The Billionaire Takes a Bride

‘What? Oh…’ Then she laughed. ‘Oh, I see what you mean. You’re safe enough in his apartment. He wouldn’t expect anyone to break in there, would he? And it’s not as if it’s his precious secret development stuff you’re after.’

‘But would he believe that?’

‘He’s never going to know. I’ve told you, it’s his sister’s wedding anniversary and he’s playing happy families in Gloucestershire.’

Maybe that’s where he should have been, but he’d clearly been distracted by a pair of silk clad legs…

‘Listen to me, Ginny. It is absolutely vital that you get that disk. I have to prove to my father that I can keep a job.’

‘Why?’

There was a pause, then a sigh, then Sophie said, ‘He’s had enough of subsidising me, that’s why.’

Something she’d never have to worry about, Ginny thought. But what she’d never had, she’d never miss. ‘Hasn’t he threatened to cut you off without so much as a brass farthing at least half a dozen times since you left home? You know he doesn’t mean it.’

‘He does this time and it’s all my sister’s fault,’ Sophie added.

‘What’s Kate done to deserve the blame?’

‘She got married. To a wealthy barrister. A man who will, in the fullness of time, inherit a title and a country estate. It’s put ideas into Daddy’s head. He’s compared the cost of a wedding against the cost of supporting me and decided a wedding makes more economic sense in the long term. He’s actually got some chinless wonder lined up and panting to take me off his hands.’

‘Does he have a title and country estate to look forward to?’

‘Does it matter if he hasn’t got a chin? I have three choices, Ginny. Marry him. Marry someone else. Or support myself.’

‘Tough choice,’ Ginny said.

But Sophie didn’t get sarcasm. ‘The worst!’ she exclaimed. ‘All that’s saving me from a fate worse than death is this job…’

‘He might not be a chinless wonder, Sophie. He might be, well, jolly nice.’

‘Of course he’ll be “nice”. I don’t want “nice”, I want…’ She stopped abruptly. ‘I mean, really, Ginny, would you marry someone your father had picked out for you?’ Then, ‘Oh, damn! I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…’

Oh, rats! Now Sophie felt guilty.

‘It’s okay,’ Ginny said quickly. ‘Don’t fret.’

Despite the fact that they were total opposites in just about every respect, they’d bonded on their first day at school. It had been Sophie who, as the social queen of the class, had saved her from the fallout of being given the kind of name that no five-year-old should be saddled with.

As the solitary child of a feminist scholar—dismissive of playgroups and nursery schools—Ginny had little experience of mixing with children of her own age. She hadn’t realised that her name was odd until she ran into the cruel ridicule of the classroom.

Sophie had recognised a born outsider and, for some reason neither of them had ever quite fathomed, had taken her under her wing. Maybe it was the attraction of opposites. She hadn’t questioned it at the time, too grateful that since everyone wanted to be part of Sophie’s charmed circle the teasing had instantly stopped.

While her odd background, a lack of interest in the latest fashion, boys or parties and an inclination for solitary study had meant that she’d never actually been part of the group, she’d never been an outsider after that, at least not at school.

And once out in the big wide world she’d quickly learned to deal with the rest of the world in her own way.

‘Look, don’t worry. I’ll have another go, okay?’

‘Will you? Thank goodness Philly talked her in-laws into letting you “sit” their apartment for the summer. I just wish you could have had my spare room. Only Aunt Cora has saddled me with visitors for the summer.’

‘It is her apartment, Sophie.’ And, much as she loved Sophie, she was in London to work. She’d get a lot more of that done in the quiet of the McBrides’ apartment.

‘I suppose. And jolly lucky in the circumstances.’

That, Ginny thought, rather depended upon your point of view.

But it would be okay, she reassured herself. By now Mallory would have left for his delayed weekend in the country. All she had to do was get past Mrs Figgis and her duster. Which actually might not be that difficult…

‘Hector,’ she said, as she dropped her cellphone into her bag. ‘You’re back on.’

‘Richard?’

Richard Mallory looked up from the pad on which he’d been doodling a hamster. Wearing outsize spectacles. A slightly dishevelled hamster with a twig dangling over one ear and her cheeks aflame…