A Priceless Proposal: The Billionaire’s Gamble

Part One

Holly Rayner

Copyright 2014 by Holly Rayner

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in

whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying

and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit

written permission of the author.

All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults. Any resemblance to persons

living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

Conner stood beside the grave long after everyone else had gone. The cemetery had been over-
flowing with mourners an hour ago, but now it was empty except for a lone caretaker digging a grave
on the other side of the access road, and Conner. He didn’t know why he couldn’t leave. It was as if
he had something to say, but as he stood there looking down at the two graves, One almost twelve
years old, and the other one fresh, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it might be.

He and his father had never been close, and as a matter of fact it had been quite the opposite. Clark
Lee McAlpine had been a force to be reckoned with. Conner had always seen him as larger than life,
and immune to the things that affected ordinary humans. He had started his business with nothing but a
dream and a strong will to succeed at the age of twenty-five, and from that he had built a multi-billion
dollar conglomerate that had holdings in virtually every industry in the United States.

Clark had loved only once in his life, and it had been with a fierceness unmatched by anything else he
had ever accomplished. Maggie Montgomery McAlpine had been his wife, his, partner, his true love
and his soul mate. She had also been the mother of his only child, Conner McAlpine, who now stood
at the grave side of both of his parents, and pondered the direction he should take with his life.

Conner had never known the hunger and the drive that his parents had shared. His mother had been
raised in foster care, in a brownstone in Brooklyn with ten other children. She had fought for every
ounce of attention, every scrap of food and every handed down pair of jeans she ever got. Yet, instead
of leaving her bitter and angry, it had left her with a true appreciation for what she did get in life, and
a drive to leave her mark on the world. In spite of the odds against her, she had left the foster home at
age eighteen and through hard work and dedication, she had gone on to obtain a degree in Hotel
management. She’d told Conner once that when she was a little girl, her foster mother had worked as
a housekeeper at the Plaza. She had gotten to go to work with her a few times, and Maggie had fallen
in love with the atmosphere. She said it was a place where people were happy, and she had known
then and there what she wanted to do when she grew up.

By the time Maggie had graduated from college, Clark McAlpine, looking for ways to further invest
the money he had just begun making hand over fist, had bought his first hotel in Manhattan. Maggie
obtained the job as assistant manager, and she worked at the hotel for two years before finally
bumping into its powerful and mysterious owner, Clark.

When Conner was little and Maggie would tell him the stories, she used to tell him that they had both
felt the snap, As soon as they had laid eyes on each other. Conner never knew what that meant, but he
understood that his mother was very much in love with his father, and he with her. After they met it
was only a year before they were married, and another before Conner was born. His mother had
never stopped working. She always had a need to feel like she was earning her own way, and not
riding on the coattails of her wealthy husband. She eventually took over the running of the hotel and
she had turned it into one of the most famous in the world. She hosted guests from all over, and she

always did it with grace and class. Her employees loved her as much as her guests did, and she also
became a great benefactor to children’s programs throughout the city and to the arts.

Conner had loved his mother the way that his father did, above all else and with no inhibitions. She
could have allowed him to be raised by nannies and tutors, but instead she took him with her every
day to the hotel and she introduced him to a world that she told him he would one day own. She hired
people to come to the hotel to teach him math and English and history, but she taught him the things
she said were most important in life. She taught him to be compassionate and warm and not to see
himself as better than anyone else just because he was privileged and others weren’t. Had she lived
longer, who knows how Connor could have turned out? But fate was not content to stand by and allow
it to happen. Maggie was diagnosed when Conner was only twelve years old with an advanced,
aggressive form of breast cancer, which in spite of Clark flying in the world’s most renowned
specialists, took her from them at the young age of thirty-seven.

Clark had never been all that present in Conner’s life. He was a business mogul, and often needed in
a different state, or a different country. Conner hadn’t missed him much, because he had always had
Maggie. His father took him on trips once a year, and always made it home for holidays and his
birthday, but beyond that, Maggie had been his parent, his protector and his rock. Her death
devastated him, and instead of bringing him and his father closer, it had driven them further apart.

Clark had tried taking time from work and being home for Conner, but the loss of Maggie ached like a
severed limb, and it finally consumed him to the point of almost forgetting that Conner was around.
Conner had been left to shoulder his grief on his own, and that had caused an even bigger rift between
him and his father. Then suddenly, before he had even come to terms with the loss of his mother, his
father decided that he should go away to a school in Switzerland for boys. Conner objected, strongly,
but his father told him that Maggie had coddled him too much, and he would never be ready to take
over the business when it was time if he didn’t get out into the real world and get tougher.

Conner went kicking and screaming and until he was eighteen years old, only coming home during
holidays and summer break. The reality of it was that his father hadn’t sent him out into the real
world. He had sent him to a place where power and privilege rose above all else and it molded
Conner’s young mind in a way that would have broken Maggie’s heart.

The other boys at his school were rich and spoiled as well and they spent their days doing what they
had to get by, and their nights roaming the young and incredibly free-spirited town, meeting girls and
breaking hearts. Conner found two things out really quickly. The first was that he could get practically
any girl he wanted to do anything he wanted, on the basis of his looks alone. And the second was that
the mere mention of his father’s name could get him out of almost any bind he had gotten himself into.
It was like a virtual snap of his fingers, making the trouble disappear and consequences practically
non-existent. He had gotten so practiced at saying do you know who my father is? It got to where it
automatically just rolled off his tongue.

Holidays at home were even better. He would have to endure the one or two dinners with his father,
and a lecture or two about his behavior at school, but then he was practically on his own in one of the
big mansions either in upstate New York, in the Hamptons or on Long Island near the beach. He had a

brand new sports car that his father had bought him for his sixteenth birthday and he used it to race
around the island, picking up girls. He held massive parties at the estate, not giving a thought to the
messes that the staff would have to clean up once it was over. He partied hard and he broke a
thousand hearts along the way. Conner thought he was happy, and after he graduated high school and
came home to attend NYU, he continued down the same path.

Lucky for him, he was bright and he didn’t have to study much to get by. Had he applied himself to his
studies, he could have graduated Magna Cum Laude, but he had known since he was a baby that
someday he would inherit the fortune his father, and mother had amassed. He didn’t see the point in
wasting time learning about things he would never have a need for. He was content to wake up each
morning with a different girl in his bed, and to spend his weekends having fun and spending his
father’s money.

Clark was disappointed in how his son was turning out, but instead of taking him under his wing and
teaching him about his business, he just withdrew further away from the boy. Maggie had introduced
Clark to the world of fine art, and when he wasn’t working, he spent time traveling the world going to
one art exhibit or another. She had begun to introduce Conner to it as well before she died, but once
she was gone, Conner couldn’t find the beauty in much of anything any longer. Conner was okay with
his father traveling and collecting his art pieces however, it gave him more time and freedom to live
his life as he chose.

Conner became a favorite of the tabloids. They reported his movements and exploits as if
documenting the growth and development of a nation. He became used to the special treatment he
received when he went places and instead of appreciating his place in society, and giving back to the
community as his mother would have wanted him to do, he began to just expect it and even demand it.

He dated a different girl every week, and their desire to outlast the previous one had them fawning
over him as if he were a prince. Everything that Maggie had tried to teach, or instill in him was
replaced by the opinions and the urgings that his youthful mind had developed after she had left him. It
was like he was in a deep sleep, in the middle of a dream with no plans or desires to awaken until
one morning the phone wouldn’t stop ringing…

He rolled over with a hung-over groan and reached across the naked blonde next to him. It was late
morning, or maybe early noon, he wasn’t sure which. They had been sleeping off a night of hard
drinking and sweaty sex before the infernal ringing had begun. He finally reached and grabbed the
cell phone off the bedside table. He looked at the face of it and saw that the call was coming in from
McAlpine Industries, one of his father’s offices. He pressed the mute button and threw it to the floor
and then snuggled deeper underneath the down comforter and the warm, soft flesh lying next to him.
Cupping a fabulous breast in his right hand, he proceeded to go back to sleep.

That was when the house phone began to ring. He had moved out of his father’s home, and into a
penthouse on Fifth Avenue. He didn’t want full-time staff around in his business, so he had people
that he paid to be on stand-by to clean up after him or cook for him or drive for him as needed.
Unfortunately that meant there was no one here when he was drunk on the afterglow of whiskey and
marathon sex to answer the phone. He picked up a pillow and aimed for the offending object, sitting

across the room on the table between two wing-backed chairs near the fireplace in his big bedroom.
He threw it…and missed. It rang about a million times it seemed before it went to voicemail. He
breathed a sigh of relief, just as his cell phone began ringing again. He reached down into the floor
and groped for it, planning to mute it once more, but he couldn’t find it and as he rolled over to look
off the side of the bed he fell onto the floor.

“Shit!” he yelled as his head bumped the bedside table and his nose hit the lacquered wood floor. The
blonde, meanwhile had slept through it all, and Conner had a fleeting thought that maybe he should
check her pulse. He finally found the cell phone first however and said, “What?”

“Conner, its Sam.” Sam was his father’s best friend, and one of his attorneys. He had been with Clark
for over twenty years and advised him on nearly every project he ventured into. Conner wasn’t
intimidated by much. He was arrogant enough to believe that his presence was enjoyed by most of
those around him. Sam was a different story, however. Conner could always tell that the older man
disliked him. He thought him to be nothing but an irresponsible, immature, playboy.

“Yes Sam, I’m sorry. What is it?” Conner had visions of his father ordering him to appear at a
luncheon or dinner or fundraiser as he did ever so often.

“Conner, your father has had a heart attack,” Sam was saying. Conner was suddenly awake, and as he
sat up straight he asked,

“Is he okay? Where is he?”

“He’s at Memorial hospital, Conner. They don’t think he’s going to make it.”

Conner had shoveled the blonde out the door and raced to the hospital. When he got there, he was
directed to ICU. It was in a wing of the hospital that his father had donated, and Clark McAlpine was
the only patient in a private stretch of it. Sam was at his bedside, as was a middle aged woman in a
nursing uniform. There was a young man, probably Conner’s age in a white coat standing there as
well, looking at a clipboard in his hands.

