Accidentally Married to the Billionaire (The Billionaire's Touch, #1) (4 page)

Everything at the hotel and casino in Las Vegas where she was booked was red and gold. Not gold but gilt—every table leg, every mirror frame, everything. The opulence managed to look both fancy and tacky, a little bit like me, she thought cheerfully. She rode the mirrored elevator to her floor, checking out her reflection from every angle, tugging at her leggings a little where they were bunched up behind her knees. So she was bent over, yanking on her leggings when he got on the elevator.

“Going down?” he asked archly.

She stood up and tried not to look flustered, despite the fact that she was embarrassed—cheeks flaming—and he was gorgeous.

“Hardly,” she said with what she hoped was a dismissive expression.

He was tall with broad shoulders and chiseled features, your basic fantasy. Dark hair swept back from his forehead. Dark, penetrating eyes, a square jaw that spoke of authority or, at least, stubbornness. She stared. She was riveted; it couldn’t be helped. He was wearing, she observed, black trousers fitted perfectly, a deep purple polo shirt, a slim chronograph watch—everything tailored, of the highest quality and ruinously expensive. He didn’t have a smartwatch or any sort of obvious tech toys of the kind.

Everything about him said
rich
and
classic
and
nothing to prove
. His forearms were muscled, his wrists thick. She always looked at wrists because, despite the urban legend about finger length and certain masculine attributes, she’d often found men with strong and sturdy wrists were far better endowed than their slender and elegant counterparts. Forget artistic hands or pianist’s fingers. Give Marj broad, strong wrists and capable hands any day of the week.

She didn’t meet his eyes. She was too captivated by the rest of him. When the elevator pinged to signal its arrival on floor 34, she sashayed past him, dragging her weekender suitcase on its lopsided wheels with as much dignity as she could muster. He warranted a hair flip, so she gave one, not too extravagant, but enough to draw attention to her lustrous mane of naturally auburn hair.

Once she was in her room, she flopped on the bed with a groan. He was no doubt the hottest man she’d meet this weekend—or in her life—and she’d glowered at him and assumed his probably innocuous inquiry to be a solicitation for oral sex. This was what came of being so jaded—she assumed everyone was obnoxious and out for themselves. The hot rich guy could have been trying to say something civil, to inquire if she needed a button pressed on the elevator panel. As if she were incapable of pressing her own button...which sounded both filthy and sadly accurate these days.

The email she’d received from HR indicated a seven pm report time for dinner at the Italian place downstairs at the hotel. That gave her about twenty minutes to get ready. She plugged in her flatiron and wriggled into the size six deep blue cocktail dress of dreams. It was better to call it that than the deep blue dress of debt, which it had more claim to.

Marj decided this was an occasion for false eyelashes, and she applied them neatly from long practice, then did a credible cat eye with her felt tip liner. A soft nude lipstick with a touch of gloss at the center of her full lower lip completed the look. She stepped into the navy suede stilettos she’d bought and surveyed her reflection. Sophisticated enough to attend a business dinner, sexy enough to attract a guy. Satisfied, she snapped a selfie to send to Britt and headed downstairs. The elevator was crowded, but notably absent was the hot guy she’d seen before. She wouldn’t have minded running into him again, dressed like this.

The Italian restaurant was lovely, wide planked floors. Her work party was seated in the private tasting room with a long high table and leather stools perfect to perch on and cross her long legs, to dangle one stiletto off her toes provocatively as she sipped a rich cabernet. Sylvia from the Manhattan office was also there, and they whispered about how beautiful everything was.

Sylvia was fortyish and married, no threat to Marj’s half-baked plan to snare a husband from the bar. She didn’t seriously believe she’d meet anyone special this weekend, but it was fun to formulate a wild plan and imagine success. The thrill of anticipation, the pounding of her pulse. It was like buying a lottery ticket, a really expensive one with matching suede pumps.

