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Keep reading for an excerpt from Marrying His Runaway Heiress by Therese Beharrie.

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Marrying His Runaway Heiress

by Therese Beharrie

CHAPTER ONE

IF ELENA JOHN hadn’t known better, she’d have thought Micah Williams was simply being thoughtful. But she did know better. He wasn’t being thoughtful; he was trying to charm her. Soften her up.

If they’d met before she would have told him not to bother.

Instead, she climbed into the limousine that had pulled up in front of her house with a resigned sigh. It was as luxurious on the inside as it was on the outside. In one corner a mini-bar packed with her favourite drinks—which couldn’t be a coincidence since her favourite drinks were undeniably strange—and a basket of snacks in another corner. Music streamed through the speakers. Soft, unassuming, bland music no one could find offensive. Then there was the driver, who checked on her constantly, and the flight attendant, who took over from the driver once Elena reached the airport.

The longer she thought about it though, the more she liked the idea of Mr Williams trying to charm her. It wouldn’t work, but the fact that he was trying reminded her of what she’d accomplished. Five years at her newspaper and finally, finally she’d got assigned an important story. A story about a powerful man. Now, the powerful man was trying to nudge her towards writing a good story. She’d shadowed enough journalists, transcribed enough interviews, heard enough stories to know sometimes people did that.

She’d spent enough time with powerful men to know sometimes they did that, too.

Considering the situation she was leaving behind, the thought that Mr Williams was trying to manipulate her should have angered her. But this was for her job. She had prepared for this her entire career. And for once, she wasn’t the one in the helpless position. So what if the limousines and private planes, the obedient and careful staff, and the access to her favourite things reminded her of the first sixteen years of her life?

It might be a precursor to the next years of your life, too.

The thought made her faintly nauseous.

‘Ms John?’ The flight attendant was staring at her, his spine so straight, his posture so poised, she wanted to know if he’d practised it. ‘Through here.’

‘Yes.’

She followed him through the blue velvet curtain into the plush luxury of Micah Williams’s private plane. The design was different from her father’s, which was mostly for efficiency and productivity. Here the open space was a balance of that and relaxation, with comfortable-looking chairs on either side of the aisle in front of a modern desk. The biggest difference though was the man standing in front of that desk.

Micah Williams.

He was handsome. She didn’t bother tiptoeing around it. His skin was an awe-inspiring shade of brown, as if the heavens had opened and a stream of both light and dark shone on him. His body was clad in a suit that was made for his broad shoulders, his narrow waist, his long legs. His hair was dark and short, his stubble a length that told her it had been purposefully groomed that way. None of it was a surprise. Her research had prepared her.

What surprised her was the intensity of his gaze. The way he looked at her as if she had the answer to a question he’d had all his life. She wasn’t prepared for how his mouth curved at the side when he realised she was staring. When she realised he was staring right back.

She resisted the urge to smooth down the red pants suit she wore. She still wore her black coat over it, but the red was visible. She’d purposefully chosen to wear the colour. It was her colour. That knowledge was one of the few things her mother had left her before she’d packed her bags to travel the world.

Having a colour made Elena feel good; being in her colour made her feel strong. Strength helped her accept that this man was staring at her so intensely.

‘Ms John,’ he said smoothly, stepping forward. ‘Thank you for coming.’

‘Did I have a choice?’ she asked lightly. She gave herself a moment to enjoy his surprise. It flitted over the intensity, making it seem lighter. She knew it was an illusion. ‘It’s a free trip to Italy.’

Something twitched on his face. ‘That’s what you meant, is it?’ His tone was dry. ‘It has nothing to do with this being for your job?’