Billionaires in New York Boxed Set: Billionaires in the City Books 1-3 by Laura Burton (learn to read books .TXT) 📕

open and Harry made eye contact with Julie, his hand flew to his chest and he widened his eyes at the sight of her. “Wow, you look…” He pulled out an inhaler from his leather jacket and took a deep breath. “Breathtaking,” he finished. Julie laughed.

“You look pretty good, yourself,” she quipped back, her eyes hungrily taking in the sight of him. He wore a relaxed white shirt under his black jacket and a pair of dark denim jeans. He had gelled his hair in place and must have splashed cold water on his face; his skin looked bright and dewy again.

Julie’s heart fluttered. The realization dawning on her that she was going on another date with Harry. They hadn’t really spoken about it, but it felt an awful lot like they were a couple. How did that happen?

Harry held out his elbow. “Ready to meet my mother?” he asked smoothly. Julie slid her arm through his and together, they walked out the room.

Mature trees shrouded the gravel path a mile off the main road. Julie’s heart raced as she looked out the window in a vain attempt to see what was ahead. Harry took her hand and squeezed; she turned to look at him, while biting her lip.

“She’s going to love you. Don’t worry. Besides, we won’t stay long.”

Julie tried to remind herself, she was just his date. Not a potential daughter-in-law. There was no need to be nervous.

“Right,” she said determined.

The car pulled up beside a large, stone water fountain in front of an elegant country estate. The cream-colored house had climbing ivy near the front porch and more windows than Julie could count. It was like she was walking into a Jane Austen novel. This kind of home would usually be open to the public for tours. Farther along the path was a parking area full of expensive-looking cars.

“What a beautiful home,” she remarked as they climbed the stone steps to the front door. Harry rang the bell and a woman pulled the door open instantly.

“Harold, darling, it’s lovely to see your face.” The woman had tight auburn curls and a narrow pair of spectacles balancing precariously on the tip of her nose. She was short, possibly shorter than Emily. Her inky eyes flitted to Julie before looking back at her son. The two of them embraced and shared pleasantries as Julie stood waiting. She wondered what the expectations were in this situation. Would Harry introduce her and she… offer a hand? Kiss on the cheek? Social etiquette confused her at the best of times, but high-class British etiquette was a whole different kettle of fish.

“Mother, this is Julie Andrews.” Harry held his hand to the small of Julie’s back, prompting her to step forward. Harry’s mother eyed Julie as she made a small noise of surprise—as if she had not seen Julie standing there at all. Julie offered a hand just as Harry’s mother clasped hers together.

“Hello, Mrs. Jackson, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Julie said in her best impression of a Downton Abbey character. Her shaking hand sat hovering midair before she carefully lowered it.

“My dear,” Harry’s mother said with a slight incline of her head. “I haven’t been Mrs. Jackson for almost a decade now. Heather Bowood.”

Duh, Julie. One minute in and you’ve already put your foot in it.

Mrs. Bowood glanced at Harry, giving an exaggerated smile that did not reach her eyes.

“My darling, you did not mention that? I say, how little you seem to know about each other.”

Julie marveled at how Mrs. Bowood reached that conclusion from the small mishap. She sensed a long visit ahead. Harry was wrong, there was every reason to be nervous, and from the strange vibes she was getting from Mrs. Bowood, he was wrong that his mother would love her.

“Well, please come in and meet the others.” She turned on her heel and walked into the hall. Julie eyed Harry nervously as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then closed the door behind them.

The house had tall ceilings and an oak staircase in the center. An open fireplace sat on the right and as they walked past it, Julie’s eyes took in the sight of the largest tapestry she had ever seen hanging above it.

“We’re in the orangery,” Mrs. Bowood said cheerfully. They walked through a newly renovated kitchen and into a room made up of mostly glass. A collection of patterned furniture sat around a large coffee table positioned in front of the garden. Or gardens, Julie thought. As far as the eye could see was English countryside. There were two people seated already, one was an older gentleman wearing a light grey suit––similar shade to the few hairs he had above his ears. A young red-headed woman sat, looking serene and elegant, with her hand resting on the gentleman’s arm. As they entered the room, the young woman was laughing and flicking her hair back. The two of them rose to their feet and greeted Harry, neither of them acknowledging Julie’s existence.

“Harold, good to see you. How was your flight?” the gentleman said. Harry hugged the man and turned to the redhead with a look of polite surprise. The color in his face drained and a vein in his neck bulged.

“Ebony? I did not expect to see you here.”

Mrs. Bowood gestured for Harry and Julie to take a seat beside the redheaded woman. As they settled, she was grinning ear to ear. It appeared an evil plan was coming together.

“Oh, how rude of me. Ebony, this is Julie Andrews, Harold’s friend,” Mrs. Bowood said delightedly. She turned to Julie, her narrow eyes glinting behind the small glasses. “Julie, this is Ebony Holmes. Harold’s former fiancé.”

Ebony held out her hand to Julie. She was acting like the Queen herself, bobbing her heading and grinning in a similar fashion to Mrs. Bowood.

“Any friend of Harold’s is a friend of mine.”

Harry turned his head back and forth as if seated at Wimbledon. It