Power Regions, Ltd.’s delegation was composed of an executive vice president called Mallory, a pair of lawyers and the notably absent COO—the soon-to-be dethroned son, the predecessor of the Wicked Queen. In the absence of desirable members of the opposite sex, Marj talked with Sylvia and flirted a little with Rob, one of the lawyers, just to get warmed up. Surely the endless dinner would eventually be over, and she could check out one of the clubs and meet a high roller worth her time.

Rob was boring. He liked to talk about fly fishing. A lot. The VP spent most of her time making excuses as to why Brandon, the absentee COO, hadn’t been able to make it to the dinner. He had an emergency meeting with...someone. Marj picked at her pasta with artichokes and tried not to over consume carbs. She did, however, enjoy a glass or two of wine. It kept her hands busy, felt elegant and kept her away from the crusty bread. She hadn’t had crusty bread in so long it was nothing but a seductive memory.

“Have you tried these olives?” Sylvia asked her, indicating the extravagant plate of antipasto that sat before them otherwise untouched.

Marj shook her head and eyed a sliver of Parmigiano-Reggiano with the greed of a Roman emperor. Darting her hand out, she snatched it and took a salty, melting nibble. The flavor seemed to explode in her mouth—being, as it was, neither salad nor a damn Healthy Choice frozen meal. She shut her eyes for a moment and popped the rest of the paper-thin sliver in her mouth. It coalesced, heavenly, on her tongue. It had been so long since she let herself enjoy something like this—a beautiful dress, new shoes, good cheese. It felt indulgent and made her crave more indulgence.

After considering the seemingly non-existent upside to this merger/acquisition and narrowly managing to decline more than a single taste of tiramisu, Marj disengaged herself and headed out to the casino floor with a forty dollar budget. Hell, maybe she could win rent money! She played roulette, betting it all on 26 (her age) and winning. With eighty dollars worth of chips, she headed to the craps table where she lost thirty of it almost instantly. She ordered a tall blue cocktail, a signature of the casino apparently, judging by the quantity of them on the table rails. It was some sort of kamikaze, she decided when she took a taste of the sweet, potent mixture. One more roll and she was up ten more dollars. A man sidled up to her and hooked an arm around her hips. She turned her dark eyes on him, half suspicion.

He was older, sixty perhaps, and balding, but he had a stack of chips beside him worth thousands.

“Would you be so kind as to blow on my dice? You caught my eye and took my breath away, so it’s the least you could do.”

He said it slyly, knowing it was a line, and she laughed. He placed his bet.  She blew on his dice and he won, another stack of chips pushed toward him. He took a five-hundred dollar chip, thick and silver, and pressed it into her hand.

“For my good luck charm,” he said, and she thanked him.

Marj clutched the chip and nodded.

“I think I’ll cash out. You’re the best luck I’ll have in this casino. Thanks,” she said.

He offered to buy her dinner, but she told him truthfully that she’d already eaten. The truth was she didn’t want to marry a bald sixty-year-old that stared at her like a piece of meat. That blue drink just wasn’t strong enough to make him look appealing.

She cashed out her chip and decided that leaving the casino floor $590 richer than she entered was a victory. It would almost pay for the dress and shoes. After a few drinks, Marj headed up to one of the clubs to dance with two of the single ladies from the marketing group.

“C’mon!” said Tina. “Let’s dance!”

“Yeah!” Della roared.

Marj slid onto the crowded dance floor of a club as dark purple as her dress was dark blue. It felt lush, like the night sky with glittering dots from the disco ball sliding across the walls and ceiling. Techno music throbbed, and they danced in a group until those expensive shoes started to hurt. She sat down at the bar on a plush stool and ordered a whiskey sour with extra cherries. She crossed her legs and sipped her drink.

“Hey, girls,” Tina said. “I’m wasted. Let’s head back to the hotel.”

Della nodded. “Okay. Sounds like a plan. At least I got to experience a little bit of Las Vegas. It was fun.”

“I’m ready to go too,” Marj said.

