that looks at your problems in the corporate arena and figures out why they’re happening, then helps you solve them.

It was a dream job, in terms of power and challenge.

When it came to payment...

Well, it was essentially a freelance position that didn’t include any benefits, healthcare, or long-term consistency. Every job was a hard-won contract and I was constantly on the lookout for the next one. I flogged my ass off to make sure my reputation was the best, and I still only made around $65,000 a year.

I wasn’t exactly rolling in dough. Or time. Or security.

But I still thought I had one of the coolest jobs around. The one I’d just finished up was for a highly specialized merchandising company that had been dealing with a variety of efficiency issues that were going to close the place down. I’d spent several months going through everything very, very closely, and had eventually given them a plan for fixing the place.

I was their angel. Their savior. Their hero.

I just wished the pay for heroes was a bit better than the current going rate.

I took another sip of coffee, then turned and put the mug down. Time for a shower and then bagels. I’d given myself two weeks off before I started working on another contract, and that meant that starting today, I had nothing but wide open time.

I didn’t know what I was going to do with my day, and I loved that.

I GOT THROUGH TWO BAGELS—TOASTED, with butter and cream cheese, obviously—before I started getting really antsy about not having anything to do.

The idea of a full two weeks off had sounded like such a good idea when I was coming off five months of working ten-hour days seven days a week on someone else’s problems. It had sounded like such a godsend. No one to answer to, no one coming to me for answers, no office to shuffle into every day, nothing to twist my brain around...

Now that it was here, though, I was starting to feel distinctly itchy with the idea that there was nothing to do.

Nothing. To. Do.

I considered another bagel, just to have something to keep me occupied, but a quick run-through of pros and cons told me that it definitely wasn’t a good idea. Yes, I loved them. No, I didn’t need my entire day’s calories to come from bread and butter and cheese.

So, what, then?

I looked around, considering. There were books to be read and movies to be watched—five months’ worth of things I’d been skipping—but both sounded boring. I could clean the apartment.

That sounded like too much work.

I could go down to the park for an ice cream or to take a walk, but that sounded like too much effort. It also wasn’t the sort of thing I particularly wanted to do alone.

Dammit.

Without thinking about it, I grabbed my laptop, slid it toward me, and flipped it open. A quick set of keystrokes had my email open, and before I knew it I was going through and organizing the emails that had arrived in the last day or so, looking for anything that might need immediate attention.

Hey, it wasn’t working. It was making sure I didn’t miss anything important. There were some clients who wanted an answer within an hour of them emailing, and I might be doing well with my career, but I still couldn’t afford to just miss time-sensitive emails.

It wasn’t working. It was being responsible. Straight up.

When I saw an email that came from a UK address, I immediately clicked it. I didn’t have any clients in the UK, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever even communicated with anyone from that side of the pond.

Hey, I’d gotten pretty far in my career by being the most curious person I knew. I saw an email that looked interesting and I opened it. Sue me.

The email, it turned out, was from some English chap who owned what sounded like the parent company of a bunch of hotels and resorts. He’d tried to move into the American market.

There was a lot of very haughty language that praised his own efforts and all that, but the final result, if I was reading this right, was that the whole American market thing wasn’t going well for him.

He asked if we could have a meeting to go over the particulars.

I read the email three times, wondering if I could trust a guy who praised himself that much, or if I’d even want to work with someone like that. I had enough experience and reputation that I basically got to choose my clients at this point, and I’d had a few bad situations that had taught me to be very careful about who I agreed to work with.

That whole attitude was a big red flag.

Still, I was intrigued. I’d never worked with anyone in any other country before, and it sounded like a very cool change of pace.

A challenge, for sure. A nice break from the norm. Also, England. London, shortbreads, and those accents.

Maybe, I thought to myself, the attitude was just his British personality. They were stiffer over there, I’d heard, and there was every chance that was coming across as arrogance. It didn’t mean he was actually arrogant.

I’d never done anything internationally. Maybe it was time I did.

Maybe that was the thing that would make me feel truly excited about this job again.

