Secrets Of The Billionaire's Heart

nd tucked the strand of chestnut hair behind her ear before refiguring the numbers for the third time. It wasn't easy being a single mother, but

look wha

t. She saw her three-year-old daughter standing there with a crayon drawing de

ly's little curls to tickle her cheek. For a second, the worries receded.

er big blue eyes loo

ning at memories of Greg Thornton. She shoved them away. T

jump. She reached for it,

el

you've sent us over, and we feel that we could, umm, probably work out an assignment for you in one of our upcoming issues as a freelance project. It'd be great experience for you,

n opportunity that could just turn it all around for her and her girls. There was a catch

. Whitman?" she asked, trying ve

at liberty to say over the phone, but you c

er with the security she craved so dearly, so hard-won for her daughters. And yet, an angl

ending that she spoke very definitely, th

We will see

ween excitement and dread simultaneously, and she glanced across the room at Lily

into a life that would keep her daughters ever safe from the secrets she buried. Yet now, with

to that world-power and riches-which she had once renounced. She

ow that tomorrow would bring her face to face with that very man,

e girls, tidied up their little home, and worked on her assigned freelance work. All the while her mind

nd went straight into researching Ascend Design. The firm had always handled high-profile clients, but it wasn't the company that bothered her; it was who was perhaps behind the project. "It wa

looked anything up about him. However, she couldn't take it anymore. The anxieties got th

me with those piercing blue eyes, never gone from her dreams. 'Still as powerful' he read, 'one of the most important billionaires of the decade.' She closed

her face. "You are over-thinking," she whispered to herse

e continued within her head. What if somehow it was connected to Greg? What

al outfit that steered well past being too garish or too trying too hard. Running her fingers through her hair, she looked at her reflection in the mirror and wondered if Greg would even re

became more palatable, silhouetted against the towering buildings in relief against the quiet life she had crea

e smiling face of the receptionist bade her toward a glass-walled conference room. Samantha stood waiti

through that door. "Hello, Ms. Reynolds. I'm Rachel," she sa

opportunity," Samantha r

with a child's smile pasted across it. "So, as I told you on the phone, this is a really big proje

words Rachel was saying instead of the increasing

gance, timeless sophistication. The client is just up into new acq

going to be her kind of project-all creativ

erself believe in the

that phrase from Rachel that let Samantha's heart almost stop. "We'll be working

t surpris