Dreaming with Dillon: The Dillon Series, #2

By J.L. Heritage

Sophie and Marcus have managed to navigate working together, meeting the in-laws, and the Christmas holidays as a new couple, but now she must make a serious decision. A life changer.

Despite a hectic schedule planned for their two-week business trip to New York, they have a glorious few days together to enjoy the city. They have it all worked out; the Central Park Zoo, ice skating, tickets to watch the Knicks play, and an unforgettable helicopter ride. 

But, how will Marcus and Sophie cope with all that New York has to throw at them? Especially when there’s a female rival who’s set her sights on Marcus, a rogue paparazzi that causes a whole heap of drama, and a turbulent journey home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.L. Heritage
• Release date: Dec 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781548084899

Book preview

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE      6

ONE      10

TWO      22

THREE      28

FOUR      35

FIVE      39

SIX      45

SEVEN      50

EIGHT      61

NINE      72

TEN      84

ELEVEN      91

TWELVE      98

THIRTEEN      106

FOURTEEN      113

FIFTEEN      125

SIXTEEN      141

SEVENTEEN      147

EIGHTEEN      156

WITH THANKS      162

ABOUT THE AUTHOR      163

Also by this Author      165

Sneak Peek: After Acquittal      165

PROLOGUE

I can’t believe what a whirlwind the last few months have been, so much so, that I have to occasionally pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming… dreaming of me and Mr Dillon. Up until a few months ago, I was just a humble Assistant PA with a bitch of a boss, working for Dillon Enterprises. That was all upended when he kissed me; a tender kiss I’d dreamt about for nearly two years.

Now I’m Marcus Dillon’s girlfriend and Management Assistant. Even now, saying it out loud feels so surreal. I mean, he’s Marcus Dillon, for crying out loud! He’s a multibillionaire businessman, stinking hot, a total gent, and my boyfriend. Not just a guy I’m seeing; this man is head over heels in love with me. I can’t fathom out what it is I’ve done to deserve him, but I’m holding on to tight with both hands because he is my everything, and I’m terrified of losing him.

Let me get you up to speed. I started working for Dillon Enterprises just about two and a half years ago as an Assistant PA to Marcus Dillon. My boss, Susan, is Marcus’ true PA, and I was terrified of her because she despised me. She was never directly hostile, she just knew how to push my buttons, and enjoyed watching me squirm; it was like torturing me was her favourite sport, and over the last two and a bit years, she became an expert at it. Of Olympic quality, some might say.

I’m good at my job and I enjoy it; being able to stare into Marcus’ office and daydream about him was just an added bonus, although he was somewhat of an enigma to me. As I was only his Assistant PA, my job was to support Susan, not work directly for him. This meant that I hardly ever spent any time with him, instead I’d be typing up her notes or, if I’d displeased her in some way, doing the coffee run. Sometimes, if I was really lucky and I’d especially pissed her off by…I don’t know, breathing, I’d get to go and do the archiving. This could take up to a week at a time and would leave me covered in papercuts with my fingers red raw from prising staples from eleventy-thousand documents.

Anyway, I digress.  I can’t even try to describe the effect he had on me when I first met him. Marcus is, for want of a better word, a true gentleman. He’s tanned and clean shaven with chestnut-coloured hair, and has the most beautiful blue eyes you’ll ever see. He’s got immaculate, straight white teeth and looks exquisite in his variety of bespoke, tailored suits. He’s not obnoxious with his wealth, but regularly donates to a number of worthy causes…two of which are very close to my heart. He’s a bit like the perfect mixture of man that you and your girlfriends might concoct. A bit like if we were all Frankenstein, he’d be our monster. Wait, what? That didn’t come out the way I intended it to; I have a tendency to blurt out whatever’s going through my head…it seems I was born with a defective brain-to-mouth filter. Scrap that, I was born without a filter at all. Let me try again; imagine you and your girlfriends are sitting enjoying some prosecco and you’re all talking about your dream qualities in a man…the list goes something like this; uber-rich but a self-made man, drop dead gorgeous, not too young, but not too old, has travelled so is cultured, is intelligent, over-the-top generous and thoughtful, funny and quick witted, passionate, a true gentleman who treats his partner as a queen and an equal, only has eyes for the person he’s dating, has in-laws over the other side of the world, and is quite spectacular in bed. Well, Marcus is the man that this list is based on.

