The Reclusive Billionaire (Destination Billionaire Romance) Read online

  The Reclusive Billionaire

  Destination Billionaire Romance

  Lucy McConnell

  Contents

  Copyright

  Welcome

  Foreword

  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

  Free Book

  Also by Lucy McConnell

  Sneak Peak

  The Lucky Billionaire

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Lucy McConnell

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  www.gelatobooks.com

  Welcome

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for purchasing The Reclusive Billionaire, the first book in the romantic new series, Destination Billionaire Romances. Exotic locations, handsome men, and some very nice kissing scenes are brought to you by a hand-picked ensemble of hopeless romantics—I mean talented writers.

  Where does one meet an eligible billionaire? Join us as we journey to the Santa Barbara Marina, a Hawaiian beach, and a private island off the coast of Alaska, where some interesting men—and sometimes women—of means unknowingly await love to enter their lives. Come visit a secluded mansion in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, or explore the romantic recesses of an enchanting rainforest, while our heroes and heroines find out if they’ll be as lucky in love as they are in fortune.

  Each author in this series has researched and in many cases visited the location they’ve chosen for their story to bring a local flavor to your Kindle.

  Our billionaires are strong men and women who love to tangle with equally strong counterparts. Sparks will fly, kisses will ignite, and romance will abound.

  If you’d like to receive updates when new Destination Billionaire Romance books release and pick up a free book, you can sign up for the Gelato Books Newsletter by clicking here.

  I hope you enjoy The Reclusive Billionaire.

  —Amberlee Day, romance novelist

  Foreword

  When I met Lucy McConnell several years ago, I thought she was beautiful, fun, and unbelievably talented. I remember wishing we lived in the same town because we would’ve been the best of friends. Little did I know that she would become not only an amazing friend, but an inspiration and example in my writing life.

  Lucy’s talent for writing is unreal, and she has that ability to make clean romance sizzle. I rarely read a book twice, but I read Lucy’s as a critique partner, and then I read them again when they’re released because I love them so much.

  I fell in love with Lucy’s Billionaire Marriage Broker series and was excited to try out this new series, Destination Billionaire Romances. Let me tell you, it did not disappoint. Luke and Becca’s story was so romantic, but it also made me laugh and cry. I love that they are both brilliant and at the same time humble and care about people and animals alike.

  I hope you enjoy this fabulous start to the Destination Billionaire Romance series.

  Cami Checketts, Author of The Feisty One, A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance

  1

  “Dr. Scott! Dr. Scott!”

  Running his hands up the sides of the dark wood, Dr. Lucas Scott gripped the edge of the lectern, feeling the corners dig into his palms in an effort to ground himself enough to make a coherent statement in front of the dozens of reporters in his press room. There were so many things wrong with this moment that he felt as though he were standing next to himself watching it unfold. Not finding a safe harbor in the sea of faces eager for a scandal, he ignored their frenzied attempts to gain his attention and began.

  “As many of you know, GermTech Pharmaceuticals has been researching a cure for the Indian butterfly flu.” Researching was a mild word—they were hunting the strain of bacteria that was slowly killing hundreds of people, with the promise to take out thousands more should it spread to other continents. They were close . . . so close.

  The reporters quieted down and shifted to the edges of their seats. They held their phones out, ready to record the words that would destroy Lucas’s legacy and broadcast them on the five o’clock news.

  Lucas’s lips continued to read the speech prepared by his top-notch PR team as it streamed across the teleprompter. He may have been speaking about dissolving his management team and the steps they’d taken to ensure GermTechPharm would continue to provide high-quality medications for those with liver damage, diabetes, and many, many other conditions, but his mind was back at his sister’s bedside as she slipped away from this life.

  Brianna’s cheeks bore the rash that had given the butterfly flu its misnomer. The red-and-purple splotches spread out from her nose and swooped into her hairline, mirror images, like the wings of a butterfly. Her sea-blue eyes were rimmed in red. Her lips were cracked and her throat constantly dry, which made every word spoken a chore.

  Brianna had asked Lucas to take care of her husband, Tyler, and their three boys. She’d told him to keep them close and to not forget that he was loved. She must have known how easy it would be to lose that sense of belonging when she was gone, because he felt empty and alone in a world that was quickly turning against him.

  Swallowing back the emotion building in his throat, Lucas wrapped up his speech. “I will be stepping down as head of GermTechPharm for the time being.”

  The reporters gasped in unison, no doubt adding a great layer to their sound bite for the evening news.

  He paused to take a much-needed breath, and the barracuda jumped in. “Mr. Scott, what do you have to say to consumers who have trusted your products for years?” Tossing her medium-length blond hair over her shoulder, the reporter bared her overly bleached teeth in a predatory smile.

  “GermTechPharm has never sold a medication that has not been cleared by the FDA. In fact, we consistently go above and beyond the minimum requirements set forth in FDA guidelines,” replied Lucas.

