An Heir For The Billionaire. Kat Cantrell
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time, before Sean, before she’d really understood what an SOB her father was.
Reid had wanted her to figure it out. She had to know why.
After the long trip and the blow of seeing her father so ill in that hospital bed, yet not feeling the rush of forgiveness she’d hoped for, Nora should have wanted to go home and shut out the world. But she’d been doing that for two years and all it had gotten her was a severe case of loneliness and a crushing sense of vulnerability.
Very little had happened lately that she’d had any control over. Her life had been spinning without her permission and all she’d been able to do was hang on. It was time to do something affirmative. Something decisive. Like thank an old friend for his kindness.
On the way to Reid Chamberlain’s downtown Chicago office, Nora pulled up a few articles about him on her phone. If she was going to beard the man in his den, she should at least know a few things about who he’d become over the years.
Gracie had volunteered to take Declan back to the Winchester estate, where Nora would be staying while in Chicago, and then insisted on calling for a car to take Nora on her mysterious errand. Being secretive wasn’t second nature to Nora, but she didn’t want to bring up Reid, at least not until she knew the purpose behind his kind gesture.
Especially when all of the articles she’d managed to find about Reid pointed to a very different person from what she’d expected. There were almost no pictures of him, save one very grainy shot that showed Reid rushing from a dark car to the covered doorway of one of his hotels. He’d turned his face from the camera, so the angle showed only his profile, but even that little bit clearly conveyed his annoyance at the photographer.
The caption underneath read “Reclusive billionaire Reid Chamberlain.”
Reclusive? Reid? He’d been the life of the party as long as Nora could remember. Heck, that was the reason they’d grown apart—he’d become so popular, his time was in constant demand.
Doubly intrigued, Nora glanced up as the car slowed to a stop and the uniformed driver slid out to open the back door for her to exit. She got out and found herself standing in front of the brand-new Metropol Hotel in the heart of downtown Chicago.
A study in glass and steel, the hotel towered over her, reaching to the heavens. Good grief. This was Reid’s office? She’d read that Nash Chamberlain had designed the Metropol, and it was nothing short of breathtaking, rising several dozen stories high and twisting every so often. The architectural know-how required to design it must have been great, indeed.
Impressed, Nora swept through the door opened by a uniformed attendant and approached the concierge, glad she’d opted for heels and a classic summer-weight pantsuit today. The concierge glanced up with a ready smile. Her mind went blank. Lying to the woman from Iguazu had been one thing, but this man was right in front of her, staring at her expectantly. She should have thought this through.
What if Reid wasn’t here? Or hadn’t really wanted her to seek him out? She’d only assumed he’d meant for her to figure it out. He might actually be mad that she’d tracked him down.
So what if he was mad. This trek had been about something greater than a mere thank-you. Taking control here. Nora squared her shoulders. No apologies.
“I’m here to see Mr. Chamberlain. Tell him Nora O...Winchester is here.” And she didn’t even choke on the name. “Nora Winchester. He’ll see me right away.”
Wow. Brazen should be her middle name. The articles had called Reid reclusive and she’d waltzed right in to demand that he admit her without question? This was a dumb idea.
The concierge nodded. “Of course, Ms. Winchester. He’s expecting you.”
Nora picked her jaw up off the floor for the second time that day. “Thank you.”
The concierge tapped a bell and a young man in a discreet rust-colored uniform that mirrored the hotel’s accents appeared by Nora’s side before she could fully process that Reid was expecting her.
“William will show you to the elevators and ensure that you reach Mr. Chamberlain’s office,” the concierge said.
Meekly, she followed the bellhop to the elevator bank, her heels sinking into the plush carpet that covered the rich dark hardwood floors. When they got on the elevator, the bellhop swiped a badge over the reader above the buttons and pushed one for the forty-seventh floor.
“Forty-seven and forty-eight are secure floors,” William explained with a smile. “Only VIPs get to see Mr. Chamberlain. It’s been quite a while since we’ve had one.”
VIPs only. And Nora Winchester was one. What would have happened if she’d introduced herself as Nora O’Malley? Would the concierge have politely booted her out the door?
Nervous all at once, she discreetly checked her hair and makeup in the mirrored paneling of the elevator. She’d twisted her blond hair up in a chignon this morning before her flight, and several loose strands had corkscrewed around her face. Not a bad look.
Silly. What did it matter how she looked? Reid had thrown her all off-kilter by telling his staff to expect her.
The elevator dinged and within moments William was ushering her into a reception area populated by a stately woman with steel-colored hair, who closed her laptop instantly as Nora entered.
“You must be Ms. Winchester,” she said. “Mr. Chamberlain asked for you to be shown right in.”
Far too quickly, the receptionist steered her through a set of glass doors and to an open entryway at the end of the hall, then discreetly melted away.
The man behind the wide glass desk glanced up the moment Nora walked across the threshold of his office.
Time fell off a cliff as their eyes locked.
Nora forgot to breathe as Reid Chamberlain’s presence electrified every nerve in her body. And then he stood without a word, crossing to her. The closer he came, the more magnetic the pull became. He was all man now—powerful in his dark gray suit, a bit rakish with his brown hair grown out long enough to curl a bit on top, and sinfully beautiful, with a face that became that much more devastating due to a five o’clock shadow that darkened his jaw.
And then he was so close she could see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. A dark, mysterious scent wafted from him, something citrusy but mixed with an exotic spice that wholly fit him. She had a feeling she’d be smelling it in her sleep that night.
“Hi, Nora.”
Reid extended his hand. For a moment, she thought he was reaching for her, to hug her, or...something. But instead, he closed the door and leaned into it, his arm brushing her shoulder.
The snick of the door nearly made her jump out of her skin, but she kept herself from reacting. Barely. Did he have something in mind that was so intimate and private that it wasn’t fit for prying eyes?
Her pulse jumped into her throat. “Hi, Reid.”
He crossed his arms and contemplated her. “You got the note.”
“Yes.” Impulsively, she put out her palm, intending to touch Reid on the arm to express her thanks.
But at the last minute, something in his expression stopped her. Something dangerous, with an edge she didn’t understand, but wanted to. Touching him suddenly held all kinds of nonverbal implications, maybe even an invitation she wasn’t sure she meant to extend.
Goodness. How had a simple thank-you become so...charged? She let her hand drop to her side and his gaze followed it, marking the action.
“What can I do for you?” he asked simply.
He was not the same boy she remembered. She could see hints of his teenage self in the way he held his body, and small things such as the length of his lashes