“Sam?” Conner said as he approached the door. His dad looked like a stranger to him. Clark was
always the picture of health, muscular, tone, active and glowing with energy. Conner had no
memories ever of his father being sick, not even with a cold. Now he lay against the stark white
sheets with no more color in his face than there was on the pillowcase behind his head. IV’s were
flowing into both of his arms and monitors were hooked to his chest and his fingers. There was an
oxygen tube pumping air into his lungs. It was overwhelming to Conner and his head began to throb
and his stomach began to ache. It was a reality check, if the mighty Clark McAlpine could fall, anyone
could.

Sam stood up and told the young doctor, “This is Mr. McAlpine’s son, Connor.”

The doctor shook his hand and said, “I’m Dr. Ewing. Can we speak outside?”

Conner stepped out of the glass enclosed room with the doctor and said, “How is he?”

“Your father suffered a massive heart attack, and I think a stroke as well. The damage to his heart
muscle is extensive, and I don’t believe it can be recovered.”

“Did a specialist see him?” Conner asked, knowing that would be Clark’s first question if it was one
of his loved ones lying in that bed.

“Yes,” he told him. “He was seen by two specialists last night. The first one, a doctor Fitzroy from
France has pioneered a surgery that he believes may help him, but your father doesn’t want it.”

“How long has he been here?” Conner asked.

“He was brought in Friday night,” the doctor told him. It was now Sunday morning, and Conner was
now royally pissed off. He went back in the room and said,

“Sam, why am I just now hearing that my father is here? Why wasn’t I called immediately?”

Sam looked at him sadly and said, “When Clark was awake, he told me not to call you.”

“Why?” Conner asked.

“He didn’t think it would matter to you.” Sam told him, somewhat self-righteously, pissing Conner off
further.

Conner gripped the side of the bed then and said, “Wake up old man! Look at me and tell me to my
face that it doesn’t matter if I’m at your deathbed.”

Clark opened his eyes, frightening Conner a bit as he had not been expecting it. He motioned at
Conner with his fingers for him to come closer and when Conner leaned down, the old man
whispered;

“I’m sorry for failing you. I have always loved you, Conner. I didn’t know how to be a father the way
that Maggie knew how to be a mom. I hope you’ll remember what she taught you. I want you to lead a
productive life, although I did nothing to point you in that direction.”

Conner took his father’s hand in his and said, “You can point me in whatever direction you want to
when you’re stronger. I’ll follow your lead, Dad. Please don’t go, I’m not ready to be left completely
alone.”

Clark tried to smile. The right side of his face drooped slightly as he did. “Just hold your mother in
your heart son, and you’ll be fine. I love you.”

Through the heat of the tears that stung his eyes, Conner watched his father take his last breath and

said, “I love you too, Dad. I’m sorry.”

Now, as he stood at the grave site, reflecting back on his life Conner realized why he hadn’t been
able to walk away. He had been asleep, practically in a coma, allowing the life that his mother had
wanted for him to pass him by. He was awake now, and he intended to seize it. He wasn’t kidding
himself into thinking it would be easy, or that people would accept him readily as he stepped into the
massive shadow of Clark Lee McAlpine, but he owed it to him, to both of them to at least try.

CHAPTER TWO


It had been almost three months since the day that Conner had stood at the graves of his parents and
resolved to change his life. Things were moving slowly and he was somewhat frustrated with the
reception that he had gotten both from the staff at the main house which he had moved back into, and
the staff at his father’s offices who saw him as simply a spoiled, rich, empty-headed playboy who
would very likely be incapable of keeping the company that his father had spent his entire life
cultivating in the black.

He was determined to prove them wrong, however. He had toned down his lifestyle, not giving up his
night life and his women cold-turkey, but at least keeping a lower profile and the paparazzi at bay. He
had also decided to make some changes involving the company. He had done a lot of thinking about
what he could do to honor his father’s and his mother’s memory. The thing that kept coming to mind
was their mutual love of art. While Maggie had been alive, she had hosted many events involving the
arts. She was also a major contributor to several organizations that promoted art in the schools and
community organizations for kids. His father had always been an avid art collector, but after Maggie
died he had continued to honor her memory with donations to the same types of organizations and the
promotion of new artists. His father’s tastes in art ranged from the very old to the very new. He
bought what struck him at the moment, and the family had three houses that were filled with his
collections to prove it.

Conner was in the process of purchasing a large gallery and was at an upscale artsy type bar in
Manhattan simply called Art Bar, trying to schmooze an up and coming artist into moving his pieces
from a smaller gallery where they were currently on display, to his before the opening in just over a
week. This particular artist was someone that his father had bought a few pieces from just before his
death. He was really impressed, he had said, with the young man’s vision.

Just before his meeting with the artist, Conner had just wrapped up another with a buyer who was
very well known in the art world. He was just leaving as the artist arrived and Conner introduced
them. As they talked, Conner let his mind wander to the big event he had coming up, a gala that he’d
planned for the night before the gallery opening. Invitations had gone out to everyone who was anyone
in the art world, from one U.S. coast to the other, and across Paris, Milan and the U.K. as well. The
decorations had been arranged, he had hired a design firm to design the hall around his father’s art
work. All he had left to do was sign a few brilliant artists to impress the art experts and prove his
commitment to his family name.

The artist that Conner met with that day was a dark, depressed sulky type. Conner could tell that the
little man wasn’t impressed with him at all, or his lack of knowledge about the arts in general. Conner
made a note to himself to study up on it more, or perhaps hire an assistant who was well-versed in the
subject. He had hoped that overlapping the two meetings would help him by playing one, the art buyer
off of the other, the artist. As it turned out however the artist wasn’t impressed with money either. The
buyer lost interest and told Conner he’d be in touch, leaving him alone with the sulky artist.

As they sat sipping their drinks for half an hour, the artist went on in a monotone voice about the
feelings he had poured out onto each of his canvasses, and how he was more interested in the
emotional effect it would have on people rather than the monetary return, Conner’s interest waned, if
the guy would only try to put a bit of inflection in it, he thought.

As he feigned listening, his eyes wandered around the bar, and fell on a woman sitting alone at a table
in the far corner. She looked nervous, and Conner noticed how she fiddled with the drink in front of
her rather than drinking it, and glanced at the clock above the bar more than once in the past five
minutes. She had long, dark hair pulled back in a straight ponytail at the nape of her neck, and the
largest brown eyes he had ever seen. She looked like a Disney Princess. She was dressed in a chic,
colorful wrap around skirt and a matching airy type blouse. Conner found her enchanting, but was
forced back into the conversation when the miserable artist asked him how many people he estimated
would see his work if he agreed to display it at the new McAlpine Gallery.

Conner gave him the estimates that his business people had quoted him based on the traffic the gallery
had seen in the past with the old owners, and the significant improvements that Conner had made. He
was happy that he seemed to have gotten at least that right. The artist’s face contorted from what
appeared to be a permanent frown into some semblance of a smile. He then said;

“I suppose we could try it. I wouldn’t want to sign a long contract…in case…”

“Sure,” Conner told him. “We can make it for as long as you like.” He gave the man a business card
and said, “This is my contract lawyer. He’s looking forward to your call. You tell him that I said to
change the contract to fit whatever specifications you’d like.”

The man smiled again, and Conner decided that he was actually more attractive when he was
brooding. Looking across the room again and seeing that the beautiful but sad-looking woman still sat
alone he said to the artist,

“I apologize, but I have another meeting I have to get to now. I can’t tell you how happy I am that
you’ve decided to show with us. I believe it is going to be mutually beneficial.”

The artist shook his hand and as Conner was paying the tab he left. Conner went over to the table
where the dark haired lady with the giant brown eyes sat and said,

“Excuse me, I noticed you sitting here alone, and I thought that a vision as lovely as you should have
company. Would you mind if I join you for a drink?”

The woman looked him up and down, Conner was used to that. He didn’t know the sting of rejection,
because it never happened to him. Women, even married and otherwise entangle women, loved him.

The woman that was sitting at the table was visiting New York from the U.K. She was an up and
coming artist in London, and although she had gained some following in England, she had decided to
try taking her art international, picking New York and the heart of the U.S. art world as her target. She
was there that day to meet the owner of a gallery who had expressed an off-handed interest in

showing some of her work. She had been waiting for an hour, and he had yet to show up. She had seen
Conner. He was the type of man that any red-blooded woman would notice. He had blonde, spiky hair
that she was sure he spent hours making it look mussed, just so. His eyes were a dark, piercing blue,
and she was sure he knew how to use those to his advantage as well. Add that to tall and nicely built
with a fresh, youthful energy that exuded from his pores, she couldn’t imagine that he was often
without a woman to have a drink with.

She guessed that he was also spoiled, arrogant and possibly bordering on narcissistic, and she had no
room in her life for such things right now. Her first impulse had been to dismiss him off hand, but then
she remembered seeing him with Hank Gantt when he’d first come in. Hank was a giant in the
business of buying art works for galleries and if this playboy knew him then maybe it was worth an
hour of her time.

She looked back at his face and said, “Sure,”

Connor sat down, exuding an air of pure confidence. She could almost smell it. He was certain that
she found him attractive, and although she did, it was the last thing that she wanted him to know.
Looks were superficial, Victoria had learned that the hard way. She was interested in the depth of a
person, and she would be willing to bet this man was about two inches deep.

“I’m Conner McAlpine,” he said, hand extended. He even said his name like he expected her to
instantly recognize it.

She shook his hand lightly and said, “Victoria Standish,” The touch between them caused a strange
feeling inside of Conner, something that he’d never felt before and didn’t understand. She was
beautiful, but beautiful women were something that Conner never lacked for, there was something
more…Conner noticed when she had spoken her name that she had a lovely British accent.

“Are you just visiting our lovely city?”

“Yes,” she said. She didn’t offer any more details. She knew this guy’s type, and he was only
interested in whether or not he could get one thing from her. She didn’t intend on giving it to him, but
she’d let him work for it a bit and see what she could get from him in return.

“Are you an artist?” he asked, taking his cue from their surroundings and the colorful, artsy way that
she was dressed.

“Yes,” she said, “I was looking to branch out into the states. What about you?” she asked.

The look of surprise that she didn’t know who he was actually amused Victoria. She could tell that
this was a man whose name alone probably opened most doors.

“I’m opening a new Gallery in a few weeks, The McAlpine Gallery, have you heard of it?”