Late last year, on the day of my Mums birthday, my bitch of a boss reduced me to tears over the Christmas party I was planning. Whilst I was crying ugly, black mascara tears in the ladies, Marcus cleared the office in order to console me when I finally emerged. He looked after me, drove me home, and ended up kissing me on my doorstep. We had a difficult week or so, where neither one of us were sure whether the other regretted it, but after Susan was taken ill, it was down to me to babysit his family who were visiting from Australia.

On the evening that I was due to stop by his house in Mayfair to be added to the security systems, his housekeeper, Netty, engineered a date between us. She’s quite the character, and I will forever be in her debt for that magical evening. Over dinner and drinks, he had the opportunity to say what he’d been wanting to say to me for nearly two years; I ignited something in him that he hadn’t felt in an age. He liked me, more than that, he wanted to date me after admiring me from afar for so long. Me. Plain ol’ Sophie Deans.

There have been some ups and downs — we wouldn’t be human if there weren’t — but right now, I’m standing in a private pod on the London Eye, holding a key to his home having been asked a monumental, life-changing question.

ONE

I stand holding the keying in my hand, knowing that it’s more than just a key…he’s offering me a future. I remember him telling me when we first started dating that he’s an ‘all or nothing’ kinda guy, and I guess this is his way of showing me how committed he is to me.

You’re awfully quiet, my love. Is everything okay? he asks.

I haven’t answered him yet, and I can see the suspense is killing him. My thumb skims over the engraving, ‘Your Marcus’, and I think about what moving in with him would mean. I love his house, so that’s not an issue, but he has staff, and I don’t know how I’d feel having them cater to my every need the way they do with him. I like doing my own laundry, and sometimes I just want beans on toast or a takeaway for tea. I like being able to walk into my kitchen and rummage through the fridge or cupboards for something to eat; I wouldn’t be able to do that there, it’s Netty’s kitchen.

I do love him though, and I can see this relationship going all the way…provided one of us doesn’t balls it up. I decide that the love I feel for him is enough.

Sophie? he says, pulling me away from my thoughts.

Sorry, you kind of took me by surprise, I say, smiling at him. I’d love to. There are a few things I’d want to discuss about how much Netty and Jim do for me, but I’d love to.

Is that a yes? he beams.

Yes, it’s a yes, I say laughing at his stupid expression.

Marcus wraps his arms around me and kisses me, picking me up and twirling us around on the spot.

You had me worried for a moment there, he chuckles, as he sets me back on my feet and tops up our glasses. Here, to us.

To us, I say as I clink my glass against his and take a sip of delicious, expensive champagne.

We spend the rest of our time on the London Eye watching the city light up as the night settles over the hustle and bustle, cloaking a vibrant city in a just as busy twilight. We witness the tiny lights come on in the buildings and see the steady stream of red and white lights from the cars trundling along the busy streets. Just as we start our descent, delicate white flakes begin to fall from the sky.

We get out of the pod and slowly make our way back to the waiting car hand in hand, as the snowflakes stick to our hair and coats. I stop just before we reach the pavement and tip my head back, looking into the sky at the pretty white glittering specs falling down on me, and wonder if mum is watching. Standing behind me, Marcus wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck. I twist round to look directly into his eyes and brush my lips against his, feeling his cold nose touching my cheek.

Come on, let’s go home, I say, testing out the phrase.

Our home, he says, leading me to the car and opening the door for me.

We travel back to his exquisite house in a comfortable silence, one of my hands wrapped around my heart-shaped keyring, and the other clasped in his as he gently strokes his thumb over my knuckles.

We get inside and he relieves me of my coat, passing it to Netty who has an anxious look on her face.

