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Redemption Of A Ruthless Billionaire
Lucy Ellis
‘I want you off my property.’But what Nik Voronov really wants is Sybella—in his bed!Nik’s not a Voronov by blood, but he’s ferociously protective of his adoptive family. So when he believes single mother Sybella Parminter is taking advantage of his grandfather he ruthlessly strips her of her job! But as unexpected desire threatens to consume them both, sweet Sybella might just be the redemption this brooding billionaire needs…
“I want you off my property.”
But what Nik Voronov really wants is Sybella—in his bed!
Nik’s not a Voronov by blood, but he’s ferociously protective of his adoptive family. So when he believes single mother Sybella Parminter is taking advantage of his grandfather, he ruthlessly strips her of her job! But when unexpected desire threatens to consume them both, sweet Sybella might just be the redemption this brooding billionaire needs...
LUCY ELLIS creates over-the-top couples who spar and canoodle in glamorous places. If it doesn’t read like a cross between a dozen old fairy tales you half-know and a 1930s romantic comedy, it’s not a Lucy Ellis story. Come and read rambling exposition on her books at lucy-ellis.com (http://www.lucy-ellis.com) and drop her a line.
Also by Lucy Ellis
Innocent in the Ivory Tower
Untouched by His Diamonds
The Man She Shouldn’t Crave
Pride After Her Fall
A Dangerous Solace
Caught in His Gilded World
Kept at the Argentine’s Command
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Redemption of a Ruthless Billionaire
Lucy Ellis
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07175-8
REDEMPTION OF A RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE
© 2018 Lucy Ellis
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To the memory of my dear dad—Robert ‘Jim’ Giblett—who didn’t get to see this one finished after many hours on the phone listening to me making up these stories, laughing in the right places and telling me I could do it when I thought I couldn’t.
Life isn’t the same without you, Dad.
You were everything to me, your Lucy/Kareena.
Contents
Cover (#u9ae8fa09-f061-5df3-8a20-5736e947ad39)
Back Cover Text (#u45ede2c1-753a-519d-83b9-e59ace6f89d9)
About the Author (#u916a96f7-4899-5b51-9ed4-2e6584fcb776)
Booklist (#udc92d078-dd3c-5aba-83d5-c7385aea284d)
Title Page (#u7d882bd3-3fb3-5426-ae20-69bda358a131)
Copyright (#ucf721767-dde0-5d52-a861-853973757a95)
Dedication (#uc08e9a7f-a6a2-57ec-b67c-ea79ec76d7be)
CHAPTER ONE (#u39f09605-e6f7-57e0-b6cb-c92201b710ba)
CHAPTER TWO (#ue220b5d6-7330-5e02-b5b0-492c6dfd9665)
CHAPTER THREE (#ub1d0731a-ab49-57a9-98fd-99100c89373f)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u7bfb26ac-6b39-54c4-803d-7e335b2aa3fb)
CHAPTER FIVE (#uc82cd6b4-64d2-5bf8-9744-70e094541d36)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_cb85f911-ab9e-5b97-882b-e1dfe6ce29b0)
‘I’VE FOUND YOU a girl,’ was the unexpected news his grandfather greeted Nik Voronov with cheerfully. ‘She’s local, so you’ll have to come down.’
The key words, Nik suspected, were, You’ll have to come down.
His conscience pricked. He hadn’t set out ten years ago, when he’d founded his company, to work twelve-hour days and seven-day weeks, but he did. He had the world on his shoulders, and his grandfather more of late on his conscience, and balancing the two was hard.
Nik lowered his head as a gust of wind buffeted him on the approach to the complex of site buildings where he had an office.
Around him was the site where his company, Voroncor, were sinking down exploratory equipment and mining kimberlite deposits from the rich Siberian earth. Work went on all year round, and because it was January everything was white except in patches where the ashy black earth showed through.
At least the wind had died down and he could see what he was looking at. Three years’ hard work to pull this reserve into the Voroncor fold.
‘Is that right, Deda?’
‘Her name is Sybella and she has everything a man could want. She cooks and cleans and she’s wonderful with children!’
The triumvirate of qualities guaranteed to ensure a man a good life, according to his seventy-nine-year-old grandfather.
Nik was well aware he could remind the old man he had a chef on the payroll, cleaning staff for all four of his international residences and no children to speak of. Moreover, no woman in the twenty-first century would view cooking, cleaning and raising children her sole responsibility.
But he’d be wasting his breath and it wasn’t the point.
Tactfully he rolled out the line he’d been using since his grandfather became actively interested in his personal life, which had—not mysteriously—coincided with the loss of his own wife, Nik’s adored grandmother.
‘When and if I do meet the right woman, you’ll be the first to know, Deda.’
His grandfather harrumphed. ‘I’ve seen you on the Internet with that model.’
The Internet? The last time they’d spoken the old man was using the tablet he’d got him as a tea tray.
But he knew who his grandfather was referring to.
Voroncor’s sister company Voroncor Holdings had bought out a retail corporation and Nik found himself in possession of some premium retail brands, including the fashion house Spanish model/actress and ‘it’ girl Marla Mendez was currently spruiking for.
The lady had pursued him around the world seeking his investment in her personal project, a lingerie line, not exactly his field but he had a personal reason for stumping up the funds that had nothing to do with Ms Mendez herself. A few photographs of them together at events had been enough for the tabloids to seize on the idea they were personally involved. He saw no reason to set his grandfather straight.
‘That woman is not right for you, Nikolka. There is something hard about her. She would not be good with little children.’
Nik considered reminding his grandfather he had no children, but he suspected that was Deda’s point.
‘Sybella works with children,’ his grandfather added helpfully.
No surprises there.
‘I think you should come and see her at work. I think you would be impressed, moy mal’chik.’
There was a long pause as Nik shouldered his way down the corridor and into his office, signalling for a coffee as he passed one of his admin assistants.
‘Did you hear me, Nikolka?’
‘I’m here, Deda. How did you meet her?’
Nik began pulling off his gloves, idly glancing at the information he’d asked for on the screen of a laptop another assistant silently opened in front of him.
‘She lives down the lane from the Hall, in the village. She’s a tenant. I believe she pays you rent.’
Vaguely Nik remembered some old English custom of the squire having first rights to local virgins. He held fire on mentioning it to his grandfather.
When he’d bought Edbury Hall a year ago he’d flown over in a helicopter. The village below had been merely a small sea of roofs swallowed up by the encroaching forest. His attention had been on the magnificent Elizabethan ‘E’, its outbuildings and the undulating pastureland around it.
His lawyer had done the groundwork and put everything in place. The purchase was a good investment, and it currently housed his grandfather while he was in the UK undergoing tests and treatment for a variety of complaints set off by his diabetes.
Nik hadn’t paid much attention to a lane, or the village, or the fact he had tenants. His admin dealt with that.
‘What are you doing consorting with the tenants? That’s not your problem, Deda. You’re supposed to be relaxing.’
‘Sybella comes to the house to keep me company and help me out with a few secretarial things.’
‘You have staff for that.’
‘I prefer Sybella. She is genuine.’
‘She sounds great,’ Nik said mildly enough, making a mental note to ask a few questions of the house staff. He didn’t want his grandfather’s kindly nature being taken advantage of.
‘We have a busload of children from all over the county once a month, up to thirty at a time, and Sybella is unflappable.’
‘Unflappable, good to know.’ Nik indicated he had what he needed. Then his head shot up. ‘Busloads of—what? Hang on, Deda, where is this?’
‘At the Hall. The children who come to see the house.’
Nik stopped finding this amusing. ‘Why are busloads of children coming to the house?’ But he already knew.
‘The Heritage Trust show them around,’ Deda said cheerfully.
The Heritage Trust. The local historic buildings preservation group, who had kept the Hall open to the public since the nineteen seventies.
