I Married a Billionaire (7 page)

He shook his head. "You've got to stop thinking in those terms. I know it's…I know it's hard. The nature of what we're doing is so, so uh…if I thought there was another way, trust me, I'd do it. But we won't be able to pass as a genuine couple if we don't live as one. And because of that, I think things have the tendency to get…muddled."

He was struggling to find the right words. "It's like what we talked about before," I said. "About not letting things get too personal."

He shot me a tired smile. "But that's not really possible, is it? I think we're both learning that."

"Hey, I believe in us." I laid my hand on his shoulder, and felt his muscles tense under my hand. The gesture surprised even me, but at the same time, it felt right. "Here's to being as impersonal and robotic as possible while we pretend to be madly in love."

Daniel chuckled, and I pulled my hand away, slowly.

"I'm sure we can come out of this intact," I said. "We probably won't kill each other. Hey, maybe we'll even stay friends."

I hadn't meant for that to come out sounding so sincere. He looked away, a smile playing on his lips. "Why on earth would you want to be friends with me?" The question was addressed more to himself than it was to me, but I couldn't ignore it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I prodded, jostling against him gently with my shoulder. I wasn't normally this into physical contact with near-strangers, but at this point I figured I might as well get used to touching him.

He was still looking at the carpet. "Maddy, if you ever need a favor, of course I'll help you. I don't expect a phone call on my birthday in exchange for that."

I didn't know what to say. This wasn't a side of him I'd ever expected to see. No wonder he'd been so bothered by what I'd said down in the living room. There was actually a part of him that thought his bank account was his only asset as a person.

"Don't be ridiculous," was what I finally managed to say. Not ideal, but it would have to do.

Suddenly, I was acutely aware of the electricity crackling in the space between us. We were sitting on a bed. It would be easy - 
so
 easy - to just lean over to him press my lips against his, and I was almost sure he wouldn't resist me. I could have what I wanted, if I could only find the courage to take it.

But what if he did resist?

What if he pushed back, saying 
no, no, Maddy, I don't think this is a good idea.
 Because it wasn't. But a part of me would always believe it was because I wasn't good enough for him. My ego was a fragile thing. I couldn't risk it.

But what if he didn't?

I could press him down into the fluffy, ridiculously luxurious bedclothes, and that's when he would resist, but not because he didn't want me. No, he liked to be in charge. About that, I was certain. He'd flip me over and hold me down by my wrists, growling in my ear, but when he loomed over me I'd see the wicked smile on his face. He'd kiss me until he forgot he was trying to restrain my arms and he'd let go then, his hands wandering all over my body, sliding under the light fabric of my blouse and pushing it up past my breasts. I'd lift my arms for him then, obediently, feeling the urgent twitch of him against my thigh. He'd pull the blouse over my head and toss it aside. I would bite my lip. My nipples would be so stiff he'd be able to tell how much I wanted him, even through the fabric of my bra. His lips would travel down my neck, his hot breaths sending little shivers down my expanse of bare skin…

I came back to reality with a start. I was staring at him, my mouth hanging open slightly. Luckily he didn't seem to be paying attention. Oh, my God. I had to stop doing this. I was going to drive myself crazy. I swallowed with difficulty; my throat had gone completely dry, and my heartbeat seemed to have relocated itself to somewhere between my legs.

I felt fuzzy and lightheaded, just like last night, but without the wine. Clearly, I didn't need alcohol to go completely stupid for Daniel.

He spoke, finally, still not looking at me. "Did you want to go home?"

"Yes," I managed. I stood up quickly, walking hurriedly down the stairs and gathering up my dress and jewelry. Daniel came down a few minutes later.

"The car will be waiting for you at the curb, whenever you're ready," he said. "No rush."

"Thanks for breakfast," I said, unable to look him in the eye for more than a few seconds. "And for last night."

"Of course," he said. "I'll…I'll call you." He looked almost as distracted as I felt. I gave him a little half-wave and hurried towards the door.

