Falling For The Secret Millionaire. Kate Hardy

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      Gabriel Hunter closed his father’s office door behind him and walked down the corridor as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

      What he really wanted to do was to beat his fists against the walls in sheer frustration. When, when, when was he going to stop paying for his teenage mistake?

      OK, so it had been an awful lot worse than the usual teenage mistakes—he’d crashed his car into a shop front one night on the way home from a party and done a lot of damage. But nobody had been physically hurt and he’d learned his lesson immediately. He’d stopped going round with the crowd who’d thought it would be fun to spike his drink when he was their designated driver. He’d knuckled down to his studies instead of spending most of his time partying, and at the end of his final exams he’d got one of the highest Firsts the university had ever awarded. Since then, he’d proved his worth over and over again in the family business. Time after time he’d bitten his tongue so he didn’t get into a row with his father. He’d toed the party line. Done what was expected of him, constantly repented for his sins to atone in his father’s eyes.

      And his father still didn’t trust him. All Gabriel ever saw in his father’s eyes was ‘I saved you from yourself’. Was Evan Hunter only capable of seeing his son as the stupid teenager who got in with a bad crowd? Would he ever see Gabriel for who he was now, all these years later? Would he ever respect his son?

      Days like today, Gabriel felt as if he couldn’t breathe. Maybe it was time to give up trying to change his family’s view of him and to walk away. To take a different direction in his career—though, right at that moment, Gabriel didn’t have a clue what that would be, either. He’d spent the last seven years since graduation working hard in the family business and making sure he knew every single detail of Hunter Hotels Ltd. He’d tried so hard to do the right thing. The reckless teenager he’d once been was well and truly squashed—which he knew was a good thing, but part of him wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t had the crash. Would he have grown out of the recklessness but kept his freedom? Would he have felt as if he was really worth something, not having to pay over and over for past mistakes? Would he be settled down now, maybe with a family of his own?

      All the women he’d dated over the last five years saw him as Gabriel-the-hotel-chain-heir, the rich guy who could show them a good time and splash his cash about, and he hated that superficiality. Yet the less superficial, nicer women were wary of him, because his reputation got in the way; everyone knew that Gabriel Hunter was a former wild child and was now a ruthless company man, so he’d never commit emotionally and there was no point in dating him because there wasn’t a future in the relationship. And his family all saw him as Gabe-who-made-the-big-mistake.

      How ironic that the only person who really saw him for himself was a stranger. Someone whose real name he didn’t even know, let alone what she did or what she looked like, because they’d been careful not to exchange those kinds of details. But over the last six months he’d grown close to Georgygirl from the Surrey Quays forum.

      Which made it even more ironic that he’d only joined the website because he was following his father’s request to keep an eye out for local disgruntled residents who might oppose the new Hunter Hotel they were developing from a run-down former spice warehouse in Surrey Quays, and charm them into seeing things the Hunter way. Gabriel had discovered that he liked the anonymity of an online persona—he could actually meet people and get to know them, the way he couldn’t in real life. The people on the forum didn’t know he was Gabriel Hunter, so they had no preconceptions and they accepted him for who he was.

      He’d found himself posting on a lot of the same topics as someone called Georgygirl. The more he’d read her posts, the more he’d realised that she was on his wavelength. They’d flirted a bit—because an internet forum was a pretty safe place to flirt—and he hadn’t been able to resist contacting her in a private message. Then they’d started chatting to each other away from the forum. They’d agreed to stick to the forum rules of not sharing personal details that would identify themselves, so Gabriel had no idea of Georgygirl’s real name or her personal situation; but in their late-night private chats he felt that he could talk to her about anything and everything. Be his real self. Just as he was pretty sure that she was her real self with him.

      Right now, it was practically lunchtime. Maybe Georgygirl would be around? He hoped so, because talking to her would make him feel human again. Right now he really needed a dose of her teasing sarcasm to jolt him out of his dark mood.

      He informed his PA that he was unavailable for the next hour, then headed out to Surrey Quays. He ordered a double espresso in his favourite café, then grabbed his phone and flicked into the direct messaging section of the Surrey Quays forum.

      And then he saw the message waiting for him.

      Hey, Clarence, you around?

      It was timed fifteen minutes ago. Just about when he’d walked out of that meeting and wanted to punch a wall. Hopefully she hadn’t given up waiting for him and was still there. He smiled.

      Yeah. I’m here, he typed back.

      He sipped his coffee while he waited for her to respond. Just as he thought it was too late and she’d already gone, a message from her popped up on his screen.

      Hello, there. How’s your day?

      I’ve had better, he admitted. You?

      Weird.

      Why?

      Then he remembered she’d told him that she’d had a letter out of the blue from a solicitor she’d never heard of, asking her to make an appointment because they needed to discuss something with her.

      What happened at the solicitor’s?

      I’ve been left something in a will.

      That’s good, isn’t it?

      Unless it was a really odd bequest, or one with strings.

      It’s property.

      Ah. It was beginning to sound as if there were strings attached. And Gabriel knew without Georgygirl having to tell him that she was upset about it.

      Don’t tell me—it’s a desert island or a ruined castle, but you have to live there for a year all on your own with a massive nest of scary spiders before you can inherit?

      Not quite. But thank you for making me laugh.

      Meaning that right now she wanted to cry?

      What’s so bad about it? Is it a total wreck that needs gutting, or it has a roof that eats money?

      There was a long pause.

      It needs work, but that isn’t the bad thing. The bequest is from my grandfather.

      Now he understood. The problem wasn’t with what she’d been left: it was who’d left it to her that was the sticking point.

      How can I accept anything from someone who let my mother down so badly?

      She’d confided СКАЧАТЬ