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‘Not for me,’ he assured her, lowering his head and capturing her mouth with his in a brief but devastating kiss. ‘You do realise, don’t you, that I’m not going to let you go?’
‘You’re not?’
‘No.’ He lifted her hands and she felt him slide something onto her finger.
‘What’s that? Oh—’ She stared in amazement at the huge diamond that now adorned her hand and tears filled her eyes. ‘I told you, I didn’t want jewellery.’
‘It isn’t jewellery,’ he informed her in a tone that sounded more like himself, ‘it’s a statement of possession. My corporate branding. It tells the world that you’re mine. Don’t ever take it off.’
She touched it in awe, confused by what it meant. ‘You’re asking me to wear your ring?’
‘I’m asking you to marry me,’ he said softly. ‘You’ve given me so much already, but I want more and I want it forever.’
She felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes. ‘What have I ever given you? Thanks to my father I don’t have any money and I can’t even add up—’
‘I can add up for both of us and I have more money than we will ever possibly need.’ He brushed a stray tear away from her cheek with his thumb. ‘You seriously don’t know what you’ve given me? Then let me tell you, Grace. You gave me your trust when I didn’t deserve it and unconditional love, which is something that no one has ever given me before. You saw good in me when I only showed you the bad. And you’ve given me hope.’ She swallowed. ‘Rafael—’
‘I love you …’ He gave a wolfish smile. ‘There; it’s getting easier to say all the time with practice. I love you.’
She smiled through her tears. ‘I love you too. So much.’
‘Good.’ He lowered his mouth to hers. ‘How would you feel about an extended honeymoon in the rainforest?’
The Billionaire Boss’s
Innocent Bride
Lindsay
Armstrong
About the Author
LINDSAY ARMSTRONG was born in South Africa, but now lives in Australia with her New Zealand-born husband and their five children. They have lived in nearly every state of Australia, and have tried their hand at some unusual—for them—occupations, such as farming and horse-training—all grist to the mill for a writer! Lindsay started writing romances when their youngest child began school and she was left feeling at a loose end. She is still doing it and loving it.
CHAPTER ONE
ALEXANDRA HILL arrived home in Brisbane on a particularly chilly May morning.
She’d been on a skiing holiday in the Southern Alps with a group of friends. And while it had been freezing in Canberra when she’d boarded the flight muffled up in a scarf and ski jacket, she hadn’t expected to be grateful for these items of clothing in sub-tropical Brisbane even in winter.
But as it went on to be the coldest May day on record, she was still wearing her coat when she stepped out of the taxi she’d taken from the airport—to find her boss waiting for her on the doorstep of her small terrace house in Spring Hill.
Simon Wellford, ginger-haired and chubby and whose brainchild Wellford Interpreting Services was, threw his arms around her. ‘Thank heavens! Your neighbour wasn’t sure if you were due home today or tomorrow. I need you, Alex. I really need you,’ he said passionately.
Alex, who happened to know Simon was happily married, removed herself from his clutches and said prosaically, ‘I’m still on holiday, Simon, so—’
‘I know,’ he interrupted, ‘but I’ll make it up, I promise!’
Alex sighed. She worked for Simon as an interpreter and had come to know him as somewhat impulsive. ‘What emergency this time?’ she enquired.
‘I wouldn’t call it an emergency, definitely not,’ he denied. ‘Would you call Goodwin Minerals anything but an absolute coup?’
‘I don’t know anything about Goodwin Minerals and I don’t know what you’re talking about, Simon!’
He clicked his tongue. ‘It’s huge, it’s a blue-chip mining company and it’s going into China. Well—’ he waved a hand ‘—they’re about to embark on negotiations here in Brisbane with a Chinese consortium, but one of their Mandarin interpreters has fallen sick and they need a replacement. Almost immediately,’ he added.
Alex dropped her tote bag onto her roller suitcase. ‘On-site interpreting?’ she queried.