"Maddy, wait a minute." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny key, looking like it was fresh from the locksmith. "I had this made for you."

"Okay," I said, walking back to him with leaden feet and taking it.

"Trust me," he said. "It'll look odd if you don't have it. You'd better get used to carrying it now."

The ride home seemed to take ages. I answered the driver's questions perfunctorily; yes, the date was very nice, yes, the food was excellent. Yes, the Inn had a lovely atmosphere. Yes, Mr. Thorne's apartment was gorgeous.

Just being back at home was a relief in and of itself, but I didn't truly relax until after I'd stripped out of the unfamiliar clothes and spent a little quality time with my removable massaging shower head. It was one of the few luxuries I allowed myself in life, and once I was finally sated, leaning against the shower wall with cheeks flushed and my legs turned to jelly, I prayed it would act as a sort of exorcism for my inconvenient desires. I'd been afraid to give in, even in this small way, but after this morning it was clear there was no turning back.

Once I was dried off and wearing my own clothes again, I spread the dress out on my bed and smoothed the wrinkles. It would probably need to be dry-cleaned. I laid the necklace and earrings next to it, straightening each little strand until they looked ready for a photo shoot.

They were beautiful things, to be sure, but they still didn’t feel like mine. I wasn’t sure I could ever truly immerse myself in a lifestyle where buying things like this was commonplace. It was so incredibly strange to me. The idea of money being some constantly renewable resource; technically finite, but the idea of spending all of it was incomprehensible. You'd have to buy a fleet of space shuttles, or an actual planet, to even begin spending it all.

I had to smile a little to myself at the idea of Daniel going to NASA and picking out shuttles as casually as if he were in a grocery store.

It was strange, though. For someone who'd been rich for as long as he had, he didn't seem to wear it too comfortably. It was rather curious, wasn’t it?

But I couldn't worry about that now. Now, I had to focus on how on earth I was going to survive living with the 24/7 temptation that would be life with Daniel.

It became normal for me and Daniel to eat lunch together at work. It reached the point where he longer had to call me; I'd habitually get up and walk to his office every day at eleven-thirty, and a subtly scowling Alice would take our orders. He must have eaten at every place in a ten-mile radius. He always had recommendations, and they were always good. Before long, he would greet me with a kiss on the cheek, right in front of Alice. I could practically feel her trying to strangle me with her mind. Oddly enough, all I felt was triumph.

"You know," I said to him one day, over a plate of falafel and shawarma, "all the women in the office absolutely hate me now." He looked up. "And some of the men."

He just laughed. "Well, that's not very charitable of them."

"I can't wait for the reactions once we get…engaged." I still had a hard time spitting the word out. "I'm going to need a police escort just to get to the copy machine."

"Eye daggers aren't actually deadly, you know." He tore off a piece of pita bread and dipped it into a little pool of hummus. "No matter how sharp."

"I guess."

"Are you going to tell your parents?"

There it was. I'd kept pushing that question to the back of my mind, but I was going to have to confront it eventually. "I'm not sure," I admitted, pushing some lettuce around on my plate. "We haven't really talked in a while. If I just call them out of the blue, and tell them I'm engaged…"

"They'll find out eventually, won't they? One way or another. Isn't it best that they hear it from you directly?"

He was right. The contract did stipulate that I had to change my relationship status on any social networking sites - which was only reasonable - and I was online "friends" with quite a few people who knew my parents. There was no chance I'd be able to skate by on that one.

Truth was, I'd kept most of my relationships secret from my parents. They were so probing and critical of most things I did, and I never wanted to go through all the hassle of trying to introduce them to someone, only to turn around later and inform them that we'd broken up. "But why? What happened? What did you do? Did you say something that scared him off? Maybe if you lost a few pounds…I mean, you're an attractive girl, but competition is fierce out there…"

I shuddered a little. The idea of telling them I was going to marry a billionaire only to tell them in a year that we were getting divorced…it was horrifying. But I had no choice, if I wanted to through with this. Surely two million dollars was worth enduring a few awkward phone calls.