Victoria had. It was one of the places she intended to contact while she was in New York. There was

a buzz in the art world about it, due to the fact that the heir of a business mogul purchased it as some
sort of proof that he was worthy of the same respect that his father had spent years earning. Victoria
suddenly knew who Conner was, and she was less than captivated.

“I don’t believe I have,” she said. Conner’s facial expression turned from surprise to annoyance with
that remark. He launched into a description of the gallery, and dropped a lot of names in the art
industry as people who would be involved in his project. She questioned him occasionally about
simple things that anyone who fancied themselves as part of the art world should know, and if it had
been a test, Conner would have failed miserably.

“It’s a good thing he’s rich and well-connected,” she thought, “Because he doesn’t know a thing
about art.”

It actually made Victoria a bit resentful of him. She had worked her entire life to get noticed, and once
she had it seemed to her that to most people, art was just a means to make money. They failed to get in
touch with it and see what it really represented. It wasn’t just a job to her, it was her blood and
sweat, right there on canvas.

As Conner talked to this woman, he realized that she knew a lot about art, and the business of
promoting it. He pondered offering her a job, as his assistant, but he thought as an up and coming
artist, she would likely balk at that. He envisioned walking into his gala at the end of next week with
her on his arm, both beautiful and respectable and like the cherry on top of the sundae, well-versed in
the world that he so badly wanted to be taken seriously in. He looked her over and decided that she
would do just fine for what he had in mind. He may not be done sleeping with empty-headed models
and actresses, but he was done being seen with them in public. The incredible sex could be just as
incredible without the snap of the paparazzi the morning after. How much good would it do his
reputation to be seen with a budding, international artist?

Victoria realized that an hour and a half had passed now since her appointment was supposed to have
shown up. She was bored and tired of listening to this pretty-boy go on about something he knew
nothing at all about. She looked at the clock once more and said,

“It was so nice to meet you, but I have a prior engagement I need to get to.”

Conner stood up as she readied herself to leave. He wanted to ask her to go to the gala on his arm, but
it was too soon. He was sure she would say no, so instead he said,

“You know, I’m going to be having a lot of meetings with art buyers and gallery owners in the next
few weeks. Perhaps you could give me your number and I could contact you if any of them might be
interested in speaking with you.”

Victoria was suspicious. She figured he had an ulterior motive, but she couldn’t imagine what. She
was certain that he could walk away from her and have a drink with the next woman, taking her home
for some hot, sweaty afternoon sex when they were done. She was surprised at herself for having that
thought out of the blue. She had even had a flash of a vision in her head of him, shirtless and sweaty.

His pouty red lips swollen from the taste of a kiss…She shook her head slightly to clear it. She was
going to give this man her card…just in case…Who knew? He could possibly, accidentally do
something for her career. She handed him the card and as he took it, their hands touched and she felt a
spark…or something. She decided that she just needed to get out of this hot bar and clear her head.
Two hours in an alcohol soaked room had been over-doing it.

CHAPTER THREE


Victoria opened up her wallet to take out money to pay for her lunch. She had less than a hundred
dollars in her purse and the credit card she had used to pay for her room was less than three hundred
dollars from being maxed out. She had made one or two feasible contacts since she’d been in New
York, but nothing earth shattering, and most worrisome, nothing definite. She had her room rented up
through this week and the next, and she could get by on riding the bus cheaply and very little food. She
had worked out that if nothing good had happened by the end of the following week when the rent on
her little studio apartment came due, she would have to go back to London.

As she sat at a small bistro table looking through her wallet, outside the café where she’d had lunch,
she pulled out the business card that Conner McAlpine had given her a few days before at the Art
Bar. She very briefly considered calling him. He did, after all tell her that he would keep his ear to
the ground for her. She could call just to see if he had made any new contacts that might be interested
in meeting her or looking at her portfolio. She pondered it for a bit, but then came to the conclusion
that as soon as she called him, his over-inflated ego would probably turn it into something it wasn’t.
Based on the articles she had seen about him when she’d researched him online, he would likely think
that she had found him interesting in more than a business sense. Other than a fleeting thought of what
he may look like shirtless and entangled in sheets, Victoria hadn’t considered him in anything other
than a business sense and she wouldn’t call him and give him the satisfaction of thinking otherwise.

She put the money in the holder on the table and got up to leave. She was going to Queens today to
talk to a young man who claimed in emails they’d been exchanging, to know a buyer who may be
interested in some of her pieces. As she headed down the street towards her bus stop her phone began
to ring. Hoping it was one of the buyers or gallery owners that she had spoken with, she fished it out
of her pocket and issued a lively,

“Hello!”

“Well, hello to you, Victoria Standish.” It was Conner. She hadn’t recognized the number, but she did
recognize the egotistical sound of his voice. She wasn’t giving him an inch however, so she said,

“Yes, who’s calling please?”

She could hear the slight bristle in his voice as he was forced to say,

“This is Conner McAlpine. We met a few days ago at Art Bar.”

“Oh…yes,” she said, like she’d had to think about it. “How can I help you?” she asked then, all
business.

“I was just thinking about you,” he said, using his smoothest pick up voice, “A woman as beautiful as
you is hard for a man to get off his mind.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. She really didn’t have time for this man and his games. She issued a curt,

“Thank you,” and then said, “If there’s nothing else…?”

Conner almost stammered at her rudeness. He was beginning to think her name should be Standoff-ish
rather than Standish. He took a breath and went on, however. For the sake of his reputation he at least
needed to try.

“Well, actually I was calling to issue an invitation to you.”

Victoria’s ears perked up at that. Perhaps he was going to offer to show her work, or he knew of
someone who wished to see it and he was going to set up a meeting. She tried to clear her head of the
negative thoughts she had about him as she said,

“Certainly, Mr. McAlpine, I’m all ears.”

Conner laughed, to her dismay, Victoria actually liked the sound of it.

“I think I told you about opening my gallery?”

“Yes,” she said, “In Manhattan?”

“Yes. Well along with the opening, I am having a rather large gala. Too large in fact to hold it at the
gallery. We’ll be having it in one of my family’s hotels this Friday night. I was hoping that you might
consent to being my date for the evening?”

“Um…” Victoria was considering it, not because she wanted anything to do with dating this man, but
because of what he could possibly do for her. She quickly decided that wasn’t who she was either
and said, “I don’t think so. I do appreciate the offer though. Thank you.”

Conner was taken aback. Usually he had women calling him for these events. As a matter of fact he
already had turned three down. Two were heiresses that he spent time with as a kid in the Hampton’s
and one was a model he had met on a jaunt he had done during college into Estonian. That one was
gorgeous and definitely worth a second look, but she wasn’t who he needed on his arm Friday night.
Taking someone like her would just make everyone think, oh look, he hasn’t changed at all . He
cleared his throat, hoping that she wouldn’t hear the surprise or disappointment there as he said,

“Okay, well, suit yourself. I had been thinking of going alone, but then I thought it might be nice to
offer you the exposure that an event like this might bring you.” Then he proceeded to name drop,
telling her about several people who were larger than life on the art front that had already sent their
RSVP.

Victoria’s mind was swirling. She didn’t know what she should do. She really wanted that kind of
exposure, but was it sending this man the wrong message? She thought about that for a minute. Why

was he really interested in taking her? She was sure it wasn’t for lack of other dates. He must also
have an ulterior motive, and if that was the case, then she wasn’t going to feel guilty about hers. She
said,

“Oh! Did you mean this Friday? I was thinking it was next Friday you were talking about and by then
I’ll be back in London. I think that might actually be lovely if the offer still stands.”

Conner wasn’t stupid by far. He knew why she had suddenly realized which Friday he was talking
about. She was hungry for the exposure. That was okay by him, whatever it took to get her there.

“Of course, I’m so glad,” he said. “Give me your address and I’ll be around for you about seven that
evening.” Victoria gave him the information and he hung up with a smile.

“Now how to get the engagement ring on her finger?” he thought.

Victoria went through her clothes one last time before finally admitting that she had nothing to wear to
the event. She sat down on the tiny bed, made smaller still by the pile of clothes in the middle of it
and contemplated what she should do. She thought about using what was left on her card to buy a new
dress, and then just returning it the next day. It wasn’t exactly stealing as long as she took good care of
it and returned it in perfect condition. But, her card was down now to under two hundred dollars, and
she would need shoes and accessories…She was just going to have to call Conner and tell him she
couldn’t go. As she was dialing the number, there was a knock on her door. Wondering who it could
be, she opened it to a man dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform.

The man took off his cap and said, “Miss Standish?”

“Yes…” she said, wondering what this was about.

“My name is Earl and I was sent by young Mr. McAlpine.”

“For?” she asked, more confused now.

The man took out an envelope and handed it to her. She looked at him curiously and then opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note that said,

I realize you may find this a bit odd, and I am hoping that you won’t find it offensive. Although I
noticed your fashionable taste in clothing the day we met, I was pondering the fact that you were
only in New York for a few weeks and may have not brought any formal clothing. I didn’t want to
be the cause of you spending a small fortune on an outfit that you might only wear once. So if
you’ll do me this honor, I’d like you to allow Earl to take you to a dress shop where a lady that
was good friends with my mother would love to help you find whatever it is you need for tomorrow
night.

Again, my offer is only out of respect for you, and in no way am I trying to suggest that you are
incapable of purchasing your own clothing.

Deepest Regards,

Conner


Victoria read it twice and then looked back up at the driver. “Is he serious?” she asked the older man.

“I’m sorry, miss…?”

Victoria said, “Come in, please and have a seat.” Her tone said, don’t argue with me, so the man did
as he was told. She picked up her phone and called Conner. When he answered he said,

“Well, hello, Victoria.”

“What is this?” she said, shaking the envelope as if he could see what she were holding.

“I’m sorry….?” Conner said, repeating the words of his confused driver.

“This note, about the dress? Do you think I am incapable of buying my own clothing? Just what do you
think you’ll get in return for a new dress and pair of shoes?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Victoria. All I was trying to say was that I doubted you had come
equipped with formal wear. If that’s not the case….”

“That is exactly the case,” she said, “But what makes you think I can’t go out and buy a dress and
shoes on my own?”

“I had no such thought,” he said, and to his detriment, he sounded amused.

“Do you think this is funny?” she asked him. “It’s funny that the poor, starving artist has no fancy
clothes to wear?”