A man sat down beside her. Correction: the hot man sat down beside her. The one from the elevator who asked if she was going down and she had cut him down to size with a withering look. Now here he was in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, everything about him dark and forbidden. The room seemed to recede, to grow quieter, warmer and more shadowy somehow. His eyes dimmed the light, the scent of him, expensive herbal body wash, she guessed. Frankincense clung to him, exotic, spicy and strangely reminiscent of Sunday Mass, Marj thought. But he was far more fallen angel than altar boy.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked.

Marj smiled. “Yeah. We really stayed later than we should. We’ve got a big presentation tomorrow. And I haven’t met my new boss yet, so I have to make a good impression.”

“I think he’s beyond impressed,” the man said, his entire face lighting up.

Tina finished the last gulp of her drink. “He won’t be if we’re late tomorrow.” 

The man set down his empty glass on the bar. “Maybe he’s preoccupied with more pressing matters and doesn’t really care if you ladies show up with a hangover.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Tina said slurring. “But we have to go.”

“Have a lovely evening, ladies,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The man then ordered another drink. Marj looked at the handsome man and noticed that something troubled him. It looked like he needed somebody to talk to.

“Hey,” Marj said to him. “What’s wrong?”

“The long version or short version?”

“Short.”

“My entire life is crashing down around me.”

“Need somebody to talk to?”

“I’d love someone to talk to. It won’t change a damn thing, but getting it off my chest might make me feel better. Oh, who am I fooling? I’m so screwed. My life is over.”

Marj turned to Tina. “You guys go ahead on back. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“And leave you here with a total stranger?” Della said.

The man waved his hand. “Um, I’m not a stranger I’m...”

Tina cut him off. “If my friend doesn’t come back, then I’ll...”

“I can handle myself,” Marj said.

They said goodbye and left.

“Your friends just left you with a stranger,” the man said.

“I just met them today. They don’t know me from Adam. They’re just work colleagues.”   

“I’d offer you a drink, but you have one,” he said, his voice low, almost dismal.

“I’ll have another,” she said quickly and slammed back the one she had so fast the ice hit her in the nose.

Marj placed the empty glass on the bar with a cheeky smile, and he managed a ghost of a grin. It was slight, and yet it made her catch her breath. She wondered if a real smile from him would stop her heart. This half smile alone shook her. If she’d been standing, her knees would’ve gone weak. She gripped the edge of the bar to steady herself from her perch on the stool.

“I’m Marj Reynolds. I’m in town on business. Until this moment the only pleasure Las Vegas has afforded was a sliver of cheese at supper,” she said, biting her lip alluringly.

He motioned to the bartender, who proceeded to bring her a new drink. He watched her fish a cherry out of her drink by its stem and bite it.

“And you are?” she prompted when he didn’t introduce himself.

“I was watching you. My name is Brandon and I’m supposed to be here on business but, as I’m sure you’ve discovered, business in Vegas is rather loosely defined.”

Speaking of loose, Marj’s lace panties were feeling a bit loose. Like they might hit the floor any second thanks to the deep burn of his voice that seemed to hit her in the sternum.

“Pardon me, but did you say you had only a sliver of cheese?” he said. “Where did you eat? It sounds like the portions are unforgivably small and I’d like to avoid it.”

“Giorgio’s in the hotel,” she said.

“Ah, I was supposed to be there tonight with you lovely ladies.”

A light bulb went off in her head as recognition struck. “Let me guess. Brandon as in Brandon Cates the COO of the company that just bought out Simpatico Papers?”

“One and the same, I’m afraid.”

“Shit! You’re my boss,” she said.

Marj swirled the drink around in her glass. “Did you know we worked for your company?” 

“Yes,” Brandon said. “I know all my employees. I’ve even met Tina and Della once. But they’re so drunk that I didn’t even ring a bell. I was just coming over to say hello, introduce myself, and buy you a drink. But then I pondered. I wanted you to accept the drink without throwing my title around.”

“Yeah, I would’ve never rejected a drink from my boss.”

“See? That’s my point. I wanted you to like me for me, not for my title.”

