Leah Ashton - The Billionaire From Her Past

The tycoon she never forgot...

Mila Molyneux had always harboured a secret crush on her childhood friend Sebastian Fyfe—until he married another woman. She buried her feelings and moved on, knowing it was best for everyone...

Meeting Seb years later—now widowed and still gorgeous—their long-lost connection is as deep as ever. Only now difficult emotions challenge not only Seb but Mila, as well. Dare she hope they can now find happiness—if she can confront the hold this brooding tycoon still has over her?

There wasn’t much space between them. A meter... maybe a little less.

Mila still held his gaze. He wished hers was unreadable, but it wasn’t—not any more. He was sure his wasn’t either.

All he had to do was reach for her...

And that would be it.

And it would change everything.

Their friendship—the friendship that was so important to him, that he needed so badly— would be altered for ever.

And Mila...

Was this really what she wanted?

‘I just want tonight,’ Mila whispered, reading his mind.

And with that he was losing himself in those eyes, falling into their depths.

He needed to touch her. He needed Mila. There was no going back.

Dear Reader,

Next year will be my twenty-year high school reunion (how did this happen?), and I’m lucky to still be very close to two of my friends from high school.

Through interstate and overseas moves, marriage and children, our friendships have shifted over the years. Right now, we catch up with a backdrop of exuberant children, or—even better—over a glass of wine. Quite the contrast to the nights we wore satin trousers, midriff tops (it was the ’90s!) and drank cheap sparkling wine as we tottered about Fremantle! While I’m glad those days are behind us, much of our friendship remains unchanged. We still talk for hours, we still support each other unconditionally and we still laugh and sigh at rom coms at the local cinema.

I’ve always thought there’s something special about childhood friendships that endure, and that’s where Mila and Seb’s story came from. Mila and Seb’s friendship has drifted, but a tragedy brings them back together—until a long-forgotten attraction makes things very complicated!

I hope you enjoy Mila and Seb’s journey as the boy—and girl—next door discover that their childhood connection has become so much more.

Leah xx

The Billionaire from Her Past

Leah Ashton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RITA® Award–winning author LEAH ASHTON never expected to write books. She grew up reading everything she could lay her hands on—from pony books to the backs of cereal boxes at breakfast. One day she discovered the page-turning, happy-sigh-inducing world of romance novels...and one day, much later, wondered if maybe she could write one too.

Leah now lives in Perth, Western Australia, and writes happy-ever-afters for heroines who definitely don’t need saving. She has a gorgeous husband, two amazing daughters and the best intentions to plan meals and maintain an effortlessly tidy home. When she’s not writing, Leah loves all-day breakfast, rambling conversations and laughing until she cries. She really hates cucumber. And scary movies. You can visit Leah at www.leah-ashton.comor Facebook.com/leahashtonauthor.

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For my dad, Jeff.

Whether it be for a tennis match, dressage test, job interview or career decision, you have always supported me with your wisdom, your positivity, your love—and your ability to reverse a horse-float. Thank you for always being there for me. I love you. Go Freo!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

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

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

PURPLE.

That was what Mila Molyneux remembered.

And bubblegum-pink. Crocodile-green. Little-boy-blue.

So many colours: primary and pastels, and in stripes and polka dots. Everywhere. On party dresses, balloons and pointed party hats. Or scrunched and forgotten in the mountains of desperately ripped and dismissed wrapping paper that wafted across the lawn.

A rainbow of happy, excited eight-year-olds beneath a perfect Perth sky.

But Stephanie had definitely worn purple to her birthday party all those years ago. Purple tights, purple dress and glittering purple cowboy boots.

Mila remembered how excited her best friend had been that day. She remembered how excited she’d been, too—what eight-year-old girl wasn’t excited by a birthday party? It had been years before their dreary Gothic black high school days, so Mila guessed she’d been wearing some shade of red—her favourite colour—but that detail of her memories had faded. As had the memory of what Seb had worn, but he’d been there, too. Three friends, neighbours all in a row, although back then Seb had most definitely still had ‘boy germs’.

But that had changed later.

As had Stephanie’s backyard.

Today there were no balloons in Mr and Mrs van Berlo’s garden. No patchwork of forgotten wrapping paper. No mountain of presents or shrieking of excited children.

And definitely no purple, nor even the tiniest hint of a rainbow.

Instead the guests wore black as they mingled amongst tall tables topped with elegant white flower arrangements. In this same garden, where Stephanie and Mila had played hide and seek hundreds of times, it just didn’t seem real. Didn’t seem possible.

But then—none of this did, did it?

‘If anyone else tells me how lucky we are to have such amazing weather today I’m going to—’

Sebastian Fyfe stood beside her, staring out at the monochrome guests beneath the unseasonably perfect winter sky. His voice was strong and deep, as it always was.

It had been years since they’d spoken face to face. Almost as long since their emails and social media messages had dribbled out into nothing.

‘If anyone else tells you how lucky we are to have such amazing weather today you’re going to nod politely—because you get how no one has a clue what to say to a man at his wife’s funeral,’ Mila finished for him.

Seb raised his untouched beer in Mila’s direction. ‘Correct,’ he conceded. His tone was as tired as his grey-blue eyes. ‘I don’t know what to say at my wife’s funeral either. Maybe I should steal their material and start the weather conversation myself.’

Mila managed a small smile. ‘Do whatever you have to do to get through this,’ she said. ‘Personally, I’m just not talking to anybody.’

Even her mother and two sisters were giving her the space she needed. But they stood nearby, in a neat half-circle, just in case she changed her mind.