“No,” Conner said, unable to hold back his laughter. “You’re just so worked up, it’s cute. Really, I’m
sorry I offended you. You can just send Earl on his way.”

“Oh no,” she said. “Your punishment is going to be buying me the most expensive dress in the shop
now.”

Conner laughed again and said, “I am truly sorry.”

“You will be when you get the bill,” she said before hanging up. She grabbed her purse then and
looked at Earl, “Okay Earl, let’s go.”

When they got downstairs, Victoria knew she shouldn’t be, but she was shocked to see that Earl was
driving a Bentley. He opened the back door for her and she said, “Can’t I ride up front with you?”

Earl smiled and said, “Of course you can.”

He drove her to a posh looking little shop on Fifth Avenue. It was the kind of place where a girl like
Victoria got her ideas out of the window from, but had never really gone inside. They were greeted as
soon as they walked in by an elegantly dressed and coiffed older woman with silver hair. She smiled
warmly and greeted Earl by name. Then, taking Victoria by the hand she said,

“This must be our dear Victoria. I’m Lana and I’m so pleased to meet you.” Victoria was somewhat
taken aback by the woman’s familiarity, but she smiled and said,

“Thank you, I’m pleased to meet you as well.”

“Conner gave me an idea of your sizes and what he was wearing, so I have some things already in the
dressing room for you if you’d like to get started trying them on?”

“Um…sure, thanks,” Victoria said, wondering how on earth Conner would know her size. She
supposed it was another indication of how many women he had been with. She walked into the
dressing room that was almost as large as the outer area of the shop. There were three dresses
hanging on the hook, and they were all stunning. She looked for a tag on one of them, something to
indicate how much Conner was spending here, but there were none. This was probably one of those
places that the person who was shopping here gave no thought as to what they were spending.

She took the first dress down. It was a gold color made of the softest silk she had ever felt. It was
floor length and had a scoop neckline. She slipped it on and cursed Conner once again as she realized
it was a perfect fit. She looked at herself in the full length mirror. It was pretty…but something was
missing. She started to take it off when there was a tap at the door.

“Yes?” she said.

“It’s Lana, would you like us to take a look?”

Victoria wanted to say, “Not really,” but good manners dictated that she say instead,

“Sure, I’ll be right out.”

Lana and apparently Earl both loved the dress, but agreed it left something lacking. The second one
was pink and just not really her color at all. The third one, however was also floor-length and it was
silk with a lace over-lay. It was a soft brown color that really set off her eyes. The neckline was
rounded, but not scooped, but the back was cut to her waist. She loved it, and it made her feel…
sophisticated.

Lana and Earl concurred, and as she was picking from the shoes and handbags Lana had laid out for
her, she launched into a story about Conner as a child. It was a cute, funny story about a time when
she and his mother had taken him to the beach and he had seen a sea lion. Conner had wanted to bring
him home and had cried when his mother told him he couldn’t. Instead, she had taken him afterwards
to the gift shop and bought him a stuffed one. He had named it “Yion” and Lana said that right after
Maggie had passed on she had gone to the cemetery to take some flowers. There, on top of the
gravestone had sat “Yion.” She was touched to tears, she said, but she took him home out of fear that
someone would steal him. She gave him back to Conner on his eighteenth birthday and he had cried.

Victoria was touched by the story too, but she wondered why Lana was sharing it with her. Surely
Conner hadn’t told her that they were dating? Earl carried the things she had gotten, and after thanking
Lana again, profusely, she headed out the door. Earl turned back around before he left and said
something to Lana, and she nodded her agreement and smiled. Lucky for Conner, Victoria hadn’t
heard them. Earl had said,

“I think his mother would have definitely approved of Conner’s choice of brides.”

Hair and nails done, elegant dress and shoes on, Victoria sat ready to go just before Conner was
supposed to pick her up. She loved the dress and the shoes, and she had found a chic necklace and
earrings at a vintage store near her flat that matched perfectly, adding the needed final touch. She was
excited about the gala, but also somewhat nervous. Spending the evening amongst the big wigs of the
art world definitely appealed to her, but an evening with Conner was a different story. As if on cue,
there was a knock on her door.

Victoria took a deep breath and pulled it open. Conner stood there looking like he had just transported
off the cover of a GQ magazine. He was literally gorgeous and she could feel her heart, against her
better judgment, quicken in her chest.

“Wow,” he said, “You look…amazing.”

Victoria smiled. “Thank you.” She said, “You look very nice too.” If nice translated into knock your
socks off, drop-dead gorgeous that was.

“Are you ready?” he asked. She told him she was and he held out his arm. Instead of taking it, she
turned and locked the door to the flat and just followed along beside him. She had been expecting the
Bentley, and had prepared herself for riding in the back seat of it with Conner. Her mouth fell open
however as they walked outside and at the curb there sat a smoke gray stretch limo. Earl had the door
held open and she could see that it looked like a nightclub inside with the rounded leather seats and
wet bar. She forced herself to close her mouth and allowed Earl to help her in.

On the way to the gala, Conner tried to make small talk with Victoria about everything from politics
to current events. He began to wonder as they drove along if she truly disagreed with every opinion
he had, or if she did it just to annoy him. Either way, he was annoyed.

Meanwhile, Victoria sat on her side of the big, leather couch in the back of the big, silver car and
fumed at the unfairness of life. She had worked since she was fifteen years old, first selling her
paintings at the Borough Market in London to help her single mother put food on the table, and then
after she was grown up, to put food on her own table so that she could pursue her art career. She
doubted that Conner had done anything even one day of his life that could be considered real work,
yet here he was with money to throw away on not one, but two ridiculous gas burners and a driver to
boot.

When they got out of the car in front of the chic hotel, Victoria hadn’t been prepared for the barrage of
press snapping photos. She was practically blinded by them. Conner, obviously used to paparazzi
hounding him used his body like a shield to protect her. She was grateful to him, but still couldn’t
bring herself to be nice enough to him to say so.

They walked into the lobby of the hotel and that was almost as bad, but without the reporters. The
staff of the place had come out in full force to greet their new young owner. Victoria stood by and
watched as Conner worked the crowd. He was a pro, but it also looked like there was genuine
affection between him and some of the older staff. He knew all of their names and some of them even
gave him a big hug. Victoria thought that they must know a different Conner McAlpine than the rest of
the world did.

When he finished, he held his arm out to her once more, and not wanting to make a scene, this time,
she took it. He escorted her down a long hall towards the ball room. There were signs set up that
indicated the Gala for the grand opening of the McAlpine Gallery separated by gold velvet ropes. Just
before they had gotten to the ball room, Conner grabbed Victoria by the waist and pushed her into an
alcove.

“What are you doing?” Victoria asked him, appalled.

“Shh,” he said, give me your left hand.

“Why? Are you crazy? What are you doing?”

Conner actually physically grabbed her left hand and shoved a diamond ring on her ring finger.
Victoria looked down at it and for a few seconds, it was huge and gorgeous and she was spellbound,
but only for a few seconds. Conner was trying to pull her towards the ball room now and she was
pulling back, trying to get her hand free so she could take the ridiculous ring off her finger.

“Stop struggling, you’re going to cause a scene.” Conner told her. She came to a dead stop then. If he
wanted to continue moving forward, he would have to drag her.

“Me? Cause a scene? I think you’re the one who has started acting like a maniac. What the hell are
you trying to do?”

“Trust me, please. I’ll explain in a bit, I promise.” He was whispering, and he stopped long enough to
smile and say hello to a couple walking by, looking at them curiously.

Victoria noticed the looks. She was hoping to make a few good contacts tonight. This was going to be
her last chance in the States. She didn’t know when or if she would be able to afford to come back.
Giving him a look to kill and jerking her arm away from him she said,

“This better be good.”

He grinned at her and said, “Oh, it will be. Just follow my lead.”

To prove to him that she followed no one’s lead but her own, Victoria stormed into the party ahead of
him.

CHAPTER FOUR


Victoria stopped just inside the hall, awed by the loveliness of the room. It had been decorated with
art pieces. Some of them looked really old and rare while others were obviously new and
contemporary. They had been arranged amongst each other and the end result was a feast for the eyes,
especially if those were eyes that had drank in everything art related since the age of three. If Victoria
had a personal idea of heaven, this was it. She couldn’t wait to make the rounds and get a closer look
at each piece.

She turned to ask Conner which Gallery all of these things had come from. If it were his, it was going
to be a very successful place indeed. He was speaking with a stylishly dressed elderly couple and
when he saw her turn around, he grabbed her arm and pulled her up against him. He had once again
completely caught her off guard, and before she could protest he told the couple,

“May and Richard Hanson, this is Victoria Standish, my fiancé.” Conner realized that the look of
shock on Victoria’s face was going to give him away, so he leaned in quickly and gave her a peck on
the lips. The elderly couple were beaming.

“So lovely to meet you, my dear,” the woman was saying, “What do you do?”

Victoria was so dumbfounded that at first she couldn’t find her voice, but when she did she said,

“I’m an artist, I paint.”

The man looked around the room then and said, “Oh my! A British artist no less. Did you paint any of
these? I was just telling May how fabulous they all are.”

“No, um…I…” she wasn’t sure what to say next. Conner saved her, and again surprised her by
saying,

“Victoria will be revealing her collection at the opening of our gallery next week.”

“That’s so wonderful,” May said, taking Victoria’s hand and giving it a squeeze. Then she noticed the
rock on Victoria’s finger and said, “Oh my. What a lovely ring dear.”

Victoria looked down at the foreign object that had been forced onto her finger and said,

“Yes, it is quite lovely, isn’t it?” Victoria looked up at her fiancé. He was beaming.

“Maggie would be so proud of you, Connor. You’ve come such a long way. I only wish she had been
here to see that you not only chose a lovely young lady, but an artist as well. She would have been so
thrilled.”

“Thank you, May. My fiancé and I are going to make the rounds now and greet our other guests. I hope
you two enjoy yourselves.”

As they walked away with Conner once again guiding her, Victoria asked him,

“When the hell are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Conner pulled her into a corner where they were out of earshot of the guests and said,

“I’m sorry, I would have run this by you first, but you’re kind of…”

“Kind of what?” she snapped.

“Angry, all the time.”

