A year with the billionaire

Chapter 1

Amanda

‘COMEON, come on, come on...’

I drum my fingers against my knee, my eyes hooked on the blazing green digits that make up the minicab’s dashboard clock. I’m going to be late—so late. The traffic’s bumper to bumper and we’re going nowhere.

Is it always like this? It’s been years since I’ve visited Edinburgh—years since I’ve been in the UK, even. Everything is just so frantic.

I’m used to open spaces—mountains, beaches, bars—and to people who act like they have all the time in the world and the freedom to enjoy it.

Not here, though. Through the drizzle, people are dashing from one building to the next. Suited and booted. Grey and grouchy.

My eyes drift back to the ticking clock and I chew my lip.

I never should’ve helped the woman with the missing luggage, or the child with the vending machine that wouldn’t play ball, or paused to donate some loose change to the busker singing his heart out in the rain before airport security took him down.

But I did...and there’s no going back to rewrite history.

I sigh. It feels like the story of my life—only this time it pains me more than usual.

I should have been here a month ago. Not now, and at the request of a man I don’t know, on behalf of the only woman I have ever loved. My foster mother. Tessa.

Not that she loved me. Not enough to give me the chance to say goodbye.

My nails bite into my palms, their sting worse for the burn behind my eyes.

No, that’s not fair.

I know why she didn’t tell me.

But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Tessa was the closest thing to family I have ever known and now she’s gone.

It’s back to me...just me.

I shrug it off. I don’t do sad. It’s such a waste of life. We only get one, and we have to live it to the full, right? Cram in as much as possible, see the world, no time to pause...

At least that’s the way I see it...even if it’s making me late right now.

I lean forward and meet the cabby’s eye in the rear-view mirror.

‘How much longer?’

He gives a shrug. ‘Ten minutes. Twenty. They’re tearing up roads all over the city—it’s carnage.’

I thrust back into my seat, my knees bobbing. A horn sounds, another chimes in, and I can’t take it any more. Even with my luggage I can walk it faster than this. I look at the satnav, see where I need to be.

Rummaging through my satchel for my purse, I pull out some notes and shove them at him. ‘It’s enough, right?’ I gesture to the meter and he nods, twisting in his seat to eye my luggage sceptically.

‘But...’

‘It’s fine. I’ve got it.’

I shimmy along the seat and shove open the door. It’s a relief just to be out in the fresh air again, and for one brief second I raise my face to the rain and breathe in deep, give the hint of a smile as I feel free again. I’ve spent too long cooped up on planes and public transport, with the journey from Kuala Lumpur seeming to take for ever when it was twenty-four hours tops.

The desire to check in to a hotel and hit a shower is almost enough to see me doing just that. All it would take was a simple call to Mr McAllister to request that the meeting be put off until tomorrow...

Ah, avoidance, thy name is Amanda!

I ignore the inner gibe and slam the door closed as the car behind my taxi gives an impatient honk.

‘Yeah, yeah...okay.’ What is it with this place?

I wave at them and sling my bag onto my back, strike off in the direction of the solicitor’s office. One upside to being heavily laden is that people—those who are looking up from their various devices, at least—clear a path for you. Definitely the right decision to get out of the cab. Even if the weather and the exertion will see me turning up looking less than best.

Less than best... I laugh. As if I even have a best.

Maybe I should have made more of an effort.

Maybe I should have flown in a day earlier, prepared more—physically and mentally.

But then, I’ve never been one for putting on a show, and Katherine respected me for that. Why change now?

And what if he’s there?

I falter on the pavement, catch my shoulder on a streetlamp and wince.

‘There’s no reason he should be there,’ I grumble under my breath, then right my backpack and my stride.

Whatever it is Mr McAllister wants to pass on, it doesn’t necessary follow that Donald will be in attendance too. And if he is going to be present, wouldn’t it have been polite for Tessa’s solicitor to mention it in his email?

Polite, yes. Necessary, no.

My pulse skips a beat and I grit my teeth. I’ve been going round in circles with this ever since I received the email and I’m sick of it. If he’s there, he’s there. I’ll simply have to deal with it. I’m a thirty-eight-year-old woman who knows her own mind and her own worth. I’m not an insecure eighteen-year-old running scared. And I’m more than capable of standing my ground and having a civilised conversation, in Donald’s presence or not.

You weren’t the one who was wronged, though...

I grimace, and the man walking towards me takes a wide berth. Not that I can blame him. I must look half crazed. But debating the past—especially that part—always sends me a little loopy. My mind races ahead, wondering if he’s married now. A father. Happy. Settled.

I feel the answer in my gut. He has to be. A man like him—kind, wealthy, sexy—is an absolute catch. And if he’s happy and settled, maybe he’ll be grateful that I left the way I did.

Yup, you keep telling yourself that, sugar!

I up my pace and ignore the pressing feeling in my chest that the past is finally catching up with me...

Donald’s pov

Nathan clears his throat for the umpteenth time and my eyes narrow on the beads of sweat breaking out over his brow. He hurries to dab it dry with his monogrammed handkerchief, but I’ve seen enough and it’s teasing out an uneasy sweat of my own.

Nathan is the epitome of cool—level-headed, dependable, pragmatic. It’s why my grandmother chose him to manage the legal affairs of her estate. He wasn’t just her lawyer, he was her closest friend too, which makes his discomfort now all the more concerning.

He tries to smile at me, the wrinkles around his grey eyes deepening behind his wire-framed spectacles. He looks like he’s stepped out of the nineteen-thirties, his office too, but I’m not here to appraise his dress or choice of décor. I’m here for the reading of my grandmother’s will. If only he’d get on with it...

I understand that it’s hard for him. Hell, it’s hard for us both. But the quicker we get this done with, the better.

It’s bad enough that my parents didn’t deem the reading important enough to cut their travels short. Enough that for all my grandmother loved and cared for others it’s just me sat here now. Me and whoever it is Nathan has insisted we wait for. Not that he will tell me. I’ve asked. He’s denied.

Curiouser and curiouser, as my Alice-in-Wonderland-loving grandmother would have said.

I don’t return his edgy smile. I adjust my tie and glance at the old grandfather clock that has been a feature of this room for as long as I have known him.

Twenty minutes late. Just how long does he want to wait? I have places to be, people to see, distractions to pursue...

‘We’re both busy, Nathan.’

I drag my gaze back to his, ignore the weight of the lie. Because the truth is I’m not busy enough. It’s been a month since Gran died—a month. And nothing can fill the void she’s left behind. And I’ve tried. I’ve tried everything.