  The other reporters took her interruption as an open door to throw their questions in his face like buckets of salty water.

  “Is it true that you were close to a breakthrough on the butterfly cure?” asked Rudy Carmolin. He was a decent fellow, the type that took a guy out for dinner and drinks instead of grilling him outside his front door first thing in the morning. Of course, in this situation, when reporters smelled blood in the water, niceties were set aside.

  “The butterfly flu poses an interesting challenge, and we are always up for a challenge.”

  “But you just said you dissolved your team.”

  “Yes, the team that was working on a cure is no longer functioning.”

  “Then who’s going to stop it?” Rudy pressed.

  Let them find a new savior; I’m out. “There are several other companies working on a cure at the moment.”

  “Are they close?” asked a man who had just graduated from his mom’s razor to a four-blade last week.

  Normally, Lucas wouldn’t give this kid a second look, but the group waited for his answer. “I am not privy to their research and can’t answer that question.”

  The barracuda had been silent for too lo
ng. Like her namesake, she’d hovered, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. “Mr. Scott, is it true your sister contracted the butterfly flu on her trip to India three months ago?”

  “No further questions.” Lucas stepped away from the podium.

  She wasn’t about to let him get away now. “And is it also true that she died because your team gave her an experimental drug?”

  I don’t know.

  Clamping his teeth shut, Lucas did the only thing he could think of: he turned his back on the microphone, on the screaming reporters, on the company he had built from the ground up, and walked away.

  Once in the private hallway, Lucas yanked his tie over his head and threw it on the floor, where he proceeded to grind it into the carpet. His anger satiated for the moment, he glanced up to take a cup of ice water from his personal assistant, Juanita. Her coal-black eyes were full of concern. He’d told her he planned to step down just moments before the press conference. He’d asked her to stay on as his assistant, working from home if necessary to escape the pandemonium that was sure to follow his announcement. She’d agreed, much to his relief.

  “Where will you go?” Juanita asked.

  “Someplace where no one will find me.” Lucas hadn’t given it much thought. When his account lit up with Google alerts—all painting him as a mad scientist with a Superman complex—he realized that distancing himself from the company during this time would be better for the investors and for the overall image of his company. Running away, as some might term it, wasn’t his style, but his grieving and lonely heart wasn’t up for a fight. His sister had shown him true, unconditional love, and her passing left a hole he wasn’t sure could ever be filled.

  “But the flu . . .” Juanita pointed down the hall to where his research lab was waiting for him to run yet another test on Butterfly241. Like so many others, Juanita looked at Lucas as if he could save the world.

  With the investigation into Brianna’s death, Lucas had been placed on probation by the FDA and wasn’t allowed into his own lab. He wasn’t a hero. He couldn’t save his sister and he could barely take care of himself at the moment. He drained the cup in his hand. “It’s not my problem anymore.”

  Dr. Lucas Scott handed Juanita the empty water cup and turned without another word. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing more to say.

  2

  “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” Becca Lee set the plate of tuna fish on the warm asphalt behind her veterinary clinic, just far enough out of the cardboard box that the ginger-haired cat would have to stretch to reach a nibble. The strong-smelling fish would win over the cat’s tummy long before Becca could coax her out of her hiding spot with a soft word or kissing noises. Catching her was a matter of patience and time. When it came to stray animals, Becca had all the patience in the world.

  Time, however, was in short supply.

  She checked her oversized watch. Her first appointment would arrive in seven minutes, and Becca hadn’t even put her lab coat on yet. She’d arrived twenty minutes ago, intent on signing purchase orders and giving the animals in the kennels a once-over before the doors opened, when through the cement walls of her office she heard the hungry wail of the stray cat.

  Emily, her office manager, had grabbed a box of rubber gloves with a sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The cat poked a pink nose out, tentatively sniffing the air. Becca glanced up to make sure Emily was ready with the animal snatcher, a long pole with a loop at the end that would slip over the cat’s head, allowing them to maneuver her into a pet carrier without being shredded by her claws.

  The box opened a little wider, and Becca was evaluated by one bright green eye. The animal’s fur wasn’t too matted, and there were no visible scars. Instead of calling to the cat again, Becca averted her gaze and held her breath. Thinking that the coast was clear, the cat darted for the fish, and Emily snagged her—or him. The cat yowled as if the dogs of hell were on its tail as Emily pushed it into the crate and Becca closed the door.

  “Nice.” Becca fist-bumped Emily.

  The cat continued to protest being locked up. “This one seems a bit feral,” said Emily as she tucked a stray piece of mousy hair behind her ear.

  “They all seem like that at first. All it takes is a little love and grooming, and they become responsible citizens again.” Becca picked up the pet carrier; and Emily retrieved the tuna. “Let’s use that to give her a sedative so she doesn’t disturb the other patients.”