“I beg your pardon,” she said, crossing her arms. “I am not angry…all the time. You make me angry
however. This ruse is ridiculous and I demand to know what it’s all about.”

Conner glanced around again to make sure that no one was listening and said,

“When my father died, I was entrusted with the care of the company he spent his entire life building. I
wasn’t exactly revered in the eyes of his employees and colleagues. I’m trying to rectify that as well
as bringing something new and exciting to the company. Everyone here knows my history, however,
and they know that I am no art buff. I need a connection to someone who is. I need you to pretend to
be that connection…just for a little while, please. In the meantime, you get to rub elbows with the art
world that you love and meet people that can further your career. It’s a win-win.”

Victoria was looking at him like he had two heads. She really and truly couldn’t believe the nerve of
this man. She had never in her life met anyone with the type of ego and desire for self-promotion that
ran rampant through his body. As she was about to tell him so, a woman that she herself recognized,
named Laura Schuster came up to them and said,

“Conner, this is such a nice party. And don’t even get me started on these art pieces. I want to buy
them all.”

Conner kissed each of her cheeks and said, “Laura, you’ve been trying that for years and it hasn’t
worked yet. I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Victoria Standish. Victoria this is…”

Victoria held out her hand before Conner finished and with a look of pure idolization she said,

“Laura Schuster, wow.”

Laura smiled at her and said, “Now how would a young Englishwoman such as yourself know who an
old American has-been artist is. Conner, did you tell her to say that?”

Conner shrugged and laughed. He was just as surprised as Laura was. Victoria said,

“Miss Schuster I love your work. I’ve followed your career since I was twelve years old. I know that
after you retired as an artist, you became a collector. I’ve seen photos of your collection. It’s
incredible.”

Laura smiled and cupped Victoria’s chin in her hand. She looked the girl over and said,

“Conner, this one’s a keeper. I hope you’re finished with those silly little empty-headed models
you’re used to dating.”

“Completely,” he said, “Victoria has stolen my heart.”

Victoria fought the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she smiled at Laura again. She couldn’t believe that
she was meeting the woman face to face. She had truly been one of Victoria’s childhood heroes.
Laura moved on and after she was out of earshot Conner said,

“See, that’s exactly why I need you.”

Victoria did roll her eyes at him that time, but she no longer protested. She said instead as she gazed
around the room,

“Who do all of these pieces belong to?”

“My father,” he said, and then caught himself, “I guess they belong to me now.”

“What gallery are they from?” she asked.

“Gallery?” he asked, confused.

“Please tell me they’re not just sitting in a warehouse somewhere. That would be a crime.”

“No, of course not. They’re in my houses.”

Victoria raised an eyebrow. “Houses?” she said.

Conner felt his face flush hot. For some reason this woman made him feel guilty for being rich.

“Yes, my father left me three. The pieces are distributed amongst them.”

“Oh, but Conner do you understand how rare some of these pieces are? How tragic it is that they’re
not able to be accessed by the public?”

Conner glanced around again. He had seen most of the pieces a thousand times. “Not really,” he said,
“But it’s your area of expertise so I believe you. This was my father’s private collection. He

obviously wanted it that way.”

“You should put them in your gallery.”

“No, they should stay where my father put them. The collection, my Dad’s fascination and eye for art
as well as my mother’s appreciation for all things artistic was my inspiration for opening the gallery.
I wouldn’t want to sully my father’s memory after doing all of this by moving his collections from
where he had left it.”

“That makes no sense, Conner…” She was interrupted by a couple of young men that approached
them.

“Conner McAlpine, you’re as yummy as ever,” one of the men said.

“Michael, I’m right here,” the other teased.

The first man, Michael put his arm around Conner and said, “Charlie is so lucky that you’re straight.”

Conner laughed. Victoria wasn’t surprised to see that he didn’t look at all uncomfortable with the
teasing from the gay couple. He was definitely someone that she would guess was comfortable in his
masculinity. “Victoria, this is Michael and Charlie. They’ve been friends since I was in diapers.”

The man named Michael took Victoria’s hand and said, “He was even hot in those days,” he told her,
playfully.

“Stop it, Michael!” Charlie scolded him. “This is obviously the fiancé we heard about. You’ll give
her ideas that he man might stray.”

Conner looked at Victoria and said, “She knows that she’s the only person for me.” He emphasized
the word “person” and Michael feigned a pout. They both turned serious then and told Victoria how
nice it was to meet her. They congratulated her and Conner on their engagement and then Michael
noticed the ring.

“Oh my God! That thing is huge!”

Victoria laughed, “Yes, a bit too much, isn’t it?”

The look on Conner’s face when she said that was hilarious. “What do you mean too much?” he said.

“I don’t know,” she said scrunching her face like she was thinking. “It’s a bit…pretentious.”

“What is it pretending to be?” Conner asked her. The couple were just watching them obviously
amused at the exchange.

“I don’t know, it sort of cries out, Look at me! I belong to a rich man! Don’t you think?”

“Would you prefer I bought you one instead that cries out you belonged to a poor man?”

“Oh no, dear, I love this one because you bought it all on your own. I was only saying that I wouldn’t
have gone so quite over the top about it.”

Conner looked irritated, and Victoria loved it. She was having fun now. After the couple had moved
on he said, “What was that?”

“What was what?” she asked, innocently.

“All that stuff about the ring?”

“I was only stating my opinion. I’m sorry, is that not allowed?”

Conner sighed. She was an exasperating woman. He felt like he wanted to strangle her sometimes and
he had only just met her! He could only imagine the fantasies he would have if he were actually
engaged to her.

“As long as we’re on the subject of my opinion,” she said, “I really, really wish that you would re-
think your decision about keeping your father’s collection away from people who could learn and
grow from it, or just get plain happiness from looking at it. I don’t think you realize how rare some of
these pieces are.”

“Maybe not,” he said, “But you’re not going to convince me to put these things out where they can get
ogled and touched and slobbered on. They were really important to my father.”

“Yes, they were,” came a voice from behind them. They turned to see a young man with long dread-
locks running down his back. He was dressed in a suit, but it was obviously not of the quality that the
other guests were wearing. Conner looked like he had bit into a lemon as he said,

“Victoria, this is Nathan. He worked for my father.”

“And now I work for your fiancé,” he said, shaking Victoria’s hand. She was shocked by how fast the
word of her and Conner’s engagement had made it around the room.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said.

“As I am you,” he told her. “I understand that you at least know something about these incredible
pieces of art.”

That had been a direct zing at Conner. Victoria could tell that it made him angry, but to his credit he
let it go and didn’t say anything. “I do know a little about art, and yes these are incredible pieces. I
was just telling Conner that they should be on display where people can enjoy them.”

“I tried to tell Clark that, many times. It would seem that the McAlpine’s are all a bit stingy with their
things.” Again, Conner gave him a nasty look, but kept his mouth shut. Victoria was at least impressed
with his self-control, if nothing else.

Nathan told Victoria it was a pleasure to meet her and then he and Conner did that head-nod thing that
men do. He went off to speak with another young couple nearby and Conner said,

“I can’t stand that guy.”

“What does he do?” Victoria asked.

“He decorates offices.” Conner said, simply.

“He’s an interior designer?” Victoria asked.

“Whatever, he’s an idiot.”

“Why? Because he disagrees with you?” Victoria asked. Before Conner could utter another flippant
reply, he was being called to the podium. It was time for him to give his speech, revealing his vision
for his newly obtained gallery.

Victoria went with Conner and sat in a chair reserved for her off to one side of the podium. She
listened to Conner welcome everyone and thank them for coming. He then called attention to some of
the more V.I.P. guests in the room and would wait for the applause to die down before he went on. At
last he got to the point, the gallery.

“As you all know, since you are here helping me celebrate, McAlpine Industries has recently made a
decision to go into the art industry. My parents were both lovers of art, and strongly supportive of it
as well. I wanted to take the company in a new direction after my father’s death, but I wanted to do it
while still maintaining his vision, and respecting his memory. That’s why I decided on the art gallery.
The gallery is only the beginning. Once it’s up and running, I plan to start a whole new division at
McAlpine, devoted specifically to the acquisition of fine art and the promotion of new and up and
coming artists like my beautiful fiancé, Victoria.”

Victoria really wished he had left her out of it. So far this evening, she hadn’t agreed with a single
thing he had chosen to do when it came to art. She was thrust in the spotlight however so she forced
herself to stand and smile and act like she was happy to be a part of all of this as the guests applauded
her. She was, but not for the reasons the other guests were thinking. She hadn’t realized it, but
apparently Conner had allowed a few members of the press in and now they were raising their hands
to ask questions. The first one that Conner called on was a middle-aged man. He said he was with
“The Sun” and asked,

“What do you mean when you say Acquisitions of fine art Mr. McAlpine?”

Conner smiled and said,

“I mean that my company will be in the business of buying, and then somewhere down the line, selling
fine art.”

“So you would sell this art to private collectors?” another man asked.

“That would be the idea, yes.” Conner said.

“Would some of it be displayed in your gallery?” A woman near the front asked.

“Yes, absolutely. I plan to rotate the pieces through. In order to keep the gallery fresh, the pieces that
were formerly on display would then go up for sale.”

There was an audible gasp in Conner’s gallery of art enthusiast guests. Conner didn’t understand what
he had said or done. Victoria knew. As an artist, the idea of her paintings being pandered about as if
they were merchandise at a yard sale bothered her. But, she had come to terms with the fact that this
happened when you were new and young and in the early stages of your career. The thought, however
of say, The Mona Lisa being sold to the highest bidder, and then resold and on and on, being hidden
from the pubic rather than on display for all to see, well that just made her sick to her stomach.

Conner answered a few more questions and ended by inviting the press to the opening of McAlpine
Gallery the following day. When he finished he went over to Victoria and said,

“I believe it’s almost time for dinner to be served, would you like to take a seat?”

“Yes,” she said, but added with a grin, “I’m afraid to sit too close to you. I may get hit in the crossfire
when they stone you.”

“When who stones me?” he asked, clueless.

As they walked to their table, Victoria said, “Conner, you can’t stand up in front of a roomful of art
lovers and talk about buying and selling art like maybe it’s a stock or a bond.”

“Why?” he asked her, pulling out her seat at the table, and taking one next to her.

“Because art is created from someone’s heart and soul. The first time I sold one of my paintings, I
cried for three days because I missed it so, and I wasn’t sure if it had gone to a good home.”

