Baby for the Billionaire - By Maxine Sullivan Page 0,103
to his sides. “Look, there’s a lot to be done.”
“And you don’t have time for good, old-fashioned grief,” Victoria said bitterly, as she followed him.
“You’re overreacting.” He looked hunted. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not. I work faster alone. And you need to take care of Dylan.”
Dylan!
She gaped at Connor in horror. Oh, dear Lord, how could she have forgotten about Dylan?
Dylan had lost his parents.
Connor couldn’t leave now. “Connor!”
But Connor was already halfway across the living room. He threw an unreadable glance over his shoulder but didn’t slow down. “When I come back we’ll talk about Dylan.”
One
August, two years ago
The taxi pulled up outside the quaint white church where Suzy and Michael would be getting married tomorrow. Victoria paid the driver and leapt out, tugging her rollaway suitcase behind her.
“Hey, Victoria, over here.” Suzy stood in the churchyard, waving madly from behind a white-painted wooden gate, her curly blond hair bubbling about her face. “I’m so glad you made it.”
“Me, too.”
Opening the gate, Victoria abandoned her suitcase and stretched her arms out wide to give Suzy a fierce hug.
“When my plane was delayed I thought I was going to miss the wedding rehearsal.” She’d been away doing an audit for one of her largest clients. The text message from Suzy that she was getting married in five days’ time had shaken Victoria—although in hindsight it shouldn’t have. Over the past month, everything Suzy said had been prefaced by “Michael says.” But Victoria hadn’t expected the romance to escalate so quickly. “You certainly decided to get married in a hurry, didn’t you?”
Stepping away, Suzy grabbed Victoria’s hand. “Come see what the church committee is doing with the flowers.”
“You’re changing the subject,” Victoria said with fond frustration.
Suzy cast her a grin. “Tory, it’s too late to try and talk me out of marrying Michael tomorrow.”
Victoria smiled at the woman she’d pulled from more scrapes than she cared to remember. “Well, I hope Michael knows what he’s letting himself in for. Is he here yet?”
“He and Connor—his best man—” Suzy tacked on at Victoria’s questioning glance, “are on their way. We’re taking you both out to dinner tonight to celebrate. I booked a table at Bentley’s.” She did a little jig. “I can’t believe it’s the last night we’ll spend apart. Michael can’t wait for tomorrow, either. Come on.”
“Wait, let me grab my bag.” With a laugh, Victoria reached for the bag and let Suzy lead her through a courtyard overflowing with ivy and rambling roses, rolling her bag behind her.
The late afternoon sun filtered through the branches of a lofty Norfolk pine, casting shadows across the sundial in the centre of the courtyard.
Victoria came to a halt. Suzy slowed. “What now?”
“Suz, don’t you think it might’ve been better to wait? You’ve only—”
“Known Michael for a month,” interrupted Suzy, finishing the sentence with the familiar ease that came from twenty-four years of friendship, “but I knew after an hour that he was The One.”
“But Suz—”
Suzy stamped her foot, managing to look sweet and determined at the same time. “No, don’t say anything more. Just be happy for us. Please.”
Now, how on earth was she supposed to withstand Suzy’s puppy-dog eyes? Truth was she’d never been able to say no to Suzy, despite the fact that Victoria was supposed to be the sensible one.
The sound of footsteps prevented Victoria from responding. She glanced around and her eyes widened.
It wasn’t Michael—much as she liked him—who snagged her attention, but rather the dark-haired man who strode into the churchyard beside him. Tall and powerfully built with features that could’ve been carved from granite—angled cheekbones, a blade of a nose and a hard mouth—he made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
Victoria recognized the animal. She’d met them, done audits for the super-successful companies.
A tycoon.
Rich. Assured. Ruthless.
And this was Michael’s best man? Edging slowly forward, she glanced from one man to the other.
Michael’s fair good looks dimmed against the other man’s dark strength. They were as different as day from night. Where had Michael found him?
She must have said something because his gaze met hers. That was when her stomach flipped over. In contrast to his swarthy skin his pale-gray eyes held the unnerving translucence of crystal. But they contained utterly no emotion.
Ruthless.
“Connor North.”
He spoke in a crisp baritone, and Victoria instantly recognized the name. From its outset Harper-North Architecture had garnered buzz and awards for innovative restoration of Victorian homesteads and plans for cutting-edge new commercial buildings.