Designs on the Billionaire Read online

  Meg MacRose

  Designs on the Billionaire

  First published by Meg MacRose 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Meg MacRose

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  First edition

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  About the Author

  Also by Meg MacRose

  Chapter 1

  Lacey looked at the woman in front of her in exasperation. She had perfectly coiffured hair, shoulder length with a straight bob. The typical conservative hair style for that type of woman. And Lacey knew quite well who this type of woman was. She had grown up with one. Rich, bored, entitled and very aware of the hierarchy of the British class system.

  She hid a yawn. How many times would they go around in circles like this? Dressed in her designer leisure wear, the seemingly flawless woman stabbed her finger up in the air, while the other was placed firmly on her hip. Lacey was sure that this was a practised stance, one that she used with minions or underlings regularly. She was nothing more than an utter nightmare. Right from the word go, Diana had given her more grief than this contract was worth. Lacey regretted the lengths she had gone to rearrange her schedule to fit in another well-heeled client. What had she been thinking? She had enough to work on without being reliant on this kind of drama.

  She checked the time on her phone, uncharacteristically not caring that the gesture was rude. She had given up listening to Diana’s rants and raves ages ago. Time was already getting on. She really needed to wrap this up so she could get back in time to pick up her daughter from school. At least Therese would be all smiles. Not like this miserable and demanding cow.

  Take a deep breath and smile, the voice in her head instructed. Just stop her now, and break it off, and then walk away. Lacey had never been very good with confrontation. Years of being required to exhibit good behaviour and not ever make waves during her childhood had shaped her.

  As an interior designer who had worked conscientiously to build up a good reputation, Lacey prided herself on how hard she worked to make sure she met each of her client’s individual needs and that their personality was reflected in the designs that she recommended. And she was good at her job too. No, she corrected herself, she was jolly well excellent at her job.

  Why, then, was she still listening to Diana’s self-entitled dribble? She couldn’t let Therese down because some demanding client from hell had decided to be Miss Problematic.

  As a single mum with minimal support from her family, Lacey always ensured that her daughter knew that she could always count on her. And in Lacey’s books, that meant never being late for school pick-up. Her own parents had been quick to disown her when she’d first announced her pregnancy. Apart from rare visits from her Aunt and Uncle, it had always just been her and her darling daughter.

  The little girl had stolen her heart the first time their eyes had connected during skin-to-skin contact not long after she had been born. It had been such a special moment. Even then, her daughter’s eyes had been amazing. Little sparkly beads that twinkled back at her. Since that instant, Lacey had vowed that she would always be there for her daughter. She had to be; there was no-one else for Therese to rely on.

  Still zoned out from whatever Demanding Diana was saying, Lacey made the final decision to sever the ties with this job. She’d have to go into damage control, but there was no way that she was inclined to pander to this spoilt woman’s demands. Her last round of requested changes was nothing short of ridiculous. Had she showed even an ounce of civility or respect, Lacey would have tried to work with her and find a compromise or make some suggestions on how to incorporate her ideas into the current theme. But this was at least the twentieth set of changes that had been ordered in an exacting and rude manner. Her latest message had been sent well after midnight last night, and it had been the final straw. She didn’t even have the courtesy to add a greeting to the email.

  I don’t like it. Make the wood baby pink. Make a wall in each room cerise. Do it by tomorrow. D.

  Who even used the term baby pink?

  Oh well. It wasn’t her concern anymore. It was time that the ties were snipped away. She’d had to juggle her schedule to fit Demanding Diana in anyway. But enough was enough. The only positive was—she congratulated herself for her foresight—that this morning she’d opted to ride her motorbike to work instead of driving her car. At least she’d be able to high tail it to Therese’s school and avoid the worst of any traffic jams as she’d be able to weave through the cars on the A1 ring road.

  ###

  Nick stepped onto the shingle driveway from his car. His large leather shoes crunched on the small stones. He waved his thanks to his driver who also played the role of his private security. He would wait with the car until Nick was ready to return to the office. Not that there was any security issue here. This was his property. Before he walked any further, he noticed that around the border of his property, there were a few other houses under construction. When he’d first bought the land, the space around it was what had attracted him to it. Though who was he to complain; his own house wasn’t completed yet either. With a critical eye, he admired the angles of his new home. The architect had exceeded his expectations. Once the landscaping was completed, the house would look amazing. The builders had made good progress since he was last out here.

  Amidst the builder’s utility vehicles was a shiny red motorbike. Curious as to which tradesman would use a motorbike to get around on, he crossed over the driveway to inspect it closer. A 150cc scooter. So not a street bike. Not like the cruiser he used to have. This one was more of a run-about. Perfect for short distances. It had been so long since he’d ridden on a motorbike. Though the bike he used to have had a higher riding position and had been a delight to take out on the open roads. He’d travelled around the Continent many a Summer with his friends from university.