Another couple were taking their seats across from them when Conner said,

“It’s just a painting, or a sculpture or whatever. It’s not like it’s a living breathing thing like a puppy.
Who cares whose home it goes to? You sold it, isn’t that your goal when you’re creating it?”

The woman gasped and Victoria looked up. She recognized her instantly. Her name was Edith Rae
and was an art critic for one of the most famous art magazines in Europe.

“I was going to sit down and compliment you on the evening and your alleged respect for art. Now,
I’m not so sure.”

Conner’s face went red. “Mrs. Rae, my fiancé and I have fun quibbling over our differing opinions. I
hope you won’t hold what you heard me say against me. I was just having a bit of fun at my fiancé’s
expense.”

“Hmm,” the older woman said, not quite buying it. Then she looked at Victoria and said,

“Hello dear, I’m Edith.”

Victoria smiled and put out her hand, “Yes, Mrs. Rae, I follow your column religiously in European
Digest.”

“You’re British! How nice, and you’re an artist as well?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Victoria said. She couldn’t believe that she was actually sitting here talking to Edith
Rae.

“What type of art?” Edith asked her.

“I’m a sculptor and a painter. I paint landscapes from photographs that I take, and I sculpt landscapes
as well. I’m…I mean I was in the States thinking of perhaps getting a studio here and expanding my
outreach when I met Conner.”

The older woman glanced at Conner again. Victoria could tell that she didn’t quite approve of him.
Then she said,

“I knew Conner’s father Clark very well. A lot of the pieces he bought over the years were based on
recommendations I made. As I look at them tonight, however, I wonder if I did the right thing.”

“Why is that?” Conner asked her.

“I wasn’t aware of Clark’s selfish intentions at the time. I’m not just an art critic. I am an artist as
well, and I, like your young fiancé here, have concerns about rare art being locked away from the
world who was meant to see it.”

Conner gave Victoria a sideways glance and then he said, “She’s teaching me a lot about art, Mrs.
Rae. I hate to admit it, but I was practically ignorant about it before we met.”

“I believe that,” Edith Rae said sharply. Then looking back at Victoria she said, “Do you have a
portfolio dear?”

Victoria’s mouth went dry and she said, “Yes, I do.”

“I would love to see it.” Edith Rae pulled a card out of her bag and handed it to Victoria. It was her
business card. “Give me a call in a few days, dear and we’ll set up a time if you wouldn’t mind me
taking a look.”

Victoria tried to restrain herself. She wanted to scream out and jump up and throw her arms around
the woman. She cleared her throat and said,

“I would be honored. Thank you.”

Business with Edith Rae can be a tricky thing. Her opinion was so widely respected that it could
make or break you as an artist. She chose only twelve artists a year to be highlighted in European
Digest. If you were chosen by her, your career was well on its way to success. However, there is
another piece to the column she does monthly and it’s essentially a list of artists who Edith says
should “Keep their day job.” If you fall into that list, your career is not necessarily over, but the climb
from there would be rough, and all uphill. Victoria was willing to take that chance. She had
confidence in her work. She poured her soul into each piece, and she was ecstatic to have Edith look
at it.

Later in the evening, after dinner was done there was dancing. Victoria didn’t care for the idea of
being pulled in close to Conner, so she tried to avoid him during that time. She spoke to many
different people that night, and made contacts based on the fact that she was Conner’s fiancé that she
would have never made otherwise. As she was speaking to one young artist who had just signed with
a large Gallery, some of the newer contemporary paintings in Conner’s father’s collection had been
painted by her, Conner found Victoria at last and giving her a peck on the cheek and putting his arm
possessively around her waist he said,

“There you are, dear. I’ve been looking everywhere. I want to dance with my gorgeous fiancé.”

Victoria, again, resisted rolling her eyes and sighing. Conner was good at this pretending thing. It was
no wonder that he had a different woman on his arm each week with his ability to issue a compliment
to anyone with complete sincerity. Victoria knew this from watching him all night, and in his next
breath he proved her right by looking at the artist Victoria was speaking to and saying,

“Clarissa Wright? Is that you? I didn’t recognize you tonight. You look stunning.”

The girl giggled and blushed and as annoyed as Victoria had been with him all night she was actually
proud of him at that moment. Clarissa Wright weighed about three hundred pounds. Her hair was
literally chopped into little spikes that stuck out all over her head, and were dyed a bright orange. She
had chosen, for whatever reason, to wear a form-fitting, bright orange dress and not the slightest bit of
make-up on her face, which was unfortunately covered with angry red blemishes. She was a nice girl,
however, and Victoria was sure that from what she knew about how the world worked, she didn’t
receive many compliments on her appearance. Conner had just delivered one as sincerely as he
would have to a movie star. From the look on Clarissa’s face, it had made her day.

“Will you excuse us, Clarissa?” He asked the young girl. “I’d like to have this dance with Victoria,
and then I’ll be back for the one that I hope you’re saving for me?”

The young girl giggled again and Conner led Victoria out to the dance floor. He pulled her in close as
they danced, and as she had suspected, he danced like he did everything else, perfectly. It made her
mad. She was once again thinking about the way the world was just automatically swayed towards
certain people for whatever reason. Some people were good looking, some were rich, and some were
talented. In Conner’s case, he was everything rolled into one. His talent lay in his ability to make
people believe whatever he wanted them to, especially if that person is female. Victoria promised
herself as he held her against his chest and they glided across the floor that she wasn’t going to fall
for any of it. Tonight was a business deal, sort of, and she planned on walking away without any of
the scars that she was sure women who let Conner under their skin ended up with. She glanced up at
his face and he smiled at her. His dark blue eyes sparkled when he smiled, and his lips were so full.
She had a flash back to the other evening when she had visualized him with his lips dark red and
swollen from kissing. She shuddered and told herself to stop it.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No, why?”

“You shivered and look,” he said holding out her arm, “You have goose bumps.”

Victoria cleared her throat and continued to concentrate on clearing that image from her head. She
was mad at herself, and it made her mad at him too.

“I’m fine.” She snapped. Conner grinned at her. That made her even angrier.

As the night came to an end, Victoria and Conner circulated the room and said their “Thank you” and
“Goodbye’s” to everyone. Victoria was overwhelmed at how nice people had been to her. She got the
feeling that Clark and Maggie McAlpine had been so revered that the people who loved them had
been disappointed in the way Connor had turned out. Tonight had proved to them somewhat that he
was at least trying to grow up and get serious about things that had mattered deeply to his parents and
things that still mattered to these people. Victoria knew that she had helped with that, and she herself
had a collection of business card from people that she may never have met otherwise.

It had been fun dressing up too. Victoria was so wrapped up in her studio back home that she didn’t
get out often, and when she did it certainly wasn’t on the arm of a billionaire. Conner most definitely
had his faults, and Victoria had a good time in her head listing them, but she had to hand it to him that
tonight had been a success for them both.

Conner was feeling almost euphoric. He was nervous at first about getting Victoria to go along with
all of this, but she had done great. Their mutual mistrust and dislike of each other had actually played
well for them all evening. Conner had several people ask him how their relationship worked,

considering the fact that they seemed to have a different opinion on just about everything, but most
especially art. He had laughed it off, and Victoria had gone right along with him, saying that was what
added the spark or the passion to their relationship.

When the last guest had left, Conner took Victoria’s arm and began to lead her out of the ballroom.
She turned back around and looked at the art pieces that decorated the room.

“Are these going back to your houses tonight?”

“No, I have that arranged to happen tomorrow.” He told her.

“It’s dangerous for them to be here, you know.”

Conner looked confused when he said, “How so?”

“You’re inviting in art thieves. These pieces have been on display, being photographed all night. Any
art thief in the world that was paying attention will probably be here, or at least send someone here to
see if they were left unprotected overnight.”

“They won’t be left unprotected,” he said, “I’m not an idiot. The room will be locked and the hotel
has security.”

She shook her head, he just didn’t get how truly valuable his father’s collection was.

“What?” he asked as they headed back down the hall towards the hotel lobby.

“You just don’t get it. The things in that room are unique, one of a kind, irreplaceable…”

“Okay,” he said, “Would it make you feel better if I call one of our armed security companies?”

“You own armed security companies?” she asked.

“A few,” he said. Victoria was beginning to wonder if there were anything that he didn’t own. She
waited while he went to the lobby desk and talked to the night manager, then he made a few calls. At
last he said, “Okay, all set. Ready?”

Earl was waiting for them and as Victoria got into the car he said,

“Did you have a nice time, Miss Standish?”

Victoria smiled, she like Earl. “Yes, it was lovely, thank you, Earl.”

When Conner got in behind her, she scooted across the seat away from him. He said,

“Why are you so nice to everyone but me?”

“You’ve given me no reason to think that you deserve it,” she told him.

“Really? You have on a five thousand dollar dress and a thirty thousand dollar ring that I bought just
for you. None of that warrants you being nice to me?”

“You can’t buy people, Conner. I only accepted the dress because you insisted I come to this party
with you. And the ring,” she said as she wriggled it off her finger, “Why on Earth would you use a
thirty-thousand dollar ring for this silly ruse?”

Conner looked at her seriously and said, “I don’t want it to be a ruse, Victoria. I want you to keep the
ring, and be my wife.”

Victoria laughed hysterically at that. Conner sat stone-faced the entire time. When she finally stopped
laughing, she said,

“What is wrong with you? We barely know each other and what we do know, we don’t like. What in
the world would make you think I would want to marry you?”

“Look,” he said. “What I’m offering you here is not a husband, necessarily, but a business deal. How
many good contacts did you make in there tonight?”

“A lot, but…”

“But, if they find out we were just yanking their chains in there tonight, do you think they’ll still be
interested in doing business with either of us?”

Victoria hadn’t thought of that. She had been too busy reveling in the moment.

“But, to marry you? That’s just insane.”

“I’m not saying we run down and see a justice of the peace tonight or tomorrow, but we stay engaged,
and we go from there.”

“It’s ridiculous,” she said, thinking about what Edith Rae’s column might say about her if when they
met, she found out that Victoria and Conner weren’t really engaged. “I have a flight scheduled back
home to London tomorrow. My rent is due on my flat here, I don’t have the funds left to stay longer.”

“I’ll pay you.” He said.