Marj looked at him. “Oh, now I get the line you said. The one about seeing us tomorrow. Because you’ll be at the presentation. Wow. That flew right over our heads. I can’t believe you’re my boss.” 

Brandon shook his head. “Well, not for long.”

She held out her hand and he shook it.

“Nice to officially meet you,” she said. “I’m one of the employees the Wicked Queen will be letting go in a few weeks.”

“What?” he looked at her in confusion.

“Oh, sorry. I’ve had a bit—well, a lot to drink and my mouth got away from me. Which it does at times even when I’m cold sober, frankly. I was referring to the rumor that your stepmother is about to gain control of your father’s empire.”

“Empire?”

“Isn’t it an empire?”

“A business, a corporation. Although he would have loved the idea of being an emperor. So why did you call her the Wicked Queen? Is she after you too?”

“Because my friend Angie told me about the time Lena Cates fired all the women from some company she ran, so I figured it was like the queen in Snow White that thinks women are just competition and has their hearts cut out and stuff.”

“I’m not aware that she’s actually had anyone’s heart cut out. She did have the personal assistant who flirted with my dad deported back to Honduras though. Rather possessive, that one,” he smirked and downed his drink, motioning for another. “I do love the nickname you gave her. It’s very fitting.” He chuckled.

“Is it true then? Are you being kicked out of the business?’

“Not if I can help it. The—I wasn’t able to make the dinner tonight because I was on a call with my lawyers. We’ve been trying for the last six years to break my father’s will. We were just denied a hearing for the final time. This will is ironclad and every attempt to contest it has failed,” he raked a hand through his black hair.

“So why would the old man give you an expiration date as head of the company? Surely you’re more qualified than the Wicked—than Lena.”

“It’s not an expiration date so much as it’s a condition. To maintain control of the company, I have to be married by my thirtieth birthday. If not, then by Dad’s decree, I have not grown up and gotten my shit together and I’m not fit to lead. It makes no sense. If I was good enough to run things for the last six years, how on earth did I become unqualified by having a birthday? It’s completely stupid. Did he think I wouldn’t find any possible way to overturn or circumvent his terms?”

“I’m guessing he knew the will was ironclad, and you’d have to buckle under and do what he wanted you to do, just to keep Lena from getting her hands on Power Regions. Which is, at the same time, the dullest and dirtiest corporation name I’ve ever heard, by the way. It sounds like an offshoot of the old TVA at first, like it’s an electrical concern. Then when you get to thinking about someone’s power region, it sounds like a euphemism for some Austin Powers style male endowment.”

“In all my nearly thirty years of being around this company I have never once thought about my crotch in relation to the name of the corporation. I raise my glass to you, Marj. You’re one of a kind,” he said in salute.

“I am the last of a dying breed, I agree. Soon, I’ll be replaced by some hot guy with washboard abs who conducts focus groups with his shirt off.”

“That doesn’t sound very efficient. In fact, I’m fairly sure HR has a policy regarding shirtlessness on the job and it’s directly condemned. We take sexual harassment very seriously at Power Regions,” he smirked.

“You’re thinking it, too, now, aren’t you?” she challenged.

“Yeah, I am. And after my father harassed his way into Lena’s clutches—she was an intern at the time—there was a major push to end any kind of extracurricular relationships especially where there’s a power imbalance. Like when the fifty-five-year old, married COO of a corporation puts the moves on an unpaid intern hoping to get a foothold in the industry. It just looks sleazy.”

“It probably was,” she mused.

“It definitely was. Regrettably I’ve seen the security tapes of them at it in the stairwell. It was fairly damning, and he had to marry her as quickly as possible. It made him look really bad, like a creepy old guy preying on the young interns,” Brandon said.

They moved over to the couches and found a cozy corner where they passed a bottle of Jack Daniels between them. At this point, they didn’t even bother to use glasses. Just drank straight from the bottle.

“So they weren’t in love?” Marj asked.