  Emily nodded. “If your clients knew you brought in strays . . .” She left the thought to hang there like an ex-boyfriend’s old jacket.

  Emily’s clients were conscientious about caring for their animals. They were the type who invited a dog or cat not only into their house, but into their family. The owners would take their dogs out on Saturday as they shopped State Street or walked Santa Barbara’s coast. They put them in sidecars on their motorcycles and bikes. They had their pet’s teeth cleaned regularly and bought organic dog and cat food. In short, they were wonderful people and kindred spirits who brightened Becca’s day. Since opening her office on lower Haley Street six years before, Becca had set some deep roots in the city she’d only visited as a teenager.

  Instead of responding to Emily’s worries and allowing the bad vibes into her clinic, Becca opened the bright blue metal door and motioned for Emily to go in first.

  Emily was probably right about losing business because of her softness for strays; but she just couldn’t help herself. They were so lost and alone—not helpless by any means, but nothing and no one should go through this life feeling unloved. Not when Becca had enough love for a billion stray animals.

  To their left was Becca’s office. She and Emily shared the small space since Emily was the one who did payroll twice a month, ordered supplies, paid the rent, and pretty much made sure things didn’t fall apart at the seams. To their right was the grooming room, complete with a full-sized shower stall for the larger animals and a sink where the smaller ones were bathed. Anthony would be in later to get the suds going. The stray cat would need a good going over, but that would have to wait. They passed the bathrooms and laundry closet on the right and turned in to the operating room on the left.

  Becca retrieved a small packet of sedative and handed it to Emily, who had slipped on a thicker pair of rubber gloves. She was going to have to open the cage, and Becca didn’t blame her for wanting protection. They never really knew what a stray cat was capable of doing.

  “Will you check the schedule and see when we can get her in for a full makeover?” Becca asked.

  Emily mixed the sedative powder in with the tuna. “Will do.”

  There was no need to explain what that meant; they’d done this rescue business enough times. “Thanks, you’re the bomb,” Becca said.

  She stepped into the hallway just in time to see Olive Ashworth drag her bulldog, Toby, through the front door, his nails scratching against the concrete floor. “Toby Mcgior Ashworth, you need to behave,” chastened Olive. She shook her finger at the dog, and her whole arm flapped along. At five foot two, she was two inches shorter than Becca, which didn’t happen a lot in Becca’s life. They both had black hair, though Becca’s was a gift from her Asian American father, and Olive’s was a gift from the salon.

  “Toby!” Becca smiled as she made her way down the hall. She snagged her lab coat from the hook in the kennel area, noting that Carson, one of the two vet techs, was feeding the animals they’d kenneled overnight. He waved as she passed, and she smiled in return. He’d love the feral little project she’d found in the alley for him today.

  Toby bounded to her, wagging his tail and sniffing for the treat he knew she’d have. She didn’t disappoint, fishing a Meaty Morsel out of her pocket. “Are you giving Mummy trouble today?” she asked the adorable flat face. Toby dropped his mouth open panting in response.

  “What brings you two by?” asked Becca. Toby had been in the prior month for his shots and wasn’t due for another visi
t so soon. She rubbed his head and decided he didn’t feel warm.

  “I—”

  Madison, the receptionist, burst through the door, her dark brown hair dancing around her head in tight spirals. “On time! Yes.” She pumped her fist.

  Becca shared an eye roll with Olive. Madison was late for everything. Ev. Ry. Thing. Without checking her watch, Becca knew she was at least five minutes late, but for Madison that was as close to “on time” as they were going to get. “Congratulations.”

  Madison stepped behind the reception desk and hit the space bar to awaken her computer. Her triumphant grin would last all day and her infectious good mood would spread, which was one reason Becca didn’t mind her being late.

  “Why don’t you and Toby come back to Room 1 and we’ll take a look at him.” Becca showed them the way.

  Once they’d gotten Toby on the exam table, Olive explained, “We were at our weekly visit with Ashley.” Olive pressed her hand to her heart. “And she said there’s something wrong with Toby’s liver. What am I going to do? Do you think it could be that awful butterfly flu I keep hearing about on the news?”

  Becca shook her head. “The butterfly flu only affects humans, and it’s being contained.” She hoped it was being contained. Information on the deadly bacteria and the death count came in what seemed like hourly updates.

  Redirecting Olive away from her dreary thoughts, Becca asked, “Ashley said liver?” Ashley was a pet psychic with an office a few doors down. She had referred clients to Becca for health concerns before and was usually spot on. Donning a pair of gloves, Becca checked Toby’s eyes for jaundice. They were a little bloodshot, but not at all the yellow that would indicate a problem with his liver. “Has he been eating?”

  “Same as always.” Olive tucked her arms around herself as Becca asked questions of a private nature about Toby and his bowels.