That just made her angry all over again. “You think that you can buy anything, including people. What
was wrong with your parents, not teaching you any better?”

Now Conner was mad. “Say what you will about me, but leave my parents out of it. My mother was

the kindest, hardest working most decent wonderful person you could have ever met. Whether what
she taught me stuck or not is not her fault. Besides, Victoria I am not buying you. I would be paying
for your time, like…”

“A prostitute?” she said.

Conner laughed, “No, I was going to say a personal assistant. We’re just going about it in an
unorthodox way. Most of the people in there tonight were old-school. They wouldn’t trust me any
more than they already do if I simply hired an assistant. If they think I’m worthy, however, of
marrying an up and coming artist who is very well versed on everything artistic….well, then they
respect me more. And as you saw tonight, there’s much in it for you other than a paycheck.”

Victoria had to admit to herself that he was right about what was in it for her. She told herself that no
one had to know she had allowed this man to pay her to pretend to be his fiancé. They could have a
long engagement and break up way before wedding plans were even taking shape. Victoria couldn’t
believe that she was actually considering this, but she was, seriously.

“I might agree to do this, but I need time to think about it.”

“You’re the one that says she has to go back to London or pay her bills here tomorrow.” He said.

“Give me tonight,” she told him. “I’ll meet you somewhere tomorrow and we’ll talk.”

“I don’t want to risk someone overhearing. When I go out, especially with a beautiful woman,
reporters are everywhere. I will have Earl come and bring you to my house. What time would be
good for you?”

“I suppose just after lunch time will do.” She said.

“I’ll have him get you just before lunch. Then we can eat together. If you decide not to do this, I’ll
have him take you to the airport.”

“Isn’t your gallery opening tomorrow night?” she asked.

“Yes, and I would like to go with my fiancé on my arm.”

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow,” she said. They were driving up in front of her flat. Earl came around
and opened the door, allowing first Conner, and then her to step out. She thanked Earl, and noticed
that Conner was following her. “I can walk up the stairs by myself,” she said. He didn’t say anything,
he just continued to follow her. When they reached her door he said,

“Please give a lot of thought to what a liaison with me could do for you.”

“You do know that I am a legitimate artist, right? Quite a good one. I’m well established in London. I
don’t necessarily need you for anything.”

“Except to promote your work here in the States.” He said with an arrogant smile.

“Why are you always so damned cocky?” she asked him.

“Why are you always so damned angry?” he asked in return.

“Your arrogance makes me angry!” she said.

Conner very gently pushed her up against the door of her apartment, rested his hands on either side of
her waist, and putting his face close enough to hers that she could feel his breath on her cheek he said,

“Your angriness turns me on a bit.” Then he slipped the ring she had taken off of her finger back on.

Victoria could feel her breaths coming in short gasps and her heart racing in her chest. Her body had
gone hot all over, and the thought of his full red lips being that close to her almost made her want to
kiss them. Almost…Instead, she used her arm to shove him back and turned to unlock her door. With
her back to him so that he couldn’t see the desire that she was sure showed in her eyes she said,

“Remember the terms “Personal Assistant” and “Prostitute” are not interchangeable. If I accept this
proposal, you won’t touch me like that again. You can pay someone else to care for those needs.”

With that, she went inside and closed the door in his face. Then she leaned up against the door and
willed her body to stop reacting to his.

CHAPTER FIVE


Conner left after Victoria had closed the door in his face and had Earl take him to one of his favorite
clubs. Earl didn’t voice his disapproval, but Conner could see it on his face. This place was a private
Gentleman’s club and Earl knew what it was his employer planned to do here. Conner gave him a
Mind your place look that he rarely used on the staff. Maggie had taught him a few things. But about
this, he didn’t want to hear it. He simply told Earl,

“Come back and get me in three hours.”

Earl said, “Yes sir,” and got back in the Limousine, wondering how the young man could think about
being with another woman when he had such a sweet, beautiful fiancé. He drove away shaking his
head as his young employer passed through the bright red door of the exclusive club.

Conner stood just inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the lighting. Everything was red here, the
lights the seats, the carpeting. It always put him in mind of the old story, “The Scarlett Letter” and
tonight for some reason he was feeling even as if the story somehow applied to him. He had to remind
himself that he was still single and unattached. The whole thing with Victoria was a business deal…
that was it.

The hostess came over when she saw Conner walk in.

“Mr. McAlpine, it’s so good to see you. It’s been a long time. How are you tonight?”

Conner wasn’t in the mood for idle chit-chat. He said,

“I’m going up to room three.” Then after hesitating for a few seconds he said, “Send me the girl
named Theresa if she’s available and a bottle of Bourbon.”

“Yes, sir.” The hostess said. Conner went up the stairs. He didn’t come here often, he usually had a
date who was more than willing to take care of his needs. But now that he was engaged he would
have to be more discreet. He hadn’t planned on coming here tonight, but Victoria made him feel such
a combination of anger and frustration that he felt as if he would burst. He was sure that the desire he
was feeling in the pit of his belly had nothing to do with her either. It was just about all the emotions
that were wrapped up in what they were trying to do here. She was an exasperating woman, and he
couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be with her in a sexual sense. He had been so busy with the party
and the opening that he hadn’t been seeing anyone the past few weeks. That was all it was….simple
hormones.

He went into room three, it was reserved for him and it was always ready when he chose to come
there. The room was furnished with large, red recliners that sat facing a stone fireplace and a huge,
soft bed. As soon as he went in, there was a knock on the door. He opened it and the girl he had asked
for, Theresa was standing there, bottle of bourbon and two glasses in hand.

“Come in,” he told her. “Put the bottle down.” He looked her up and down. He had never been with
this girl before. She wasn’t his usual type, but he had met her the last time he was here, almost two
months ago and for some reason…she had suddenly come into his mind tonight.

She had long, dark hair and big, chocolate brown eyes. Her body was slim, but curvy in the right
places. He went over to her and without saying a word, he took her hair in his hands as he kissed her.
She kissed him back with the gusto that was deserving of the tip she would get before he left. He had
his eyes closed and was running his hands through her silky hair as they kissed, and after several
minutes he realized that he was picturing Victoria’s face.

He opened his eyes and pushed her back gently but firmly and said,

“Let’s have a drink first.”

“Sure, I’ll pour us one,” the girl said in her cute little British accent. Conner sat down on the bed and
put his head in his hands. He suddenly knew why this girl had come to mind. She reminded him so
much of Victoria, albeit a half-dressed cheaper version.

“What the hell am I doing?” He asked himself.

He sat there and considered briefly why he found himself so attracted to a woman he could barely
stand. There was just that damned spark, that snap he had felt the day he’d shook her hand in that bar.
He needed to shake it. His arrangement with Victoria was a business one only. Anything beyond that
would just complicate things too much. He didn’t have time for a woman like her. She wasn’t the type
that he could call when he was horny and send away when he was done.

He looked back over at Theresa. She smiled at him and he felt his desire waning. It wasn’t just any
girl that he wanted tonight and he couldn’t lie to himself and say that it was.

The girl came over to the bed and held out his drink. He took it, downed it and sat the glass down on
the table by the bed. He closed his eyes again and pictured Victoria’s face, then he took the girl’s
hands in his and laid back on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. He ran his hands up and down
her soft body as they kissed, the entire time imagining that it was Victoria he was touching. He
slipped off the tiny satin shorts and the lacy little bra she was wearing and flipped her over on her
back. Then he stood up and removed his clothes and tossed them aside. He lowered himself down on
top of her and kissed her again. Closing his eyes he ran his fingers lightly up and down along the
insides of her thighs and as she writhed and shuddered he remembered Victoria’s shudder and
wondered if she thought of him this way.

He used his hands to spread her legs wider and as he kissed her neck and rubbed his face in her silky
hair he let his fingers explore her further, her wetness and soft moans urging him on and making him
wonder what sorts of noises that Victoria would make if he touched her that way. As he slipped his
fingers inside of her and gently moved them in and out while she matched the motion of her hips to his
movements, he slid the other hand up across her abdomen until he reached her right breast. Cupping it

in his hand he lowered his mouth down to meet it. The girl called out to him as his tongue lapped
hungrily and the British accent saying his name sent a thrill right through him. He couldn’t take it any
longer. He slid her hips down on the bed to meet his and finally, after throbbing all evening long,
since the moment that Victoria had opened the door…in that dress…and looked at him with those
eyes…His body convulsed and he cried out as his orgasm at last released the pressure that had been
building up, threatening to explode all night.

When he opened his eyes, the girl was looking up at him strangely,

“What?” he asked her.

“My name’s Theresa,” she said.

“I know,” he told her, still not knowing what she was talking about.

“You called me Victoria.”

Conner apologized to Theresa and then he told himself that this was it. He wasn’t going to allow
himself to think of Victoria again in any other way then a “Personal Assistant” like he had told her. If
she accepted his proposal when they met tomorrow, they would be in business together. Just another
business deal….

Victoria slipped off the beautiful dress as she got ready for bed. She carefully placed it on the bed
beside her and stood in front of the mirror that hung on the inside of the closet door and looked at
herself, stripped of the fancy clothes.

She looked at the woman in the mirror and wondered if she was losing herself. The little girl inside
of her who wanted nothing more than to grow up and paint the world with her colors was speaking to
her. She was afraid that Victoria was selling herself out. She was afraid that she was forgetting what
the art meant to her, and how it had molded her psyche.

She had never been a political person. She hadn’t gotten involved in the rallies that had gone on in
college. She’d always been too busy, having to race off to one job or another as soon as her class
ended, and then up all night with homework, or her painting. But she had her beliefs, and one of them
had always been that big business had no place in the art world. Was taking a job with Conner
sending the wrong message…to herself?

As an artist, and a responsible citizen of her country, Victoria was well aware that artists needed to
get paid as much as anyone else did. But when you have painted or sculpted something with your own
hands and your soul aches when you have to part with it, you want to at least know that it’s going
somewhere that it will bring joy, or perhaps make a difference. The thought of getting into art purely
for the profit of it was vile to her, and that was one…of the many reasons that she despised Conner
McAlpine. Would working with him also cause her to one day despise herself?

She reached for her robe and as she slipped it on, the ring that Conner had placed on her finger caught
in the light and shimmered.