“Probably not. I think Dad was in lust. Lena was obviously half his age and hot. He indulged her for a while after they were married. I was in school at the time, so I was out of the scandal for the most part. I had to show up for the wedding. It was on the bluffs at Big Sur overlooking the ocean at sunset. It was beautiful. The location, not the wedding. The wedding was a fucking circus. She had free rein with the reception and there were A-list rockers performing on two stages, a custom cocktail bar, stations for sushi and pasta and these little glasses with cold, green soup in them. I thought it was a drink and got a mouthful of cold, vegetable goop,” he grimaced.

“Were there balloon animals? A piñata?” she joked.

“Actually, there were three piñatas. And a bar where you could choose candies to make up a souvenir bag.”

“Was this a lavish child’s birthday party?”

“In a way, perhaps. She was young and had a lot of money at her disposal, and so she threw in everything, I guess,” he said.

“Musical chairs?”

“No, but they started playing musical beds shortly after they married. It wasn’t a happy union. Like I said, he spoiled her until he got bored with it. And she was really competitive for his attention. Like she didn’t even want me to come for the holidays. She always had an excuse about how they were remodeling the floor with the bedrooms or something. She also got rid of my dog.”

“Got rid of? Did she shoot it?”

“No, she said she gave him away because he made a mess on the carpet. I like to think she gave him away, but I’m not too sure. Needless to say, old Pepper meant a lot more to me than Lena ever did.”

“I can understand holding a grudge where a dog’s concerned. It wasn’t hers to get rid of.”

“I can’t say I’ve gotten over it. She took my dog and now she’s going to get my dad’s company away from me if I don’t find a way to block it!”

“I just had the best idea!”

He took a giant swig from the bottle. “What’s that, Marj?”

She grabbed the bottle and took a drink herself. “Why don’t we just get married?”

His jaw dropped. “What? Listen, you’re a beautiful woman, and I’m madly attracted to you, but I’m not looking for a serious relationship right now.”

“And neither am I. But it’s the obvious answer. Dad wanted you to tie the knot to keep your job. So do it. The legal angle didn’t work, so scam the will and follow it to the letter if not in the spirit of the law,” she explained.

He set the bottle down. “So just have a fake marriage?”

“Sure. Don’t tell me it never crossed your mind.”

“It did. But I was hoping to win before having to resort to something so drastic. I don’t want to drag somebody through the mud. It would be hell. How can I put anyone through that?”

“You know it’s the only option left. And where else are you going to find anyone? It’s not like you can put an ad in the newspaper or on a giant billboard. This has to be done very discreetly and not draw attention.”

He downed another gulp and made a face. “I know. But I got people.”

“Who can magically help you whip up a wife?”

“I sound pathetic.”

“Listen, I’m the perfect candidate for the job.”

He winked. “So why should I hire you on?”

“Because I’m going to be the best damn fake wife you’ve ever had. I’m not going to go blab to the media about it. Let everyone think I scored a hot executive on my business trip and hit the jackpot.”

His pretty eyes glittered in the dim light. “You know, this could work. You’re brilliant! Absolutely brilliant and clever. I’m going to give you a raise.”

She laughed. “Do we have to pretend to be in love?” 

“It would be best if we appeared to be. The terms are clear that if I am married less than one calendar year, the inheritance is still forfeited, so you’d have to sign on for a full fifty-two weeks. I’d be willing to compensate you. I mean, whatever you’re paid salary-wise at Simpatico, I’d double it.”

Gripping the neck of the bottle, she took another swig, then another. “Like a hooker with health benefits?”

“Not a hooker. A companion. You’d make public appearances and fulfill the terms of my father’s will so I could go ahead and run the business.” He blew out a long breath. “Man, this is crazy.”

She grabbed his arm. “Listen, people get married for stupider reasons. Besides, we can’t let that dog stealing bitch win!”

“As much as I appreciate the gesture, I find it a little alarming. What reason could you possibly have for wanting to help me?”

“Truth?” she asked and took another long drink.

“Obviously.”