We ate the rest of our lunch in silence that day. Daniel was aware he'd touched on a nerve, and he didn't bring the subject up again.

Late Friday afternoon, he came by my cubicle just as I was packing up my things. Thankfully, Florence had already cut out for the day.

"I'd like to take you to dinner tonight," he said, and there was something very meaningful in his eyes. Oh, God. This was it, wasn’t it? He was going to propose to me. In public, I was sure. He had to make a spectacle of it.

"Okay," I said, my heart already fluttering in my chest.

"Be ready at seven o'clock."

The midnight blue dress was still in its plastic bag from the cleaner's, hanging in the back of my closet. I hadn't expected to need it again so soon. I pulled it out when I got home, quickly showered and dried my hair, and zipped myself up in it. It still looked fantastic, even when paired with a haunted, thousand-yard stare.

I wasn’t ready for this. But I didn't exactly have a choice.

I clasped the necklace on and slipped in the earrings, pondering what I should do with my hair. Simply leaving it down didn't seem to befit the occasion, but it was stubborn. If I tried to put it up in something, I'd be fighting with it all night. The downside to naturally thick, glossy hair was that it was improbably heavy and slippery. I'd yet to meet a band or clip that could hold it, and I hated hairspray with a fiery passion.

Nothing for it, then. I brushed it thoroughly and let it fall around my shoulders, hoping I wouldn't look horribly out of place in whatever insanely expensive restaurant he was taking me to.

The driver was punctual as always, and this time, I was surprised to see Daniel already in the back seat waiting for me.

"Hello, Maddy," he said, looking at me approvingly. It had to be put on. No real date of his would wear the same dress more than once. But he hadn’t said a word about it, so I tried not to worry.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, as I settled into the seat next to him. "This is the only fancy thing I have."

"Don't worry," he said. "You still look as stunning as ever."

I rolled my eyes.

The driver was watching us and chuckling to himself.

"She can't take a complement gracefully, this one," said Daniel. "It's tragic."

"Well, you'll just have to work on that, sir."

"I will, John. Don't you worry."

I sank deeper into the Italian leather and tried not to look miserable.

"What's the matter, darling?" Daniel said, finally, squeezing my shoulder gently.

"I don't know," I said. "I guess I'm just tired."

"Well, you'll forget all about it when we get where we're going."

There was something different in the tone of his voice, now that he was talking to me in front of John. Something a little…distant, maybe. Aloof? Uncaring, even. I was beginning to put the pieces together - how he must live large portions of his life, or maybe all of his life, striving to fulfill the expectations that were placed on him.

Poor little rich boy
. I smirked at myself. Was I really trying to feel sorry for him? The man who could buy a space shuttle?

Man, I was really getting fixated on those shuttles. Maybe it was the summer moon shining so brightly every night that had me dwelling on space travel.

"Did you ever want to go to the moon when you were a kid?" I blurted out, sitting up straighter and looking at him.

His face broke into a smile - a genuine one. "What?"

"It's a simple question. Did you ever want to go to the moon?"

He shrugged. "It's just a rock. A giant rock out in the middle of nothing. What's to see?"

"Yeah, you know that now. But when you were a kid. Didn't you ever look at it, and marvel at how close it was, and think 
man, I'd really like to go there
. It looks like it's so close, like you could just jump in the car and drive there in a few minutes." I looked out of the window; it was waxing, big and round, glowing just above the tallest buildings. "Doesn't it?"

"Honestly…" he squinted at it. "Well. Maybe."

"See? I used to imagine climbing the tallest trees around my house to try and get there. I knew it wouldn't work, even when I was little, but I just wanted to go there so badly. Just to do it. I don’t know why. I know there's nothing there. I'd just like to be able to experience it, once in my life."

"Well, you know, space tourism is under development as we speak. You may yet have a chance."

Hell - he was right. If I was wise with my profits from this whole venture, I might be able to actually afford a trip to the moon someday. What an insane idea. My childhood dream, that I thought for sure would never come true. I really 
could 
have anything I wanted.