Still, I closed the email and then my inbox. I might be intrigued, but I never made a decision the moment I knew about it. I always gave myself at least a full day, and preferably a night, to digest the idea and figure out how I felt about it.

I’d also found early on that the best way to negotiate a better salary was to let the proposed client sit on the first email for a day without hearing back.

People will do a whole lot if they think you’re not interested with their first attempt.

I opened the browser on my laptop and quickly typed in the name attached to the email. Daniel Connor of Connor and Co. Snappy name, I thought. Very easy on the tongue.

It looked like Daniel himself was pretty successful, too. His company was large and he’d made boatloads of money, finding success in pretty much everything he tried. He was now focusing on hotels and large resorts catering to the very wealthy, and had his own line of goods that he probably peddled at those resorts.

A good one-two punch, I thought. Get people to your resort and then sell them stuff that you’ve made. Make it the only thing available in their rooms. Connor robes. Connor quilts. Connor soaps and chips and whatever else.

Once you got people into those rooms, you were making double the money with absolutely no effort. At least, theoretically. If that was what they were actually doing.

Another quick search brought up more than just his resume, though.

It brought up his picture.

I felt my jaw fall open at that one, and that was something that almost never happened. Hey, I lived in New York City. The models were thick on the ground here. In fact, you couldn’t go to the coffee shop or the market without tripping over them.

Or, in my case, tripping them, consider I was over a foot shorter than most of them.

Anyhow, the point was that I was used to otherworldly beauty. I saw it every day of my life. I’d stopped reacting to it somewhere around my third year in the city.

But Daniel Connor was... beyond beautiful. Tall enough that he looked like he could have been a model himself, with tousled, very dark hair and just enough beard to look mysterious, without hiding that incredibly sharp jawline. Wide cheekbones topped by eyes so bright a green that I wondered if he wore contacts to make them that color.

Probably not, I realized. The man didn’t look like he had any need to change his appearance. He also looked like he wouldn’t even consider it.

In fact, now that I was looking at a series of pictures taken by paparazzi at the same event, I realized that he might have been the most jaw-droppingly handsome man I’d ever seen, with a jaw that could cut glass and eyes that looked like they might glow in the dark.

But the man evidently didn’t believe in smiling.

In fact... I scrolled through at least fifty shots of him at different events, my eyes narrowed. He knew how to dress, that was for sure. Always in the tailored suit—that cut that emphasized how broad his shoulders were and how narrow his hips. Always with the tousled hair that looked like he’d barely done anything since he got up from his latest nap. Always with the laser-like green gaze.

Never, ever a smile.

The man looked just as arrogant as he’d sounded in his email. He looked like he knew exactly how gorgeous he was, and used it to his benefit.

He looked like no one had ever told him no in his entire life.

I felt the smile creeping over my face, and didn’t even try to stop it. Daniel Connor looked like he’d never met anyone who could do something he couldn’t. And yet he’d emailed me because he had a problem he couldn’t fix.

It might have been masochistic, but I found that I was even more intrigued now.

Intrigued at the idea of showing this arrogant, self-assured man a thing or two about whatever it was that was wrong with his company.

​​

CHAPTER 3

​​DANIEL

TWO DAYS LATER, THE girl I’d emailed partially in desperation finally managed to get back to me.

I glared at the email when it came in, annoyed that it had taken her so long and wondering why I hadn’t just found someone else when she didn’t respond to me immediately. Then I remembered her resume—and some of the reviews I’d read from some of her clients—and blew out, trying to relax the tension in my shoulders.

The woman was the best, as far as I could see. I wanted her.

I’d just have to make sure that in the future, she knew to respond to me within a specific time frame. If she agreed to work for me, she’d have to understand how important the project was, and that there were rules about how I expected her to act.

The email itself, though, was good news. She was interested in hearing more about the opportunity. She’d like to set up a meeting to discuss it and see whether she felt it was a good fit.

And that was it.

I hesitated, confused, and then read the email again.

Yes, that was it. She said she was interested in hearing more, but didn’t commit to anything beyond that.