“I’m lonely. I just started at Simpatico last month because I quit my last job. The guy I was with, my boyfriend...he knocked up his secretary and I couldn’t face him every day. So my new job pays less, and it’s a little unstable since your company just took it over—I mean we had a ‘merger’ that I’m here to fictionalize. Plus my roommate moved out, so I’m trying to pay all of the rent and utilities on a smaller budget. And this dress cost a fucking fortune!” she finished.

“From where I’m sitting it was worth it,” he said with an appreciative gaze.

“Thanks. But it was a stupid impulse. I don’t usually indulge like that. I don’t buy expensive things or drink too much, which I clearly have tonight since I’m confiding in a complete stranger. The point is, it sounds like fun to marry you, to thwart the Wicked Queen and be rich for a while. I don’t want a diamond tiara or anything, just to have a break from worrying about money all the time.”

“Your ex sounds like an asshole. I’m not sure you’re in the best place to have a marriage of convenience since your heart just got broken, though. And I’m not ready for a real relationship. Besides, they never work.”

She stared deeply into his eyes. “No real relationship needed. I’m going to have a great year, but I’m not going to fall in love with you.”

“Are those supposed to be wise words from my loving, future wife?”

“Very wise words.”

He chuckled. “I can’t believe you’re even considering this. Are your credit cards maxed out?”

“Hell yeah.”

“See? You
so
need me.”

“Yes, I
so
do. I’m a hot mess and I need somebody to straighten me out.”

He winked. “I can definitely
straighten
you out.”

She laughed as she blushed. “I love sexual innuendos. But seriously, back to the legal stuff. How will it work?”

“You’ll have to sign legal documents to the effect that you will never speak of the terms of our marriage or divorce. You won’t have a shot at the Cates fortune itself, just a settlement when we break up.”

“Right. Well, I didn’t think a year of marriage would entitle me to billions, Brandon. And I’m trying to help you, not steal your fortune away like your stepmother.”

He pulled her close and started to sensually kiss down her neck. “I know that, darling. And I can’t thank you enough. I can’t wait to show you how thankful I am.”

“My heart’s pounding.”

His trailed his tongue against her bare skin. “So is mine.”

“Then let’s do this. Because I see no other alternative. You’ve tried every legal avenue to attack the terms of the will. The only thing left is for you to comply with them.”

“You’re going to great lengths to keep your job,” he said.

“I’m hoping to see great lengths very soon,” she whispered in his ear
.
He softly chuckled and she continued. “We have to fight injustice and oppression. And I think together, we can take her down.” More wet kisses trailed down her neck as goosebumps erupted. “I think you deserve a break, Brandon. You’re getting screwed.”

His hands ran down her curves. “Oh, I hope so.”

She laughed as she playfully nudged him. “You know what I mean.”

“I know. So marry me, Marjorie Reynolds.”

“Okay. We can start planning first thing tomorrow.”

His eyes twinkled. “Why wait? We need to defeat evil as soon as possible. Marry me right now.”

“Your fake proposal needs work,” she purred in his ear. “Lots of damn work.”

His gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“That wasn’t very romantic. You’re going to have to step up your game if you want to win my heart, er, I mean my companionship. You’re supposed to get down on your knees and declare your fake love, and then put a ring on my finger. Then declare we defeat evil. Give me the proposal I’ve always dreamed of. Even if it’s fake. Let me live the dream, even for one little minute. Guess you haven’t watched any chick flicks lately.”

“All right. Can you give me a few minutes? I’m going to give you the best damn proposal you’ve ever seen. What are your favorite kind of flowers?”

She grabbed his tie and seductively pulled him close. “It would’ve been nice, but on second thought, I don’t need it. All I know is that I’m dying to kiss you. And I don’t want to wait another second.”

“Marriage first, kisses second.”

“I have my ID. This is Vegas. So let’s do this.”

“Do you want to dance first? Some kind of—courtship?”

“You can buy me a cupcake after we get married. How’s that for embracing tradition?”

“What’s your favorite flavor?”