Nina Singh - Captivated By The Millionaire

They’re not looking for love...

Until love finds them!

On paper it just shouldn’t work. Jess is a bohemian artist who loves her life in the close-knit Martha’s Vineyard community while Jordan is a millionaire bachelor, CEO and a “bright lights, big city” guy. There’s no denying the attraction between them, but neither are in the right place for a relationship. However, fate and an adorable little girl entrusted to their care have other ideas...

NINA SINGH lives just outside of Boston, USA, with her husband, children, and a very rumbunctious Yorkie. After several years in the corporate world she finally followed the advice of family and friends to ‘give the writing a go, already’. She’s oh-so-happy she did. When not at her keyboard she likes to spend time on the tennis court or golf course. Or immersed in a good read.

Also by Nina Singh

Miss Prim and the Maverick Millionaire

The Marriage of Inconvenience

Snowed in with the Reluctant Tycoon

Reunited with Her Italian Billionaire

Tempted by Her Island Millionaire

Christmas with Her Secret Prince

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Captivated by the Millionaire

Nina Singh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09079-7

CAPTIVATED BY THE MILLIONAIRE

© 2019 Nilay Nina Singh

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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To the Mills & Boon editors

I’ve had the fortune to work with—

Flo Nicoll, Vic Britton and Laurie Johnson.

For all your guidance, encouragement and just

overall fabulousness, I feel truly blessed as an author.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

HE’D ALWAYS PRIDED himself on being prepared. Overly prepared, in fact. But damned if he’d seen any of this coming.

Jordan Paydan stood in front of the glass wall of his Upper East Side Manhattan penthouse and stared at the paperwork that had just been delivered to him via special messenger. No detail had been left up to chance. Every “i” had been dotted; every “t” had been crossed. A slew of family practice attorneys had made sure to look over each piece of paper.

And now Jordan’s life would never be the same.

His stepmother hadn’t put up any kind of a fight; she’d simply waited for the funds to be transferred into her account. He grunted a laugh at the term. Stepmother . The woman was barely older than his own thirty-one years. She certainly didn’t appear to want to act like a responsible adult. He didn’t know her well at all, but that much about her was as clear as the sky on this bright New York afternoon. Considering the events of the past few months and based on the paperwork he currently held in his hands, his stepmother had no qualms about moving on after his father’s death.

Jordan uttered a small curse and threw the envelope and documents onto the mahogany desk behind him next to the couch.

Nothing to do now but to try and plan for the colossal changes that were about to overtake his very existence. None of which were his own doing in any way. He just had to figure out where exactly to start.

JESSALYN RAFFI WAS completely engrossed in the mural she was painting on the wall. It was good. Really good, if she did say so herself. She’d spent most of the day painstakingly drawing and creating a detailed image of a majestic, ancient castle sitting atop a grand mountain. Fat, fluffy clouds floated above its towers. She’d even thrown in a few knights on steeds along its base.

Jess had no doubt the child about to occupy this room as a new resident of this house was going to love it. What child wouldn’t? To be able to walk into your bedroom and feel like you could be transported through time and space into an entirely different reality would seem magical to any youngster. She was certain of it.

As engrossed as she was, she didn’t even hear the front door open and close downstairs; nor did she hear the steady sound of footsteps as someone came up the stairs and approached the open door. It took her a moment to realize that someone now stood right outside in the hallway. So it was no wonder she shrieked as loud as she did when she finally understood she was no longer alone. A strange man stood staring at her. Out of sheer reflex, she threw the wet paintbrush she held directly at his chest like some sort of futile weapon, her aim finding its target straight and center.

“What the hell?” a deep masculine voice responded with outrage.

She realized her mistake almost immediately. But it was too late. An angry splotch of red paint spread and splattered across the newcomer’s shirt.

His clearly expensive, well-tailored silk shirt.