Billionaires in New York Boxed Set: Billionaires in the City Books 1-3 Laura Burton (books to read this summer .TXT) 📖

“Yes, yes, of course. We deal with many clients who need to avoid the public eye. So tell me, David… what line of business are you in? Modeling?’ Emily flashed him a cheeky smile. David inclined his head and grinned shyly. His grey eyes twinkled in the sunshine.

“Hospitality,” he said humbly. Emily picked up a notepad and pen and crossed her knees.

“I’ll just take a few details, if that’s all right.”

“May I ask a quick question?” David looked up at her, keeping his head stooped low. He rested his right hand on his knee as he rounded his shoulders.

“Oh, okay….” Emily fumbled with the pages of her notebook in search of a blank page and nervously clicked the pen in her left hand.

“Are you from England, per chance?”

Emily smiled. “Yes, I am.”

David sat back and clapped his hands together triumphantly, as though he’d just solved all the world’s problems. Honestly, she thought to herself, with his posh accent, she’d have thought he went to the London School of Business. “I thought so.”

“And you?” Emily asked.

“London,” he replied with his hand raised, as if it were a confession.

She had to hold back rolling her eyes. “Where did you go to school?”

“Eton.”

Of course.

Emily stared at David as he dragged a hand through his luscious mop of hair. The strands caught the sunlight as it moved, keeping Emily in a trance.

“And you?” David asked with his thick brows raised.

Emily snapped out of her reverie and flicked back her silky hair and sat up straight. “Oxford,” she said as she brushed her hand aside. She loosened her grip and her pen dropped to the floor. David smiled at her serenely; apparently, he didn’t notice.

The room fell silent as they eyed one another.

“Well, here we are, two foreigners in the Big Apple.” Emily said, as she craned her neck and looked out at the large window behind her desk. A window cleaner was on a trolley cleaning the glass. “Although, this feels more like home than England ever was,” she mused. She shot back to look at David who sat with his hands together on the couch across from her.

“I beg your pardon, how rude of me. Can I get you a drink?’ she blurted out as she motioned to call for Jaqueline.

“No, no I’m fine, thank you.” David raised his hands briefly. Emily smiled and settled back into the couch.

“Right, well, what can I do for you, David?”

“I have a predicament.”

“Uh huh.” Emily bent over and pretended to scratch her ankle as she picked up the pen that was lying on the floor beside her feet. “Care to tell?”

David rubbed his stubbled chin and thought for a moment.

“Off the record?”

“Mr.––”

“Marks.” Emily’s eyes widened. “As in, the hotel chain?”

“Yes,” David said sheepishly.

“Hospitality, eh.” Emily laughed to herself and crossed her arms as she eyed the two men standing by the door. Must be his bodyguards.

“Mr. Marks––”

“Please call me David.”

Rich and charming, very nice.

“Okay, David. Anything said between us is strictly confidential. I assure you, this is not the first meeting I’ve had with a––”

“Desperate man?”

“I was going to say, client who wants to avoid the press. So, what’s the story? Fed up with gold-digging women following you around? Had enough of the rich, beautiful heiresses falling at your feet? Want to find a nice young American girl to fall in love with?”

“Well, simply put, I need to find a wife in thirty days.”

Emily looked up from her notepad and stared at David, looking for any sign of sarcasm and found none.

I’ll marry you! she thought wildly.

“You….”

“… need to find a wife in thirty days, yes. Do you think you can help me?” he finished for her.

Oh, this is too perfect.

Emily’s plump lips curved into an evil smile. “I’m quite confident that can be arranged.

“Ordinarily, I would ask my clients to take a profile quiz on my app.” Emily held up her electronic tablet for David to see. “However, due to the time-sensitive nature of your needs, I think it would be more appropriate to get to know you personally instead.” Emily buzzed for Jaqueline, who entered the room promptly and eyed the two bodyguards warily as she approached.

“Jaqueline, would you pass my clients to Julian for the rest of the month. This case requires my full attention.” Jaqueline nodded and left the room again, quiet as a mouse. “David, I will need a list of available times from you for me to arrange your dates.”

“I can do that.”

Emily rubbed her palms together and got to her feet. David followed suit.

“Tell me, David, what’s your type?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your type, you know, what sort of woman do you normally go for?”

David frowned. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. Emily raised her brows in surprise. This was usually the easy part, the part where the client spiels off a list of ridiculously particular characteristics they look for in a potential mate. Short hair, long hair, big hands, small feet, quiet laugh, long legs… the list was endless. And yet, here was a billionaire bachelor who looked like he just strolled off a Hollywood movie set and was capable of getting just about any woman he wanted, yet had no idea what he looked for in a partner? Fascinating, Emily thought as she stared at him.

“Okay, let’s start off easy. Do you find blondes the most attractive?” she asked pointedly, her pen primed at the notepad, ready for action.

“Well, uh—”

“What interests do you have?”

“Like, hobbies? I travel a lot, I suppose… for work.”

“Do you like traveling?”

“Sure.” He probably has his own private jet, of course he likes traveling. Emily scrawled down some information into her notebook.

“Anything else? Anything you look for at all in a woman?”

“She needs to know her own mind, and can hold up her end of an argument.”

“Ah, so you like to be challenged, interesting.” Emily wrote into her notebook, encouraged by his participation.

“What about career?”

“What about it?”

“Is it important that she is career driven? Or do you prefer the stay-at-home wife, sort of woman?”

“I don’t