“Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop, it’s very nice to meet you, and thank you so much for coming today. I’m Alessia Moore, the founder and director of Renewed Promise Foundation.”
“Our pleasure,” Richard Winthrop says, pocketing his smartphone. “And this is our son, Hartford.”
My gaze is pulled toward an incredibly handsome man with dark, tousled hair and a strong jaw. I know that smile. Those eyes. My stomach drops like I’m on a rollercoaster.
“Hart,” he says, standing to offer me his hand. I place my palm in his and he gives it a firm shake. He treats me to a lopsided grin and shakes my hand as though we’ve never met.
Okay, so we’re going to lie. Cool.
I stand there for a moment too long. He’s beautiful. And he’s smiling at me.
Thankfully, I snap out of it and find my seat—directly across the table from Hart. His gaze follows as I slide out the rolling chair and slip into it, opening my leather portfolio.
“Alright then, and we have Peter Cho and associates on the line, I believe,” Joslyn says.
Oops. I should have greeted their financial planning team as well. A faux pas. But I’m distracted by the Winthrop’s’ boyishly sexy and very off-limits son whom I once spent an evening flirting with in Florence. Dear God, why do these things happen to me? I’m flustered, and suddenly much too warm.
I’d read quite a bit about the Winthrop family courtesy of Wikipedia, Forbes, Newsweek, and Fortune magazines. But I don’t recall seeing any mention of the youngest heir to the Winthrop family fortune, and even if I had, I never would have connected him with the man I met in Italy. And he certainly hadn’t offered it up.
For the son of a billionaire. I would have expected arrogance, privilege. The guy I met that night in Italy was none of those things. He was sweet, funny, and he made me smile despite my broken heart. ...
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