  He groaned and rolled his eyes at the familiar sound of a woman’s voice. Though it was less of a voice and more of a shout. What more could she find fault with? Through the lounge window on the side, Nick could see that the tradesmen had sought refuge from the ruckus, as they remained almost hidden on the other side of the house. His fiancée had become rather tiresome of late, creating difficulty for anyone whom she regarded inferior to herself. She’d also proven herself prone to hysterics which had nearly driven Nick mad. She had started to remind Nick of his own mother, who used to embarrass him as a child with her rudeness to other people and her total lack of self-awareness. Since his engagement to Diana was announced, his mother had been delighted. Most likely she found the woman to be a kindred spirit. He often avoided his mother because of her bad manners; now he was doing the same thing with his fianc
ée. That couldn’t be a good sign. He approached the front door of his home, resolving to address the issue with Diana. It wasn’t a trait that he accepted in any of his employees. How did it look for his wife—or soon-to-be wife anyway—to behave in such a way? Hopefully, Diana was just unaware of how she came across and could change her ways. Though, the regularity of Diana’s offensive behaviour had increased tenfold in the past few months.

  Inside, Nick hesitated in the entryway, trying to determine the cause of Diana’s rage. Her victim today was a very slight, delicate-looking woman, dressed in a fitted black leather jacket and blue jeans that stopped just above the swell of her hips. The woman looked unusual; it wasn’t often that someone so slender dressed like she did. Nor was it common to see a woman with bright white spikey hair.

  As he edged closer, he was privy to more snippets of their conversation.

  “Sorry Diana, I don’t think this is going to work. I suggest that you select someone else to continue with the interior of your new home. I’m happy to recommend someone. However, I won’t be working with you any further.”

  Her voice remained low, even and upbeat. Nick was impressed by the woman’s professional attitude.

  Diana screamed at her like a toddler in fury “you’re not going anywhere. We have a contract. You must do what I want. You can only leave when I say so.”

  The woman in the leather jacket with the unusual hair-do turned to leave, still unaware of his presence as her eyes were averted as she dug through her bag for what Nick assumed was her keys. As she turned to leave, sought-after keys in hand, she stepped right into him. Both women looked at him with surprise.

  Nick’s arm sprung out to steady the woman. Under closer scrutiny, Nick checked out how her leather jacket and snug jeans showed off every curve of her evidently feminine body. He glanced down. He had seen this angelic face somewhere before. Her eyes widened in recognition as she caught his gaze. You. Her expression said it all. Within moments, her expression shuttered, and she looked at him with something akin to weary distrust.

  He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Where had he seen this elven-looking woman before? One of the casualties of being a popular and wealthy bachelor under the age of forty was that many women sought him out.

  Those eyes. He remembered the intensity of those eyes. A lightbulb went off in his head. Of course. It must have been a few years back. They’d met at a charity costume party. He didn’t remember her hair being as it was now. But he liked it. She looked cute. It framed her face to give her the look of a pixie.

  Diana’s high pitch whinge brought him back to reality.

  “Nicky, darling.”

  A shiver went down his spine. He hated being called Nicky, and Diana knew it.

  “I’m glad you’re here. She was supposed to be the best designer. Claudia and Zoe said so.” Diana finger jabbed towards the interior designer “But she’s clearly not the best. I don’t want her working on our home anymore.”

  The woman whose name he still couldn’t remember stepped forward. “That’s fine. As I explained, I think your needs would be better suited to another designer.” Lacey’s response was still measured, and by the thunderous look that she gave Diana, she wanted nothing better than to leave as soon as she could.

  No wonder the other tradesmen hid while Diana was on the warpath. Part of him grappled to find an excuse to detain her, their soon to be ex-designer. The memories of their night at the charity party had flooded back to him. But the resolute look she gave him made it clear that she was more than ready to escape Diana and this house.

  “I’m sorry about this. Can I help you pack up?” His words sounded empty, even to himself. Diana frowned at him.

  “Don’t apologise to her,” she snapped.

  The shake of the woman’s head showed that everything she needed, she had.

  “I’m fine. Good luck to you both.”

  With a hurried wave, she fled.

  “Oh, Nicky darling. What am I going to do? Our new house looks just awful.” Diana’s shrill voice grated on his nerves, and he ignored her as he watched the designer’s snug fitting jeans as she walked out the front door, her head held high. Nick had a feeling that it wasn’t just the house she referred to in her final comment. And he was inclined to agree. The way Diana had been these past few months, he’d need good luck if he was going to marry her.