“What are you doing Victoria?” she asked herself out loud. Then she looked down at her bag on the
bed. Sitting down next to it, she slipped out the business cards that had been given to her tonight.
There were five in all. An art critic, two art buyers, a curator of a public gallery and an art professor
from NYU. These were people that she wouldn’t have had access to if not for Conner, she told herself
for the hundredth time that evening. He was offering her a simple business deal, one that she was
capable of carrying out. It would pay her bills, and maybe even allow her enough to rent a studio and
buy art supplies, and bring her closer to the art world. She had the passion and the talent to be more
than a good artist, she could be great with the right tools and exposure. That’s what she was doing,
and as a bonus, she told herself, she was teaching a buffoon…that would be Conner, about the world
of art. What was it he had said, “It’s a win/win?” She wasn’t selling out. She still had her beliefs and
she wouldn’t let him, or anyone take them from her.

She picked up her phone and called him. It rang three times and then went to voicemail. She found
herself somewhat disappointed that he hadn’t answered. She didn’t know why, any conversation she
tried to have with him inevitably turned into an argument anyways. At the beep she said,

“It’s Victoria. Send Earl around for me tomorrow. I’ll do this thing…temporarily. We’ll discuss the
details then. By the way, I forgot to thank you for the evening. It was lovely…mostly.”

She hung up and after her nightly beauty routine in the bathroom, she went to bed. She lay there in the
dark for a long time before falling asleep, willing herself to stop thinking about him. He was a cad.
He was spoiled and egotistical and who cared if he was the handsomest man that she had ever been
this close to? She was entering into a business arrangement with him, and that was all it would ever
be between them. That was a good thing.

Her conscious mind agreed with her, but when she finally closed her eyes and her subconscious took
over, Conner was the star of her dreams. She dreamt that they were making passionate love,
surrounded by easels and paint and clay and all of the things that she loved. They were on the cold,
wooden floor of a studio, but she wasn’t cold. Her body burnt with the heat of his touch and the
whisper of his breath in his ear. She gripped his waist with her thighs as they both climaxed together,
and she had screamed out his name, and then she woke up.

It had been one of those dreams that for a few seconds after she woke, she wasn’t sure if it had been
real or not. The fact that her sheets were now all sweaty and her nightgown was pushed up around her
neck leaving her breasts and stomach exposed gave credence to the brief delusion that he had been
there, touching her, kissing her, whispering in her ear. When she found her hand slipped down into the
waistband of the silk panties that she had put on for bed she let out a nervous little laugh and told
herself,

“When this is all over girl, you’ve got to get a life.”

CHAPTER SIX

Earl was knocking on Victoria’s door just before one p.m. on Saturday afternoon as promised. She
rode up front with him in the Bentley as the drive was just under an hour to upstate New York and she
felt silly in the back all alone. When they drove through the outer gates of the property, Victoria was
already astounded. The grass was greener than any she had ever seen and it was laid across gentle,
rolling hills making it look like an exclusive golf course.

The outer driveway was circular, and in the center of it were the stairs that led up to the front door.
To say it was an imposing sight was an understatement. The house, or mansion as it should rightfully
be called, was made of stone with gorgeous circular white washed balconies that held colorful
flower boxes in each of the upstairs windows. There was some sort of tower attached to the house
that looked to be about four stories high. The small path that led up to the stairs and to the main door
was flanked on either side by tulips bursting with color and reaching for the sun. On each end of the
stairway sat a grandiose statue of a lion. Victoria was from London, so the lion statues weren’t all
that amazing to her, but what stunned her when she got closer was the detail. They were carved from
stone, but so realistic that you could almost feel them watching you as you climbed the marble
staircase. Her hand brushed the smooth railing of the grand staircase and as she approached the huge
oak doors with the brass knocker centered on either side, she had to wonder what she had gotten
herself into.

Earl opened the door and led her into an opulent foyer that was larger than the flat she was currently
staying in. The floor was white on black marble and the staircase was oak and so shiny that one could
almost see their reflection in the steps. The banister and railing were oak as well and carved with an
intricate rose design. A woman, dressed in a smart looking gray on black uniform met them and
offered to take Victoria’s coat. She gave it to her and Earl said,

“Hazel would you show Miss Standish into the study? Mr. Conner is expecting her.”

As Victoria followed the woman down a long hall, she noticed the priceless artwork that adorned it.
She had to think that it was no great wonder, growing up with all of this, how Conner ended up with
his haughtiness. The room she was shown into was covered from floor to ceiling with bookcases
filled with what appeared to be rare books from the bindings that Victoria could see. There were two
huge leather wing backed chairs sat next to a stone fireplace that you could probably drive a small
economy car through. Hazel directed Victoria to have a seat and asked her if she would like, coffee,
tea, water or a cocktail. Victoria opted for the tea and Hazel excused herself.

Victoria had been to palaces. She’d spent her entire life exploring the old wealth of London as
inspiration for her art. She had just never known anyone who had lived in one before. She looked
around the room, likely one of the smaller in the home, and wondered at the amount of money that
surrounded her. It was almost obscene to think that this now all belonged to one man. And from what
she had seen so far, an egocentric man at that. She doubted that much of his wealth would be
distributed amongst places that helped the less fortunate. She sat there and thought about that until

Conner came into the room, making her aggravated with him before he even opened his mouth.

“Hello, Victoria,” he said as he entered. He was dressed more casually than she had seen before, in
jeans and a blue polo shirt. Damn him, he looked even better than he had in his suits. The short
sleeves of the polo shirt showed off his muscular biceps and hinted at a muscular chest underneath.
Victoria’s mind flashed back to her dream for a second, but she just as quickly chastised herself,
shook it off and got down to business.

“Conner,” she said. “Are you ready to talk about the details of your business proposition?”

He grinned at her and as she looked at him she noticed the blue polo was also making the blue in his
eyes pop. She wondered if he planned his wardrobe that way.

“Straight to business, huh?” he said.

“I don’t believe we have anything but business to discuss,” she told him.

Conner sat down in the chair opposite her. He wondered how such a beautiful and obviously talented
woman had allowed herself to become so serious at such a young age. He also wondered if she ever
just let herself go and had fun. He thought back to his tryst with the “escort” at his gentleman’s club
the night before. He wondered…

“Conner?” He had drifted away into his thoughts. Victoria brought him back to the business at hand.
“How long do you suggest we’ll need to keep up this engagement ruse?” she asked him.

“I’d say at least until we’re married.”

Victoria laughed, “Until we’re what?” she asked.

“Married,” he said. Hazel came in then with a tray that held a silver pot of tea, a pitcher of cream,
sugar cubes, cookies and two china cups and saucers. “Thank you, Hazel,” he said. When the woman
left, Conner poured them each a cup of tea, put milk in his and sat back in the chair and took a sip.
Victoria hadn’t picked hers up yet. She was still waiting for Conner to explain what he was talking
about. When he didn’t elaborate she said,

“Conner, you surely aren’t suggesting that we carry this thing through that far, are you?”

“Of course,” he said, grabbing a cookie from the tray. “You should try one of these,” he told her.
“Hazel makes them from scratch and they’re amazing.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. He was so much like a child sometimes. “You’re being ridiculous.” She
said.

“No I’m not,” he told her. “They really are amazing.”

Sighing, Victoria said, “Are you trying to annoy me? You know full well that I am not talking about
cookies. I am not going to marry a man because he is paying me to do so. It’s…”

“Do you believe in true love and all that?” he asked her. The truth was, Victoria really didn’t. She’d
grown up with the example of a father who had left when she was very young, and a single mother
who had tried and failed more than once to find love again. But to marry a man in order to trick
people into thinking….what?

“Not really,” she said at last, “But that’s not the point. What is it that you think marrying me will
accomplish?”

“By us going through with our engagement and getting married, it’s proving to the people that I do
business with, and wish to do business with, that I can commit. If I can’t do it in my personal life,
how could they expect me to do it in business?”

“And you picked me because of the art connection?” she asked.

“That,” he said, “And because I need someone who looks the part. I couldn’t very well have hired an
ex-porn star with plastic…um…accessories, or a waif of a model. The people that my father did
business with are looking for a strong partnership between myself and someone who is like….”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like my Mother.” He said. “The woman I marry would have to have class and grace and be
intelligent. All of the things that my mother was. She was my father’s true partner. She didn’t agree
with everything he did or said, but she was always his staunchest supporter in public. They had some
great rows in private, but it always ended amicably. That’s what I need to prove to these people that
I’m grown up and mature enough for them to trust me with their business.”

“And then what?” she asked, mulling this all over. She hadn’t missed the part where he had
essentially stated that she had grace and class and was intelligent. “We get divorced?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what we do. Once both of our careers are on track. I have lawyers on speed dial.
There really wouldn’t be much to it.”

“Why can’t we just have a long engagement, and then break up? What is the real difference?”

“Following through with a commitment,” he said.

Victoria finally sipped her tea. She couldn’t believe she was even considering his preposterous
proposition. After a few minutes she said, “So what is my bottom line here?”

Conner laughed, “You would make one hell of a corporate mogul,” he told her. “Here,” he said,
handing her a small manila file. Inside was a legal looking document that stated what she would be
paid, weekly, while she pretended first to be his fiancé and then his wife. It was an enormous sum,

much more than Victoria had ever made. She couldn’t help thinking about how it would allow her to
rent a studio here in America and be able to stay in New York and cultivate the contacts that she had
begun to make. Victoria wouldn’t be giving up much, and in return…well, she would be, as Conner
had assured her, handsomely rewarded. She held it in her hand and told Conner,

“If I agree to this,” she said, “There are going to be some conditions…..”

Holly Rayner


The sequel to this story is available now!

A Priceless Proposal: The Billionaire's Mistake (Part Two) (Contemporary Billionaire
Romance)

Despite her grave misgivings about the entire situation, Victoria goes to Conner's majestic
apartment to discuss the terms of their deal. Never one to believe in the sanctity of marriage, can
a generous payment be enough to convince her to go through with Conner's marriage of
convenience?

As the terms are laid out, Victoria is confused when Conner asks just when she'll be moving in; his
final demand being that she live with him immediately, to keep up the false pretense of marriage!
How long can Victoria live a lie? And has Conner gone too far in his subtle manipulation?

Table of Contents

Copyright 2014 by Holly Rayner
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX