Love Express: London Billionaires, #2

By Alyssia Leon

She'd once been the princess of London's high society, but suddenly she was penniless Cinderella again.

Moira Stanley has lost it all: her status, her marriage, her one and only true love. Now heartbroken and alone at Christmas, she has no choice but to accept a stranger's offer of help and flee to Venice.

But cruel fate isn't finished with her just yet.

The powerful man it throws her with on the train to Venice holds a grudge from the past. He's not one to forgive being made a fool of, and Moira finds herself pulled into a deliberate web of seduction that threatens to destroy her.
Her broken heart hangs in the balance.
Do second chances really exist, or is this all just his ruthless game of revenge?

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard the Love Express.

STANDALONE Contemporary Romance | A London Billionaires Novella

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sagewood Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Jan 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781911519089

Alyssia Leon

Visit AlyssiaLeon.com for subscriber-exclusive free books and bonus content. Alyssia Leon writes stories filled with magic, mystery, and sexy romance. Her books have uniquely rich plots and colorful characters, but can get quite steamy (blame her alpha heroes), and always end in a happy ever after, because she loves an awesome happy ever after. Alyssia grew up in the UK and still lives and writes there.

Book preview

 1

The bread’s a bit stale, but you don’t mind, do you? Moira Stanley asked softly. Just nibble around the funky spots on the edge. That’s what I do.

The rat didn’t answer. It gobbled up the chunk of white bread with all the gusto of eating the world’s most luxurious Christmas cake. And only the occasional muffled squeak telegraphed its delight.

Moira slowly reached down, picked up her Prada kitten heels, and placed them beside her on top of the bed.

Just in case.

Rats, cockroaches, spiders. She’d seen plenty over the years of cleaning other people’s homes, but she still liked to keep a healthy distance.

I won’t have any bread for you tomorrow, she continued in a quiet voice so as not to scare the little grey rat away. She looked at the handful of pound notes and coins laid out before her on the tatty bed cover. Actually, I won’t have any bread for me either.

Four days ago she’d been worth billions. 

Today she was worth eighty pounds and thirty pence exactly.

She’d even left her credit cards behind. No, not her credit cards. His credit cards.

Picking up the four twenty-pound notes, she set them aside. Well, that covers the room for today and tomorrow. Which leaves us… she swiped the coins into a pile, …thirty pence. Yay!

She rubbed a weary hand across her face. Thirty pence might have bought her a bottle of water anywhere else in England, but in London, she’d be lucky if it bought her a bottle cap.

And we need to make it stretch to breakfast, lunch, and dinner for God knows how long, she murmured to the busily chomping rat. That agency better get back quick with a job, or after tomorrow it’ll be a roofless, foodless, Merry Christmas.

The rat ate on.

You don’t care, do you? she muttered.

The last of her bread, which she’d turned into a ketchup sandwich, was quietly dissolving into soggy mush on the bedside table. She’d bought the pack of white bread and the small bottle of ketchup days ago when the worst of the hunger pangs had struck. Cheap food that had quietened her stomach but tasted like tart paper mache. The rat loved the oozy bread though. It couldn’t get enough of the stuff after she’d coaxed it out of its hole in the wall three days ago.

We have lunch… Moira eyed the stale mushy sandwich half-heartedly. But I understand if you don’t want to share. A few missed meals might do me good anyway, she muttered, tapping her curvy hip. But then she frowned. I don’t get it. There’s tons of cleaning work around Christmas time, what with the parties going on. But the agency keeps saying they’ve got nothing for me.

The rat snuffled about and munched, oblivious to her plight.

Moira sighed. I think they want me to stop pestering them and take Alessandro’s offer.

Problem was, Alessandro’s offer was no longer about the job. It was now about her.

She moved the coins about in distracted little circles. She’d drowned in tears her first day here, but no one had come to dry her tears. The painful truth had faced her that without a paying job she wouldn’t survive. And she was determined to survive. So she’d gritted her teeth and returned to the work she’d known before her marriage. Housekeeping.

The agency she’d called for a job had given her details to a businessman desperate for a housekeeper. He’d turned out to be Italian and more than she’d bargained for.

She picked up her phone from the bedside table and flicked to Alessandro’s photo that he’d sent her. Way too dark, handsome, and sexy for his own good. She smirked at the rat. Sorry to say it, you’re cute and all, but you’ve a long way to go before you’ll compete at this level.

The rat scurried in small circles, searching for the last crumbs. And finding none, it twitched its pink nose in the air and headed for its hole nearby. Moira reached over to her sandwich and tearing off another soggy chunk, threw it near the rat. It jumped on the bread and settled down to a new feast.

Moira settled back against her pillow. I think Alessandro likes me. You know… like a man would. But why me? He could have any woman he wants.

She’d sent Alessandro a photo of herself when he’d insisted. She was good-looking to an extent, but her plain brown hair, prettyish features and ordinary blue eyes were unlikely to stun a man as striking as him.

But he’s kind. He always knows what to say… or text. She waggled the phone in the rat’s direction. Take notes. He cares and knows how to show it. That’s how you reach a woman’s heart, not by scoffing her sandwich without even a ‘thank you’.

And she returned to studying Alessandro’s photo.

His first texts three days ago had been impersonal, more of an interview. He worked at a hotel and said he was always on the job, so he needed an affordable housekeeper to keep his home. She’d answered his questions as best she could. But her answers had intrigued him, and his texts had come more often, becoming sweeter, wanting to know more about her. And she’d ended up telling him everything, right down to the sorry breakup of her marriage.

Now he wanted her, and not just as his housekeeper.

The rat scrabbled about on the wooden floorboards, hoovering up breadcrumbs.

You’re right. I need the job and a place to stay, Moira said. But also… It’s Christmas, and truth is… I don’t want to be alone. She paused. Alessandro said I wouldn’t be if I’m with him. But… I’m not sure I’m ready… She sat back with a weary sigh and regarded the busy rat. At least you’re a good listener. Thanks for being here with me.

A heavy thump landed on her room door.

Moira dropped the phone and sat bolt upright, her heart beating a frantic tattoo in her chest. The rat gave a terrified squeak and disappeared into its hole.

Be careful, you dork! A man’s laughing voice said right outside the door.

A second man guffawed. Wasn’t my fault! You can’t tell your right foot from your left.

Moira breathed out.

Students.

This hostel was full of them, all looking for the cheapest place to stay in London.

Hey Dave, bet you woke up whoever’s in there, the second man continued.

Nah, it’s past noon. There ain’t no one in there. Watch this… Dave cleared his throat and rapped on her door. Pizza Delivery, he hollered.

Moira rolled her eyes but stayed on the bed.

The two outside snorted and giggled like they’d played the joke of the century.

Come on, man. Let’s get out of here, Dave said.

And they scampered away.

It was Friday lunchtime, and things wouldn’t get any better towards the evening. A hostel full of drunk and rowdy students wouldn’t exactly be heaven.

Loneliness washed over Moira, and she stared at the tiny room with its bare walls, sparse furniture, and one square window. Over the past four days it had become her home. Her prison.

She closed her eyes. At least she had a choice now. She didn’t have to live like this. But was going to Alessandro the right thing to do?

The phone buzzed, and Moira’s eyes flew open.

‘Time to come to me.’ Alessandro’s text flashed on screen.

Her stomach clenched. Her choice was being made for her.

‘Look outside.’

And picking up the phone, she got off the bed and headed to the window. A lone black taxi waited outside the hostel entrance.

‘Is that taxi for me?’ she typed.

It shouldn’t surprise her. In the three days they’d been texting, she’d learned he was forceful when he wanted to be.

‘It’ll take you to the airport. Your tickets are booked for Paris.’

Moira stepped back from the window. ‘You know I’d like the job, Alessandro, but…’

‘But… you don’t trust me.’

‘I’m not sure this is a good idea.’

‘Don’t you trust me, tesoro mio?’

My darling. The typed endearment he now used for her wore down her resistance.

‘I do…’ She hesitated.

He must have sensed her hesitation. ‘Don’t be scared. You know me.’

Well, she knew his kind words…

‘Are we rushing this?’ She sneaked a look out the window again. The taxi was still outside.

‘What if your husband finds you?’

‘He isn’t looking for me. He’s too busy bedding his mistress.’

A pause. ‘He’s a rich man and a proud one, isn’t he? He’ll want you back.’

‘Why would he come after me? He’s the one who cheated.’ But then realization dawned. ‘You mean for revenge.’

Another pause. ‘Maybe revenge.’

Moira shook her head. ‘But he was never cruel like that when we were married, just distant.’

But uncertainty gripped her. Her husband had a ruthless streak. He’d wielded it in business, playing his opponents to their knees for his advantage. Would he now wield it against her?

Alessandro’s text had her staring. ‘You stepped on his pride by walking out on him. Men don’t easily forget a crushed ego. Do you still want to stay where he could find you?’

‘I never meant that much to him. He wouldn’t waste his time on me.’

‘But you’ve made him a laughing stock. Will he forgive that?’

Moira’s breath caught. The high-class circles they’d moved in were venomous, and her husband wouldn’t appreciate being made a fool in front of them. What if he tried to make her suffer for that? The fact that she’d loved him with all her heart wouldn’t save her.

‘You’re not alone, tesoro.’

She glanced at the hole the rat had disappeared into. Gone. Leaving her alone once more.

Maybe it was a blessing Alessandro had found her.

‘Come to me, Moira.’

 2

‘It’s okay. I’m waiting for you.’