To Charm A Billionaire (Men of Monaco Book 1) by Michelle Monkou

straight."
    "And I love you for it. I don't want you feeling guilty about anything." Anna stroked the top of her mother hand. Their body shape was similar minus the age difference.
    " So what about you? How are you doing? And I'm asking because despite your rosy glow when talking about Damien, you do look a bit tired."
    "Not tired, just a lot on my mind."
    "If you didn't have all this stuff holding you down...meeting here, engagement there, appointments everywhere...what would you do?"
    "That's easy. I'd be here with you." She leaned over and kissed her mom's cheek.
    Right now her mother was in stable health where nothing good or bad was happening with her condition. Anna spent at her mother's side treasuring what would eventually be taken from her.
    "Appreciated." Her mom touched her cheek. "But wasted on me. I feel like your wings have been clipped because of my illness. We have a staff, and I have a nurse, I don't need you to hover over me."
    "I like sitting here with you and talking about everything."
    Her mom set down the remainder of the wedges. "Are you here because you're afraid?"
    Anna sat up, more than a little shocked by her mother's judgment.
    "Oh, I'm sure that you don't think it's fear, but you are in Italy, talking to him on the phone, waiting for his messages. And a part of you hopes that he's not back to being the party boy that made it to the society front pages."
    "No way," Anna protested.
    "This isn't blame. It's natural. And you're doing great not tracking him down like an angry jealous woman."
    Anna snorted. "That was never me."
    "I know, thank God."
    "He's got a lot of pressures. I don't want to add to them." She munched on the sweet fruit and settled back into the chair.
    "And you're going to walk next to him holding your hands out to catch him if he falls?" Her mother didn't press her point.
    "Okay. Now the picture you're painting makes me sound like a neurotic, high-maintenance type."
    Her mother laughed hard, ending with wracking coughs.
    Anna offered the tissues and then the water glass. "Sorry."
    Her mother waved off her apology. "Let me do the mothering. Go. Drop everything and go be with your man."
    Anna stubbornly stayed.
    Her mother chuckled and then signaled for the nurse to take her indoors. "Damien is waiting for you, honey."
    _________
     
    T he cars circled the track once more before Damien turned away from his next business venture. Thick threads of excitement shot chills through his body. Shivers practically raced up and down his arms. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. He had found his niche. Thanks to Anna's side hobby of racing cars, she had led him to one of Monaco's rising trends—electric car racing.
    Attending a gala with her hosted by Prince Albert II of Monaco turned into an orientation of sorts on electronic cars and the racing enterprise. He'd always known about the popular event and attended a few parties, but never saw it as more than a social item on his calendar.
    Faced with a wide open future, he had begun to think about the next chapter. Talking with innovators in the electric car industry opened his eyes on the opportunities available to him. The industry needed smart people, but it also needed a wider marketing reach and it needed money.
    He didn't brag about his brain, but he did have the money. Within a week, he revived his venture capital company that had lain dormant while he worked for Laurent Holdings. Energized about the pioneering edge of his new vision, he set about fully staffing the new enterprise. Instead of having a reception to celebrate the milestone, he'd opted for a solitary experience with a take-out order of Lebanese cuisine.
    The late nights at the office quickly increased as his insomnia kicked into high gear. Thoughts exploded with offshoots of possibilities, lingering insecurities, and abrupt promptings to cease and desist.
    He leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs on his desk. What did he think that he could do? Alone. His