Another annoyance. I owned one of the biggest corporations in the world when it came to luxury resorts. People didn’t just put me off when I offered them a job. They certainly didn’t say they’d like to have a meeting to hear more about the opportunity.

But, I reminded myself, she had quite a reputation when it came to this particular industry. Maybe she was just being careful. Choosy. I couldn’t blame her for being careful about who she wanted to work with.

I would do the same. I did do the same, on a regular basis.

I could respect her if that was what she was doing.

I typed out a quick response, suggesting a time and platform for a meeting, and hit ‘reply.’ Then I closed down the email app, already knowing that I probably wouldn’t hear back from her immediately.

She liked to take her time. Do things right. I could live with that. I could even respect it.

I WAS SURPRISED AS fuck when her face came on my screen, all wild copper hair and enormous blue eyes, pert nose and dimples.

She looked like she was about eighteen.

I thought this girl was supposed to be one of the best in the business, and she looked like she was still in college or something.

She was also beautiful. Sure, I’d done some research when I first decided to contact her and had seen her resume and the professional shots the corporations she worked with used on their press releases. I’d seen a couple of friendly shots, too—pictures that had probably been pulled from social media of one form or another.

But none of them had done her justice. None of those had shown how much her eyes sparkled or the smile that looked like it was constantly hiding in the corner of her mouth, courtesy of those dimples. I hadn’t been able to see the round, almost cherubic face, and she’d definitely done some sort of magic in those photos to control the hair, which looked like it might be about to eat her head.

This girl was sunshine and lightning and spark in a box.

I was immediately thinking about what it would be like to twirl those curls around my fingers... and then yank on them. Force her head back while I flicked my tongue against that fair, freckled skin. I wondered if she tasted as sweet as she looked.

Then I wondered what the hell I was even thinking, to be thinking something like that.

It definitely wasn’t my standard MO. I wasn’t in the habit of dating people who worked for me. I needed this girl to fix my problem with the American market. That was it. That was all.

As long as she could do that, I didn’t care what she looked like while doing it. I only cared that she could do her job.

She looked awfully young to be as good as she claimed to be, but maybe that was just because she was American. They were less serious over there, I’d heard.

The even bigger surprise was that she didn’t look at all impressed. She looked like this was just another meeting with just another guy, and that right there did set me off a little bit. I had a very big corporation at my beck and call, and I was used to people respecting that.

I was used to people looking at me like I was a big deal. Even if they didn’t believe it themselves.

Daniel Connor, I presume, she said, giving me a cheeky grin that made her dimples even deeper.

I frowned. Obviously. Who else would I be?

She narrowed her eyes like she was confused by that response, and then grew more serious herself. Right, she said firmly Well, you never know, right? Wires might have gotten crossed, etc. Okay then, I suppose it’s nice to meet you.

She supposed?

You as well, Ms. Sawyer.

Call me Eleanor, she said. If you call me Ms. Sawyer, I’ll never respond. That sounds like a substitute teacher. So, tell me more about your company and what you need. And please go heavy on the details. The more I know right now, the better I’ll be able to judge whether your problem is solvable or not. Don’t think you’re going to save any face by lying, either. Under-represent the problem and I’ll end up promising to do something that’s not actually that possible, and we’ll both walk away dissatisfied. So, let’s cut to the chase. Your company has a problem. What is it and how do you expect me to fix it for you?

I was so surprised that I actually jerked back from the laptop on my desk. What was my problem and how did I expect her to fix it for me? Don’t under-represent the problem and don’t lie?

My company had a problem?

Technically, she was right. My company did have a problem, or I wouldn’t have contact her in the first place. I wouldn’t, after all, require a fixer if I didn’t have a problem in need of fixing.

Still.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about this very young, very confident, and oh-so-American girl being so blunt with me. It wasn’t that she was being disrespectful so much as she was being... far too straightforward. Far too comfortable with asking me what she must have known were uncomfortable, even offensive, questions. I didn’t have anyone like that working at the company. I didn’t hire ‘yes’ men, but I did hire people who demonstrated the appropriate amount of respect.

I didn’t like people who asked me straight out if I knew what my company was doing wrong.

I much preferred people who knew that they were dealing with one of the most successful men in the country—and the world, for that matter—and who spoke to me with the right amount of... well, respect.

Wait, I’d already said that.

As she started skimming through some of the cases she’d been on before, evidently to give me some guidance when it came to answering her questions, I realized that what had come across as being too straightforward might actually be an aspect of a very driven, very focused mind. She rattled off high-level corporate details like it was second nature, and when she started in on the solutions she’d come up with for some other companies, I started to see the method to her madness.

If the girl had done half of what she claimed to have done, she was a diamond in the rough. And I had to have her.

Not like that. I know, the hair and the eyes and those fucking dimples and her laughter and the nearly offensive level of confidence that made me want to do things that made her gasp for me and beg for more.

But I didn’t have to have any of those things. I had plenty of women standing in line to satisfy whatever I needed in that regard.

But her mind? Her ability to see through a problem and find the solution with what seemed like minimal difficulty?

Yeah, I needed that. Connor and Company needed that.

And if I was more than a little bit intrigued by her attitude and the fact that she actually sounded like she was talking down to me, lecturing me about how I’d probably let the problems continue for too long and that it would make her job even more complicated? If I was already thinking about when we could do a second meeting, and telling myself that I was going to have to come better prepared for her sharp mind and her even sharper tongue?

If I was already wondering what else there was behind that sparkling, overly bright exterior?

Well, that would just make working together even more interesting, wouldn’t it?

​​

CHAPTER 4

​​ELEANOR

WHEN I FINALLY GOT to the end of the list of contracts I’d handled most recently, along with some of the more creative solutions I’d found—which I always pulled out of my pocket when I really needed to use the big guns—I paused to take a breath... and look at Daniel Connor.

To start with, the guy was a whole lot hotter than I’d been expecting. I mean I’d obviously seen the pictures, catalogued that jaw and the tousled, almost messy hair that absolutely didn’t match the intensity of the gaze. I’d seen pictures of the nearly fluorescent green eyes.

None of those photos had prepared me for the real thing.

And I wasn’t even looking at the real thing. I was looking at the fuzzy through-the-screen version, transported over an entire ocean through my admittedly not-great Wi-Fi. And he was still so gorgeous that it was almost too much to look at straight on.

That was, at the end of the day, the excuse I was also going to use for the reason I was going on and on right now, making every accomplishment sound like I’d defeated an entire army of barbarians to get it done. I almost never bragged about my past accomplishments. I kept the list in my pocket in case I needed it, and I definitely told new clients what I was capable of. But I never hit them with the entire list like this. I definitely didn’t make it sound like I’d been doing any barbarian-defeating while I was working.

So, all this babbling right now?

As stupid as it sounded, it was definitely because I’d taken one look at him and rapidly rethought whether I could actually pull this off or not with those eyes staring at me.

And as it turned out, those eyes could throw a whole lot of shade. Right now, they were staring at me like I was some sort of bug that had surprised him by rattling off ten minutes of nuclear physics. He wasn’t rude, by any means, but I was definitely picking up on an arrogance that I hadn’t really counted on.

Maybe I should have, I realized. The guy was a bazillionaire who owned the largest corporation in the UK, and from what I’d gathered, he had started the company young and with a bang.

He’d probably never had any setbacks at all, and definitely didn’t hear criticism often—unless it was from the girls he dated, who hated that he spent more time with his assistant than he did with them.

And given all that, I should have expected the attitude. He probably thought I was just an American who didn’t know what she was talking about. Probably thought I was too young for the job, and maybe even that I was lying about my own success.

Bastard.

It wasn’t unusual for anyone to think I looked too young for the job, but the thought that he might be thinking that as he stared down his nose at me... Well, it riled me right up.

And I went on the attack.

What, exactly, is the problem with the company? I asked bluntly.

Hey, I needed to know that sort of thing if I was going to fix it for him, right?

His mouth tightened like he was really annoyed that I’d had the guts to ask that... and then he started telling me, in dry, detailed terms, what was wrong. He’d already expanded to Japan, China, Russia, and Dubai, but he’d never come to the States with his business. Six months ago, he’d decided to crack the American market, thinking that it couldn’t be that much different than the market in the UK.

More fool, I, eh? he asked, in what I thought might have been the first sign of humor he’d shown during the entire conversation.

I rewarded him with a small smile. Let me guess. Low interest from Americans in a British company coming in and trying to take over the market. The established companies here fought you with every underhanded effort they could think of. Your sales were never great and started sagging as soon as the other companies in town got a whiff of what you were doing. And I’m betting you went right for the big markets, too. LA, Vegas, New York. Places where it was expensive to build.

He nodded firmly, looking like he’d suddenly started believing that I might actually know what I was talking about. You’ve got it about right. So, what do we do?

I tipped my head back and forth. If I told you that right away, there wouldn’t be much need for you to hire me, would there? This isn’t my first time at the rodeo, Mr. Connor.

A firm, no-nonsense nod told me that he wasn’t going to fight that particular point, and that was a relief, because I’d experienced too many clients who tried to talk me down on price or get advice that they never planned to pay for.

I agree. I’ll need to see your contract first, of course, so I can refine it.

I was so busy jotting down notes for what we could do to fix his problems that I almost missed that statement entirely. When my brain poked at me, though, screaming that he’d just offered me a contract, I looked up, surprised.

Huh? I asked eloquently.

Contract, he repeated. I’ll need to know what sort of contract you’re willing to work with.

Oh. Right. Contract. I tried to reroute my brain to that side of the business, and put my pen down. Well, I’m going to recommend at least six months, so we can make sure everything is fixed. And for that, I think meetings three times a week, at least. Video calls are best for me but we can also do phone, and I’m always attached to my email—

Video calls? he asked, interrupting me. Ms. Sawyer, I will expect you to be in my office every day. I’m not going to pay to see you only three times a week. That would not be very efficient.

I’d already thought this call was going kind of weirdly, but that right there blew everything else out of the park. My brain—and my note taking—came to a screeching halt and I shut my mouth firmly.

Be in his office every day? What? Like... do a meeting with him every day? I mean, I could, but I didn’t think he was going to like the bill he got at the end of the month for that sort of attention.

Mr. Connor, I said, calling upon years and years of working with difficult clients to keep my voice steady and my face expressionless. I’m just not sure that’s going to be necessary. If you like, we can certainly set up meetings every day, but I’d suggest we play it by ear. Schedule three a week and then more if we need them. Otherwise, this is going to cost you a pretty penny.

He didn’t even blink. How much? I’ll double it. And while you’re doing your figuring, add in being in the UK for a full year. I want all your attention on me. No splitting your time between this contract and someone else. If you’re going to work for me, I want to make sure you’re putting everything you’ve got on my case.

Wait, what?

Go to the UK for a full year? I asked, like an idiot who couldn’t understand the words that were coming out of his mouth. Mr. Connor, I was under the impression this was a remote project. Not an on-site situation.

He frowned. What gave you that idea? Certainly nothing I said.

He said it like he’d never said anything even remotely misleading in his life. Which I very much doubted, by the way. I’d known a lot of top businessmen, and I knew that they lied as easily as they breathed, if they thought it would get them a better deal on whatever they were trying to do at that moment.

Still. Now that he said it and I actually started searching my memory banks, I realized that no one had actually said this was a remote position. I’d just assumed it must be, given the distance.

You do realize that I live in New York, correct?

And you do realize that I mean to have the best, and am willing to pay for it. Right?

This was, hands down, the most bizarre negotiation I had ever been through.

Still. As long as he was handing me the strength...

For a full year? That’ll run you $100,000, plus all my expenses, I said, taking a gamble.

It was more than twice what I’d usually make in a year, and bonus, it would be one single project. No shopping for new clients. No getting into a new company and adjusting to their way of doing things, and once I came up with a plan to fix what was going wrong, I’d be in the clear. I wouldn’t have to come up with multiple plans in a single year.