She said yes, he says quietly, answering her questioning look.

Oh, thank goodness! she wails, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a tight embrace. I’m so pleased, Pet. Welcome home.

I’m overwhelmed that she’s so pleased to have me in the house, that it puts some of my initial concerns to the back of my head for the time being. I know she has her role here, but I’m pretty sure she’ll let me chip in every now and then so, maybe, I can deal with her looking after me sometimes.

What do you fancy to eat? I’ve got left over quiche or some of that chicken?

Have you got any lemon drizzle left? I ask, crossing my fingers. Since I bought her a baking book for Christmas, she’s perfected the lemon drizzle and it’s to die for.

Aye, Pet, but you’ve got to have more than just cake!

Okay, what about a little piece of quiche, a pot of tea and a slice of cake?

That sounds more like it, she laughs and wanders off to the kitchen.

She adores you, love.

I adore her too.

Marcus and I go into the lounge and sit on the large sofa facing the roaring fire whilst we wait for Netty to bring in our tea. I tuck my legs underneath me and curl into Marcus’ side, wrapping my arms around his waist. He takes my chin in his fingers and tilts my head up to him so that he can kiss me. His lips touch mine and send those little shocks through my body.

Is there anything you’d change?

About what?

The house.

Don’t be daft!

Well, it’s your home too now. If there’s anything you don’t like, or want to add, all you have to do is say the word.

I’ll bear that in mind, but for the time being, I love this house. The only thing I’ll want to add is vegetables to the garden when we get to spring.

Marcus and I eat our tea and say goodnight to Netty and Jim. We climb the stairs and go into our bedroom, our suitcases opened on the floor and the fire crackling away in the hearth.

I spend half an hour or so checking that we have everything we need in our cases whilst Marcus sits on the bed watching telly. It’s a cold night and the fire has been blazing for hours, making the room cosy whist it bathes it in a delicate, flickering light.

Would you like a bath then go to bed? We need to be up relatively early tomorrow? he asks when I finally close my case.

That would be nice. I cross the room and stand at the edge of the bed. Marcus swings his legs over and I position myself between them, my hands on his shoulders.

Does this mean we have to tell people at work? I mumble, absently tracing my fingers along the shoulder seam of his shirt.

Yes, I think so. We can’t keep waiting for everyone to leave before we can come home together.

Urgh. I really don’t want to.

I know, sweetheart. We don’t have to make some big announcement, but I think it’s right that the management team are told. Don’t forget, I’m the boss so I’ll know if anything untoward is being said.

Hmmm, I think that’s exactly the reason you wouldn’t hear if anything untoward was being said. I pout.

Do you really think there will be a negative reaction?

"I just know what women can be like. I can’t see them thinking it’s sweet we’re together…I can see this being a wonderful piece of gossip, ‘Did you hear? Sophie Deans slept her way to the top’, I can almost hear it already."

I think that’s a little dramatic, don’t you? He slides his hand up to cup my face, instantly melting away my frown.

Maybe. I hope so.

And you most certainly did not ‘sleep your way to the top’, you’ve earned your promotion…it just so happens that you’re also my significant other. He gently guides my face to his and presses his lips to mine.

He kisses my neck and I tip my head back slightly, giving him better access to my flesh. I close my eyes and concentrate on the feeling of his soft lips against my skin whilst inhaling that heady scent that I now associate with him. Even with my eyes closed, I can see the flickering amber and orange hues coming from the fire. His lips, his scent, and the dancing, crackling flames mixed together create an atmosphere and desire so intense, it can’t be ignored.

He slides his hands up my legs and rests them on the tops of my hips as he kisses me softly; slow, delicate kisses across my collarbone. His hands skim my ribs as he slides them up my body and to the top button of my floaty blouse, unbuttoning it and untucking it from my skirt. He pushes the fabric off my shoulders and it slides from my body, laying in a heap behind my feet. Next, he tugs the hem of my vest top and pulls it up my body, tossing it behind him. He unzips my skirt