  “Oh Diana. What was all that about? You’ve gone on for months about how she’s the best interior designer around. What on earth did she do so wrong for you to insist on firing her? You sent through our briefs last month; did she not take them into consideration?” He was confused. Diana and her Mother had boasted to all their friends that she’d managed to get into this designer’s schedule. In his experience, a professional didn’t gain that kind of notoriety by being difficult to work with or neglectful in their designs. He kicked himself as he hadn’t really listened to the details of Diana’s conceited bragging to her friends; if he could only remember the woman’s name.

  “I sent through some changes to her last night. After I got home from the party. But she said that they were at odds with our overall design, something about compromising the integrity of the home. But I’m paying her, and she should remember that. How dare Lacey say that my suggestions would ruin everything.”

  Diana’s high pitch whinge had given Nick a headache. She probably didn’t even know what integrity meant. Besides, it wasn’t her who was paying for their new home to be built, it was him. Diana had never worked a single day in her life, and the stipend from her trust fund went no further than to cover the designer bags and shoes that she indulged in on a very regular basis.

  From the house designs he’d seen so far, he’d been impressed with the designer’s look and colours complementing the architect’s modern clean lines, exposed wooden beams and framing, to help give the rooms light and airy look.

  “What changes did you suggest last night?” He arched an eyebrow, as he questioned his fiancée, almost scared to hear her answer.

  “Our new home didn’t look feminine enough. And it was boring. I told her to remove all that wood and make it pink with lots of twirls. And to include some matching feature walls. In all the rooms.”

  Nick shuddered. He wanted to think she was joking, but the look on her face suggested that she wasn’t.

  “You didn’t think to talk your suggestions over with me? We were together for most of last night. There were many opportunities to do so. This is my house too.”

  He knew that the tone of his voice was sharp and bordered on annoyance. He shook his head. What a ridiculous thing to do. No wonder the designer had high-tailed it.

  “Diana, I have no intention of living in a pink house. Not now. Not ever. This is my home too, and the designs and colours that we have signed off on so far are perfect for this house. So please, do not change them again. Now, are you going to call her up to apologise or find another designer?”

  Honestly, she really grated on his nerves. There had been far too many of these dramatics of late.

  He heard a motorbike outside rev up before it was ridden out the long windy driveway. Not only did she look sexy in her leather jacket, but she rode a motorbike too! Double-sexy, as his friend Dan would say. That must have been her motorbike that he’d admired earlier. Nostalgia settled over him for his fancy-free university days when he too had had his own bike. The thought of being settled down and married to a woman who wanted her house decorated in pink was instantly distasteful. It met his parent’s expectations, but suddenly, the concept of marriage with Diana was less about his future and more about being shackled to societal norms. Right now, she was not someone he wanted to be bound to. He needed to get some space from her.

  Without a backward glance at Diana, who stood sulking in the corner, he headed outside. At least he might get a coffee or something from the builders. He acknowledged the builders with a slight nod of his head and reached out his hand to greet the main builder. The other men didn’t say
a word but watched him with curious eyes.

  “Alright, Geezer?” The head builder, a small wiry man with curly black hair, spoke in a delightful Cockney accent. Nick had always liked the Cockney inflection. It struck him as grounded and honest; and the Cockney tendency for rhyming slang had always fascinated him.

  “She’s a bit rough with the people, your missus is. It’s a bit Alan Ladd. Ya know what I mean? It’s pretty bad. That designer lass, well, she’s one of the best. Worked with her before, we have, and she’s good. She works with the owners right down to the last minute making sure they get what they want. And she works alright with us too, making sure there are no last-minute changes or surprises. To tell ya the truth, I ain’t never heard her say before to use another designer.”

  Nick crossed his arms. The builder was right; Diana was too rough with people. Though he’d call it not just difficult, but impudent, spoilt and demanding. For the briefest moment, he wondered why he’d never seen it before he had proposed to her. Her behaviour was beyond unacceptable.

  It was a surprise to see the same woman from the charity ball. All these years later. Earlier Diana had called her Lacey. He tested her name on his tongue. It suited her. Feminine and unique. Just like she had been today, and as she was a few years back at that charity ball.

  The memories were crystal clear. They’d made frantic love, still dressed in their Victorian era costumes. Oh yes. They’d shared a very satisfying experience under the garden lights. No wonder she’d been so keen to leave earlier on. Not so many women would remain discreet, especially when they’re in an argument with the fiancée. Sex with Diana had never been quite that exciting. She had an amazing body, he’d give her that, and she knew what to do with it. But with Lacey, on that one night, their chemistry had sizzled right from the start. Plus, they had the thrill of being dressed in costumes that were not made for easy access and had ended up making love while pretty much still clothed. Her dress had been pushed up to her hips, and his trousers unzipped, but everything else had stayed in place.